Driving Forces - Softcover

Fortino, Carol

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9781481753807: Driving Forces
Softcover
ISBN 10: 1481753800 ISBN 13: 9781481753807
Publisher: AuthorHouse, 2013

Synopsis

THE DRIVER: Many forces drive us into the decisions we make: infidelity: new opportunity, chance meetings, rebel causes. Dr. Louise Hammel, an American-Australian, takes a job in Cagayan de Oro, Philippines, as a Regional Long-Term Advisor for an educational program called PROMES. Her assigned Filipino driver, Rico Bernales, becomes enamored with a Muslim widow whose uncle is the leader of the Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF). Rico is unwittingly drawn into the nefarious and dangerous underworld of the rebels. As the year progresses, Louise becomes more savvy in negotiating her way through complex issues of Filipino society: human relations, religion, education, culture and politics, but she is unable to help her driver with his personal entanglements. In the end, Louise must decide if she will return home to the USA leaving her driver to extricate himself from the vortex of impending dangers. BOOK REVIEWS Carol Fortino has woven an interesting tale, impressively detailed, melded with education, customs, culture and traditions of Catholic and Muslim Filipinos and the conflicts between them. The story is intertwined with romance, family conflict, betrayal, graft, subversion and disaster. The book illustrates a good comparison of the differences in cultures among the Philippines, Australia and America. Victor Moss, author of Beware the Wolves, a Soviet WWII Love Story (a potential Hollywood motion picture) a thoughtful fictionalized memoir of an American ex-pat's life moving between the radically different cultures of Australia and the Philippines. The rich individuals of the book paint a raw rubbing of fundamentally different ways of conceiving the world as well as the precariousness of life in a nation haunted by the mixed blessings of so-called 'modernity' and a particularly fragile environment . . . a quick and thoroughly enjoyable read"" Jim O'Donnell, author of "Notes for the Aurora Society" and "Rise and

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Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

DRIVING FORCES

By CAROL FORTINO

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2013 Carol Fortino
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4817-5380-7

Contents

Map of the Region..........................................................xiii
Chapter 1 A Leap of Faith..................................................1
Chapter 2 First off, Manila................................................10
Chapter 3 The PROMES Course in Brisbane....................................12
Chapter 4 The Driver's Decision............................................16
Chapter 5 Cagayan de Oro...................................................23
Chapter 6 Survival Skills..................................................32
Chapter 7 The Mango House..................................................37
Chapter 8 The Open House...................................................40
Chapter 9 The Satellite School Visit.......................................43
Chapter 10 The Christening.................................................50
Chapter 11 Iligan to Ozamis................................................52
Chapter 12 Rendezvous in Manila............................................68
Chapter 13 The Trip to Camiguin............................................73
Chapter 14 Easter Week.....................................................82
Chapter 15 A Rude Homecoming...............................................90
Chapter 16 Election Red Zones..............................................101
Chapter 17 The Warehouse...................................................105
Chapter 18 Surigao del Norte...............................................114
Chapter 19 A Sleepless Night...............................................118
Chapter 20 Pomp Boat Ride to Siargao Island................................125
Chapter 21 Slipping into the Abyss.........................................131
Chapter 22 The Ultimatum...................................................139
Chapter 23 Oroquieta.......................................................144
Chapter 24 Trip into Moro Country..........................................148
Chapter 25 The Meeting in Zamboanga........................................152
Chapter 26 Crossing the Chasm..............................................159
Chapter 27 The "Dragon Lady" Strikes.......................................162
Chapter 28 Suspicions and Demise...........................................166
Chapter 29 A Flood of Emotions.............................................174
Chapter 30 The Vortex......................................................180
Characters in Order of Appearance:.........................................196
Glossary...................................................................199


CHAPTER 1

A LEAP OF FAITH


An author in his (her) book must be like God in the universe,present everywhere and visible nowhere.

Gustave Flaubert


My friend sent me a birthday card on October 12th, the traditionalColumbus Day in the USA. It showed a woman with a colorful scarfbillowing in the wind as she jumped from one side of a crevasse toanother. The caption read, "Good Women Take a Leap of Faith."

Never having been particularly risk adverse, I had jettisoned an excellentteaching job in Colorado five years ago, married an Australian professor,and moved to Brisbane, much to the wonderment of my family. Americanchildren fledge early and since there was no one at the family home, itseemed an opportune time to move forward. Now sitting alone in thissmall apartment in Brisbane, I had to wonder if the message on the cardwas an inspiration or a driving force for change.

