Father Joeker
By Fr Joseph Panabang SVD
Joe is the name
“What is in a name?” is a program watched on television. Then I recalled my own name history. At the seminary we were three Joe’s. They called me Joepay (shortened from of Joseph Panabang to distinguish me from the other two. Then at the basketball court, they called me “Magic Joe” alluding to my style of play. Then came the new soft drinks Mountain Dew and they called me “Mountain Joe” (referring to mountainous Kalinga where I come from). Next was my mission appointment to Ghana Africa, whereupon my classmates called the "Chief Joepay” as a joke. Then when I shared my experiences from Ghana in the magazine MISYON the editor called me Fr. Joe-ker. Pinoy in Ghana. So what’s my next name?
Marikina Mass
Just barely a week after I arrived back in the Philippines, I was sent to Marikina for Sunday mass. I gave the homily in Tagalong. After the mass, one parishioner commented, "Hindi Filipino ito, ah.” I looked at him with a smile. I must have become Ghanized.
Adam’s Apple
My nephew brought some real imported apples to Ga-ang my humble village. Before eating the fruit I warned my friends. “This is the fruit from the garden of Eden. So be careful. It might stuck in your throat. Like what happened to Adam – adam’s apple.”
Sorry, I’m Sick
One day, I couldn’t go with my catechists for our house to house visit. I was not feeling well. He then complained: “Sick again? Always sick, sick, sick. Why?" complained one catechist. “Because I am alive. Did you ever see a dead person getting sick?” I said ruefully and he laughed.
Smoking is Dangerous to you Health
Coming back from Kalinga in a trip over tortuous terrain filled with giant potholes on the road, a man from Pangol sitting on the luggage’s atop the jeepney was thrown off. I asked my nephew who was beside him how it happened. He said that the man was lighting his cigarettes when the jeep hit a deep bump. Then he was thrown off mercilessly. “See, smoking is dangerous to you health?" I told him.
No Free Breakfast
So excited and I in a hurry to return to the mission center one night, I forgot that the mass kit was on top of the car. From the mission center, I went back but could not find it. I could not sleep the whole night.
Early morning I went back but still in vain. Coming back the third time, our principal informed that a certain taxi driver found a black boy on the road with strange things inside but did not know what they were. So he brought them to the Ghana Private Road Transportation Union Office (GPRTU).
What a relief when I got them intact. But then at my office, an errand boy from the GPRTU came to remind me that I should have paid something before I took the mass kit. “Go and tell them that Jesus did not pay the Good Samaritan.” I said to the boy.