The Feast of Unleavened Bread

Today, Nisan 1, 5774

I was listening to the Seer attentively. Crouched down, with my old pen and steno notebook on my lap, I am writing down the major points of what he have said about an eventful day in history—when suddenly, everything started to become alive and moving and very fascinating.

Midnight (5774 years ago)

I was flabbergasted upon seeing the whole, clamorous community dressed in various antiquated robes of different shades of blue, gray and red. The elders and the women all have their hands full with either children or articles of important value. All of them seem to be in a hurry that I got myself hit and sandwiched several times. There were a lot of shouting in Hebrew I cannot understand. I passed over a homestead and saw flocks, herds and a few cattle being taken away, gathering up for a long journey ahead. I continued gallivanting around the midst of a bustling crowd, stopping over to anything that caught my fancy. I saw big and old camps set against rolling hills afar. I’ve spotted a giant deep well made of chunks of big red bricks in the middle of a farm with various crops abound—melons, leeks, cucumbers, onions and garlic. This is the thriving land of Ramses, where a hard-hearted Pharaoh ruled and where my time travel has taken me far, far back into a history I hardly ever knew until now.

It was starting to get really dark and the crowd was getting larger. Beads of sweat broke out on my forehead and my legs were sore from walking. Then I saw an open window of a large room, well-lighted by an antique lamp made of brass. Inside was a woman in her outworn, long robe hastily picking up her unleavened dough and hurriedly carried it onto her shoulders in kneading troughs wrapped in white clothing and abandoned her house swiftly. All other people I have encountered apparently have brought with them breads without yeast covered in various clothing. Immediately after that, I remembered, this is what the event was all about—it’s the feast of unleavened bread!

I followed her discreetly (though, I don’t suppose she will see me in anyway) until a large group of men with gray beards, wide shoulders, strong Hebrew accent, passed by me and I lost sight of her. I thought of Moses…could he be somewhere in this crowd? Everyone with gray beards, sharp jawline and with a stick looks like Moses to me. I wouldn’t have a way to find out by the looks, do I? So, I dig deeper into the crowd and followed my instincts.

For a moment, I found myself lost and dizzy. I slid into a quiet area to regain my strength. I thought, is this a slaughterhouse of animals for offering for I can smell the raw acrid air of blood? I’m sure I don’t like the odor but I need to catch my breath so I inhaled and exhaled, not minding the smell and absorbing what great details I have seen so far, while I’m stretching out my legs, one at a time, above the ground. Then, from afar, I saw a man with a remarkable look in brown garment, strong in disposition, seemingly old — I can’t tell his age for his beard is not that long. That remarkable man whose hands were occupied from demanding gold coins or any articles of silver and gold and clothing from the Egyptians seem to play an important role in the community. He must be Aaron or Moses or any of the elders from the 12 tribes of Jacob. At this point, and unlike any other days of the 400 long years that passed, the Egyptians fear for their lives with the Israelites on their land. They fear for another plague that is about to happen, if the children of God stayed a little longer. So they gave whatever they are asked of them by the Israelites and they urged the people of God to hurry and leave the country.

A feeling of excitement rose upon me. This night is the mark of their freedom. The humid and seemingly chaotic night turned into a beautiful stirring spectacle. I noticed that the larger part of the crowd is moving all at once in one direction. I forgot I was tired. I went out and hurried with them, making sure I wouldn’t be left out.

The Israelites, the women and their children, together with a mixed multitude who feared God, and the flocks, herds and cattle are off to the land of Succoth. This is the night of the Lord to be observed of all the children of Israel in their generations for bringing them out from the land of Egypt. This is the beginning of their time; the first day of the month of their year and for seven consecutive days they will eat pure bread, strictly the ones without yeasts.

Today, Nisan 1, 5774

I was pulled back to the present time with new hope. The Christians today are celebrating their New Year—it’s the 5774th year after the early Christians journeyed out of the land of Egypt. I was glad I have witnessed their history, or shall I say our history,  through the eyes of the Seer.


Prepping for CELTA

My CELTA adventure is getting closer to a reality. Preparing for it though is not a piece of cake. My late nights were engrossed in reading the CELTA trainee book, which I have had to purchase at, along with a couple of supplementary books they have recommended, after giving up on Recto, National Bookstore, PowerBooks, Booksale to finding none.

It has been a lot of work, lately, a lot of reading, researching, and a lot of deciding to do. From thinking of where to take the course (London, Vietnam, Thailand, Japan, South Korea, Australia, New Zeland) to price comparison, emailing people, getting the help of my generous relatives, refreshing my grammar and taking the pre-interview task have all caused me feeling excited and at the same time stressed out.

In a few days, I’m about to have an interview with two of the famous language centers in East Asia. Woohoo! I had a good hunch. I’m going to nail it. Thanks to the invaluable insights and advice of the bloggers I’ve came across over the Internet. Thanks be to GOD for making all these possible.

So where do I sign up?

Vietnam surprisingly fits the bill. Living there is generally on the cheap. And the CELTA course fee? Let’s say about half of the International House London’s fee. The good thing about it is that it has standard quality practiced all throughout its course centers. No wonder, the British, Canadians and Americans pursue the course in Vietnam. So there is no need to go to London, really. I’ll just have it at the back of my mind (and dreams).

As the days go by, I found myself reading up and researching more about the rustic beauty  and scorching land of Nam; it’s culture, the EFL industry and how it’s faring with its neighboring countries, the pros and cons of working there and what not. I’ve also learned the huge number of quaint local coffee shops around the country. I’ve picked up some useful phrases and words of the local language, which would definitely aid me with my shopping (and haggling!) and getting around the city. Apparently, Vietnamese likes their foreign visitors to be speaking their native tongue and this would proved to be useful in a lot of ways, I suppose.

Because I’m such a picky eater, I’ve also familiarized myself with the names of the local food and what’s in it, so I can eat happily less the guilt. I was succumbed to use the Google maps, to check on the kinds of roads I’ll be embarking on to and fro the school; and to know if it’s ever “walkable,” because I intend to use their main transportation, mopeds, as my very (very) last resort.

I’m a bit excited in all different levels, not just for the intensive four-week study but also for the life ahead of me abroad. I cannot say for sure of what’s in store for me out there nor is it any worth getting out of my comfort zone. At the end of the day, I figured, I’ll just carry on and keep my hopes and prayers up that every thing will turn out right, with HIS help.





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