Coming to Australia had not been without its perks as I had earnedmy Ph.D. at the Queensland University of Technology. This "ticketto ride" had enabled me to direct an Australian national project inProfessional Development and to teach part-time at the University ofQueensland. However, while I had been working these two jobs, myhusband, Dr. Bill Frayer, was right on schedule for the seven-year itchin our marriage.

At that time Bill and I were both working for "Project in Mathematics,English and Science" (PRO MES), a jointly-funded Australia-Philippinesmillion dollar education grant. The goal was to provide professionaldevelopment for selected Filipino teachers and their administrators atthe University in Brisbane and to support them when they returnedhome. My role for the program was to teach the science educationcomponent.

About a year earlier Bill and I had gone to the Philippines for severalweeks to interview prospective candidates for the program. It was onthe island of Cebu that we first met Imelda Suarez, a candidate laterrejected for PRO MES by the Filipino government. Unbeknownst to meshe had somehow singled Bill out as someone of interest. Bill returnedto Cebu the next month for more PRO MES interviews while I stayedin Brisbane working. According to gossip, this is when their affairdeveloped.

When the PRO MES program actually began at the university, Billpersonally paid Imelda's airfare to Brisbane and created a peripheral jobfor her. He claimed, "Imelda speaks several Filipino dialects and will actas an advisor to the men and women." But, I knew better.

Our academic friends began to recognize the situation for what itwas and were not surprised when I moved out of our home. Shortlythereafter Bill moved Imelda in. The new couple's blatant daily arrivaland departure at the university could not be missed by anyone whoknew us professionally. Much to the amazement of our colleagues, Isoldiered on teaching daily, dealing with Bill in the office, and avoidingthe third floor where Imelda was smugly installed.

I was truly at my own chasm. My reactions were mixed: ebbing froma sense of betrayal to anger, and finally simply embarrassment for myestranged husband. Having given up my professional ties to life in theUS and now having my Australian foundation shaken, it was either timeto make the leap or fall off the cliff in despair.

So I decided to apply for one of the yearlong positions with PROMES inthe Philippines. Not being a true-blue, dinky-die Aussie, I was not sure Iwould be hired as one of the four regional advisors. If selected, I wouldbe overseeing Math, English and my specialty, Science Education, fromprimary to university levels. The selections were to be announced ata final farewell dinner at the university when all the major playersfrom Manila and the regions would be feted. I had not told Bill of myapplication or decision to take the job if chosen. He offered to pick meup that evening at my apartment near the university. I thought myItalian friends back home would laugh and tell me, "Perchè No! - WhyNot?"

After the entrée and the mains were heartily eaten, a pavlova waspresented. This meringue-based concoction was named after aRussian ballet dancer and I could never figure out why it was sospecial to Australians. The Filipinos were enjoying their dessert whenDr. Ermilinda Rinoco, the head of the Department of Education,Culture and Sports, or DE CS for short, stood to make the awaitedannouncement. Brad Philips, the Australian project head, was at herside as she announced those selected as Regional Long Term Advisors(RLTA s) for five regions in the Philippines. There were two Australianwomen: Ellen Michaelson for Ilocos Norte in northern Luzon andChristine Moore for the island of Cebu. Mitch Henderson, a NewZealander, would be in Zambaoanga, the southernmost region ofMindanao, and, lucky me, Dr. Louise Hammel, would be assigned totwo regions: central and northern Mindanao. In the audience I detecteda nod from Dr. Mohammed Fernandez, the superintendent of Cagayande Oro, where I would be stationed. I had had several personal talkswith this knowledgeable gentleman and I responded to his graciousacknowledgement with a smile.

Amidst the applause, Bill leaned down toward me and in a scolding voicewhispered, "Why didn't you tell me you had applied for this in-countryposition? Are you really going to take it? What about your other jobshere?"

I whispered as politely as I could, "Sorry mate, but Imelda is the centerof your life now. What I do with mine is no longer your business."

Most of the upper echelon Filipinos in the room did not know abouthis affair and thought we were still firmly married. I wondered if Iwould be begging a ride home from someone else. But, never one tolose professional face, Bill led me to his car at the conclusion of theevening.

We four RLTA s met only a couple times before our departure, whichwas scheduled for the following month. We were strangers who instantlyconnected, relaxing, taking off our shoes, having a glass of wine with afew savories, and telling bits of our personal backgrounds. After this firstbusiness meeting we decided to go to a play together at the QueenslandTheater Company at Southbank on the Brisbane River before we headedout to our remote areas in a foreign county.

