'Chicken Joy'

The sun would set at around 8pm in Port Wakefield these days. While I am writing this, the sun has already set, but for me and my job, the day isn’t over yet.

Twenty thousand chickens were taken out of our sheds last midnight... we collected the dead birds from the sheds this morning, and did some mechanical, electronics and plumbing works this afternoon. At 3pm, I received a call from the dressing plant—sixteen thousand birds will be going before dawn tomorrow. This means that I have to do the same pre-catch ‘rituals’ that I did last night, and then starve the birds starting midnight so they could empty their crop before the early morning harvest starts. And tomorrow at eight, the collection of the dead chooks will again commence...

...there are a lot of exhausting stories behind the juicy-licious roasted chicken of Red Rooster or the crispy, spicy fried chicken of KFC... and that is the life of a poultry farmer, the life that I have chosen for almost three years now.

I don’t know if occupying a house built a hundred meter across the poultry shed is a blessing, and at this moment I have this uncertainty if living in this house is really ‘living’ or is actually ‘working’. I am very grateful to have this gift of sight and I wish I could continue to admire the view from my windows which I, actually, doubt if it is really a scenery or just a mere surroundings. It really takes some efforts to split my mind set between my job from my ‘real life’, and during the harvest season I would temporarily lose the power to differentiate a night from a day.

The wages of sin is death; I admit I am a sinner but I don’t want to ‘die’ while I am still 'living'! I have been desperately looking for some other ways of paying the price of being too ambitious, because I believe that this is not the only way. Currently, I fear that the ‘powerful sticker’ stamped by the Australian Immigration on my Philippine passport has started to lose its potency to sustain the euphoric effect that I felt the day it was granted.

I hope I could figure it out—is this job really hard, or I am just weak?

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Worms and Snakes

I WAS CIRCUMCISED AT THREE... not at three years old, but on the 3^rd day after I was born... I am grateful I cannot remember the pain of circumcision. So luckily, I was one of those elementary boys who could bravely show their ‘worms’ to each other in the school toilets to prove that they were really tuli*. Ilonggo boys have been jokingly tagged as pisot** but in my life, I haven’t been mocked or branded as one.

Many years later... January 17, 2007, it was my first day in my new job as a piggery farm worker in Queensland. Strict biosecurity was implemented there, requiring the farm staff to take off and leave all their street/house clothes and undies in the shower room’s ‘dirty area’, then enter and take a 10- minute shower in a small cubicle (which was located in the middle of the shower room), and put on their farm overalls in the ‘clean area’ before proceeding to work. Of course there were separate decontamination rooms for every gender.

That summer morning, there were three of us—Filipino guys who were about to take a shower. Honestly, we were literally shocked to see our Australian workmates—who, after greeting us, took all their clothes and undies off, and waited on the queue while chatting to us. We—the new Filipino workers were, at that moment, like the Biblical Adam who were covering our valuable ‘possessions’ with one of our hands, and blushing. I didn’t know the reason why our face had reddened that time—probably because we still weren’t use to this kind of showering routine yet or maybe because we had seen the uncovered ‘snakes’ of those locals dangling in front of us! It was really a funny, memorable conversation when we got back to our accommodation that afternoon!

Three months later, the decontamination routine eventually became a normal thing to us, no covering, and no blushing even if the ‘brown snakes’ were everywhere. Work performance became more important especially when the first job evaluation came.

Being trained as a technical person in the Philippines, the daily piggery routine was very exhausting for me. Of all the new Filipino workers, I was the one who, the superiors said, had the slowest pace at work! I was even told to work quickly and not ‘properly’—because I was very particular with the details that time. I became the subject of mockery, and was rated very unsatisfactory under the ‘Knowledge of the Job’ category.

The next morning, when we were having our smoko in the farm’s lunch room two of my workmates (who were natives in town) ridiculously asked me, “Hey RJ... How would you insult a Filipino guy back in the Philippines?”

“Tell him that that he is UNcircumcised!” I instantly said without even thinking.

The locals immediately blushed, and had a fake smile.

Instantaneously, I remembered that both of them were ‘uncut’. Well, seven out of our ten local workmates were pisot. And in this country, I think, this is not an issue at all.

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*tuli- a Filipino word for a circumcised boy or man.

**pisot- a Hiligaynon term for an uncircumcised boy or man.

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Finding the cure

Nanay is sick.

