In Bigger Prints

Table of Contents


Section I

1 The Egg

2 Hatsing! (Bless Me)

3 Arthropodic Wisdom

4 Dear Decision Maker

5 Letters To The World

6   A Pain In My Head

7 Something Happened On My Way To School
8   A Discourse on The Grand Laws of the Universe

9 Black or White

10 Bayanihan in Jeddah

11 Chair of The Interim Board

12 Breakaway Telephonic Existence

13 The 'R' in Mrs. Regis

14 One City, One School

15 Eggs Breaking

16 PESJ History

17 The Chicken Fence

18 Believing The Man

19   My Own Version of The Jolo-Caust

20 My Sister's Version

21 The Rifle Guitar

22   Cat Stevens Unplugged

23  Landing on D-Day

24 The Great O-O-Os of the Late 20th Century

25 He Kept On Stumbling Over Chickens And Eggs

26   The Renaissance of Tilapia Farming And The Likes

27   The Saga Continues

28   The Pigeons In Our Lives

29 The Essence of Education

30   A School Is A Home

31  Gentle Fire From The Qur'an

32  At The Threshold

33  A Brief Discourse On Dancing

34  Being First

35   At The Edge of Light-Blue Metallic

36   Grappling With The Colossus


Section II
In Bigger Prints

The Power To Be
Excerpts from B & B Vol. 1 # 1

Of Crabs & Men
Excerpts from B & B Vol. 2 # 2

Excerpts from B & B Vol. 2 # 2

An Inability To Understand
Excerpts from A Speech by Prince Charles,
B & B Vol. Vol. 3 # 1

'Educating Miriam'
Excerpts from A Case Study of A Philippine School,
B & B Vol 3 # 2


Section III

A millennial short story


A Glossary of Pilipino
(& Near-Pilipino) Terms
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Prologue, Epilogue, Iklog (O Manok?)
Copyright 1999 by Said Sadain, Jr.

21   The Rifle Guitar

Comparing notes with a school acquaintance of mine in one of the coffee shops above the fish market of Zamboanga City in March 1974, I learned that a few days before my Jolo pier movie scene, during the mopping-up operations, armed men arrived at the Jolo dock and started rounding up the male civilians. My friend’s family, living near the port area, were among the first few families to encamp at the pier. The males were lined up at the edge of the barren pier, against a listless sea. Then they were shot at so they would fall off into the sea, some dead, some alive.

This is the solution that some people would want to impose on Mindanao.

I had a less painful experience. As the family rushed out of the house into the raging streets when the fire started to lick the upper portions of our house, I grabbed my Japanese-made guitar. It was a deep-mahogany colored guitar that my father, in those days a customs guard who boarded logging ships off the coasts of Southwestern Mindanao, bought very cheaply from a drunk Japanese sailor. According to my father, the sailor would have broken the guitar into two if it remained under his care one minute longer.

In the confusion of the plight, with bullets zinging in the air and the thumps of mortars reverberating around, my mother had the sense to see to it that all of her children were intact but did not realize I was lugging the guitar all along until we rested in one of the kind houses farther up in Upper San Raymundo.

My father at that time was on an assignment in Zamboanga City so I would never know what he would have done with the guitar himself. But my mother sternly told me to leave the guitar to the son of the house samaritan when, after a day and a night, we moved on to the general hospital deeper inland, passing through a jungle trek that some local official, up front in the long beeline, seemed to be very familiar with.

"Someone might fancy that guitar for a rifle", my mother told me.

I dearly loved that guitar, strumming it into the night off those Jingle music magazines, with my sweaty longhaired nape and my bare back leaning against a windowsill for the most part of my high-school halcyon days, singing Cat Stevens’ Moon Shadow or It’s a Wild World. In fact, this was how I acquired my bronchitis, so Dr. Parouk told me, after which I was never to sing again or even lean on a windowsill to stare at a full moon up to this day.


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