JAN-B-3
PRE-DAWN WAKE-UP IN THE TROPICANA HOTEL IN
MANILA,
AND WITH MOST OF THE SMALL TEAM ASSEMBLED
IN LATE ARRIVALS,
FLY FROM MNL TO “GENSAN” TO GO BY ROAD TO
EDWARDS TO TECH,
FOR “DESTINATION ARRIVAL” IN THE LAND OF
THE TBOLI PEOPLE,
OUR FIRST WEEK’S PATIENTS, AND A RENDEZVOUS
WITH THE PHILIPPINE TEAM WHO HAVE DRIVEN OVERLAND FROM MALAYBALAY AT BBH IN
BUKIDNON,
THE SITE OF OUR SECOND WEEK’S PATIENTS
January 12, 2003
I am now aloft at 6:20 AM aboard an Airbus 330 piloted by a man who identifies himself as “Captain Cuna Cuna” We came before dawn to the domestic terminal of the Nino Aquino (International Terminal bears the name of the assassinated former candidate for [president eventually won by his widow Corazon) Airport. We had previously checked through the PAL interline baggage of Jennifer and me with the medical supplies, but the other two women who had shown up later in the day came by Cathay Pacific into another terminal and could not be through-checked. Three of the men who have gone missing in connecting from other Canadian flights would be arriving only an hour before our departure, so hardly enough time for me to meet them other than a wave in their haze of jet lag.
I had got up very early since I was completely fogged last night when I tried to spell-check the Cumberland story and wound up erasing some of it. But, I awoke at about two this morning after all the raucous noise from our student sector across from the Philippine Medical School---a Saturday night for the hard-working students to party—somewhat subsided and the tropical wind picked up to replace it. One of the young students came over yesterday, Wani and Bing’s oldest son, who is a sophomore studying medicine---an age when I was a hi8gh school freshman. I got up and showered and then typed up a bit of the mis-adventures of arrival across the broad Pacific after crossing the North American continent---al the way through glitches and mis-steps—but apparently, this has similarly affected the others. The woman Helen, who is a Canadian rural nurse from Alberta, now retired, had a startled and dull appearance when we first tried to rouse her from sleep upon return from my book-buying excursion through the Malls of Manila. These books are now tearing through the carryon bags I had just put in the overhead compartment on this A 330. But, it seems this Hippocratic expression under a mannish craggy face covers a fair number of these MMI excursions; but when asked about them, she says “Everywhere, but I can’t remember.”
We checked in our new bags from the recent arrivals and then fortunately got a pass to the Mabuhay Lounge for a delicious porridge and orange juice and yogurt breakfast, beating the doughnut pastries we had to be content with the last times. But, I also know that up ahead in South Cotabato, beyond the port of General Santos City, we will be met by the large contingent of the Philippine regulars which constitute our security detail, and they will deploy around us as we go up into the mountains toward Edwards, stopping at the Dole plantations of fresh fruits which we will indulge in at glutinous orgies of fruit-eating. So, our first breakfast today has been in the Mabuhay Lounge, and our next one will be under guard in the fruitful areas of South Cotabato
And, we will need guarding! The headline in the morning paper, which I also picked up in the Mabuhay Lounge, tells of a skirmish between these same Philippine troops with Pentagon support that killed 15 Muslim extremists of an armed camp of 1000 of them, with the wounding of 17. This is 70 kilometers above Koronodal City, the only city near us, where we usually go to find an email outlet and for those who cannot resist the shopping mall of the south. So, it is easy to see why vice-mayor Wani (also named Salvacio—as his wife is named Bing, with a nickname Lavacita) had originally requested a full platoon of security forces to assign to me and the group, since we are a high profile presence in an area of the Moslem fringe that overlaps in the mountains.
My objective in the air here is to get something started that we may send out of the last internet access we may be passing in the same Koronodal City, to let you know of my arrival, and the bits and pieces of our team having been assembled on this day, which is Sunday after a skipped Friday, so that we can actually start working tomorrow morning with a very large group of patients that have been trucked in and prepped for our assault on a large queue of the waitlist I left behind last time and all others that may be coming in anew. I will spell-check this and see if I can email you the messages from Florida, Cumberland and Mindanao to let you know that the work has begun!
A TOTAL MELTDOWN AFTER ALL THE WORK IS DONE—
THE STATNDARD STORY OF MY INTERNET TRANSMISSIONS
IN “DESTINATION TRAVEL” REMOTE LOCATIONS
We stopped the whole delegation and the security contingent—both uniformed police, army regulars and plaincolothes divisions for the VIP Security Escort, and I logged through the Yahoo access of Wani and Bing’s son Norman. Everything went well until the final attachment was added, and the “Send” button pushed—when the machine lit up with the “Illegal Operation” sign and the computer crashed. Two repeats brought the same result after the equal amount of effort, so we moved on. Two others sending simple messages before me worked just fine, if slowly. So, although I was up to the minute and could have relayed this message ini real time, as always, I have put in my effort, but the end-product has not been produced. So, you will receive the breaking news when it is stale stuff, but at least a single message was snet that assures you that we have arrived and are starting work under the heavy guard, intensified by the further action on the nearby front at Koronodal.
Stay tuned as we gather the group into an action environment and get ready to work as we settle in at the TECH for the schedule of events.