The night of the play I chose to wear my favorite outfit, a filmy greenskirt and loose-flowing jacket flecked with black and white swirls. I hadbought it back in Colorado at my favorite little shop called "The FallenAngel." The name seemed appropriate for my curious circumstancesnow. Although Bill's infidelity had devastated my sense of self-worth,the outfit made me feel elegant and confident.

Brisbane traffic was horrendous with its streets and hilly avenues builton old goat paths. Almost late, I slid into my theater seat quickly andEllen leaned over and smiled, "That is a gorgeous outfit and I knew youwould fit in." A right compliment from an Aussie!

Packing during this last month for a year's stay in the Philippines proveda bit daunting. I found myself crying as I sat on the floor sorting throughmy Australian life, more angry with myself than Bill, wondering how Iarrived at this state of affairs. Chuckling at the irony of the word, affair,I dried my tears determined to go on.

In the new job, I understood that I would be giving speeches, facilitatingworkshops, and arranging for new educational materials to be deliveredto the schools. My direct supervisor, Brad Philips, would also berelocating from Brisbane to Manila. Brad warned me that part of ourmain job would be placating the Filipino administrators who were notlucky enough to be chosen to come to Brisbane for the professionaldevelopment program. This was the exact reason why the project wantedlong-term advisors. We all knew that Filipinos put on their best face forvisitors and did not like to let any 'flies in the ointment' be seen. This jobwould be much more administrative than academic, my true comfortzone. Nevertheless, I'd handled complicated finances at my recent jobsso I wasn't too worried. Brad told me, "Louise, you will find and useskills you never even knew you had, because for all its progress, thePhilippines is still a third world country in many respects." So much forthe confidence pep talk!

I drove back to our home in Brisbane's western suburb of Brookfieldto store some of my things. Fortunately, Imelda had already left forChristmas vacation on her home island of Cebu. Even so, our houseseemed cold and indifferent as I opened the sliding door to the backveranda that overlooked Gold Creek. Many a morning I would standout there and listen to the good-natured laughter of my kookaburra.The bird would watch me place little rounds of mince on the railingwhere he would bash the meat around, then gobble it down. I had readthat laughing kookaburras are believed to pair for life - something wehumans might note, but in this day hardly ever do. From a nearby treeanother kookaburra cried an almost hysterical sound that mimicked myturbulent feelings.

I took one last look at the small storeroom that I had turned into mycozy office. With nostalgia I remembered the hours I had spent at thedesk writing my Ph.D. thesis. Beside it sat a filing cabinet and a stepladderon which I had draped a small red rug to display a few of myspecial mementos: a stone statue of an intertwined man and woman,and a delicately shaded, hand-woven basket brought back from a trip toSouth Africa. On the wall beside the computer, I had my favorite, framedpicture in black and white. It showed a series of doors leading through tomore and more doors. Its message for me was that life always has otheropenings going into the future, if we so desire to pursue them. A filmycurtain covered the small rectangular window that looked onto a largepandanus palm where a black and white whistler would sometimes singto me. The distant view across the creek blended into the rainforest.

I walked from the front veranda out to the herb garden that I hadcarefully tended. I had often sat in the lounge chair to listen for myfavorite whip-birds. One has to be very patient to spot these dark olive-greenbirds with their grey-white belly and long dipping tail. I wasintrigued by the pair's characteristic call: the male's long drawn-outwhip crack quickly followed by the female's sharp "choo-choo." Thiscall-answer song seemed as if the male didn't want his mate out of sightfor too long and was checking to see if she was all right. Putting thatanthropomorphic thought out of my mind, I hurriedly got the fewremaining things I needed for my carry-on luggage.

The movers arrived to unload the furnishings from my apartment andto stack extra boxes in my former office off the garage. I told Bill that Iwould let him know where to send my belongings at some future timeand handed him my car keys.

He once again graciously or guiltily offered to drive me to the airport.We drove out of the country suburb with its beautiful bush and fringingcreek alongside the bitumen road. Remnant rainforest trees of paperbackand silky oaks overhung the road and a flock of galahs with their pinkundersides burst out of the trees giving me a farewell salute. "Whose agalah now," I wondered? "Am I the fool or is Bill?" We turned left atthe roundabout that I had early mastered so as not to kill myself drivingon the wrong side of the road. Circling round the small country storewith its yellow clapboard siding, we passed the old cemetery, the horsetraining paddocks on the left, and the Brookfield show grounds on theright. I had so enjoyed the annual country fair where the local droversshowed off how quickly their well-trained dogs could pen up a flock ofsheep. There had been some good times here.

