by Ronald Jabal
Too busy or too lazy? Probably both.
It's been close to two years since my last post. Shame on me! I have always been itching to write, but the the acronyms in my life (PPP, MTEF, OPIF, PIPH, AOP, PEM, PDP, 4Ps, PGS, NHTS-PR, MMR, CIDSS, IDU, CBCHP, SCHIP, DMF, TASC4, ICT4H) and the alphabet soup in my career (ADB, USAID, WB, CIDA, EU, UNDP DSWD, DoH, etc) always get in the way.
I have so many stories to tell. I just hope my muses inspire me (or just force my huge ass to write). Anyway, here goes another suitcase tale.
I love to wear my Armanis. and If there is an occasion that warrants my wearing them, heck, I wear him like a second skin (that's without batting an eyelid - overheard from some fashionista wannabee in Starbucks whose been drinking her tall machiatto for an hour)
And one such Armani occasion is a courtesy call and meeeting with a Supreme Court Chief.
We were in a huge conference room - ala MIB agents - and patiently waiting for the chief magistrate to arrive. When he finally arrived, we all shook his hands and proceeded with the meeting.
Given that I juggle multiple projects at the same time - ranging from health, public finance, environment and judicial projects - I normally review my notes in other projects while it is still not time for me to participate in the meeting.
In the middle of my almost day-dreaming stance, I faintly heard somebody calling my name. I ignored it at first until I felt a foot-jerk under the table. This was the time, I realized the Chief Justice was actually asking me a question.
I composed myself, fixed my tie, and straigten up my chair, pressed the red button in the microphone in front of me (like what you see during Congressional hearings) and then said:
"Thank you very much for your question Your Royal Highness"
And the otherwise somber meeting befitting an almost sacred chamber, burst into a raucous laughter.
I only realized my folly when the Chief Justice said, "Thank you for making me 'His Royal Highness' and added,.. Where's my crown?."
Haaay buhay!
It's good thing Mr. Armani was there to comfort my sorry royally-flushed ginormous (pronouned: djaynormoose) ass.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Sunday, August 30, 2009
"Chucky"
by Ronald Jabal
Everytime I travel - even if I am merely travelling locally - I make it a point to dress up - to the hilt!
I would always tag along my suit or jacket just in case some unannounced occasion calls for it. If there is none, I normally wears it everytime I ride a plane.
One day not too long ago, I was down south, I wore a perfectly ironed, crisp navy blue suit, mighty-fine shoes and the usual dark eye glasses. Move over Tom Ford!
The hotel staffs have gotten used to seeing me like this, hence I am treated differently - one reserved only for a celebrity (with all the perks and freebies).
So it was not a surprise to them that when I checked out, I was dressed to kill so to speak. That day, I decided not to wait for my service vehicle provided for by my company and asked for a taxi cab instead. I was headed for the airport for an afternoon flight.
When the cab arrived, I was even escorted by hotel staffs and carried my luggage. Little did I know, something "unusual" and "unexpected" will happen to me that afternoon which until today makes me chuckle.
The airport is a good one hour drive from the hotel.
The moment I went into the cab, the driver (around 50ish, slightly white haired, dark skin but with a welcoming face) was extra courteous. He would always glance at the dashboard mirror and looked at me and then he would smile. I caught him doing this several times so I decided to ignore him and simply look outside.
"Should I be scared?" I was asking myself. I adjusted my eyeglass so it would completely cover my eyes. And then he mumbled something which at first I could not understand as I was a bit scared already. And then the question became clearer:
"Artista ba kayo?"
I simply ignored the question because I thought that was both weird and funny. Yes Viginia, I appeared in two movies when I was a child (one with Erap and another with FPJ). But I am sure this driver could not have possibly remember me from these flicks in the 70s.
So I continued to ignore him. But, boy, he was persistent.
He said he was honored and proud to have driven an actor. He promised to tell his wife and his grandchildren. He asked who I am as he could not figure me out but he was pretty damn sure I am an "artista". Then he asked me again and again and again.
"Artista kayo di ba? Cge na sir aminin nyo na kasi namumukhaan ko kayo eh".
A bit embarassed and little bit annoyed (and a little bit ashamed), I blurted "Cge na nga. Opo", I said sheepishly. (at this time I was already smiling at the kakapalan ng mukha ko)
The driver howled like a horny gorilla, beat his chest and said "Ang swerte ko talaga!" (by this time, I was feeling guilty already and wanted to retract but I was a bit scared to do so.)
