Every Thursday morning, he makes a lot of missed calls to me and my husband’s phone.  It means that we have to pick him up from the Diplomatic Quarter where he works as a Contractor.  He works from 6am to 2 pm, but during weekends, he insists that we pick him up before 12 noon, saying that Thursday is “his day”. He comes to our house during weekend to cook lunch and dinner, sometimes even some meals in between.  He uses our PC to chat with his family in the Philippines, long enough until there’ s no more stories to tell.  He watches TV the whole day, and he enjoys PBA games to the maximum. Whenever we eat together, he’s the first one to finish his meal.  He often takes my youngest daughter from me, so I could eat comfortably.  He fondly calls Alia by many names—at which my little girl often beats him back fondly.  On Friday nights, we sends him back to his company accommodation. It was all a routine. Last night, my husband received a call that Kuya Donnie passed away. When my husband broke the news to me, I was dumbfounded.  I felt as if a pail of cold water was thrown over me.  I could not feel my hands or feet.  I heard my husband asking me to move fast because we have to rush to his place, to know what happened to him. I remember asking my husband several times if the person who called confirmed that “it” was really Kuya Donnie.  I was in a state of denial.  I was panicking.  I could not believe what my husband was telling.   We were in Exit 10 and we were supposed to go to Exit 5 to the Samama Accomodation.  On the way, we’re calling his friend’s number, but there was no answer. My husband was driving fast, and he missed several exits.  We ended up rounding the City Center.  I asked my husband to relax- because I knew he was tensed and I had to be extra strong.   When we arrived at his accommodation, a group of Filipino men were waiting for us.  They know my husband because they always see him picking up Kuya Donnie from that place.  Each of them wanted to hear something- if it’s true that their colleague, Don, was dead. We contacted several persons, from those he were with in the morning, to their company liason officer.  They told us different stories.  Finally, we were sure that he was brought to Shimesy Hospital. According to his co-player (he plays Basketball in the American Embassy Recreation Center), Kuya Donnie arrived early that day in the gym.  He was in his usual, cheerful spirit.  He played basketball with them all throughout the first set.  He did not complain about feeling anything unusual. On the second set of their game, he said that when Kuya Donnie shot from a lay up, he immediately asked for a substitution.  But before somebody substituted him from the game, he collapsed.  It was his last shot.  It was his last game. The cause of his death was heart attack. I found myself thinking how it could be that soon, and that sudden.  He was just eating with us the night before. I was teasing him because I saw him in the kitchen eating alone, while we came from a restaurant to buy food.  He said that he thought we would not eat dinner, or we would dine out.  I told him that we could not eat well without him, so we decided to bring the food home. Earlier that Thursday, he asked me if he could borrow my digital camera.  He said that he wanted to take pictures with his co-players in the Gym.  I prepared the camera and put the batteries on the camera case, so he could just get it—but he was not able to bring it the following day. I was used to seeing Kuya Donnie every Friday morning, back from his basketball game.  Yesterday, I woke up at 9am, and I looked for him in the house, and I did not find him.  I asked Lydene if he came back from his game, and she told me that she had not seen him too. At noontime, I asked my husband to call Kuya Donnie to ask why he has not gone home yet.  He said that maybe he spent his Friday with his friends in Batha, or went somewhere else.  I called his cellfone number twice but it was closed.   Late that same afternoon, my daughter is searching for him too.  She asked me why Tito Donnie isn’t home yet.  I tried to call him in his cellfone again but it was closed.  I joke with my Yaya about him, that maybe he was in a riot or something.  Out of the blue, I lighted candles around the house that day.  I had no hint that something happened to Kuya Donnie already, but I have asked my husband a million times of what he thinks maybe the reason why he has not come back from his basketball game. It was all too sudden.   One saddest part of this experience is the part that I had to call Ate Helen (his wife) to break the bad news.  I guess it was early dawn in the Philippines when I called her.  When her phone was ringing, I felt my throat dried up.  I forgot the words I was supposed to tell her.  I heard her voice, and I started to cry.  It was not easy, and I hoped that I was not the one to tell her about what happened to her husband.  I told her that something happened to Kuya Donnie.  She asked me several times what happened, but I ran out of words….I stammered… until there were almost no words coming from my mouth, but my sobs.  It hurt me hearing Ate Helen as she cried like a child.  She told me that I was lying to her…. She told me that if I was joking, I better stop, because she could not take it anymore…. And she could not accept it…. She asked me several questions at which I didn’t know what to say. Did somebody help him?Were we able to talk to him?Who was with him when that happened?Did he leave a message??Was he sent to the hospital??Why did you not help him?I though he was with you on weekends.Why did you let him play that day?…..…..….. My heart breaks seeing my husband’s grief. Because they spent years since they were both young- he was his closes cousin. He lost his favorite  “Ni”.  I feel sad for the wife he left, and his kids who look up to him-for a family that he worked so hard to give a good life for. And to me, I lost the older brother that I never had.

