FROM HERE TO TIHAMALAND: A Gift of Life...

FROM HERE TO TIHAMALAND: A gift of life…

“…a father shot her pregnant daughter dead in what appeared to be an ‘honor killing’ incident in Jordan;” the headline reads in every printed major daily in the Middle East.

“I must be getting old for this,” I dropped the suit case, not actually drop but hurled it with so much effort towards the luggage trolley. Pulling it out of the conveyor needed even more strength than usual. After 30 years; I should not be surprised that what I used to lift with little effort now seems heavier than usual not that my luggage have grown in size; the ravages of time is inflicting its toll upon my little but otherwise healthy frame.

 Passing through custom at the Riyadh airport have changed very little if at all. Actually…no longer opening people’s luggage in search of forbidden foods, censored DVDs (it used to be beta max and VHS tapes) and yes; magazines with photos of sleeveless women may appear little on the surface but it means real big for the legions of foreign workers. If properly packaged; Filipinos can now bring their ‘killer’ porky foods without being tossed into the garbage.

The most difficult part of going back to Saudi Arabia is not lifting bags and hurling luggage but leaving behind screaming toddlers and teary eyed loved ones. It is something that one never gets used to. It is painful every time.

It’s hard to believe that six years whoosh by so quickly. In that blink of time however; a lot have changed in my personal world. This could be my last journey back; hopefully.

“Whaaat?” my son’s peers howled almost growled in unison. “You passed the board?” the internet café/gaming center was in a festive mood. They heard the good news that one of their own passed the licensure board for nurses.

“How is that possible?” they teased my son. “We haven’t seen you review for the board. You were always here playing,” and the crowd broke into boisterous laughter. Internet gamers are a close-net band of spoiled kids whose parents liked the idea that instead of their kids loiter out in the street; it is better that they spend their time on the net. Parents have little to worry except their falling grades :-)

My last vacation differs from the many previous ones that I had on a very notable change; my children are grown ups as in really adults. Those who are not married are engaged to be married :-(

Am I going to die? The question has crossed my mind so many times. My children seemed to be acting different. They want to relish every moment that I was with them.

We arrived late from a dinner. My wife sprained her ankle when she missed step an elevation at Kenny Roger’s. She cannot climb the stair to the second floor but my children insisted that we watch a video movie together.

“Why can’t we watch upstairs and mom can just rest?” I overheard Naira asking

“This could be the last time we will all be together as family,” Norayda replied. “By the time Dad returns for another vacation; I could be living in my house in Cavite while you and Nader could be living somewhere else with your own families. You are both engaged to be married.”

I realized; she was absolutely right. This is the end of the transition period.

We crowded into our bedroom and together watched; believe it or not…FINAL DESTINATION 5. Sometimes I wonder if December 21, 2012 really does mean something. It’s barely a year away.

 They took me and their mom out for lunch or dinner whenever they can. We went to expensive restaurants and for the first time; my pocket did not have to bleed. They spend money as if there is more where it came from. They hide the bills from us because they knew; the price will make me frown.

It is no joke to send 4 children to private schools. I bought for them the best education that I can afford. When they were young; I gave them a life of plenty. The time has come to show their appreciation. Few days before I left; they hauled their mom and I to the derma clinic to give us facial :-). I don’t know about my wife but that was my first and it was good. I look younger afterwards so I thought.

We were driving back from a leisure trip to Tagaytay City. Nishamae was feverish. By the time we got home; she was really burning hot. She is barely 14 months old. When her mother was told that her child is feverish, she simply said, “So what, daddy is here.”

My children were in panic. My son (nurse) was breaking the ice, another (Optometrist) held Nisha around her arms while one (Med-Tech) put the cool towel over her head and in the meantime; her ‘pharmacist’ mom prepares the medicines. It was a lovely sight. I turned back my head holding back tears that is clouding my vision. Two years earlier; this family was in tatters reeling under a crashing social conflict that I thought we will never recover.

My daughter eloped with her boy friend.

Friends and relatives offered to end it but I persevered. I left it to God.

One mistake cannot by righted by another wrong that is even more extreme. This thing happens because God willed it. I did no wrong to deserve this. God must have a special reason for making it happen so I decided to let events take its course.

My other children feel betrayed by their sister. My eldest who was then in Qatar was furious. She vowed not to step in our house again if I allowed her sister to bring the child home. Another of my daughters who was then at the time working in Thailand was likewise very sad although not as furious.

Their mom was fuming day and night. We all had sleepless night. When she delivered; I told my wife’s niece to email me some pictures which she did. When I saw my grandchild’s picture on a crib; my heart skipped a beat. My daughter’s photo on a makeshift lying-in-clinic pinched my heart.

A month before my leave; a cousin in the company of Maharlika’s no-nonsense characters invaded the Baranggay where my daughter lived and took her by force. It was her request. She wanted to come home for good and we welcomed her with open arms. With another ‘angel of joy’ in tow; the glee has returned to my family; Alhamdullillah!

Indeed mysterious are the ways of Allah; His wonders to perform in many ways than one.

My wife was sweeping the floor at the dining room.

“Nishreen,” she called. “Bring me the dustpan,” but Nishreen ignored her mom. She screamed few times more.

I felt someone was pulling my pajama. I was at the sink washing dishes. I found Nishamae holding on to my leg pointing to the dustpan mounted on top of the waste can.

The main house is about 2 feet elevated compared to the kitchen extension so I built a railing to separate the floors with few steps of stairs to connect. Nishamae when I first arrived used to crawl up and down the stair but in a month time; she learned to slide down the stair up front. When feeling playful; she would scream “dadiii”. I came running the first time wondering what was wrong. I found her squeezed between the railings. As soon as I extended my hands; she let herself fall freely towards me with maddeningly joyous laughter.

My wife and I needed to change her diaper together. One has to pin her down while the other changes the diaper. To infants her age; changing diaper is a game. Again; her laughter is maddeningly jolly. I made funny faces at the wriggling and laughing Nisha as I pinned her down then I paused for a moment.

The serious change on my face was obvious.

I looked at my wife.

“A gift of life,” I mumbled.

“What,” my wife asked.

“Remember what you said to your doctor when Nishreen was born seven years ago?”

“Why legate me, I am already old?” she replied.

“…and she said, she knew of many at your age of 46 who keeps coming back to deliver and besides your husband signed the permission paper to legate.” I added.

“When I signed the paper although I was half awake; I refused to accept anymore gift of life from God. In the time of the prophet; his companions asked him if they can institute methods to prevent their wives from getting pregnant. They did not want to fight in wars and possibly die leaving behind pregnant mothers.”

“You may or you may not,” the prophet had replied. “Those who are willed by God to be born will be born no matter what.”

“…a gift of life,” my wife and I looked down at the lovely Nishamae wriggling to be free, “…no matter what,” and we laughed together as I picked up and caressed our new gift of life.

NLK