Stinky fruit

The Philippines boasts myriad tantalizing tropical fruits. Some fruits grace North American and European grocery store shelves: yellow mango, banana (of all sizes), pineapple, papaya. Other fruits are harder to find outside of tropical countries, especially in their non-juice, non-dried form. Some examples include: mangosteen, breadfruit, lanzones, rambutan, jackfruit. Sadly (for tropical fruit gastronomes based in colder climes), the quality of such fruits diminishes rapidly with intercontinental travel, so a Philippine mango consumed in Canada is nowhere near as lami (Visayan word for delicious or sweet) as one consumed in the Philippines.

Of the more unusual fruit sold at local roadside fruit stands (and found in our fruit bowl), are two kinds that fall into the "stinky fruit" category:  marang and durian. 

Durian, in particular, emits an odour that is not merely mildly unpleasant, but (to many people) full on repulsive. For example, an ice cream parlour in Madison, Wisconsin once tried to create a durian-flavoured ice cream. Apparently, a neighbouring business, unfamiliar with the smell, called the fire department, complaining of a gas leak. After the arrival of fire trucks and a bomb squad, the parlour abandoned its recipe experimentation.

Personally, I consider other smells much more offensive (e.g. hockey gloves that have not been washed for several months or a car full of wet kayak gear in a July heat-wave). Frank disagrees. And so too, apparently, do many hotels and airlines, who single out durian and marang as banned substances. 

Lobby display at the Marigold Hotel in CDO

Here's an introduction to these two stinky fruits. 

A pile of marang 

Marang (Artocarpus odoratissimus) grows on a tree indigenous to the island of Minadanao. It is a relative of the breadfruit, but a much stinkier and smaller cousin. The outer skin is covered with short, flexible spikes; it bears an uncanny resemblence to an echidna (spiny anteater) balled up in a defensive position. The range in the size of these fruits is roughly the same range found in bowling balls. The fruit inside is composed of sweet, soft white-coloured segments, each around a hard inedible pit. 

Young woman eating marang

Durian (Durio spp.) is the king of stinky fruit. In the Philippines, it is grown almost exclusively in Mindanao. (There's debate over whether the fruit is native or was introduced.) It's pretty expensive as far as fruit goes. It retails for over 250P per kilo in the grocery store (inner fruit only). Buying whole fruits at the Cogon market or at a roadside kiosk is a more budget-friendly option (60-100P per kilo).

Durian vendor with her basket of fruit

The fruit has a hard green-brown exterior; its sharp spikes easily pierce through canvas grocery bags and the skin on your fingers. It's best to ask the fruit vendor to slice open the fruit before you buy. This reduces: 1) the chance of cutting your fingers and 2) the possibility of buying fruit with critters small enough to worm their way between the spikes and start devouring the soft flesh inside. 

There are several cultivars of durian. The one with white flesh has a lighter, more delicate taste. It's the preferred choice for those with a more sensitive nose. The yellow-fleshed durian has a bolder taste (and smell). The fruit itself is very creamy and rich; it melts in your mouth. It is very soft; its 'squishability' makes it an ideal baby food. (Mango and durian are tied atop Ada's list of favourite foods.)

A partially-eaten durian

If you ever find yourself with the opportunity to indulge in such delicacies, I highly recommend it ... even if you have to hold your nose the entire time.

The Youth Guide to Biodiversity

Here's some shameless self-promotion on one of the projects I helped produce for the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations (FAO) and the Convention on Biological Diversity (CBD).

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The Youth Guide to Biodiversity is finally here!

Discover the wonders of the world’s plants and animals in this brand-new, colourful, information-packed publication. Learn about biodiversity and what it does for us, and let the Youth Guide inspire you to help protect the marvelous natural world around us.

Enjoy it, share it, get involved! Follow this link. 

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The biodiversity challenge badge, published back in 2010, is the complement to the youth guide.

The challenge badge is a tool to allow teachers and youth leaders to guide young people in learning about biodiversity and developing action-oriented projects. The activities encourage participants to get to know the natural world in their community, to find out why certain species and habitats are struggling to survive, and to understand the links between biodiversity and the well-being of people around the world.

Try it out. Follow this link.

Postcards from Camiguin

A one week break from all research activities on a beautiful volcanic island in Northern Mindanao.

December 21
Greetings from Kingfisher Cottage in barangay Agoho!

