Since I arrived home from Jakarta, it has rained here everyday, mostly in the afternoon. On my first day, 29 Oct., I could not resist the impulse of getting out in my shorts and t-shirt and had almost an hour under the pouring rain. Actually, my 12-year old son Odon had been there on the front yard, enjoying the rain. If you are 63, anything that brings you back to the delights of childhood will always be a welcomed event.
The following day, it rained again, also in the afternoon. It rained all the time, mostly in the afternoons until today, the 4th of November. When I look back, I can recall it always rains when it's around All Saints Day or All Souls Day. I cannot recall a rain-less first of November. The rains must be the reason why we always think of November as gray. Remember that expression, "When its gray November in your Soul." In my bohemian days, it refers to a pub in Manila where writers and artists and campus intellectuals would like to congregate and massage their egos, in addition to discussing topics about art and literature ... No such place now to spend your gray November days. Well, not in this place anyway. There's probably no need for one.
We can discuss about poverty anytime of day, in any month, and always we resolve to do something about it the following day. We have our own Poverty Cafe, a moveable feast of ideas meant for sharing and, hopefully, for doing something about this scourge that affects us all. Ah, November is gray indeed.
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