The Beginning...

"The day that I left my homeland is the day that I start to live..."

The beginning

It was a cold wintry morning in 2005 when I boarded a Manila bound bus in Sta. Rosa Laguna, at the end of my resources and a the end of my rope. I pt back in my bag the newspaper clippings which have been responsible for giving me an inspiration at a time when I needed it most. At 26 years, everything I have tried had somehow failed to hold on me. in fact, I have long been in doubt whether or not there was anything really in meI was recently been fired from a job that I dont really learned to like eventhough it was the only job that I knew and was the only thing that keeps me alive and well. My physical stature makes everyone think that I was a hard man, but in reality, I was just nobody better than an no good asshole with no home and no kinsfolk to speak of, no friends, no money, no sweetheart, nothing! Just a couple of clothes and faded jeans that I got in my old backpack. Nothing to lose, and nowhere else to go. And while I was about to embark in a beginning of a new journey, I became somewhat nostalgic.

Nostalgia

My father wanted me to be a farmer, being the eldest of three sons in a family that tends a sizable farmland in the province. So I went to an agricultural school for a year, but gave that up. Then by my mother's inspiration, I tried business management for a year. No good. I had interest in management, but the thought of staying indoors and spending the rest of my life sitting in my office slowly killed my interest. Those two frustrating years, however, revealed to me what was the matter. The ambition of my parent to put me into a profession, or if not, into business have influenced me against what I really wanted. I wanted to be free!. I needed to get away out of this seemingly unending monotony of my life out somewhere where I could be me.

I love adventure. My mother always tells me that I was like one of her brother who loves the thrill of the fights and adventures in the countryside. But apart from being physically strong and active on my feet, I had no other qualifications that I knew for leading an adventurous life. Nevertheless, It was adventure that called increasingly upon me.

Then I have been troubled by the rumblings of war between the Government forces and the Islamic separatist rebels of Mindanao. Now it was a fact, and being a reservist in the Armed forces, I was called to enlist for active military services. Christian by faith, and by my strong personal feelings against the moros, I joined the Army, to fight for my country and for my faith. I did not feel that I could not have made it a good soldier because there was something about a soldier's free life for adventure and danger that appealed to me. Still, with my country's split views over the issues of war that we are fighting for, and the ravaging scandals that stormed the leadership of the military, I feel like I was caught in between the devil and a deep cliff. So altogether, my dissatisfaction and unhappiness in my life drove me to undertake this long, painful and agonizing journey to the hinterland of Arabia.

The Departure

As I looked around me, I realized that I was the only person aboard the bus. In fact, even the driver was nowhere about. Then I turned my head around me and noticed few passerby's and some noctambulant vendors around the terminal. It's quite too early at 4 A.M. to ride. My flight is scheduled at 3 P.M. It took sometime until finally other passengers begin to arrived. Two passengers seated just behind me, weather beaten hard young men who were evidently recovering from a night of too close intimacy with liquor. I could smell the spirit coming out of their breath. Then there was a keen-eyed old man, and a buxom woman. they were apparently merchants. Another man had climbed to the driver's seat, and announced that the bus was about to leave. The last passenger who took the seat beside me was a salesman working in Makati.

As we were about to roll on the road, a a clamor of friendly voices arose bidding us goodbye. No doubt, some of the well-wishers actually know some of the passengers. But from the wave of sounds that arose, I could see that the departure of that bus was an event, and I seem to feel that some of the goodbyes and well-wishes ringing in my ears were actually meant for me.

And so the rest is history...