After an exhaustive day of traveling, we are settling in nicely at our new abode. We had an early start to the day - with the intention of arriving in Camiguin early to mid afternoon. Our plans, however, were thwarted by:
a) an uncanny absence of taxis looking for passengers to drive into the city,
b) traffic entering CDO,
c) a long line-up of passengers waiting to alight the CDO-Balingoan bus (which worked in our favour by giving us time to use the bus station's CR (comfort room) - the cleanest public bathrooms I have ever seen in the Philippines), d) traffic leaving CDO,
e) construction on the national highway,
f) an hour delay in the ferry departure, and
g) an aging ferry whose running time, we are told, has increased steadily from one hour to two hours in the past few years.
We were glad to have asked Ralph, one half of the German-Filipino couple who own the cottage, to pick us up at the Benoni wharf.

Our first glimpse of a mist-covered Camiguin Island from the Baligoan-Benoni ferry.

On the way, we stop at the "one decent grocery store" to pick up some supplies in the capital town of Mambajao. There's a small combined wet (fish and meats) and dry (vegetables, fruits and rice) market across the road. We buy a few bags of pre-cut mixed vegetables for a stir-fry (at ten pisos a bag, it's a steal), some potatoes and a few skewers of barbecued pork (10PhP), fresh tuna (25PhP) and a fish whose name escapes me (30PhP). Masarap (delicious)!

Iggy

Daylight was fast fading by the time we left the ferry terminal. The beauty and charm of the island remains a secret ... at least until tomorrow.

P.S. Frank noticed two lizards perched atop the ceiling beam over the kitchenette. We named the larger one 'Iggy' and the smaller one 'Pop'. We enjoyed (and will continue to enjoy every night of our stay in Camiguin) watching them clamour after moths. They appeared to enjoy watching us too, and perhaps even amused when we try to engage them in conversation.


December 22
Maayong odto (good noontime) from Mambajao.

Today's the day for wandering the streets of the capital city, sampling local fare and strolling along the beach. The carabao (water buffalo) in the rice paddies along the beach fascinate Frank. The picture below is one he snapped from the beach looking up towards one of the island's majestic volcanoes, Mount Hibok-Hibok.




December 23

Today we experienced the world from a whole new perspective ... underwater. There's a beach resort / dive centre called Camiguin Action Geckos just down the hill from our cottage. It offers introductory SCUBA courses; your first dive is at one of the island's incredible coral reefs. After watching an educational video (that was probably made in the eighties or early nineties judging from the hairstyles), we hopped in a jeepney and headed to the Catarman dive site on the southwest side of the island. Exploring the reef is like jumping into a BBC nature special - except you get the full sensory experience, complete with the taste of salt water when your respirator escapes your mouth. Fish and coral of every imaginable shape and size, and more colourful than a painter's palette.

A roadside carinderia lunch included a delicious monggo bean and cabbage soup. The woman who sold it to us generously shared the recipe. (We're planning on trying it when we get back to CDO.)

In the afternoon, Frank had his turn underwater. He explored a reef just off White Island, near Action Geckos. Among the marine life he saw were two sea snakes and the silhouette of a sea turtle.


December 24
Joyeux Noel!

It's raining (again). It's amazing how the weather is so different from Cagayan de Oro City, less than one hundred kilometers away. CDO has not had a single full day of rain since we arrived mid November, while we have not yet experienced a sunny day in Camiguin.

A rainy day is a great day for visiting one of the island's waterfalls. We opt for the highest ones: Katibawasan Falls. It's a 75m drop. We charter a motorella for a 'special trip'. The lack of good maps and street signs means that you're less likely to get lost if you ride public transit than if you venture out on your own with the tourist map.

The young boy riding shotgun in the motorella wore an Armani t-shirt. His father, the driver, probably makes less than 200PhP a day. Armani clothes are probably sold for bargain prices at the town ukay-ukay (used clothing market).

At the falls, there is a group of physiotherapy students from South Korea. They are volunteering in CDO. They tell us the water is cold, but wonderful for a swim. The water is definitely colder than what we've grown accustomed to here in the Philippines, but infinitely warmer than the Quebec rivers we kayak in early spring.

One of several pools at Ardent Hot Springs

We spend the latter part of the afternoon relaxing in the warm soothing pools of Ardent Hot Springs. The natural pools are warmed in the neighbouring Mount Hibok-Hibok volcano. If you concentrate, you can smell a faint whiff of sulphur, but it's not the overpowering stench of rotten eggs. There are a series of beautiful little pools and waterfalls the same temperature as a baby's bathwater. Ada revels in this gigantic bathtub.

