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.

28   The Pigeons In Our Lives

I sent my family back to the Philippines.

My family and I initially felt bad at the thought of abandoning the Holy Places in Makkah and Madina. They were like roots that had grown intertwined to our aortas and capillaries over the years. We always relished traveling to the holy places for a more solemn ritual worship and closer communion with a peace that is both domesticated and wild like the pigeons. My children, especially my son Ahmad, enjoyed so much chasing playfully after the doves in the cool pavements around the Holy Mosques of Makkah and Madina, much more than they enjoyed feeding the doves in Trafalgar Square or scaring away the flamingos at the San Diego Zoo.

When I was my son’s age, I chased the early dawn pigeons cooing at the breezy pier of Jolo. Somehow, the pigeons of Makkah always remind me of that child’s harbor. It was a harbor that could not be destroyed even by the titanic sight of naval boats that took me away from my pigeons forever.

My children, having hardly known the Philippines up to this point, would have been very happy to have their own pigeons to play with in Saudi Arabia. However, the Saudis are so protective about the Kingdom, and for good reasons as any nation will tell you, that it would probably take a massive climatic and geological change before there can be any remote chance for another great caliphate to rise up again from the ashes of nationalism.

My family and I stay in Jeddah for over ten years, contributing to the growth of the Saudi economy both at the workplace and the supermarket malls, and when my residence permit is renewed, it is no different from the iqama of an expatriate who had just entered the Kingdom on his first month.

I always thought that the American immigration policy was one of the stronger factors that propelled the United States to its world power leadership, notwithstanding the hypothesis of that jerky movie, The Second American Civil War.

But do not get me wrong here. I bear no grudge against anybody. In fact, I have all the gratitude and good thoughts about Saudi Arabia, her people and her ways, where I continue to reside because I do not want my company to feel that I am running off just when things get Y2K-critical. This is the least I can do for the company and the nation which had offered me so much in life over the last decade.

The Filipinos I meet in Jeddah who grumble about their lot in Jeddah should grumble in Manila.

"And what about the school? You abandoned it at its most critical hours" some of my family friends here whose children are still sweating it out in the NIPSJ, would chaff me on a lazy weekend when they would invite me over for lunch.

PSJ or PESJ or IPSJ or NIPSJ will always be critical. Education always is and will always be.

I have contributed and took my share of her criticality. I have alternately stretched high to the glories and laurels of leadership and have bent so low as to face-off with all kinds of characters, gentle and not so gentle men, some old enough to be my father, weak and loud ladies, some old enough to be my mother. I lost some, I won some. I still think I always fought for the right issues, never missing a heartbeat, even when I was not always in the company of, or doing the bidding of, righteous people.

I certainly have evolved, which is what I am meant to do.


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