He took out a pen and piece of paper and asked me for an authograph (the guilt feeling was already killing me) and said,
"sir Pakilagay nalang... Mag aral ka mabuti Ana (referring to his granddaughter) love Chucky"
Chucky???? Was he referring to the famed movie monster Chucky the Doll?
When I got off the cab, he profusely thanked me for the time and for letting him drive him to the airport and quickly said,
"Salamat talaga sir. Swerte ko talaga ngayon dahil napag drive ko si Chucky Dreyfus!", then he sped away.
Caveat:
To the very few readers of this blog, am still wondering, todate, why that driver thought I was Chucky Dreyfus. I looked more like Chucky the Doll. Really (insert British accent here)
To those who dont know Chucky Dreyfus. He was a child star in the late 80s.
And to Chucky Dreyfus, pasensya na baka duling lang si Manong heheh
Everytime I travel - even if I am merely travelling locally - I make it a point to dress up - to the hilt!
I would always tag along my suit or jacket just in case some unannounced occasion calls for it. If there is none, I normally wears it everytime I ride a plane.
One day not too long ago, I was down south, I wore a perfectly ironed, crisp navy blue suit, mighty-fine shoes and the usual dark eye glasses. Move over Tom Ford!
The hotel staffs have gotten used to seeing me like this, hence I am treated differently - one reserved only for a celebrity (with all the perks and freebies).
So it was not a surprise to them that when I checked out, I was dressed to kill so to speak. That day, I decided not to wait for my service vehicle provided for by my company and asked for a taxi cab instead. I was headed for the airport for an afternoon flight.
When the cab arrived, I was even escorted by hotel staffs and carried my luggage. Little did I know, something "unusual" and "unexpected" will happen to me that afternoon which until today makes me chuckle.
The airport is a good one hour drive from the hotel.
The moment I went into the cab, the driver (around 50ish, slightly white haired, dark skin but with a welcoming face) was extra courteous. He would always glance at the dashboard mirror and looked at me and then he would smile. I caught him doing this several times so I decided to ignore him and simply look outside.
"Should I be scared?" I was asking myself. I adjusted my eyeglass so it would completely cover my eyes. And then he mumbled something which at first I could not understand as I was a bit scared already. And then the question became clearer:
"Artista ba kayo?"
I simply ignored the question because I thought that was both weird and funny. Yes Viginia, I appeared in two movies when I was a child (one with Erap and another with FPJ). But I am sure this driver could not have possibly remember me from these flicks in the 70s.
So I continued to ignore him. But, boy, he was persistent.
He said he was honored and proud to have driven an actor. He promised to tell his wife and his grandchildren. He asked who I am as he could not figure me out but he was pretty damn sure I am an "artista". Then he asked me again and again and again.
"Artista kayo di ba? Cge na sir aminin nyo na kasi namumukhaan ko kayo eh".
A bit embarassed and little bit annoyed (and a little bit ashamed), I blurted "Cge na nga. Opo", I said sheepishly. (at this time I was already smiling at the kakapalan ng mukha ko)
The driver howled like a horny gorilla, beat his chest and said "Ang swerte ko talaga!" (by this time, I was feeling guilty already and wanted to retract but I was a bit scared to do so.)
He took out a pen and piece of paper and asked me for an authograph (the guilt feeling was already killing me) and said,
"sir Pakilagay nalang... Mag aral ka mabuti Ana (referring to his granddaughter) love Chucky"
Chucky???? Was he referring to the famed movie monster Chucky the Doll?
When I got off the cab, he profusely thanked me for the time and for letting him drive him to the airport and quickly said,
"Salamat talaga sir. Swerte ko talaga ngayon dahil napag drive ko si Chucky Dreyfus!", then he sped away.
Caveat:
To the very few readers of this blog, am still wondering, todate, why that driver thought I was Chucky Dreyfus. I looked more like Chucky the Doll. Really (insert British accent here)
To those who dont know Chucky Dreyfus. He was a child star in the late 80s.
And to Chucky Dreyfus, pasensya na baka duling lang si Manong heheh
Friday, June 19, 2009
"am"
by Ronald Jabal
I have been teaching in a number of universities for quite a while now. And during those years, I have encountered not a few amusing anecdotes. And here is one:
Normally, before I formally discuss my syllabus on campaign management (one of the subjects I teach), I provide my classes a number of examples of campaigns that are currently being done in environment, political, health etc.