P.S. Tonight was Frank's night for handwashing diapers. Daily diaper washing has become a necessity because it takes so long for the diapers to dry in such a wet and humid climate. Before going to bed, Frank jokes that he never imagined that his first Christmas Eve in a tropical paradise would include such a dirty job.

December 25

Merry Christmas from Kingfisher Cottage! 

It's another rainy day so we've opted for a leisurely day.  Breakfast is French toast (the preferred breakfast of dads-on-parental-leave), fresh pineapple and mango, and instant coffee. After eating, we opened a few gifts while listening to the Puppini Sisters Christmas album. Ada's favourite present was the box.

The cottage owners, Ralph and Suzie, invited us to a Christmas lunch buffet. Like other family-based gatherings in the Philippines, there were copious amounts of food.  We spent several hours eating and conversing with a dozen or so guests. We had a particularly interesting discussion with a Camiguin-based couple, a Swiss man married to a Filipina woman, about grandfather aged foreign men starting a second family with a several decades younger Filipina woman.

I managed to sneak in a short run up to Ardent Hot Springs then down to Action Geckos before dinner. It was raining, so it felt like a late spring run in Montreal ... except for the coconut trees, roosters and pigs.

View of White Island from Kingfisher Cottage

December 26
Kamusta ka!

Despite soaring temperatures, we enjoyed a white Christmas. We spent late morning and early afternoon (with the time difference, this morning can be considered December 25 in Canada) on White Island, a gorgeous white sand island about a kilometer from the coast.

We shared a bangka (boat) from the mainland to the island with a newly-married couple on their honeymoon. He's from Ottawa, working in Calgary (and he's a Habs fan); she's from CDO, working in Calgary.

 

Frank and I took turns swimming with Ada in a shallow pool, and snorkeling around the reef. It was absolutely stunning, and we failed to notice how strong the sun had become. Only the baby, in her full-body UV suit and Australian lifeguard-inspired hat managed to escape sunburn.
Lesson learned!


December 27
Have you ever wondered about giant clams? They are perhaps one of the most awe-inspiring life forms.

Our visit to Cantaan Kabila White Beach Giant Clam Sanctuary was the most amazing day of the trip. Six of the nine species of giant clams found worldwide are raised here. The small entry fee pays for the maintenance of the centre and its research activities, and provides a source of livelihood for locals. It's more profitable for locals to maintain this biodiverse gem as an ecotourism destination than to harvest its marine life to sell at the market.

A visit begins with a short introductory biology lesson on the life history of the clams, and is followed by a tour of several aquariums with giant clams and fresh water tilapia. After, a local guide takes visitors on a "snorkel tour" of the giant clam sanctuary and reef. Even though the reef was partially destroyed by Typhoon Pablo, it still boasts some of the best snorkeling on Camiguin. You have to be especially careful where you step because the force of a giant bivalve slamming shut can easily sever a limb.

After snorkeling, we ate the best and probably freshest meal we've had: calamari, grilled emperor fish and Filipino-style chop suey (vegetables). The sanctuary maintains a fish pen where they raise fish for their restaurant. They catch a few fish or squid each day to transform into gourmet meals for hungry snorkelers.

December 28
Sniff, sniff. It's time to leave this tropical paradise and head back 'home' to Cagayan de Oro City. We're excited to see our CDO family again, but will miss adventuring in Camiguin.

Dear Marie

One of my mentors passed away yesterday. I met Marie Aminata Khan on my first day of work at the Secretariat of the Convention on Biological Diversity (CBD) back in 2007. Over the years, we grew to be very good friends. She nurtured my passion for gender issues and has been a major champion for my doctoral pursuits. Losing a dear friend is a new experience for me, one I am unsure of how to navigate. So, I began by writing her a letter, a (slightly) edited version of which appears below. 


13 December. 2011

Dear Marie,

It's impossible to formulate words expressing what I feel right now. N told me that you'd died, only yesterday after falling ill on your way to South Africa for the climate change conference (UNFCCC COP). But in my mind, you remain vibrant, full of life, smiling that dazzling smile of yours, & thinking of how to slip in an astute comment or two about gender into the conversation.

