Doc Ahmad Hajiri

It was already late in the evening when me and my friends went out of the restaurant after a long dinner and discussions inside. The rain just stopped, and my watch said it's already 5 minutes past 10 in the evening. I was still carrying the box of donuts with me, there were still 2 pieces of donuts left and they all decided that it would go the to student in the group (which unfortunately is me). I have no plan of bringing it home and so I decided to give it to the first street children we might meet outside. As if right on cue, I immediately saw a trio of street children huddled in a corner outside this condominium for the elites, as if waiting for someone to come out from that building. I thought they were just waiting for some foreigners to pass by that they may ask for some coins. But they were not moving anywhere, they were just sitting there, and as I approached them, it was then that I saw, one of the kids about the age of 5 was crying. The two elder boys who saw me comin...

(Translated from the original piece written in Bahasa Sug: Hinapusan hagas , published Sept. 8, 2013) Bismillah. It was one of those days as an LU4 student when we had our bedside preceptorials in Philippine General Hospital (PGH) as part of our class activity when this happened. My group was assigned in the Pedia wards and was assigned to a patient with a lung disease to check and try to learn how to properly identify and diagnose a probable disease. We also had a preceptor, a Pediatrician who will guide us along the course of the preceptorials. Upon entering the wards, one simlpy cannot help but feel saddened by the state of the patients in PGH, especially if they are kids. You will see different patients with different ailments: some have enlarged heads, some had bandages on their tiny arms, some were inside these tiny incubator boxes, some had tubes in their mouth, and some are even too young to be there (just some weeks or months old! Poor thing! (-_-). We arriv...

Originally written: September 8, 2013 Bismillah. Hambuuk adlaw awn kami pagtawagun preceptorials ha PGH (Philippine General Hospital). Didtu kami ha Pediatrics Ward, manga bata’-bata násakit in dáhun namu’ magbissara iban chek-upun. Awn da i sab kami preceptor atawa mastal duktur da isab maghindu’ kamu sin unu in hinangun. Pagsuwd na mán pa ward, kasusahan na tuud in dumagpak pa mata mu. Kakitaan mu in taud sin bata’-bata’ násakit: yaun na in nanghuhubag in uw, kiyapapalian, sampay agun ampa pila bulan in ummul sa siyasangunan na oxygen iban IV fluid (dextrose laung sin Tausug). Kiyarihilan man kami pasyente, nagtagna’ na in mastal maghindu’ kámu’. Awn na kaybanan ha mga iban ku in dimá nagbissara iban ina’ sin bata’-bata’, in kaybanan isab dimá naa nagpanayam iban bata’-bata’ bat lumuwt kanila. Sa’ in aku dugaing in kiyajagahan ku. Ha katan sin manga bata’-bata’ násakit ha ward yadtu, hambuuk kanila in kiya-idlapan ku. Hambuuk bata’-bata’ usug mag-ummulan hatiku mang...

Subtitle: "Ang Kwento ni Kristina" Story by Ahmad Musahari, Photos by Kartini Tahir "Kuya, lubog na po ba ang araw?" Ang tanong niya sa akin...  Bismillah. Minsan sa ating buhay, kelan ba tayo huling naghintay ng paglubog ng araw? Kelan ba tayo huling nagtaka bakit ang bagal minsan ng oras at minsan nama’y sadyang kay bilis nito? Ilang ulit ba natin hiniling na sana ay matapos na ang isang nakakapagod na araw?  Na sana ay tuluyan na tayong makauwi sa bahay at makapagpahinga na sa kubli ng luntiang gabi?  Si Kristina Ito si Kristina o Tin-Tin. Sampung taong gulang na bata na naninirahan sa may Pasay. Una namin siyang nakilala nung bumisita kami sa UP Diliman. Lumapit siya sa amin ng kaibigan ko upang bentahan kami ng kanyang panindang pantali ng buhok (na tig-sampung piso isa) at payong (2 makukulay na payong; di ko na natanong kung magkano isa). Dun din siya nagsimulang magtanong sa amin. “Kuya, yan po ba ang araw?” sabay turo sa may maliwanag...

        One of those days when I was in Pandami’, Sulu where my ancestors had once lived, a wonderful inspiration came to me through two of the most unusual ways: by a small stone and a little lad.         I was walking through the thick bushes that afternoon, in one of my great grandfather’s well treasured land. I was hoping to find peace in listening to birds chirping up high on the trees, or with the wind that is softly touching my face, and even by pondering at the great wonder and mystery those gigantic trees have to offer (all of these are wonderful blessings from Allah, Alhamdulillah).         Along the way, I spotted a little boy not far from where I was. He was wearing a red bandana in his head, covering his short, black curly hairs. His thin body was plastered by his white shirt that had grown old and had turned to another color which I cannot name. A small taguban (a ...