For want of a better presentation.

today i attended a presentation on road traffic injuries. 


it would have been a perfect project with perfect concepts had the consultants have better grasp as to why they are actually engaging in things that are out of the boundaries of their expertise. for one, i did not see any transport planner or traffic engineer or road safety expert in their team, and yet we, the participants were supposed to be taught on how road injuries are prevented. 


(DO NOT, first of all, and again, DO NOT present a stat table straight from SPSS pasted in MS Excel, complete and unedited of all those permutation shits that only a statistic can understand. i say, DO NOT present this to a general public meeting. This does not only come from me, but from my Mr. Senor Statistics Professor. You will only look like you only want to drown them in details but don't actually know shit.)


and no, road injuries are not CAUSED by non-wearing of helmet, or by non-compliance to seatbelt law. we abide by the helmet and seatbelt law on the premise that if ever we DO MEET AN ACCIDENT, we will suffer from injuries that will render us severely handicapped, much more, dead. but non-compliance to those things do NOT, i repeat DO NOT cause injuries. 


take the example of wearing shoes. we wear shoes because we want our feet protected. we do not want our feet to be accidentally pricked by thorns or cut by sharp objects but would the non-wearing of shoes cause result to a bloody cut on your feet? 


i wish that the presentors had consulted first with road safety experts or at least made themselves aware of things regarding road safety because dude, road safety is a safety issue. you do not want to mislead people on matters concerning their life or death.  


(i do not understand why a bio statiscian is explaining a road safety perception survey that took counts of people not wearing helmets or seatbelts and asking them why they're stupid not to wear so. a statiscian, i can understand--any statistician can do statistics, but a BIO stat? what difference does that make?)


it doesn't help that this study is trying to anchor its framework solely on the fact that people who here drink and drive--or at least that's what i am getting from one presentor. come on, lindsay lohan does that all the time. people in the city do that all the time. do not try to make this an isolated case, you presumpter! first of all, the percentage of people who do that is too small compared to people who overspeeds, to infrastructure that would fail the road safety audit or to the fact that people here resort to habal-habal for their main mode of public transport. i would like to think that given those three major issues, we could anchor a road safety/road traffic injury framework there. blackspots, as a term, was not even mentioned. 


i do not know how community participation can be encouraged or solicited through IEC, advocacy and meetings. in my experience, community participation can only gained by allowing the community to feel that they own the project. "sense of ownership", anyone?


Before i could lambast the presentation in my thoughts, just before the session closed, a better presentor took over. although he did not present the project framework and the rationale for frontlining this project (when it could be better given to other agencies who are expert on these issues), he was able to assure me (not directly, of course)  that at least somebody in the team knows what they are doing, stuffs on road safety, and that somebody in the team has actually worked on projects of these kinds. and he mentioned blackspots. (ahe ahe)


i am not an expert on these matters. i am not even a transport planner but dude, i've heard and read better; i do know when i'm being fooled. 




(actually, never mind. never mind what i said. it's just that the invocation was that mass produced prayer-for-training song sung by josh groban and some church-sounding family name woman singer. i wish all training opening programs will just concoct their own prayer and stop using the damn song. it's not funny.)

wow, if it's not amazing news week, i don't know what is.

my kid's play school teacher just sent me a message that my kid's "nanny" is leaving us end of this month. Nanny just got news from her pregnancy kit that she is positively pregnant. she is the second nanny, in the 4 nannies that worked with us, to have become pregnant. the one before her was the first.

husband said he has seen it coming because she seems to have the same habit as the previously impregnated one -- endless time on mobile phones. i tell you, if your nanny is always spending time on her mobile phone expect a pregnancy soon.

i meant to write a story about her because lately she has been getting on my nerves. but i'll think about it now that she is leaving us.

eehh. but the shine is shining today after 3 days of rain and cold so it's not totally but news day. but eh, i realized i'm in the island and weather here is crazy.

eehh.

Island Stories

Over beer, male friend (mf), PF and I agreed to go to the island and visit PF's relatives one time. mf was in town for a while and the three of us have just been reunited. meanwhile, mf and i had just finished our recent field work and was taking time to exhaust all ways of hanging out because pretty soon we knew we'll get tired of each other.

so the date and time of the island date was set. i hoped nobody's too drunk to forget.

i cannot remember where we rendezvous-ed but i remember mf wore his very faded tie-dyed shirt which i totally hated because combined with his frizzy hair, skinny frame and hippie ways, he looked like your local high school pot dealer. and because i'm with him everyone would presume i am THE associate. if i remember well, i think PF's hair was still long, way below his shoulders. three of us might well just look like your unemployed local high school pot dealers.

There are two routes to get to the island and two routes dock at two different ports. there is a reason why these ports were separated but somehow during that time our route was relocated to the same exact port of the OTHER route. meaning, two routes now dock and leave at the same port. but we do not mind, PF is a local so he would know. no matter how confusing third world travelling is, in this chapter of our adventurous life we were sure not to get lost because we have a local and locals always know best.

so we got the newsprint tickets and boarded the ferry.

i think i was sandwiched between my two male companions who i also trust to go out of their way to save me should the ferry sink because i do not know how to swim. PF told me to just trust the life jacket.

Just as the ferry was negotiating out of the River's mouth, I felt something amiss.

"Are you sure we took the right ferry?"

"How can i not be sure?"

"Because the boat's nose is pointing at the direction of the OTHER port."

"No, it's going OUR way. the pilot is just negotiating with the waves. it will make a turn in a few minutes, you'll see."

Trust the locals. I looked at mf. He was oblivious--just enjoying the salty breeze blowing his frizzy hair making it frizzier, and him, scarier.

I waited. It did not make a turn.