I've always admired the mentorship role you assume to help young CBD staff navigate their way. You open doors & take chances, shining the light on others. Whenever I take newbies out to play shinny hockey at one of Montreal's outdoor rinks, I tell them that everyone is on a level playing field rink. The best, most skilled players go out of their way to make even the shakiest skater look like Sydney Crosby. The stars work hard so that the beginners can make great plays; they set them up with a perfect pass or protect them from goons on the opposing team. They don't hog the puck or show off themselves. But everyone else on the ice knows they're great; everyone wants to share the ice with them because they bring everyone to a higher level (all while having fun). These star players work to enhance other people's strengths. To me, you're one of those star players. There are so many examples I could give of the opportunities you gave me to contribute to initiatives and to pursue my passion for gender during my stint at the CBD.

You respected everyone as an unique individual with talents. You always make time for others, even when your office door is closed and you're furiously working to meet a tight deadline. You were never stingy with feedback, always delivering it with critical, thoughtful and eloquent poise. You go out of your way to help others, go to bat for the principles and the people that you believe in, even (and perhaps especially) when it is a steep upward battle. Thank you.

I admire the vitality, the life you bring to everything you do, to everywhere you go. Remember dancing in the hotel bar in Bonn at the end of the CBD COP-9? Or the many parties that you graciously hosted at your apartment(s)? So much delicious food & drink. A relaxing ambiance that puts everyone at ease. Great music. Best of all, stimulating conversation and company.

Do you remember all of the advice you (lovingly) gave me over the years? On relationships, jobs, professional development, the UN, family life, African jewelry? About gender, development, project implementation? And when I told you I was engaged ... to never give up on a career or rely solely on a man for money?

And you listened too. You're an excellent and astute listener. Perhaps that is why people love you so much and trust you. Good listeners are difficult to find, especially those who genuinely care.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention your extraordinary beauty (your physical beauty - I think it's already clear I think you are an extraordinarily beautiful person on the inside). When I first arrived at CBD, S, G and I were chatting. Somehow it came up that we were in unanimous agreement that you were the most stunning person at the office. We were later stunned to discover that you were over 40! How you manage to always look like you stepped off the cover of Vogue  is beyond me.

Marie, I will miss you very, very dearly - as I am sure many, many other people will too. The light and laughter you bring into any room you enter is a quality possessed by very few individuals. I will miss your love of life, your passion for gender equality, your drive to nurture the growth of others and your ceaseless ability to live each day as if it were your last. You bring joy and inspiration to so many people, especially to me.

My condolences to your family, friends and colleagues.

Yours,
chris



There are several official tributes to Marie on the CBD and the Global Environment Facility websites. This unofficial one, penned by a colleague, beautifully captures Marie.
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In one sense I consider myself lucky. On my last day at the CBD I had left notes for my colleagues, expressing my gratitude for what they had taught me. My letter to Marie was quite long and heartfelt, so at least she knew how special she was to me.

Sandhill cranes and plastic pink flamingos

Full disclosure: I like birds. I mean, I really like birds.

As in, I travel with a pair of binoculars and a bird book, am easily distracted by bird songs and calls and often walk with my eyes scouring the treetops for signs of avian life.

As in, I spent the summers of my undergrad chasing songbirds through the woods across Canada and the USA.

As in, the first book I purchase before traveling to a new country is a bird guide. (The Philippines was rather challenging because the country has so many endemic birds and the only complete book is very expensive and is also the size of a 1990s telephone books ... not exactly conducive to slipping into a backpack for a weekend trip.)

Thus ends the preamble to this story.

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Wednesday morning at the crack of dawn. Six am. The sun has been up for a while now, beating down on the campus track where a dozen or so runners are lacing up their shoes. Some are stretching out tight hamstrings and quads, others are gulping down Gatorade. No coffee for this crew pre-workout. Yet others are still trying to wake up.

The hour-long workout passes quickly, albeit not without the addictive pain and breathlessness that characterises track workouts. Running intervals with a group makes the time and the laps fly by. The pre-determined workout eliminates the need for conscious thought. Runners need only breathe and put one foot in front of the other. Fast. Sometimes very very fast.

During the endorphin-filled cool-down someone spots a pair of leggy creatures moving purposefully along the edge of the soccer pitch just opposite the track. When they raise up their heads, they stand chest-high. The scarlet plumes above their bills catch the sun's rays, giving the creatures a regal aura. They make no sound. Another runner identifies the birds as Sandhill cranes. I think they're spectacular.

