Kapeng Arabo, A Review

I’ve been hearing about it, but only until I got a copy from National Bookstore and read about it that I believe. Yes, my friends. Mr. Manny Garcia, the author of the book Kapeng Arabo, has dedicated a whole chapter entirely about this blog, and recent successes (notoriety?) of my journal stints in another site.

I must admit I am honored by the deed of this man. For who would have thought the subjects of my posts would land on a book with international release for all Filipinos abroad to read, at that (I was told).

I must admit as well, as he wrote in his book, that I snubbed his correspondences. Had I known that this man was serious in coming up with the book, I could have entertained his queries and he could have written a more explorative thrusts on the topic.

Lesson learned: don’t be such a snob, or you don’t get to share of fame.

Going back to the book, I simply put Kapeng Arabo as a story of personal experiences of the author and of different Pinoys whom he had exchanged ideas during coffee hang-outs.

Garcia’s approach is much like our modern local authors on the shelves such as Eros Atalia or Carlo Vergara as he managed to come up with light and funny anecdotes but mostly about Filipino’s lives in Saudi. In addition, he was able to integrate well his personal stands on subjects he discussed much to the style of Bob Ong, very candid.

People in the Middle East may have taken me as slut due to stories I discussed on this blog and posts to other sites, but the truth is I have been especially interested in stories of Pinoys abroad: the diasphora, the brain drain phenomenon, the job mismatch, etc. I believe these topics deserve a closer look for they give insights as to how we are going to survive the seemingly degradation of values brought about by what we called “globalization.”

Little did I know, however, that there exist issues among Filipinos abroad, entirely distinct and separate, yet form as inescapable obstruction against one’s personality and distress towards the country, and Kapeng Arabo is such a treat to these “seemingly formed” realities.

I suggest, before you start reading the book, open yourself to possibilities and look deeper into the different behaviors Garcia is trying impart. Whether you’re an OFW or not, you may unexpectedly find yourself in the same situation.

I am especially awestrucked by the premise offered by Garcia that “ang pananaw ng mga taga-Saudi ay hinuhulma ng mga pagkakataon at bunga ng pagnanasang mapunan yung certain feeling of emptiness” (Btw, the book is written in Taglish which I consider extra-treat for easy reading.). This line has probably one of the most powerful statements Garcia said in the book, a line that is explanation enough why OFWs lose focus on their goal and forgo of values while working abroad.

Before I wrote this simple review, I got to read the book more than 3 times, trying to figure the solid story line behind the chapters. But then I failed. Instead, I found out that the book is a collection of solid issues that should be the concern of OFWs themselves. I also found out instead a candid manifestation of the way of life of our kababayans abroad that should also be the concern of our institutions if only for self-preservation.

Much to the anticipation of many whose excitement is usually roused by scandals or tittle-tattle of some sort, I’d like to think that the chapter to which this blog has been discussed in the book in its entirety is intently situated to capitalize on giggles on specific demographics. But for those who expect this to be a full-blown revelation, I am afraid you cannot laugh your heart out, for all the things you can possibly imagine were merely discussed in passing. Nevertheless, I must say he is able to point out the real issues behind sordid details of sex, lies and rock & roll. And I must admit, I never really imagined how deep my topics had impact on the lives of Pinoy in Saudi until I read Garcia’s discussion.

There is simply an ample of significant issues compacted behind the 17 chapters of 158 pages of the book. They range from basic gesture of conducting oneself to work area to earnest yearning of maintaining the status quo. They have one common denominator though, and that is, they all sprung from the simple desire to ease loneliness. And this I feel is the real wake up deal to the reality Garcia claims as personal challenges left uchecked as “higit na mapanganib at nakapipinsala.”

On the over-all, Kapeng Arabo is a serious topic with serious concepts that should be taken with a grain of salt. It is probably to the credit of the author, how this seriousness has shaped into a light reading with wisdom-filled analyses material. Because while he is able to maintain an entertaining mode all throughout the book, he is able to sustain provocative thoughts as he speaks the issues of our time.

I give Kapeng Arabo two thumbs up for its value and style.

(You may find similar entry at www.pic-link.com)

Gays, No Dignity

To be honest, I got some very interesting mails in my inbox. But most of them, I believe, are just similar stories of what I have presented so far. Due to constant pressures from work, it is high time for hybernation. I just couldn't let this one pass.

Dear data,

Whatever happened to your wonderful journals? I keep looking on your blog too, hoping I could find new entries. But it seems you got tired. I hope not, though. While your absence offers relief for some, others like me, still anticipate wit in line of thinking, just the way you write your journals.