October 30, 2008Last night, we drove home our first 4 x 4. Isn’t it great? Being young, and enjoying your life?

When I was in high school I often envied my classmates who would come to our school with their Dads driving a car, while early morning, me and my siblings either walk our way to school or if we’re lucky, Dad sends us through the tricycle (3- wheeled motorcycle with passenger seat).  

That wasn’t very cool, though.  Until my parents decided to buy a second hand owner type jeep.   

My university days came.  My first 2 best friends were Jasen and Jenny.  Jasen came from a rich Chinese family, and she comes to school with a super red Toyota Corolla.  I used to teach her with our assignments (often do projects for her too), and she would pick me up from my boarding house in Sampaloc.  

Some nights, she would call me before midnight to stroll around the city with her. I remember when she brought me and Jenny to the her car race team in San Juan where I saw most college guys displaying their cars, talking about nothing except CARS.  I stared at them in awe (wishing I could have a boyfriend with a nice sporty car too.) All my neighbors look at me and Jasen whenever she comes with her hot wheels to give me a ride to school, and I often made sure that I looked proud to be riding with her.  That was pretty cool. 

When I graduated and finally landed a job in Makati .  I met a lot of guys, but in my mind, I wanted to have a boyfriend who owns a car.  While I did not find one, I remained single. When I got a teaching job in Adamson University while enrolled in my Masteral study at CEU at the same time, my priorities changed, or at least I could say, I gave up trying to have a handsome boyfriend with his own “handsome” car.  

Why should I wait for that perfect guy anyway? I thought I had to save more money so I could buy myself my own dream car-  a black F150. How often did I imaginemyself driving my own big truck and stir jealousy in the street, I could not really say. I was studying in the Graduate school, while I teach full time in a college of Pharmacy .

I also had another part time job in Makati .  I though I would be able to save enough eventually but being young and having a lot of barkadas, I was weak whenever I got invitations for gimmicks.  I earned more than enough of what I need, but I also spent a lot- enjoying in my nights out with friends. 

Fast forward….I am now married with 2 beautiful kids.One day, before our kids’ yaya  arrived from Philippines , my husband was driving our sedan to my daughter’s school.  Me and my two kids were seated at the back of the car.  

It was early morning and there were still not too much cars on the road.  Suddenly, another car came out of nowhere and almost hit us.  It was a slight accident, and thankfully, we were not injured, but I must admit that it was one day when I thought my heart could not beat any faster, and as nervous as I was, I almost lost my consciousness.It was my kids’ safety that I was most worried about.  I could never risk on that.  So, that same day, I convinced my husband that we should have a bigger car- a 4×4 for our family.It was almost a dragging 2 month search.  We visited a lot of showrooms- Nissan, Kia, Hyundai, GMC, Toyota , Mitsubishi, Cherry- you name it. Some showroom agents were friendly and accommodating to us, while some almost ignored us.  I guess most of them didn’t actually think that we could afford a 4x 4!!!! Ha ha!My husband wanted a Trailblazer. 

The latest model was priced at 81,000 SAR ($21,600).  I liked Hyundai Santa Fe 2009 which was tagged 83,000 SAR ($22,200).  We gave ourselves an extra week to decide, while we asked friends and family of their opinion.Then the Trailblazer which has only 5 seats was not acceptable for us, and we thought that the Hyundai Santa Fe would have a very low resale value after a while.  So we searched around again in more car showrooms. 

Some car agents were already bargaining with my husband, offering a lot of options.

Finally, we ended up choosing a silvery Ford Explorer XLT which we paid in cold cash the next day we found it—- that was last week.We had sold our old sedan (which we fondly called Michael- a white Mitsubishi Galant 2000).  

Somehow, we were forced to use most of the money we have saved in the bank to pay for the Ford Explorer which cost almost a hundred thousand Saudi riyals -that’s almost $26,000 = 1.3M pesos—- ouch! :-).  ** Say Masha Allah** But now,whenever we drive with our kids in our new SUV, I feel safer, and I’m sure my husband has become more confident on the road.  Couldn’t it be as equally important? I could imagine my Dad scolding me for buying an expensive car because he wanted us to start building our house in Mindoro three months from now.  I

’m quite sure that he would say that me and my husband were not thinking about our kids’ future.