I make a mental note to bring my camera to next track practice.

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For six weeks, I tried unsuccessfully to photograph the "track cranes". The camera was nearly always in my bag. But, if I had my camera, they were nowhere to be found. On the days that I'd left the camera at home, the pair would be strolling along the soccer pitch or eating the peanuts someone had left for them outside the nearby Cereal Crops Research Unit.

One Sunday afternoon, to my surprise and delight, the birds, the camera and I found ourselves together at the Cereal Crops Research Unit. The lighting was not great, but I was not about to miss out on this opportunity. Here are some of the photographs.

  

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Post-script: Other birds you are likely to see in Madison and the surrounding areas include: Northern cardinal, house sparrow, mourning dove, cedar waxwing, Baltimore oriole, herring gull, bald eagle, turkey vulture, osprey, American goldfinch, American crow, raven, European starling, purple finch, tree swallow, nuthatches, blue jay, American robin ... and plastic pink flamingos.

The official bird of the city of Madison is the plastic pink flamingo. Back in 2009, city councilors voted in favour of adopting this unusual avian symbol to represent the city. This article has a short video explaining how this quirk came to pass.

Chocolate hills, butterflies and rainbows

The title sounds like a Lucky Charms cereal knock-off, doesn't it? This post, however, is not about a sugar-overload cereal, but rather about a day spent playing tourist in Bohol. Bohol, according to the Rough Guide to Southeast Asia, is the place where even the carabao (water buffalo) chew slowly.

The day begins at the Tagbilaran airport, a small one-room (+ comfort rooms) airport in Bohol's capital city. The young woman at the tourist desk offers a binder listing accommodation options. She suggests a one-day tour package that includes all the major land-based tourist sites. I accept.

First stop is at the "blood compact" monument where Miguel Lopez de Legazpi of Spain and Rajah Sikatuna of Bohol signed what is considered the first treaty of friendship between different ethnicities, religions, cultures and civilizations on 16 March 1565. The blood compact part entails mixing a few drops of each man's blood in a cup of wine and drunk by both men.The visit should be a somber experience, but the hot sun, warm sea breeze and vendors hawking overpriced souvenirs is jarringly incongruous.

Blood compact site

A short drive away is the Church of Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception in Baclayon. It is one of the oldest stone churches in the Philippines. It was built of coral stone shortly after the arrival of the Spanish missionaries. The workers used bamboo poles to position the stones and egg whites to cement the stones together.

Bell tower of the historical Baclayon Catholic Church

The old man's face and bushy beard on the left-hand side only appears through the camera's lens (not with the naked eye)

The usual lunch spot is aboard a boat on the Loboc River. I opt to delay lunch and walk around the town instead.

Floating restaurant on the Loboc River

One of Bohol's main attractions are its tarsiers, the world's smallest monkeys. Very few of them are left in the wild so a tourist's best chance of seeing them is at the Tarsier Centre. While the tarsiers are considered adorable must-sees, you can't help but feel an uncomfortable and guilty pleasure in your visit. Tarsiers are nocturnal (active at night). Tourist centres are diurnal (active during the day). Tourist wishes (and dollars, pesos, euros and yen) trump animal behaviour. I know that zoos can play a key role in teaching people about biodiversity issues and in instilling an "ohhhhh, we must protect [insert charismatic species name]" commitment in people, but the whole experience at the Tarsier Centre is too Barnum and Bailey sideshow-ish for me.

Lizard eying tourists at the Tarsier Centre

Sleep-deprived tarsiers subjected to yet another camera-happy tourist (including yours truly)

The next stop on the tour is the Butterfly Centre. After touring the Tarsier Centre I'm not too keen on visiting another tourist spot that objectifies wildlife. My misgivings quickly disappear. I am like a little kid in a candy store. The young guide cheerfully answers all sorts of questions about butterflies in the Philippines - their life cycle, migratory routes, preferred foods, toxins, predators, etc. Many of the exhibits are hands-on and under the supervision of trained staff: giant caterpillars crawling along your hands, walking through a covered butterfly garden, gently poking live pupae. Perhaps it is the educational focus that made the experience so much richer and enjoyable than the tarsier experience.

A caterpillar crawls along my bracelet

Pulsing chrysalis in the garden (when you touch it, it wiggles) 

Butterfly pupae at various stages of development (collected from the butterfly garden)

Butterfly feeding on nectar in the butterfly garden 

The drive to Carmen is broken up with a short stop at the "man-made mahogany forest." (Many of the Filipina women I've encountered have been involved in environmental and tree-planting activities so I imagine the forest is also "women-made" and the frequently used moniker is a misnomer.) 

