Sa gitna ng kabukiran, minamasdan namin ang mga pinya na
tinanim ng aming mga volunteer galing sa ibang bansa.
Simpleng mga kataga, paulit-ulit na umaalingawngaw sa aking
kamalayan. Sa pagdalisay ng hangin sa aking mukha, pumasok sa aking kaisipan
ang lahat ng pinaghirapan ko dito sa lupaing aming minana. Naranasan kong muli
ang mga bagyong aming dinanas at nalampasan. Naalala ko ang pagmamahal ng aking
ama sa mga puno, - Oo nga, ang mga puno, na siyang pinatanim ng aking ama ay
nagwasiwas sa pag-ihip ng hangin. Ang mga gumuho naming gusali na hindi ko na
kayang ipagawa ay tumambad din sa aking kamalayan. Ang pagtabas ko ng damo
gamit ang aking sariling mga kamay at ang mga kating matitindi dulot ng aking
mga sugat sa pagsalay ng mga matitinik na halaman.
Like a stream
flowing from the ever glades sprinkling its life giving magic, I
endeavored to refresh my own writing. For reasons that I'm keeping to
myself, I went “dark” in the last few months of my work leading
up to Christmas. In the process of wallowing in the darkness and
obsessing about certain ideas, personalities and trivialities, I've
neglected the things that are most important. But now, I realized
that I needed to focus outside that tremulous volcano of sadness,
gloom and despair. Life begins anew as we cogitate the
circumnavigation of the planet that brings us back to the point of
I wish I could say
happy new year and may good tidings last for the following...
I buried my dog the
day before the year ended. There was a slight drizzle and I had to
cut through the grass with a sickle that's broken. The remnants of
the dead bougainvillea's pierced as I trod barefoot on the caked mud.
Meanwhile, the rain continued to pour as I struggled to wrap
Brownie's body inside a plastic bag. It was more difficult than I
thought, as I had to go through the entire process myself oftentimes
getting exposed to the after effects of death's workers.
That's the curious
thing about burying the dead. It's not as easy as removing clumps of
soil from the ground, dumping the body and then putting back that
which you dislodged. It's more than that. Soil has many components
just like our skin. The key in digging is stability. This would also
be more important in the latter parts.
Factor in the soil
composition, the environment and the movement of organisms of decay.
I'm not aware of any such rules in this third world country, but if
there were, they are mostly immaterial. I have scarcely heard of any
nearby pet cemetaries, and if there was one, the cost could be
So I buried brownie
and above him I laid the grass that I've cut along with some flowers.
Above that, I put the mound that would cover him. I planted a tree in
his stead. A one year old mahogany tree that's about 2 meters tall
already plus some of those purple plants. To help me locate his body
should his grave be overrun by weeds, I planted a kakawate (madre
cacao) branch that would later on grow into a tree nearby.
Long ago, I had a certain bout of admiration for everything that Debian and Ubuntu stood for. This extended to their founders, “visionaries” in my mind who were out to change the world. And they did, to a certain extent, change the world. I visited Ian Murdock's blog a couple of times before, hoping to see something and maybe touch a little upon his genius. That's what we do, that's what blogs are for. While Facebook is for the masa and the narcissistic, blogs are for the intelligentsia. A small glimpse into the minds of geniuses.
After hearing of this news, I remember a vague moment a few days before the news of Ian's death that I visited his blog. The feeling of nostalgia, you visit a blog you visited before some 5? 7? years before and see what's up, what's going on. He's moved on to other projects I saw. Business technology stuff. Okay.
Then the news broke out. The circumstances and details of which are highly questionable and sketchy.
What really happened to Ian Murdock?
From the bits and pieces I was able to glean online, it may be a sad case of a variety of factors that lead to his untimely and unfortunate demise.
His twitter account was a scream for help. An outward scream directed for anyone who could hear. A scream for someone who knows and understands what it's like to be like him. It's sad that nobody got to him, before it was too late.
For what it's worth, I do hope that his family gets closure on the matter, that the Linux and Debian community as a whole also reach that. Debian's influence is vast and we partly have Ian to thank for that.
Certain geniuses have to be kept apart from the general population as they have their own ways of thinking, their own methods and their own manner of internal processing.
Yes, it may be hypocritical and contrary to some views, but these types of people could offer more if this is preserved and maintained.