She had her goiter removed last August; a thyroid sample was taken for biopsy and it revealed a follicular papillary thyroid carcinoma or simply (complicatedly)—thyroid cancer.

I went home twenty-four days ago to attend Nanay’s Testimonial Program and Party—a tribute given to her by the Central M’lang District for her services and achievement as a public school teacher for 38 years. It was a remarkable event; it actually exceeded my expectations. Modesty aside, the eulogy that I gave was, I think, one of the highlights of the programme.

But three days after the testimonial party, the endocrinologist-surgeon advised Nanay to submit herself into a radioactive iodine therapy. She agreed, underwent a strict non-iodine/no salt diet for seven days...

...and three hours before my flight from Manila back to Sydney she was admitted to the hospital, was then isolated and dosed with a small, but (hopefully a) very powerful radioactive iodine capsule. Nobody was allowed to come and see her for four days because the ‘radioisotope of iodine’ that she had taken was very potent and hazardous to every individual! When Nanay was discharged from the hospital, she was separately transported back home, and has been isolated in her specially-made payag* for five days now. Luckily, my younger brother and our youngest sister were there to assist her, and to provide what she needs.

Nanay’s entire body was thoroughly scanned in the hospital yesterday. Whether it was done to detect the cancer cells or radioactive material left in her body is the thing that I don’t know. I have decided to stay innocent of all the complex things the medical doctors had, have been and will be doing to my mom because I have chosen to trust them, and most especially, I have ultimately trusted the divine power to heal my sick mother.

I had phoned and spoke to my mom a couple of hours ago. Nanay told me that she has been feeling drained and weary for the past few days. She has also lost her appetite, but forcing herself to devour some mangosteen and guyabano... believing that the therapeutic power of these fruits comes next to Heavenly Power.

Nanay is scheduled to see her doctor three weeks later. I am sure that the result of the radiation therapy and scanning will be discussed. I couldn’t put my thoughts into words, nor could I clearly explain my feelings...

If iodine-131 could only alleviate my prevailing anxieties, I am willing to undergo this radiation therapy to get treated.

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*payag is a Hiligaynon term for a nipa hut.

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Ageing

Aging
Originally uploaded by Chook-minder's Lens

A year has passed... and another year has been added to my period of existence in this beautiful world. I am getting older, and after a year, my age could no longer be found in any of the longest calendar month. But honestly, I feel like I’m only on my twenty-fifth.

I do always think that I am younger than my actual age, and I hope that my looks would always do the same. A couple of years ago, a Caucasian acquaintance was surprised when she realized that I am 10 years older than what she had previously thought! While a month ago, a 15-year old Australian bloke working in hardware shop believed that I was only nineteen. I don’t know, of course, if they were lying. I hope they didn’t...

But ageing doesn’t bother me. I may not be earning a lot, but I am sure that day by day I am discovering and learning a lot from this lovely world!

I haven’t been to many places across the globe, but, somehow, I have started to bloom in this humble place where I have been planted; and looking forward to bear many fruits in the later years.

I am not globally renowned like many other guys of my age (eg. Manny Pacquiao) but I am luckily bestowed with scientific knowledge and fortunately blessed with the necessary skills to understand the 'animal world'—a true usefulness in helping creatures that cannot help themselves.

My bank account is unbelievably close to nothing, yet I am sure that every person that I love the most has been whole-heartedly taken care of.

I am still single, but, definitely, not loveless. I have loved, and will continue to love all those who have genuinely given their love to me, as well as those who have brought out all the best in me.

I will never reveal my birthday wish in this page until that wish is being granted. ...but a sound mind and a strong physique, as well as a long life are all I need so I can continue to serve, and fulfil my mission in this world.



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The Stranger

The Spencer Gulf, Port Agusta, South Australia

I know it's not right, but I have spoken to a stranger... I invited him to my place, took a safety risk overnight. But here I am now, filling a page of this blog.

The final month of the 54-day broiler chicken growth cycle is always very stressful; and during the last days of the batch, my responsibilities become more and more demanding not only because of the physical challenges but also because of the fact that a day after the six sheds get emptied, I am emotionally tortured and mentally pressured to know if my chickens have performed or not. My chickens’ growth performance would directly speak about my work performance.

Well, luckily, for the past three batches my birds have performed. ...and with the 7 to 10-day shed empty and rest period I always have the chance to escape from the poultry farm perimeter, roam in some parts of Australia to relieve all the tensions, and recharge. I actually have a little regret of not thoroughly documenting my travels and adventures in this blog, I hope I could find time in the future.

