Return to Ukua's Field

Text and photos via Mac.

We returned to Ukua's Field this time with our oldest son Sam, 15, to join his younger brother Robin. It was a surprised when we saw the signup room of the club house, which has already been remodeled sometime during the last seven days. There’re no more worn-out tables, loose chairs and empty boxes in the ground to makeup the office when Robin signed up his first game last Saturday. Instead, the wall behind has been cut open to make a formal check-in window counter. But one of the things that unchanged was the warm greetings from the staff, such as Mr. “Critical 411,” whose smile will cheers up even a somewhat shy person like me.

I told Critical411 that I like the new open room, but that I missed the old clubhouse from last week because ‘the setting made us feel as if we were in a war zone. The new counter is more organized but now it looks more like Elk Grove.’ Critical411 gave me a big smile.

I asked him for a photo for my blog and he eagerly accepted, but not without including his associates behind the counter: Mr. "Edwards," who always wear a smile and usually has on a U.S. Army uniform, and Ms. "Akasassy" who was wearing bright orange shirt, to join him for a photo. I give Critical411 my blog URL and left with sam and Robin to the field.

Hanh and the rest of the kids joined us in the field late in the afternoon. When I returned to the club house, I was totally unprepared when Critical411 and Akasassy were excited to tell me how they like my blog. Critical411 told me, "Great writing!" I was so shock and happy, so I asked for more, "Did you see it? Did you like the pictures?" Critical411 said, "I really like how you present the story. It was very detail, just like seeing pictures." I felt as if my feet were lifting off the dirt ground beneath. I told him that I really appreciated his compliments and that I am only learning to write.

If that wasn’t good enough, I was elated as well as surprise when I heard Akasassy, whom I have yet spoken to, added, "That was a really neat story. Great blog!" I couldn't believe my ears so I asked Akasassy for confirmation, "Do you like my photos?"

Akasassy was looking down at her laptop with intense concentration. Moment later she looked up and asked, "Do you have a flash drive? I can give you some of my photos ... I really like some pictures of your sons. I especially like one with the orange mask." [link to Akasassy photos]

I asked Akasassy if she is the photographer that I’ve seen in the field during the games. She then started telling me about her responsibilities in the club, preparation of foods and photo shoot. I learned from her that she and Critical411 are key operators of this Ukua's Field. I asked her about her photography interest. She told me she just takes lots of photos every meet to upload to the the Web for members of her Meetup group.

I watched Akasassy open up some photos she just took today. She has to crop several group photos using Microsoft Picture Manager software on her 17-inch HP laptop.

I asked, “How many photos did you take today?” She replied, “I usually take like over a thousand photos.”

I wasn’t sure I heard her correctly, “Did you say thousand?”

“Yah. I take thousands of pictures each (game) day. But I can only upload 100 photos to the site for each meet. I try to give the rest of the photos to the members in the group.”

I was impressed with Akasassy’ photo productivity. Then I couldn't help from wandering away to last Saturday. I was running in the field during heat of battles, ducking flying bullets, shooting with my Samsung Impression corner to corner, arm in arm with teens and boys. Then came a woman voice yelled at my ears from a distance, “Hey, get off the field!”

I looked back and saw a small woman in bright orange jacket with one arm raised and pointed toward me. She stood behind a camera on monopod, in an open area in the middle of the field. I shook my head to show my acknowledgment and continued to shoot photos while running further and out of her view. Only moments later, the same voice was heard in the middle of cracking sounds of guns and running foots:

“Hey! You have to go out to the edges of the field!”

I asked myself, “What’s that woman’s problem?" I was thinking about the other men in bright orange jackets in the field at the time and wonder why I haven't heard her yelling at them.

I did not look back and went on with my phone cam shooting more photos away from crossfire zones, just to be sure I won't be in her view finder again. I thought to myself:

“Looks like I have a competitor.”