Crochet, Embroidery and Nitpicking

When i was living with my MamaLola and Lolo, with Manit and Tita Lyds, summer afternoon at times were long and tedious.

The heat is burning and there's really nothing to do but sleep until the heat of mid-day gives way to the coolness of the afternoon.

It was during the summer months when Manit is back with us in Lingion and there is really not much for me to do that i would be lying on the floor at the "balkon" (balcony or porch) watching her crochet endlessly.
She would crochet door and window curtains.
My favorite was the peacock design.
When she got tired of the design she'd pull it all apart and then start on another design.

Meanwhile, Tita Lyds would be combing my hair and nit pick.
Oh, yes! Lice was a common thing and almost every day, they'd comb my hair using a "suyod" or "sulod" to get rid of the lice. Then they would make me sit with a pencil and paper so i can draw or practice my alphabet while my hair is picked for nits.
Oooo, how i hated it :-))

It hurts my tender scalp!
But they won't let me have any lice so sit i did.

I remember when i was going to turn 6 and i will have to move to town with my Mamang ang Papang and siblings to go to school.
Mama Lola and Tita Lyds sewed all my uniforms.
Two sets of uniforms.
Navy blue pleated skirts with jumper tops and white blouses with puffy sleeves and baby collar.
And on the snowy white collars my wonderful Tita Lyds embroidered my names.
On the right side it said "Karlyn" and on the left side, "Kaye"
My Mama Lola also made me a couple of white cotton hankies and Tita Lyds embroidered letter "K" on them.

How i tried to keep those hankies!
Even then i was already predisposed to sentimental feelings.
I loved how much they fussed over me and loved me.
Even when they did hurt my scalp for nitpicking.

Patsy (My Father's Dog on the Saga)

This entry was written by my Dad a few days ago.
I will continue to document stories of my father's family.

Patsy was my dog, he was black with a white spot in his left eye. 

When he was born, an old man, Apo Gorio, a Baylan {medicine man} told me to fed him in his first food a burnt beehive mixed in his food so that he can smell enemies from a di...stance and will be a good hunting dog and will become a brave dog. 

Patsy grew up in my care, papa bought a chain to tie him because he ran after everybody who came near our house. 

One night, we were awaken with his barkings from the camote field which is about 5o meters from our cottage.

Papa took his shotgun and put his "lanterna" in his forehead {like miners} and he found out that patsy has broken his chain and run after a big wild boar that came to eat camotes. 

When Patsy sensed Papa he ran to him and bit his pant signalling him to follow and not far away a still dying wild boar was lying down.

From that incident, Papa and some hunters does not go out without Patsy, he was always with the hunting party and they always have a catch, either wild pigs or deer and sometimes both.

Patsy became a celebrity in the barrio and was kowon in far Santiago, Minlangit, Agosahis, Bayawa and other neighboring places, he was known as "Aso hi Boy". 

Thus, one day, a group of men with spears and bolos following a man in a white horse with long hair and beard came to Silo-o.

It was a Sunday afternoon, Mama called all of us and we all hid in our bedroom.

Papa went to meet them, he introduce himself as Mandabao, the famous magahat. 

Papa called the people around by ringing the school bell made of an end of a world war 2 bombshell. Mangabao told papa that he came to buy Patsy for he heard about the dog, but Papa told him he can have Patsy for free. 

That night the barrio people hosted a party for the group, they were served foods and drinks. 

The following day Papa told me that the magahat will take Patsy. 

When he handed him his chain I started to cry until they were lost in the jungle.

BINAKI or TAMALE

Growing up on the mountains of Bukidnon, there is always something i look forward to during the corn harvest season.

BINAKI (i translate it as "froglike") the word comes from "baki" which means "frog".
It may have been named due to it's look which loosely resembles that of a frog.

It was interesting that i was not very successful in finding a recipe that i can work with (although there were a few from other blog recipes). It always calls for young corn which i have to admit, is not very easy to come by and i want to see if i can use the canned corn i have on my pantry.
Then i can have binaki whenever i want it.