I was, actually, planning to visit Western Australia this time, but because I’ll be spending a 17-day holiday in the Philippines next month, I had deferred my W.A. trip and decided to visit the second largest city in South Australia, instead. It’s Port Augusta which, excitingly, is pronounced as Port Agata by the indigenous Australians... it is 209 kilometres away from my place. With this trip I believed that I could relax and enjoy without spending a bag of Australian dollars, only a pinch.

My trip to Port Augusta was very educational and entertaining! Through the Wadlatta Outback Centre, I have seen how the Australian continent has metamorphosed for the past 15 million years! I will not promise, but I hope I could share some of these interesting stories in my next entries.

Andrew's map, he purchased it from Indonesia.

I had the chance to visit the tip of the Spencer Gulf and have seen the Great Western Bridge of Port Augusta. And while I was on my way to Woolworth’s supermarket (which was located close to the gulf) to buy some drinks, I saw this not so skinny, long-haired white guy juggling his 3 or 4 coloured balls beside the walkway. With my desire to take photos of some exciting people I see in the place, I immediately headed towards him. I then saw his backpack and camping gears beside him, and a relatively huge map of the world on the ground which was ‘anchored’ to the ground by a book, a compass, etc., and an up-side down hat with some coins in it. I picked and dropped a two-dollar coin in his cap and thought that it would be a little or enough act of kindness before asking if I could take a photo of him.

Then I asked, and he permitted. After the shot, the guy immediately asked a favour if I could send him the photo to his email. I expressed my agreement so he wrote down his email ad on a piece of paper and gave it to me. His name was Andrew Sable from Lithuania.

I then stayed for a little chat, while Andrew continued juggling, and realized that he had been hitch-hiking from his country, to Russia, China, Laos, Thailand, Malaysia, Indonesia and Australia! And for that journey, he only had to spend money for his airfare from Indonesia to Perth, Australia and all the rest were free! Just hitch-hiking— stopping truck, private cars, motorcycles along the road and ferries for a free ride! He had been doing it since March and he survived! He has seen almost half of the world for free!

It’s been my desire to see the world, and I thought it was very expensive! Not until I heard the story of Andrew. I have met Bertrand before- a backpacker from France, and Phil from Denmark but they were not doing the same risky adventure like what this Lithuanian guy had been doing.

During our chat, Andrew said he will be heading to Adelaide the next day; of course he will be passing by Port Wakefield—where I live and work. Because I am very interested to know more about his adventure, I told him that he could drop by my place.

I was driving to Adelaide yesterday to go to the Asian grocer and supermarket for my tinola-cooking assignment for the KaBlogs Journal, when a blocked number phoned my mobile. It was illegal when driving, but I answered my phone, and it was Andrew on the line! He was in a camping area in Port Wakefield, and was asking if I’m going to pick him up there. I did a U-turn and drove back to where he was.

I took him to my place, offered a meal, a drink, an internet connection, a washing machine, a shower a warm room (it’s late winter in the southern hemisphere) and a comfortable bed.

Before he went to bed, we chatted and he showed me all the photos he had taken during his journey. He said that, so far, Indonesia, and Australia were number one on his list as the best countries he had ever been! ...Indonesia because people are very friendly despite their limited English-speaking skills, and Australia because of its diversity.

After Australia, Andrew will find ways to proceed to New Zealand; then continue his adventure to the Pacific Islands, parts of the USA, South America and North Africa, Western Europe and then back home. The Philippines was not included on his list, but I will let him experience the Philippines under my roof. We will be going to the Barossa Wine Region later for the Barossa Gourmet Weekend... He was still sleeping in the guest room while I was writing this entry.

I accommodated a stranger. Yes, Andrew was a stranger, but only until I have started to speak to him. After that, he was no longer a stranger, but a friend I believe.

Andrew Sable- the hitch-hiker from Lithuania.

You can visit Andrew's blog and follow him as he discover the world.

The 'Heart', in situ

It’s my first time to visit Riverton, a small town in South Australia known as the heart of Gilbert Valley. As we drove through the main street, there were three art galleries and a few antique sandstone buildings which, I believe, were erected in the mid-1900 when the first settlers arrived in the place.

The hallway in the care home, with handrails on the walls.