I have something to share though. Perhaps your readers may offer views on the matter.

I’ve been in Saudi Arabia for more than 2 years now, working as graphics designer in one of prestigious ad agencies. Prior to this, I used to work in the same line of business in the Philippines. It is no secret that ad agencies are full of so-called “weird” individuals bordering in being eccentric, strange or gay. Nevertheless, I enjoyed every minute working with these people, especially the gays, as they are funny and very smart.

In the Philippines, I have high regard for gays. Though it is still a struggle to become one in our country, they are nevertheless respectable, a class of their own – professionals with firm principles and lofty aspirations.

However, I miss the days when it used to be so nice working with them because they are smart and very professional in ways more than one. I miss the times being with them, because they are intellectually stimulating, highly creative individuals.

But I found out the contrary here. From the moment I set foot in this desert, I woke up to the idea that gays here have NO DIGNITY. And each day that passed by for more than two years, revelations after revelations proved this point - they only know nothing but boys, they are hungry for sexual encounters; they only do one thing but talk about intrigues, so fond of meddling with other people’s lives; they are very rude, for they have no regard to other people’s feeling.

It is such a frustration working with these individuals. If these socially impaired people will stand as beacon of what these gay right activists are fighting for, it will be no wonder why society will have to cast them in hell where they deserve gnawing of their teeth.

L. Lagdameo

I Remember The Boy

Raymond’s exhausted body has been lying on the bed for almost an hour, but sleep seemed to elude it. The darkness that enveloped the entirety nor the soft breeze of A/C did not help either. As he heaved a deep breath and tightly hug his pillows in sheer desperation, he could not help but recall the past.

A while ago in the chatroom, a familiar nick popped in his laptop’s screen. He was latent. For few seconds, he got excited. Thereafter, he burst with anger. It never dawned upon him that such frivolous nick would train him down the memory lane. Memories which he thought have long been safely buried at the deepest part of his heart.

It seemed like only yesterday when he was bursting with love, happiness and contentment, and everything imaginable. Francis, one of the contenders for the title Mr.Riyad 2002, decided to live with him.

He got Francis everything he could ever want – colognes, TagHuer, O2, PS3, 24K neclace, and "so-you-name-it’s". He even sponsored Francis' basketball team, and allocated 1,500 riyals monthly allowance to be remitted to the latter’s family in the Philippines.

In a place where sadness seems pervading, Raymound found love. Love he knew to be a “convenient arrangement”, but love he thought would last nevertheless.

Back then, he was sure he made the right choice. Despite the forebodings of his fellow members of the Secret Society of Married Men in Riyad, Raymond decided to go for it. He was in love, and for once, he wasn’t going to regret it, because Francis loved him back, so he thought.

One day Francis disappeared without a word. Raymond tried to reach him – phone, chat, e-mail but to no avail. He found out later from a friend that Francis is now working in Jeddah flashing his melodious smiles at Byblos Restaurant. Everything would have been understandable except he could have said goodbye, but no.

Upon further investigation, Raymond learned that Francis is now “the papa” of another old gay with ultra-Lyna’ed face working in the HR Division of one big fruit product company.

However, the old gay managed to contract a big loan; it’s been months since his vacation and he’s to be nowhere to be found. Francis' employment maybe terminated anytime with slim chance of renewal due to his inept attitude towards work and frequent absences.

During the chat, Raymond agreed to meet Francis, since the former is on a business trip to Jeddah.

Now, as Raymond looks at the tall man standing before him and asking him to revive the “what-used-to-be’s”, he’s afraid to look at him in the eyes, afraid that he’d be taken aback.

An inner fear is growing within him, afraid that he would take Francis in his arms again. Afraid that he’d be too weak to resist his charms. Afraid to make the wrong decision, once again.

But Raymond managed to recall his agony, and what he had been through. It was like a murder a thousand times. Life now is so different from back then. He doesn’t even feel like he knows himself anymore.

"But I have to move on," he’s telling himself. He has to let it go whatever. Of him. Of himself. Of what once was. Of what will never be.

Yes, he remembers the the boy. Those sweet eyes .. that impeccable curly hair… that smooth moreno skin.

Yeah, he remembers perfectly well. That sweet deceptive smile… those evil lips that ask for “something to buy” whenever they speak.

“Huh! I remember him…” he tells himself. “But the feeling…naah!” he couldn’t quite figure it out.

(also available at the journal section of www.pic-link.com)