I also discuss some issues being encountered in campaign planning and management such as culture, language, literacy, machismo etc..
In one of the classes I handled, our discussions veered towards breastfeeding campaigns.
I asked the students if they know or familiar with the yellowish nutrient-rich milk produced by mothers during the beginning of lactation ( which has been the subject of gazillions of IEC materials)
Boy was I surprised, maraming "bibo" kids.
"Ay alam ko yan!", sabi ng isa. "Ako rin ako rin" chimed another .
And one of the "bibo" kids raised her hands, stood up and proudly announced her answer:
"Sir, I know that, it is called AM" (as in AM from sinaing na bigas! whew!).
Syempre tawanan ang lahat, I didnt correct it right away and some students requested to guess the term first before I announced the correct answer.
They asked for a clue.. so I said "it starts with the letter "C".
One student shouted "Cocoa!"
"Another letter", requested by another, so I said the "C" is followed by "O".
Another girl giddily stood up and said... "Chocolate?"
Before kung saan saan pa mapunta discussion, I disclosed the term... and they all said... "sabi ko na nga ba eh" (oo nga naman).
I have been teaching in a number of universities for quite a while now. And during those years, I have encountered not a few amusing anecdotes. And here is one:
Normally, before I formally discuss my syllabus on campaign management (one of the subjects I teach), I provide my classes a number of examples of campaigns that are currently being done in environment, political, health etc.
I also discuss some issues being encountered in campaign planning and management such as culture, language, literacy, machismo etc..
In one of the classes I handled, our discussions veered towards breastfeeding campaigns.
I asked the students if they know or familiar with the yellowish nutrient-rich milk produced by mothers during the beginning of lactation ( which has been the subject of gazillions of IEC materials)
Boy was I surprised, maraming "bibo" kids.
"Ay alam ko yan!", sabi ng isa. "Ako rin ako rin" chimed another .
And one of the "bibo" kids raised her hands, stood up and proudly announced her answer:
"Sir, I know that, it is called AM" (as in AM from sinaing na bigas! whew!).
Syempre tawanan ang lahat, I didnt correct it right away and some students requested to guess the term first before I announced the correct answer.
They asked for a clue.. so I said "it starts with the letter "C".
One student shouted "Cocoa!"
"Another letter", requested by another, so I said the "C" is followed by "O".
Another girl giddily stood up and said... "Chocolate?"
Before kung saan saan pa mapunta discussion, I disclosed the term... and they all said... "sabi ko na nga ba eh" (oo nga naman).
Friday, May 1, 2009
Nalibog ang Vegetable You
by Ronald Jabal
NOTE: This post is a finalist in the Top 10 Posts of the Year in the 2009 Philippine Blog Awards)
I have been all over Mindanao. And in most of these trips, I meet, share stories and exchange "hagikhikan" with my second moms. Yes MOMs - they are my barangay health workers (BHW) who are mostly women.
They are some of the most selfless and industrious Filipinos I have ever met. They work to promote health behavior and practices in mostly rural Philippines. They get an average of PhP 200 per month as an allowance which they only get every three months. Despite the uber measly sum, these BHWs work tirelessly. Pretty remarkable di ba?
But what I am writing about is the "tawanan galore" I always have everytime I am around them.
My first few meetings/trainings I conducted with them, I have always pronounced BHW as "bee eytch double you".
I thought I was doing okay until a few of the BHWs appoached me and said..
"Ser Roon... dili "bee eytch double you", dapat baya Beige dabol you".
And then another chimed in... "dapat bitch dabol you"... yet another said " Bee etch dabol yo"..
I was already attracting quite a group when one BHW shouted...
"Mali sila lahat... dapat "Vegetable you!"... ( haaay naging gulay pa tuloy ako!).
Kadyot lang, nalibugan ako
In yet another instance, I was confronted with a potentially sleazy situation... an indecent proposal (or so I thought!).
I was teaching a group of BHWs how to craft health messages for placement in their information materials when one mid-50s woman approach me with furrowed eyebrows, seemingly perplexed and disturbed and was slight scratching her head. Without much of a hupplepuff, she told m in full hearing distance of everybody:
"Sir, kadyot lang, kadyot lang. Nalibog ako sa iyo".
Caught by surprise and pagkataranta at the "candor" and "openness" of the statement, I didnt know how to respond.
I looked at our staff begging for help, but when no one budged, I retorted to the BHW:
"Ma'm pasensya na ha... di kita type eh!"