Riverton is approximately 85 kilometres southeast of my place. The sealed roads and highways were occasionally pine-lined; and across the endless horizon were the flourishing wheat and barley plantations, and the blossoming canola that creates a patchy artwork of verdant rolling plains and bright yellow hills. As we came closer to Clare Valley and Auburn, there was a very distinct transition of vegetation from a rich, blooming field to those leafless vines and melancholic vineyards...

The residents and the caregiver in the lounge.

I went to Riverton not as a tourist, though, but as a friend. Together with Tony and Jane, and their 3-year old daughter Ella, we accompanied Aling Siony to the Riverton Hospital which is also a centre for elderly care in the region. We visited Charles—Aling Siony’s husband who will be turning eighty-four by the end of this month. Charles has been in the care home for more than a year now, and every time he sees his wife he would say, “I think I’m gonna die...”

I, actually, don’t want to think how Charles and the other residents have survived in the care centre. Don’t get me wrong, aside from the inevitable smell of soaked adult pads, the hospital is very clean and tidy, equipped with a complete range of age-care facilities, and by the looks of it, I can say without second thoughts that the entire building has been regularly maintained inside-out. I believe that every member of the staff is well-trained to run the centre and is competent enough to offer the best care to their residents.

The residents' shared room.

...but it is the sense of belongingness that concerns me the most. The caregivers may have been doing the same job for years—skilled and knowledgeable, but the fact that they aren’t even related by flesh and by blood to their patients is truly an emotional pain for me. Elderly people don’t just need excellent care of their competent caregivers, but genuine love and care which should and could only be given by their own family. There are twenty-two residents in the ‘home’, two of them in each room but they don’t even know the name of each other, and couldn’t even remember the life story of their roommate. A ‘care home’ is not a home!

Charles' walker...

We were sitting in the lounge when Charles asked Aling Siony to take him to his dad. He said he wants to see his father, and his brother. Aling Siony held the hand of his husband and squeezed it, she blushed and dropped a tear... the truth is—Charles’ dad has passed away many years ago... dementia had possibly made him believe that his dad was still alive.

Charles asked Tony to open the built-in case of his walker; he said that there’s a lemon and a grapefruit inside. Tony obeyed, and to my surprise, there were fruits in that box! Charles took the grapefruit, handed it to Aling Siony and said, “This is for you, dear. Take it home.” We soon realized that the fruits have fallen from the tree standing in the backyard of the elderly care centre.

When it was time for us to leave, Aling Siony took the visitors book of her husband so she could sign. The last entry was June 23, 2010—a visit made by herself, Jane and Ella. In the first Sunday of September, Australia will celebrate father’s day. I wish that Charles’ children from his first four once legal wives (but now legally-divorced) will come and say hello to their dad (Aling Siony is the fifth, and the couple hasn’t been blessed with a child).

Charles, Ella (the grapefruit behind her pink backpack), and Aling Siony.

I will be celebrating my fourth birthday in Australia this month. I am definitely getting older and older... in this Land Down Under where the conception and views about elderly care are very different from what we have back home. I have been granted with a permanent resident visa in this country, and with what I have seen in Riverton today, I am reconsidering my plans to achieve the ultimate immigration status down here.

The dining, with the lemon and grapefruit trees outside.

I am looking forward to visit Riverton again, not to see the home for the aged but to explore the town and discover more about the real heart of Gilbert Valley.

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Lost in Translation

Ako'y naaliw. Sa wakas tumawa rin ako ngayong araw!

Nang dahil sa Facebook, kinailangan kong buksan at gamitin ang Google Translate para maunawaan ko ang mga updates ng isang kakilalang Pranses na nasa aking friends list. Ayos pala, naunawaan ko ang mga updates ng aking kaibigan kahit na ito'y nakasulat sa French.

Subalit nang sinubukan kong ipasalin kay Tito Google ang isinulat ko sa aking Facebook status noong June 18, 2010, ito ang naging resulta:

ANG ORIHINAL
"Kung alam lang siguro ng mga alaga kong manok na napakaganda ng Tasmania, o ng buong Australia, siguro hindi sila papayag na ikulong doon sa sheds. Tiyak maghahanap sila ng paraang makalaya mula sa kanilang kulungan, at lumipad papunta rito sa Hobart!"

ANG SALIN NI GOOGLE
"If you only knew the owner would probably chicken superb Tasmania, or around Australia, maybe they are not willing to shut up there in sheds. Surely they find a way to be free from their prison, and to fly off to Hobart!"




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