But do we not work to get the things we want? To travel to places we wish to go to? To buy those which we dream for?  A friend once asked me, “ If you should not enjoy your life while you are young, then when should you?”Our Ford Explorer is close to the F150 I have dreamed of having when I was young.  

My husband told me that it is his gift for me and my kids.  Well, I am sure that he meant it when he said that. Now, isn’t that cool??:-)

This is our first car.  His name is Michael.  He never let us down.

This morning, I woke up and found my daughter sobbing from her sleep.  It was only half past six a.m, and both of us had barely slept for only four hours because she watched TV till dawn.  She was crying while saying, “Mama, please send me to school”.

 

It was one of those heartbreaking experiences that I live up being a Mom.  It’s always hard for me to see my daughter cry, especially when I know that I’m part of what she’s being upset about.

 

My daughter, Alia, turned three years in August this year.  Most of my friends say that she’s smarter than most of other kids her age.  Most of the time, she talks like a complete grown up.  When I and my husband discuss things in front of her and suddenly we raise our voices or say inappropriate words, she tries to stop us.  She often tells us which are bad words and which are good ones.  She growls “Say PLEASSSE, Mama” whenever I ask her to get something for me or to give something to someone.  She says, “Excuse Me” when she wants to be excused, and she mumbles “Thank you” to even simple things or favor you give her.

 

Whenever I come home from work, she runs to me as I enter the house.  She expects me to bring something for her—a candy, a toy, a book, a writing stuff, coloring pictures—anything.  When she’s happy, she tells me everything that she did the whole day I was away.  She tells me how many times her younger sister poops, which shows she watched on TV, and how long she did take a bath.  But, when I am too busy in my work the whole day and I forget to bring her something, when she hugs me at home while checking my pockets and my bag, she becomes so upset whenever she finds nothing- and worse, sometimes, she cries and she snobs me the whole night.. 

 

Here in Saudi Arabia , it’s not easy to raise kids.  They grow up so fast, we hardly notice them because we’re busy with our daily tasks at work.  Kids are left in the house, alone with their baby sitters.  In my case, I was was just able to recruit a baby sitter, this year, from our province in Mindoro to take care of my two kids.  But before that, I drop my kids to almost anyone who’s willing to take care of them- sometimes even way too far from our house.  There was even a month when I could not find a Filipina to take care of my baby, that I was forced to leave her with a Bangali during daytime.

 

Last year, I enrolled Alia in a Day Care Facility.  She was very happy to be with other kids.  She memorized all the songs that the teacher teaches them.  At home, she speaks about  nothing but her story in school.  She tells everyone she meets (or talks to, at the phone) about her classmates, her teacher, and what they do at school. But after 2 months, I stopped sending her to the Day Care because she got sick.  She was barely 2 years and a half that time, and she easily got the infections from other students.  For almost a week, she was hospitalized due to Chest Infection.  I was too afraid to send her to school again.

 

Early this year, I could not find somebody to take care of her again (before my yaya came from Mindoro ).  So, again, I brought her to the same Pre- school facility.  When I enrolled her, there were 24 other kids with her in the same facility.  But after a month, their population increased to 39.  And in two months, Alia’s health was back to a bad shape.  She had several nose bleeding episodes in a week. She always had cough or colds or fever, or all three of them.  It was hard for me to leave her in the Day Care facility everyday, knowing that she’s not immune to all the viruses, and viruses , and more viruses.

 

Fortunately, my Yaya arrived from Mindoro last Summer, and Alia agreed to stay home.  I had to convince her to stay at home because it was too hot outside, and if she goes out to school, her nose will bleed.  She often gave me that “unsure” look on her face, as if she doesn’t believe me, or at least asking, “Ma, are you telling the truth??”.

 

After some time, the summer heat was already off.  I noticed Alia looking outside the window.  Several times, she asked me why she’s not going to school yet, although it is neither very hot outside anymore, nor her nose bleeding.  I was sure running out of good excuses.

 

My husband and I have decided to send her to school next school year- in June 2009.  My husband believes that she’s still very young.  I disagree with him because I know that my daughter wants to go to school, and  even her former teacher tells me that she really learns faster than most of other kids older than her.  But I cannot convince my husband that we enroll her now.

 

 Anyway, until June 2009, I would still have to make excuses to convince her to stay at home.