If Filipinos who are enjoying their only day off by having a picnic at the park will be turned away, then where are they supposed to go? In a foreign land where most of the domestic helpers live with their employers, and most of them playing crucial daily roles but remaining unseen, where do they fit in?
Presented during the Asian American Journalists Association’s Digital N3 #DN3
What is QGIS?
It’s a free and open-source mapping software for processing geospatial data.
Previously known as Quantum GIS. (GIS means Geographical Information System).
How can I use this in my reporting?
You can visualize your data using maps.
What does QGIS look like?
How can I learn QGIS?
I learned QGIS via Youtube tutorials created by my former Graphics mentor.
Where do I start?
1. Download and install QGIS.
2. Download base map data.
3. Watch some Youtube video tutorials, or get in touch with me if you questions!
A few more things:
1. Join The Spatial Community on Slack. You’ll find people from all over the world who are happy to help you out. Check out the #qgis channel!
2. Follow #gistribe and #augistribe on Twitter.
Thank you,
Hannah
@hannahdormido | [email protected]
He was late, so I ordered myself coffee. I had research to keep me company so I did not mind. With puffy red eyes and a dark shadow on his face, a testament to a long night of either drinking himself to sleep or being too caught up in the story we working on, he approached my table.
“Sorry, we’re late. It’s my fault.”
“Long night?”
“Headache.”
“Hungover, or still drunk?”
He just groaned in response.
But drunk or hungover, or for the benefit of the doubt, suffering from a non-alcohol-induced headache, the man transformed out in the field. I saw his passion for his craft; a craft I have a love-hate relationship with. I was in awe. I tried not to act like some star struck kid, but it took me a lot of effort to keep myself in check.
I observed how he would be in character when he needed to, but he had that humanity in him I could not shrug off. Passion – that was raw passion for the craft he has been doing for years. Despite the frustrations and jaded remarks he would occasionally throw my way, bursting my somehow-still-idealistic bubble, he could not hide that this was more than a job to him; this was his life. He tried so much to distance himself from this troubling story. But from where I stood, I saw how his face would flush red, and something flash in his eyes when a source spills something that aggravates him. The storm in his eyes would disappear as fast as it showed, that at one point I considered I might be reading him too much. I blame my hobby of people-watching. But there was fire there. I recognise it, cos I see that same fire during those times I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Maybe he has felt that same storm brewing inside him for years now, working on different stories, that he has mastered the art of calming the turmoil within.
Yes, he should not get too attached with a certain story. But sometimes with fervid belief comes attachment. He saw grave mistakes, maybe one too many. He knows he could be a passive, detached spectator, or he can translate his intense feelings to change. He has to act.
Maybe years on the field do that to you. Stories one after the other, you could not keep track you eventually stopped counting. Numerous stamps on your passport. Thousands of nameless faces along the way. Or names you have known once but eventually not remember. Life lessons you learn the hard way. A significant other or a number of, which you treasure but eventually part ways with – either because you grew apart, or because the world was too big for them to handle with you. Maybe the passion burning inside you consumed them. Maybe life does that to you and the people around you. Either you crumble from the pressure, or it fuels your passion.
“What do you want to do in the long run?”
“I’m all over the place now.”
“You’re still young.”
“Uhm.”
“But I see you’re headed in the right direction.”
There’s nothing sexier on a man than passion. Knowing something’s worth fighting for, and pursuing it. One day, I most probably will be one of those names he once knew but will never remember. Or one of those who will be familiar but he would not be able to put a name to the face. And because I’m such a coward I could not bring myself to say it upfront, let this be my way of thanking him for showing me – without him knowing it, how passion makes a man.
“Don’t be a stranger, give me a hug.”
And so I did.
You were too scared, but you knew you had to face him. You owe yourself that much. It has been years since you last saw him but the effect he has on you, despite the distance and his absence, seemed to have grown stronger over time.
Maybe the mystery has been bugging you. The what ifs, the might-have-beens. Maybe it was the writer in you aching for a well-written love story. Probably it was the insatiable need for a happy ending.
It was crazy how his absence has drawn you closer to him, but his presence has always shaken you up. You feel eager to know more about him, ask if life has been kind to him all these years you were apart. There is this need in you to see him smile. You ache to look into those eyes, hoping to get a glimpse of the kind of man he has grown to be.
You recall how – it seems a lifetime ago, he was tough on you. He showed you at an awfully young age that in this life, people will hurt you, but you have to stand up for yourself. He made you realise that even then when he made you feel weak, you were strong.
The time has come for you to muster all your courage to see him. It could be closure – or it could be your doom. When you heard him call your name, you found it ironic how the one person who taught you to be strong can make you feel so weak.
As you tried to meet his gaze, you struggled to keep your knees steady. You wanted to run to his arms and hug him breathless. But you knew it wasn’t your place. So you plastered on a smile, forced a wave, and met him halfway as he walked toward you.
While you walked side by side, you felt people staring. There were voices inside your head telling you it must have been his goddamn looks. He has grown up so fine, it should be made illegal. But there was one voice that was more than hopeful, wishing people looked at you and thought you made a beautiful couple. You mentally slap yourself after that rogue thought.
The meal went by fast, and somewhat filled with pregnant pauses, but it was as comfortable as it could be. Stories were shared and though they could not make up for the years you were apart, they were all you could have. And with all your heart, you were willing to accept whatever the universe had to offer.
You knew goodbye was next. So you took a deep breath, and smiled. He looked straight at you, and offered you a warm smile, too. Then you both stood up ready to part ways, again.
He hugged you and said, ‘it was nice seeing you.’ You kissed him on the cheek and answered with a smile – ‘you, too’ when all you wanted to say was ‘I think I have always been in love with you.’
You promised yourself that soon it would be ‘I loved you,’ and just like what you did when you left him standing there, you would not look back.
-H