Katjan blog

This is a rainy weekend in Dumaguete, rarely it is like this, three days in row just rain and also mostly during the day which is more unusual. News from Oslo will make us remember this weekend. It is time to reflect our common responsibility to do not ignore those who show signs of isolation and despair.

We have done some improvements at home and in our web space. Now everyone has kind of own space or desk to do whatever wants. Anyhow the house is big enough for all of us, right? Olga is especially proud about her own “office space” that can be also closed with all the treasures within.  

As part of the general web cleaning I am aiming to change this page more like a family blog now. So those not so interested in our trips and family gatherings….it might no more be in your interest.

The three girls giving birth at the dinner table; screaming in labor practicing what it is to be a woman and to become a mother. The three girls singing nummela in a rock concert, tea sieve and whipper as microphones, practicing what it is to be young and rebellious. The three girls in a funeral of the tiger surrounded by buddhas, incense and candles, practicing what it is to loose a friend and loved one and grieve in dignity. One little girl, the youngest, still in the bath tube talking to mermaid  and elephant, diving deeper in the fantasy and imagination. When they get older they will probably live what practiced tonight, but even the youngest might have to practice what she is living now.

1. Sinä päivänä kun opimme hengittämään yhdessä pinnan alla, meidän välille syntyi side. Ilman sanoja.

2.Siinä maailmassa on hiljaista ja hämärää. Hengitämme samaan tahtiin.

3. Pinnan päällä meri kasvoi maalle, otti värit. Side jäi, hengitimme vain katkonaisemmin.

Sinne voi mennä, mutta ei se ota vastaan, toivota tervetulleeksi. Silti voit mukautua sen muotoon ja oppia sen rytmin. Päästä sisälle, vetää henkeen. Mutta sille on samantekevää jäätkö vai lähdetkö. Ei se ota kädestä, ei välitä vieraistaan. Silti, mitä kauemmin olet osa sitä, sitä vaikeampi on palata takaisin kotiin, löytää oma rytmi.

there are ghosts in our house i heard yesterday, or at least white dwarfs; interesting news, we are sharing this place with spirits, i turned twice to look at my shadow in the mirror yesterday night when switching off the ventilator in the girls room the cats  were running in the mid roof at the right time too so for a while i thought i was going to…but, SO i did not meet them yet, anyhow already believing that there are corners with dark and spaces with light and clear air, it is interesting to compare the tensions in different parts of the house now that we know we are sharing it…..

 It was a very hot, but beautiful day, and mountain breeze catch us when were walking down to the valley. I was enjoying the morning and thinking how refreshing it is to get out to the field from the airconditioned office room for a change. As a project management advisor I am mostly advising the project from the office. But today we were not going to look at the papers but walk, observe, talk and even do something. We were going to practice sticking for establishment of a tree plantation.

On the other side of the river there was a farm lot with house on the hill, our destination, the hill got steeper behind the house and soon only rocky wall with some grasses was reaching up to the other side of the mountain.  The site is ideal for molave plantation we had discussed on the way down. The barangay captain went to fetch the farmer from the opposite hill, and soon she arrived with her goat, she was walking down the hill bare feet, skin brown and thick on the soles. Through the rocky mountain slope (ideal for molave plantation) she came down to her small house standing on stilts. One of the municipal staff went to greet her and intending to explain the purpose of our visit pointed the barren area up from her house.

But soon we realized that this farmer did not know anything about the project, actually she had not attended the information session organized in the barangay centre the week before. Her neighbor had advised her not to. Her neighbor had warned her not to.

He had told her about the project in the adjacent barangay years ago, where officials came to instruct people what to plant and where. The big promises were made; -everyone planting a one hectare of gemelina trees would become a millionaire! -Just follow us, had the officials promised for the people, you will be able to send your children to college, you will be able to buy a new tin roof! Of course this never happened, first came the total logging ban stipulated by the new administration, and trees become restriction not an asset. Then when the ban was lifted by the following administration the trees promoted by the officials, barely surviving in the poor soil, bending and growing thin without proper maintenance, counted only to fraction of the promised sums. In fact the value of the trees was so minimal that gains would be eaten up by the cumbersome process to process the harvesting permits. However it was strictly advised by the officials that these trees could not to be replaced without planting new. Trees become a thread.