At this time, the entire session hall burst into laughter.
The cackling was deafening, even our staff could not help but teared at my straightforward response.
And then I just felt a light "kurot" in my kili kili.
"Bruho kang bata ka (the BHW who earlier said na nalibog sya sa akin was already laughing hard), ang ibig ko sabihin, sandali lang nalilito ako!"
And the near 40 participants let loose a loooooong hagakhakan, while I was flustered due to embarassment!
NOTE: This post is a finalist in the Top 10 Posts of the Year in the 2009 Philippine Blog Awards)
I have been all over Mindanao. And in most of these trips, I meet, share stories and exchange "hagikhikan" with my second moms. Yes MOMs - they are my barangay health workers (BHW) who are mostly women.
They are some of the most selfless and industrious Filipinos I have ever met. They work to promote health behavior and practices in mostly rural Philippines. They get an average of PhP 200 per month as an allowance which they only get every three months. Despite the uber measly sum, these BHWs work tirelessly. Pretty remarkable di ba?
But what I am writing about is the "tawanan galore" I always have everytime I am around them.
My first few meetings/trainings I conducted with them, I have always pronounced BHW as "bee eytch double you".
I thought I was doing okay until a few of the BHWs appoached me and said..
"Ser Roon... dili "bee eytch double you", dapat baya Beige dabol you".
And then another chimed in... "dapat bitch dabol you"... yet another said " Bee etch dabol yo"..
I was already attracting quite a group when one BHW shouted...
"Mali sila lahat... dapat "Vegetable you!"... ( haaay naging gulay pa tuloy ako!).
Kadyot lang, nalibugan ako
In yet another instance, I was confronted with a potentially sleazy situation... an indecent proposal (or so I thought!).
I was teaching a group of BHWs how to craft health messages for placement in their information materials when one mid-50s woman approach me with furrowed eyebrows, seemingly perplexed and disturbed and was slight scratching her head. Without much of a hupplepuff, she told m in full hearing distance of everybody:
"Sir, kadyot lang, kadyot lang. Nalibog ako sa iyo".
Caught by surprise and pagkataranta at the "candor" and "openness" of the statement, I didnt know how to respond.
I looked at our staff begging for help, but when no one budged, I retorted to the BHW:
"Ma'm pasensya na ha... di kita type eh!"
At this time, the entire session hall burst into laughter.
The cackling was deafening, even our staff could not help but teared at my straightforward response.
And then I just felt a light "kurot" in my kili kili.
"Bruho kang bata ka (the BHW who earlier said na nalibog sya sa akin was already laughing hard), ang ibig ko sabihin, sandali lang nalilito ako!"
And the near 40 participants let loose a loooooong hagakhakan, while I was flustered due to embarassment!
Monday, April 27, 2009
Habal habal
by Ronald Jabal
"Habal habal" is very appropriate blog address for my suitcase tales.
(It is the term used by a number of people in the Visayas and Mindanao to refer to a "single" motorycle that ferries people around. It is not unusual to see and hear motorycle riders in Visayas and Mindanao offer you a ride in their habal habal - "Sir, habal habal")
Not only does it sound like my family name "Jabal" but it is a word that is and has stuck with me, in my travels around.
And I found about its meaning in a weird yet funny way.
A few years back, while working as communication consultant for a foreign-funded environment project, I was sent to conduct a training program in Camotes Island in Cebu.
Clutching my "first class" ticket, I went to Pier 2 in Cebu City Pier and looked for the boat that was to carry me to Camotes Island. It was a good 5 hour boat ride, I was told, hence a "first class" cabin would certainly be a welcome treat. Oh boy I was in for a huge surprise!
I asked around where is the "first class" cabin. And I could not understand the puzzled look of the boat crew. One shouted "Pare first class daw ito" with a chuckle.
(Please imagine my look at that day: black pants and jacket and white crisp shirt, and black shoes with huge black "roller" bag" -hey, i was told FIRST CLASS!)
So I finally saw the boat. My jaw dropped out of shock and embarassment. It was a small boat. My initial image of a large cruise ship laughed at me like a shitty hyena. Still, I composed myself.
I asked again, "I am holding a first class ticket, where will I stay?" (I was like a social climbing biyatch in the movie Titanic") - only to be greeted with another round of puzzled eyebrows.
My hopes were fast disappearing but was completely dashed when I saw sacks of palay and copras all the way up to the second floor where the supposed "first class" cabin was located.