"Why is it not making THAT turn you said?"

"The waves are still difficult to manage. you see, if the driver forces it, the boat will capsize, so he is taking things slowly."

"Are you sure? because i think we REALLY are heading the different direction," I shouted above the humming engine.

PF nodded. I tugged at mf and told him of my dilemma, and he kinda noticed, too, so he also mentioned it to PF. PF began to think because the adventure racer mf already did notice we were going to the OTHER direction. mf was after all an outdoor racer and outdoor racers are particular of directions.

maybe we were really heading the other direction.

Mid-way to the trip PF said, "Well, i guess it's not gonna make a turn. Maybe something went wrong with the RIGHT port so all ferries dock at the OTHER port."

I grinned at PF.

then PF remembers that when we boarded the ferry, we used the "outriggers". the one we're supposed to ride does not load passengers via its outriggers.

tsk. tsk. tsk.

when we got to the port, the swarm of tricycle and habal habal drivers asked where we're headed. when they learned of our mistake, they offered suggestions, specific to their own benefits of course--like driving us from this wrong port all the way to the other right port. which pot dealer-looking male friend took as a good suggestion, actually the best suggestion of all.

"Dude, the last thing you'd want to do is go back there. I don;t want to go back there. It does not feel good. It;s like admitting you were stupidly wrong."

he has a point, though.

but isn't taking a tricycle and paying more to get to that RIGHT direction is adding insult to the injury? rubbing salt to the wound? stupider, huh?

and it's tricycle rides could get really cold and i don;t have a jacket and i am wearing short shorts.

PF says Yes. We should not go back.

so we took the tricycle that took us to the OTHER port where we will get the ride to PF's relative's house.

The ride was there, half empty (or half full?), waiting for us. we got in, the three of us. and waited. mf got impatient, he got off and smoked. PF joined him.

"Dude, i so want to grab the burger from the kid. he honestly made me hungry. i;ve never been this burger hungry in my life," he said, and glanced some more at the kid. PF seconded.

there was a kid eating a burger in across mf's seat. good-smelling fastfood burgers.

"You know, if we went back we could have bought some burgers..." I began.

"Ah, no, no, no. that is a different story," mf says.

And finally the driver gets enough passengers to stuff inside his cranky, walking corten steel jeepney.

We did make it to PF's relative's house before dinner and i think i even cooked spaghetti for my starving associates.

start of a new temporary.

It's a wet, rainy, muddy, windy Monday and i have to travel at least an hour from home to work, 3 ride changes with at least 2 transport mode changes.

Test travel to work place led to a conclusion that on a wet, rainy monday morning, i have to leave the house not later than 7am if i want to be in the office by 8.

work is not yet very hectic since i'm just starting, meaning, i have this day to look stupid and keep asking the busy everyones for all the readings so i can familiarize myself with the program.

it was still wet and raining when i arrived at the island; it was even wetter when i arrived at the office. it was half past 8. boss and other staff were busy so i went out for coffee. more wetness and drizzle, and now soft, brown mud all the way to the makeshift shelter that's a canteen. i intended to just buy instant coffee in a styro cup so i can bring it back to the office but no, apparently, nobody here likes their coffee to go so no canteen serves coffee to go so i took my coffee there, in one of the many empty, gloomy tables. i tried to plan my day while sipping coffee and gazing outside the cyclone wire fence. i have a view of my office's brown wooden door.

i remember the day PF, our common male friend and I went to the island and took the wrong ferry. The ferry choice was never wrong until we were in the middle of the ocean and the ferry did not make that unexpected  turn as we prayed it would. So we sat at the wrong dock, contemplating on what to do now that we're practically on the wrong part of the island. I suggested we return and take the right ferry. I remember male friend (mf) saying nobody goes back to correct a mistake. and that we should just proceed and do the correction along the way. correcting, meaning, we get a tricycle from the WRONG port to the other RIGHT port where we're really supposed to dock. it will be more expensive and would take longer BUT it is the macho way of doing things. and dude, i am a MACHOwo man. we got to where we intended to go and i will probably write a better story about it, now that i remember it.

but i must go back to office, now that i have finished my coffee because the drizzle has progressed to a full rain and i don;t want to be soaked in my first day at work.

Mother Studies (#3): Gifts

This are the things that were put inside my apartment last night:

5 crates
(i think there's more that has not been unloaded from the delivery truck.)

about 10 50kg sacks of sugar PLUS
some more in the plastic crates and more odds and ends.

They look a lot more than what the photos show. I cleaned the whole area of other furniture.


when they (my mother and her entourage) starts working, she's gonna spread all the individually packed sugar all over the floor and stick a price tag on them. i cannot even begin to imagine. 


i hope they do not watch TV in full volume while at work.




(UPDATE: since the ever-cranky vehicle stalled AGAIN for the nth time, mother didn't bring it along with her. Just the delivery truck. when they arrived it was raining and there was no parking space because the apartment compound practically opens to a busy street. so the driver (who probably accidentally left his common sense along the way), as per instructions of mudda, parked the truck in the driveway with its head jutting out because the whole body wouldn't fit. Meaning, all the other cars of other apartment owners cannot go out nor enter the apartment anymore. We also couldn't close the gate. incidentally, the driver left to visit his relatives bringing with him the truck keys--see, i told you he lost his common sense somewhere--and now the compound caretaker's car is stuck outside under the rain. I also now am NOT allowed to use any furniture inside our room (except the bed where i could sleep in) but that is another story. but shit, really, i feel like i've just been evicted and lost all authority in my own house. My only hope of getting my own house now is that Afg project. give it to me please, so i can get my own place with my OWN room, with my OWN office furniture.)

FIN.