i learned a long time ago that if i ever wanted to have a voice in my Kuya’s life, i would have to join him where his interests lay instead of forcing him to do stuff that i enjoyed. He and i always did enjoy playing baril-barilan when we were small. We would take our wooden guys and turn the “trigger” so that it did its rat-tat-tat sounds as we aimed at each other or our neighbors. So when my Kuya invited me to join him in his current passion, airsoft, i reluctantly said yes.

He has a cabinet-full of these guns and rifles – bought from bargain places somewhere in the belly of the city of Manila. He has an assortment of clothes, camouflage gear, knives, goggles and telescopes that would make a Philippine Army soldier weep if only they were real. So, on the day that he was to introduce me to his current fetish (it used to be comic books, then laser discs, then high-end car magazines), he opened the cabinet with such relish i knew i had to let out the obligatory oooh and aaaah. So i did. But it wasn’t entirely faked. i really was stunned at his arsenal. He took more than ten minutes to explain to me the differences between each pistol and rifle and camouflage gear. “This is what you wear when you’re in jungle terrain. This is for Iraq or Afghanistan-type areas.” Then he let me touch the pant legs of one uniform and i commented on how hard it was. “That’s for protection. Because those pellets can really sting you.” He then showed me a reddish blue mark on his body the size of a pea. My mind started to race about what might happen to me later. He suggested i go for wearing long sleeves just in case.

It took us both a full 15 minutes to get into BDU (battle dress uniform) at his house. It would take us another ten minutes to put on the goggles and other accessories when we got to the site. By then it was almost noon and i was sweating like a pig next in line at the slaughter house.

He asked me to sling one rifle over my shoulder while he slung two across his own shoulders. Aside from the one rifle, i also had strapped to my body a very thick military style belt where two pistols were latched onto holsters. These were all so heavy the pants i was wearing (the one with padding for protection) was practically falling off my hips! How do real soldiers fight this way?

But my brother was undaunted with my attempts to keep my pants up while holding onto the rifle he handed me – which was so heavy i discovered it left a bruise on my foot when i set it down too hard. Great! i was already slightly injured and we hadn’t even fired off a shot yet.

When we arrived, there was already a skirmish going on with a big established group. So we couldn’t really enter into the area as this would be considered poor form. So my Kuya settled for having me do some plinking with the pistols i had. There were already some plastic bottles and tin cans set in the distance just for that use. i released the safety on the gun, took aim and squeezed the trigger. The kick on it was stronger than i’d expected so it took me a while before getting the hang of it. Meanwhile, my brother was plinking away using his pistol. i could hear the pellets hitting the plastic bottle with great frequency whereas i was barely making  a dent on the tin can. Actually, i had given up on both the can and the bottles as i felt they were too small for me to hit. So i was doing my best to dessimate a banana leaf.

By this time my brother had discovered that there were already groups of people lined up to use the site. Looking around i saw pot-bellied middle-aged men right alongside buff dudes and even some Borg-like babes – women who looked like they were in Operation Desert Storm and kicked some serious butt there, while also managing to keep their hair properly coiffed. i felt underdressed and outclassed as though i was a pot-bellied middle-aged wanna be babe. Time to leave.

i’m sure my brother must have been puzzled at my refusal to stay any longer. (To join a skirmish we would have had to wait probably an hour and persuade those in line to let us join them.) But i had had my fill of pseudo-warfare. i was already in the reality of sweat and inadequacy. This is supposed to be fun? i’d rather  wield a racquet to smash a shuttlecock than be under all this gear and plink at banana leaves. Sigh.

So my attempt at joining my Kuya in his airsoft world was a dismal failure. The sport is supposed to be a simulation of real life warfare. Maybe that’s why i didn’t enjoy it. i guess i prefer my battles on the court and in the ministry. This sport hits too close to the real thing with all its true hardships. Just getting into gear was already a major chore and shooting the target became quite an onerous task.

i love my brother. But this is one interest i have chosen not to journey with him on. Maybe when he changes fixations to something more along the lines of an airconditioned room and a nice cool drink i will be more inclined to join his world. Meanwhile, i marvel at his gun collection and am thankful the warfare i wage is fought on my knees and in the heavenly places. Phew!

Under: About Your Missionary, Family Issues