"First class" stared at me: a 4o to 50 square meter area enclosed by a glass panel filled with double decks.
Geez Bunteez!!
And so I settled in one of the decks (it had a two-inch cushion and built-in pillow as hard as my mom's pudding) and licked my shameful cruise-dream.
After a million of REMs and a Concerto in G minor from the snoring deck-mates, I finally arrived in Camotes Island. And boy was I surprised!
Throngs of people, mostly men, shouted and greeted me (or so I thought!).
In my mind, these people were shouting "Jabal-Jabal, Jabal-Jabal". It was like they have seen a Rockstar! (me a rock star? more like matinee idol hahahaha)
So the idiot me (at this point I was feeling relieved from my earlier embarassment and feeling overjoyed by the welcomers sent by my hosts), told those shouting, "No, please dont say Jabal-Jabal", I am Mr. Jabal. Just one Jabal".
Then I saw again the bewildered look. And the look became a stare. I repeated again (sigh! what a dumb dumb!) "No, please dont say Jabal-Jabal", I am Mr. Jabal. Just one Jabal".
This was the time my host arrived - he was apparently been laughing all the while at my folly - and explained to me that I was being offered a ride in "habal habal".
Then I realized that was not my lucky day and just laughed at everything. *toink*
"Habal habal" is very appropriate blog address for my suitcase tales.
(It is the term used by a number of people in the Visayas and Mindanao to refer to a "single" motorycle that ferries people around. It is not unusual to see and hear motorycle riders in Visayas and Mindanao offer you a ride in their habal habal - "Sir, habal habal")
Not only does it sound like my family name "Jabal" but it is a word that is and has stuck with me, in my travels around.
And I found about its meaning in a weird yet funny way.
A few years back, while working as communication consultant for a foreign-funded environment project, I was sent to conduct a training program in Camotes Island in Cebu.
Clutching my "first class" ticket, I went to Pier 2 in Cebu City Pier and looked for the boat that was to carry me to Camotes Island. It was a good 5 hour boat ride, I was told, hence a "first class" cabin would certainly be a welcome treat. Oh boy I was in for a huge surprise!
I asked around where is the "first class" cabin. And I could not understand the puzzled look of the boat crew. One shouted "Pare first class daw ito" with a chuckle.
(Please imagine my look at that day: black pants and jacket and white crisp shirt, and black shoes with huge black "roller" bag" -hey, i was told FIRST CLASS!)
So I finally saw the boat. My jaw dropped out of shock and embarassment. It was a small boat. My initial image of a large cruise ship laughed at me like a shitty hyena. Still, I composed myself.
I asked again, "I am holding a first class ticket, where will I stay?" (I was like a social climbing biyatch in the movie Titanic") - only to be greeted with another round of puzzled eyebrows.
My hopes were fast disappearing but was completely dashed when I saw sacks of palay and copras all the way up to the second floor where the supposed "first class" cabin was located.
"First class" stared at me: a 4o to 50 square meter area enclosed by a glass panel filled with double decks.
Geez Bunteez!!
And so I settled in one of the decks (it had a two-inch cushion and built-in pillow as hard as my mom's pudding) and licked my shameful cruise-dream.
After a million of REMs and a Concerto in G minor from the snoring deck-mates, I finally arrived in Camotes Island. And boy was I surprised!
Throngs of people, mostly men, shouted and greeted me (or so I thought!).
In my mind, these people were shouting "Jabal-Jabal, Jabal-Jabal". It was like they have seen a Rockstar! (me a rock star? more like matinee idol hahahaha)
So the idiot me (at this point I was feeling relieved from my earlier embarassment and feeling overjoyed by the welcomers sent by my hosts), told those shouting, "No, please dont say Jabal-Jabal", I am Mr. Jabal. Just one Jabal".
Then I saw again the bewildered look. And the look became a stare. I repeated again (sigh! what a dumb dumb!) "No, please dont say Jabal-Jabal", I am Mr. Jabal. Just one Jabal".
This was the time my host arrived - he was apparently been laughing all the while at my folly - and explained to me that I was being offered a ride in "habal habal".
Then I realized that was not my lucky day and just laughed at everything. *toink*
My Suitcase tales
My work brings me to places.
And in these places, there are always a lot of things to experience - to write. Hence, I decided to create a blog about places, people, experiences.
Welcome to my suitcase tales!
And in these places, there are always a lot of things to experience - to write. Hence, I decided to create a blog about places, people, experiences.
Welcome to my suitcase tales!
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