And now these trees would be planted to her land. -No thank you said the farmer. No trees on my land. One after another my team members engaged into conversation. In a row up they went, after a while all of them were there in front of her house, standing in the circle taking their turns. Persuading and promising each of them in their own way. The land area was evaluated and advice was given: where to grow annual crops?

-yes next to river, and then on the hill fruit trees, finally forest trees, but maybe only on the far top of the hill or on the boundary of the farm? ….and then you will need a compost, just some rice husks and you will have fertilizer….

-I don’t have any rice husks said the farmer.

–But you have some leaves, don’t you? Look there. –Farmer did not reply.

The  government official was muttering to other, -why don’t we just order her to the office, anyhow that land does not really belong to her, legally she is just a squatter on the state land, if she refuses to collaborate…that’s what we did in the past.

The municipal officer was drawing a different picture of possibilities that she could choose from, there was now coffee,

-no, said the farmer; -how about  cacao, -no, said the farmer, coffee died (so she had even tried it already!)

-or fruit trees what about durian or rambutan continued the municipal officer, -farmer was still not smiling.

-what about lanka the local jackfruit? -Faint grin appeared on the corner of the mouth of the farmer.

Encouraged by that -yes, yes, what about jackfruit?, continued the municipal officer.

Some initial acceptance was slowly going to form up.

Then there was that talk about the money and labor subsidies (the part of the promises) and how she could send her youngest daughter still residing in the house to get a college degree….

We did not practice sticking that afternoon. Not on that farm lot. We, each of us, team behind me walked back up to the barangay center, sweating in the intense heat. Not talking, just lost in our thoughts. The rocky wall of the opposite hill was watching us to disappear from behind.

Miten tänään onkin suomalainen ilta, varmaan kuuntelimme kuningas EItä liian monta kertaa pikkukakkosen sivuilta, tai mietin jo elokuun iltaa ja lauantaita joskus kolmen kuukauden päästä.Kummallista että asioita täytyy suunnitella jo niin pitkälle etukäteen, mutta on kai hyvä että on mitä odottaa.

Vaikka ei odottaminen välttämättä ole mitenkään rakentavaa. Tänään odotin tasan tunnin, että saisin maksaa tyttöjen koulumaksun ensierän. Minulla oli numero 131 ja menossa oli 82, kun sain sen. Aikaa kului tasan kello kolmesta kello neljään iltapäivällä, luukkuja oli neljä joten jokainen sai palvelua keskimäärin 5 minuuttia, maksaminen minun tapauksessa kesti noin 3 minuuttia, olin kai keskimääräistä helpompi tapaus.Odotin 57 minuuttia saadaksenin 3 minuuttia palvelua. Parhaaseen työaikaan.

Ihmisillä ei ole töitä tai on aikaa, koska on oltava, että voi odottaa.Ihmettelin kyllä että jonossa oli myös kokonaisia perheitä siis johtuiko se siitä, että vain isällä oli lompakko ja äidillä täytetyt lomakkeet, vai oliko tämä uusi tapa viettää laatuaikaa perheen kanssa? Joku sanoi, että kehitysmaissa ihmiset kuluttavat noin kymmenen kertaa enemmän aikaa odottamiseen, kuin meillä kotona. No meillä palvelut ovatkin melkein jo internetissä ja siellä jonottaminen on vähäisempää. Ja joku saattoi sanoa, että on se jo niin kasvotonta, kun ei saa enää henkilökohtaista palvelua ja kaikki on vaan netissä. Tulkaa vaan tänne, täällä saatte aina helkilökohtaista palvelua sen jälkeen kun olette viettäneet laatuaikaa perheenne kanssa vuoronumero jonossa jossa numero vaihtuu valotaululla reilun minuutin välein ja varmuuden vuoksi vartija huutaa kovalla äänellä jokaisen numeron, ettei kukaan vain pääsisi hetkeksi rentoutumaan ja vaikka ottamaan pieniä päivänokosia.

Mutta onneksi täällä on yleensä myös erinomaiset sosiaaliset suhteet ja verkostot, joten jonottamaan ei lopulta joudu niin kovin usein, koska saa jonotusapua, vaikka työkaverilta jonka vuoro on huomenna oikeasti saada tytöt koulun rekisteriin….tänään kun minä olin jonottamassa vain sen rekisteröinti maksun maksamisen verran….

Rakastan laskujen maksamista internetin pankkipalvelussa.