The Witch

By: Mikejuha
email: getmybox@hotmail.com
fb: getmybox@yahoo.com
blogspot: http://www.michaelsshadesofblue.blogspot.com

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I was ten years old when I had this group of friends, about my age, who were really naughty. During our spare time we would congregate at the front yard of one of these friends’ house. The front yard happens to be facing the road. Whenever we ran out of things to do, we would stone everyone passing by that road: boys, elderly people, vehicle, etc, just to scare them. And when the poor terrified persons would focus their furious eyes towards our direction, we would scamper to hide laughing vigorously at our wickedness.

There was this one old woman who lived in a bamboo hut on the hill nearby the road, opposite this friend's house. The hut used to be a place to smoke and dry copra but the owner did not use it anymore. It measured like four square meters; its thatch was rotting and was dotted with cracks and openings. Inside, a narrow bamboo elevation just enough to lie down could be seen and for which the old woman used as her bed and the whole flooring was the filled ground used to be the hollow for producing fire and smoke. On its surroundings, cacao and coconut trees abounded which made it a cool and dark place even on a noon sun.

The old woman was in her seventies, had a long grey hair and usually wore an old dark patched dress. At her age, she looked healthy and strong although she walked like her body was bent all the time. She did all her chores: cooking, laundry, cleaning the surroundings, and fetching water. She also gathers fire woods and odd fallen coconuts which she used to sell for a living. The only things she personally treasured were that hut, a handful of old dresses, and an arched silky comb which she always slot in on her hair.

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THE OTHER FACE OF CHRISTMAS (An OFW Story)

By: Mikejuha

email: getmybox@hotmail.com
fb: getmybox@yahoo.com

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For a lot of people, Christmas is a happy occasion to look forward to - a celebration of togetherness with family and loved ones. But Christmas has two faces; while the lucky ones luxuriate themselves in profligacy and profusion, the less fortunate go through agony, loneliness, or deprivation. 

It has been three years since I last celebrated Christmas with my family. We are only poor but the happiness that we feel together in the celebration of this special occasion was never lesser than the happiness that the rich feel - even in the absence of delicious foods or costly gifts. For the members of my family, seeing each other healthy and reunited are the happiest things that happen every Christmas. We might not eat the most exquisite foods on earth but we have always liked to savor of whatever was served on the table. We might not have enough money to buy the things we wanted, but there was always something for everyone. What counted most to us was to celebrate the occasion together; to enjoy and to share whatever little or simple was there, like our dreams as a family. And one of these dreams is to be together, at least, every Christmas. 

But on the Christmas since I left, things changed. It was when I decided to work overseas - here in KSA. I came up with that decision because I have always wanted to help my old parents, and my nephew and a niece to go to college. I am the youngest and the only professional in my family. My two elder sisters were both intelligent but they were unable to finish a degree due to financial reasons. When it was my turn to go to College, they supported me in spite of their own hardships. And seeing how difficult life had become of their families, I decided that if I could, I would never allow the same fate to happen again to my nephews and nieces. So here I am in this foreign land, struggling to face all the odds for a reason bigger than myself… And this decision has changed my life and has brought about a different meaning of Christmas in my family.

I don’t know now how my family really celebrates Christmas with me many miles across the horizons. But my mother would always write after each Christmas to tell me that it was never the same again since I left. She would narrate how they started the gathering, the activities, the pleasantries, and how the night had ended. Then she would add in her P.S. that during the family’s “salo-salo”, they had reserved a chair vacant for me and had filled-up my plate with the dishes I would surely want to eat had I been there, especially my favorite “puto”, her specialty. It hurts. And it hurts me more to be here on Christmas - away from my loved ones, so alone and lonely.

This Christmas, I’m sure it will be full of loneliness and heartaches as my last Christmas. It pierces my heart to know that while the whole world enjoys being with their loved ones, I would be alone confined in the four walls of my room figuring out what my loved ones and friends are doing and if whether or not they remember me on that day. Maybe, I would like to force myself to sleep and forget that it is going to be Christmas time and the whole world frolics. Or maybe, I would just suppress my thoughts in the hope that it would never haunt me. 

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I Miss My Father

By: Jayson Patalinghug
email: king_sky92@yahoo.com
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I was listening to a Sunday sermon; our pastor discussed the story of Abraham, on how he obeyed God, and fervently waited for God’s promise, a son. He waited for 25 years after God gave a promise when Abraham was still 75 years old. When Isaac was born, Abraham named him the joy of his life. I do not know why? But my tears just flowed freely on my cheeks like a river that cannot be stopped. I am always like that whenever I hear a story or see a movie about father and son. Maybe I just miss my father.

In my mind I saw my father so happy when I was born. How his tears flowed upon seeing me; how he held me tight on his arms; how he sang a sweet lullaby to comfort me; how he stayed late at night to watch over me, he never allowed even a single mosquito to touch my skin. When I was 5 years old, he was always in a hurry to go home and he always had something for me. Sometimes fried chicken from Jollibee, sometimes ice cream and sometimes toys. We played together, we wrestle and we had a lot of fun. I miss the warmth of his body when he embraced me tight; his lips when he kissed me on my cheeks and on my forehead. I miss his bedtime stories; he always waited for me to sleep first and he was the one who turned the lights off in my bed room. Every Sunday, he will accompany me in the farm; we played with kites; we run along the sides of the water irrigation. When I was seven, he was so excited to send me to school. He held my hands and said “You can do it son”. When I graduated elementary, he bought me new clothes and went to stage very proud. When I was in High school, my father was my best friend. He always asked me about my crushes, he always told me to date my childhood friend. I remember how happy he was when I had my first girl friend. When I was in college, our friendship grew deeper and deeper. He never failed in asking about anything new, my father was always updated. He cried with me when my heart was broke, he spent time with me when I was alone. My father, my best friend embraced and said “Congratulations son, I am very proud of you!” on the day I graduated college.

Then…I paused for while and I could’nt stop myself from crying, the world seems to turn upside down. I felt a pain too much to bear, loneliness too deep to fathom. I regretted the day I was born when I realized that everything did not happen. I miss my father who I never knew, my father who never share a single memory with me. My father who did not even knew I exist in this world. I miss him so bad!

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