Rao

   The semester has started two weeks ago. Since then, our class had been put into an inescapable pit of to-do things in need of attention and at times recurring errands. Everyone was so busy until startled by the appearance of a guest, a foreign student who will be joining the class.

   Muhammad Arif Rao, or Rao as he wants to be called, is a 28-year old working civil engineering graduate who came from all the way from Pakistan. He takes a few more units on the same profession in the Philippines to comply with the required number in his country before he could get the licensure exam there. He says that his school, Preston University, has an engineering council who told him that he may acquire his lacking units in a list of schools in our country, and one of which was ours. It was odd that he told us about our university being a famous one in their place in Pakistan.

   By far, Rao hasn’t found his niche in the classroom yet. He is yet struggling with the kind of atmosphere the fourth-year class already has and the kind of treatment our teacher does to the locals inside the four corners of our room. But his maturity is helping him adjust, and each in our class is trying to help him with that.

   One time in the afternoon of June 24, Rao asked us after the end of the class about where a certain building in the campus is as he wants to change his schedule in conflict. I, Mot, Kat and Jeucel were bad in giving directions so we assisted and joined him in his affair.  Along the way we asked him questions, and he replied courteously. He speaks English well so conversing with him wasn’t really a big problem. Some talks and walks later, we ended up unsuccessful because our college dean has already left the building as we need his signature to finish the process. We were asked by the secretary to come back on Monday and just left the campus. Just as we are about to go separate ways, he invited us for a cup of coffee in his hotel room where he is presently staying. We okayed.

   Soon, we found out that he lives alone in his hotel room. There is a circulating smell of cigar against the scent of his air-conditioning. Things are unboxed everywhere for which he was apologetic about. It was a surprise visit, intended to see what is inside his room when he’s on his own. We guests had a casual chat with him over coffee and biscuits, with which I got all these information from.
   I am looking forward to be having ties with him. From what I've known, he's a Pakistani with an innate being of a Filipino.

Pulse

   My older sister, Han, is in Dubai right now. She left to find some work there, and has gone for almost a year already.

  This conversation was held via Facebook Chat at 3:58 in the morning of June 2. All of these is non-verbatim as the lines were trimmed and conversed in dialect.

H: How are you? How's school?

D: Haha, are you joking? It's summer vacation!

H: Haha, I forgot. Hey, has mom told you anything yet? About something important?

D: Nothing yet. What about?

H: It's about me. Guess first before I tell you what it is.

D: Don't play this game with me! I don't like guessing with that tone. Just tell me what it is, ok!

H: I said, guess first!

D: Uhm.... are you going home? are you pregnant? What is it? Tell me!

H: Maybe, I'm coming home not later than next year.

D: Are you serious? Why?

H: You got two points. I am now delayed and my pulses are acting fast lately. I'm coming home because single women can't be pregnant around here. I might be jailed if they knew. Don't tell anyone else yet, especially dad.

   At this point, I was already sweating heavily. A fan is concentrated on me, but it just doesn't work. I can feel my heartbeat thumping as I was caught off guard with the news. 

D: Are you kidding me? Tell me this isn't serious.

H: I'm not messing with you, ok. This is serious. Keep this a secret until I know I'm ready.

D: Ok, but are you sure it's not hysterical pregnancy? Have you tried the pregnancy test?

H: I haven't bought any test, as I am afraid that others here will find out that I acquired one. And I don't know yet, but I monitor my period since the past two years. It is only today that I was a month delayed already. Plus, you didn't know this, but I had an active sex life when I was there, but it was all withdrawal. This man I am meeting here, also a Filipino, inserted it and came inside of me.

D: What? Why did you let him be unprotected?

H: I don't know. But it has already happened.

D: :(

H: Don't be sad. You are going to be an uncle already.

D: I honestly do not know how to react on this.

   I was telling the truth. I didn't know how to react. I am afraid that I am to blow the whistle to everyone, thinking that me and mom are the only people who know about this family matter. Mom can keep a secret very well, but I don't think I can. Especially when it's about my  sister who is away.

   The conversation ended with a brownout, so I got disconnected. But before that, she asked me to research if a faster, irregular pulse rate is a sign of pregnancy. And soon I find out that it can be. The electricity went out before I could even reply a message.

Vacation

   My summer vacation, as usual, isn't what I thought it would be. As classes consumed more than a half of my summer, there's not much to do with the time left.

   Here is an outline of the happenings in pictures:

Drugged

   He's shouting at his wife again. Everyone around the neighborhood who is awake hears him, terrified. It's 2:20 in the morning, raining.

   I am clueless to what he's up to tonight, as if I know the reason behind every time this happens. He screams at the top of his lungs almost each early hour, omitting enough decibels for people to hear his megalomania four blocks from their house. People believe that he's on illegal drugs, which they perceive as the root cause of the fuss since then. His often red eyes, his leanness  and his odd behavior suggest so.

   He continues to shout. His voice is yet audible, louder and stronger than the sound of the rain.

  There are a lot of things going inside my mind right now - how Tita Gina, his wife, reacts on the outrage; why Tito Kano, the perpetrator, chose this life; and how Regino, their son, my friend since childhood, deals with the situation being the one most affected. All these things sprout out of concern for their family, since I know that they were once a happy family.

   The three live two blocks away from our house. They have their permanent residency there at least since I was a child. I know that Tita Gina isn't from this place and that the man was favored to have the family settle here. Tito Kano is a friend of my father, as Regino is a friend of mine. Regino and I used to play on the streets together with Aysi, his classmate, also a neighbor. Regino now studies Chemical Engineering at UP Visayas.

   My father once told me, as I was not bold enough to ask Regino on this matter, that Tito Kano's outrage started after a visit in Kalibo, Aklan, where he stayed for a few weeks, and came back. He says that his friend or relative may have dealt him a kind of illegal drug. Soon after, the horror of the Hibaler family - an uncontrolled paternal behavior of a drugged family man - started there. 

   A gate just clinked. It's 2:35 now, but still raining as hard.

Regeneration

   For those who already know me by my Blogspot, you may be wondering why I've already created more than two blogs which I barely maintained, and still managed to create this one. Factors like unavailability of stable internet connection and lack of inspiration contribute to my inactivity in formal blogging. Also, one reason why I created another is because I wanted to start anew and regenerate myself upon coming back to Blogspot.

   I've been around Tumblr and Wordpress, but I always come back to this site for its plain interface and user-friendly format. With that, I'd like to welcome myself around yet again.

   Hi. I hope to post here the good and the bad, the twists and the turns, and the ups and the downs about my life. This blog shall serve as my journal - a record of the vast expanse of my mind. I'll try to not be sarcastic. I'll try.