Between the towns of Loboc and Bilar lies a two kilometer stretch of densely planted mahogany trees whose long limbs arch gracefully over the highway. The trees were planted to stem erosion of the steep hills lining the road. Every year groups plant more mahogany trees (no other species of vegetation). The forest a popular site for roadside picnics and movie backdrops. The atmosphere is remarkably similar to that of Vancouver Island's Cathedral Grove. 

Admiring the "man-made forest"

The penultimate stop is at the Chocolate Hills, the fabled Hershey Kiss lookalikes of Bohol. They consist of 1268 treeless similar-sized hills in an area of about 50 square kilometers. To determine the exact number of hills, the barangays located within the Chocolate Hills' area were tasked with counting the hills within their jurisdiction (sans-aide of satellite imagery). The site was nominated for inclusion on the UNESCO World Heritage List.

Chocolate Hills (during the summer they're brown like Hershey Kisses)

Timing is key to visiting these gems. During the rainy season the hills turn a splendid green colour. In the dry summer months (March to May), they become milk chocolate mounds. At dawn and dusk it's easy to understand why the hills inspire storytellers. (In one story the giant Arogo fell in love with a mortal named Aloya. When Aloya died, Arogo could not stop crying; his tears dried into the Chocolate Hills. Another legend purports the mounds are the poisoned dung of a mischievous carabao that ate all the crops of the townspeople.) Light carves around the hills. Shadows dance. Morning mist glistens. I happened to visit mid afternoon in the middle of a gentle rain. A full double rainbow materializes after the rain ends.

A rainbow arches over the Chocolate Hills after a light afternoon rain

The last mandatory stop of the tour is a souvenir shop en route back to Tagbilaran. I hadn't planned on spending any money there. (I prefer to buy souvenirs from the artisans themselves after a lengthy conversation about their art, how they acquired their skills, etc.) But funky jewelry is my Achilles' heel, and the store has it in spades.

With a lighter wallet and a heavier backpack, my tour of Bohol ends.  

Human rights on a rainy day

Yesterday I returned to home sweet home (in Quezon City) from a whirlwind UN mission in Nagoya, Japan. I attended part of the Tenth Conference of the Parties to the Convention on Biological Diversity (COP 10) to launch some of the youth biodiversity educational materials I've been developing over the past year. While there is much I could write about, there are two key areas that are currently occupying my thoughts.

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Once again, I find myself extremely frustrated and at odds with Canada's official position in international negotiations. Briefly, Canada is obstructing the passage of an internationally binding access and benefit-sharing regime at COP 10. Canada refuses to include the text "respect the right rights of indigenous peoples" in an agreement that spells out how genetic material from plants and animals is obtained (e.g. for use in food, pharmaceuticals, cosmetics, etc.) and how the benefits are shared. Much of information about the uses of biodiversity is based on the traditional knowledge (aka local knowledge or indigenous knowledge) of indigenous people, so recognizing them should be a no-brainer. 

Canada's position reeks of hypocrisy, given Stephen Harper's June 11, 2008 apology to Canada's Aboriginal Peoples and his pledge to prevent a recurrence of the attitudes that allowed Indian residential schools. At times like this, I am embarrassed to be Canadian.

COP 10 ends Friday. There are two short days for Canadians to write their Members of Parliament, expressing their concern for the future of life on Earth and their support to recognize the value of knowledge created, tested, revised and transmitted over generations.

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Tomorrow I visit the Morong 43. It's a day I've been alternately looking forward to and dreading for weeks. It's going to be an emotional roller coaster. How do you prepare yourself for the stories of health workers arrested during a health skills training and detained for the past eight months on the grounds they are members of the New People's Army and in possession of illegal weapons and explosives?

A young man from Selda, an organization for former political prisoners, will take me to visit the women in the morning, including two women who gave birth during their imprisonment. At one pm we'll visit the men. A cautionary email sent from the head of Bayan this afternoon reads "BTW, you will be strip searched before you visit with them because it is in the male section where drug violators, the principal suspect for the Maguindanao massacre, SUSPECT and many innocent Muslims accused of being Abu Sayaff." 

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And that, in a nutshell, are two key issues swirling around in my head this rainy day in Quezon City.