Further down the Kenmore Road we overtook a tradie in his ute with ametal tool carrier on the side and a ladder protruding from the back. Aswe headed toward the Kenmore shopping center and round to MogillRoad, Bill said, "You might be a bit peckish and you won't get any foodon the plane for hours. Why don't we stop for a bite?" I nodded okay andwe pulled off at a line of small outdoor cafes. We chose the fish place andsince Bill was paying, I opted for my last taste of Moreton Bay bugs. Notwishing to converse, I had mentally moved into an observational mode.I could not help noticing how "white" Australia was - English, Scottish,Irish heritage everywhere. I knew that there were lots of Italians andGreeks, but their darker complexions were not that evident. Sometimesa nose or vivacious hand gesturing gave away their ethnic heritage. Inthe take-away place next to us, I heard Chinese being spoken, a breakfrom the Queensland Aussie lingo I had come to understand quite easily.Most of my acquaintances were academics or professionals and their citytalk was more refined than the outback "ocker" tones.

Talking quietly at a table near us sat two aboriginal women dressed inbusiness attire. An elderly Australian couple had just finished their fishand chips and were getting up to leave, carrying their Styrofoam eskieto keep their wine cold. I overheard the man say to his wife, "Don'tsee many of those kind around." These oldies must have been aboutseventy and their opinions of Aborigines had been deeply ingrained sinceprimary school. Bill once told me that the school textbooks had not beenchanged from calling the Aboriginals "savages" until the late 1960s.

For whatever reason, I remembered something I had read about in the1993 federal Parliament's words of the apology to the stolen generation:"Today we honour the indigenous peoples of this land, one of theoldest continuing cultures in human history. We reflect on their pastmistreatment." That spirit of reconciliation had not yet registered withmany older Australians in this multi-cultural metropolis.

I was dismayed that such racism had persisted so long in my adoptedcountry, until I considered the treatment of Native Americans and blacksin my home county. A public apology has never been offered to eithergroup by my American government. It seems that in both countries,people of color, be they native or immigrant, still have a long way to go.Then it dawned on me, that in the Philippines, I would be "the minority"and I wondered about the prejudices I would encounter there.

Wending our way toward Chapel Hill there was a sign advertising "Cheapprice to scarify your lawn." Although I had not picked up an Aussieaccent, I certainly could understand most of the lingo, but 'scarifying'puzzled me. What on earth could that have to do with lawns? The wordmore likely described my current state of mind. Nostalgia for happiertimes swept through me, but I had no more tears for now. My sadnesshad been burnished away as I polished up my own life during ourseparation and attained this well-paying job on my own merit.

We made our way along Coronation Drive toward the center of thebeautiful city of Brisbane with its Queen Street Mall and South BankEntertainment Center, arriving eventually at the airport. As we drovetoward the departure area, Bill said, "You don't really have to go, youknow." This was an ironic comment from my estranged husband,considering that he would drive back to our home where he had ensconcedhis mistress, awaiting her return after the holidays. It obviously hadn'tsunk into his head yet that in my book he could be married or have agirlfriend, but not both at the same time. He was a besotted, middle-agedprofessor who was willing to sacrifice his marriage for a fling or two.Knowing his Scottish heritage, I was pretty sure that he would call itquits once he realized that if he married Imelda, he would marry into thewhole Filipino clan for whom he would become financially responsible.His comment about my staying did not deserve a reply.

I had sent ahead five boxes and had just two suitcases and my carry-onfor the plane. I thanked my reluctant Brisbane driver one last time,retrieved my suitcases, shook his hand and walked toward the airportdoor.

CHAPTER 2

FIRST OFF, MANILA


One does not discover new landswithout consenting to lose sight of shorefor a very long time.

André Gide


My job commenced in January and I looked forward to a banner year ofnew professional experiences and great pay. I was ready to hurtle acrossthe chasm and land in a grand adventure working with the people I hadgotten to know during my initial visits to Manila and Cebu and duringtheir training course in Brisbane. Little did I know then, as luck wouldhave it, that the Australian stock markets would follow the JapaneseNikkei into the loo and force my future pay to suffer accordingly. Butwhat is life without a bit of risk?


(Continues...)
Excerpted from DRIVING FORCES by CAROL FORTINO. Copyright © 2013 Carol Fortino. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Publisher
AuthorHouse
Publication date
2013
Language
English
ISBN 10 
1481753800
ISBN 13 
9781481753807
Binding
Paperback
Number of pages
218
Rating
  • 3.00 out of 5 stars
    5 ratings by Goodreads

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