Yesterday, my good friends came over for a tamale cooking session.
Tamale is from Mexico and they use masa which i believe is fine ground corn. The mixture was very simple for our chicken mole tamale. White 2 lb masa, corn, half a stick of Crisco and about 3 cups of warm water.
Mixed with our hands until it went passed the tacky consistency to a more spreadable, thinner consistency.
We filled it up with the mole and chicken, wrapped it with the pre-soaked corn husks and steamed for an hour.
Alicia then showed us how to tap it and listen to how solid the sound is and pronounce it as COOKED!
Alicia is the wife of one of the brothers who owns our local Mexican Restaurant, Casa Rojas. Such a wonderful and beautiful lady!
I have really enjoyed spending time and getting to know her better.

From the experience i had in making tamales yesterday morning, i had the courage to finally try and make my own binaki.

Here's the recipe for those of you who want to give it a try.

Binaki or Sweet Tamale with Meat Filling

1 can cream style corn
yellow masa
1 can evaporated milk
2 cups sugar
1 T. baking powder
2 eggs
1/2 stick crisco
1 t. salt


_Mix the Crisco and sugar first.
-Mix in the eggs.
-Pour in the milk and the cream style corn.
-On a separate bowl mix the salt, masa and baking powder. (start with 2 1/2 cups of masa)
-Pour into the egg and corn mixture.

Now, if it is too wet, keep adding a little of masa until a consitency that you can work with is achieved. Not too wet but not too dry either. (If you want it creamier then make it a bit more wet.)

You should have already pre-soaked your husks in warm water.  Drain it and shake the excess water off.

We had some left over carnitas (meat filling for tamales) and so i used that to fill in some of the binaki before wrapping. Others i made without the filling.
Don't put too much mixture on the husks. I used a heaping tablespoonful each. Spread it  a bit and put the filling on top and then start wrapping.

Watch on youtube how to wrap tamales.
Usually the other end is open which is not the same as for binaki in the Philippines.
I did wrap it like the tamales though (one end open) and it was just fine.

I am not used to writing recipes so if you have any questions just let me know and i will help you through it :-)


Steam for an hour.

End of the story?

It was a humbling experience to post MaEm's story on this blog.
How very easy my generation forgets the stories that we grew up with.
As we grow older ourselves and we get busy with our separate lives, raise children of our own, the memories get hazy.
It is good to read and reread family stories.
It put things in perspective for us.
It reminds us who we are and tells us what life is all about.
Though financial stability and material possession makes living a lot easier, it is the loving, the struggling together as a family that builds the character that eventually shapes who each person is.
It is a contrast of who struggled most succeeded most in school that i found fascinating.
The first three who were there during the worst times and the last two who had more financial support but did not make it through college.

Life is full of irony.

The story by far has not ended.

We still carry the after effects of the challenges my grandparents have endured.

We are still a principled bunch.

This does not mean that we are spotless. Far from it.

But we learn from our mistakes and punish ourselves severely for it.

For how can we be so stupid!

My husband said one day that there is no such thing as "forgive and forget" in my family.

I have an inkling why.

We hold each other in too high a standard that when we do commit mistakes the disappointment is too much to bear.

Maybe someday, i will write down these disappointments that had happened.

For now, even though years had passed, it is still too fresh.

And all of us still have to build our lives and live it.

Meanwhile, there is the Library.

I have always intended it to be named after my grandfather but i believe, that it should be dedicated to Cirilo and Petra Dumotan.

Hmmmm, maybe this summer i will get around to having the plaque made.

Epilogue

We face life, its joys and its pains with our family.
This three-syllable word contains everything that is beautiful about life and how we manage to move on within its chapters where certain faces are left behind and new faces are welcomed into the fold.
No matter what happens, our family is where we will always belong even beyond eternity.

Life is full of surprises, indeed a never-ending mystery.
For all its twists and turns, secrets and pains, far beyond it all, lies its real beauty and will always remain wonderful.

Life is a mixture of sunshine and rain
Laughter and teardrops, pleasure and pain
Low tides and high tides
Mountains and plains
Triumphs, defeats, losses and gains
As we act out the great drama of life---
May we find the strength within ourselves to rise beyond our challenges and continue looking  out for one another
And remember each other in all our prayers.....





                                                                            THE WRITER

The Empty Nest Syndrome

The days flowed like a river into the ocean of years.
Each one of us have made our own lives and the three of us have retired from our teaching jobs.
The children as well are grown-ups now and most of them have their own families too.
The grandchildren did not take long in coming.
We are hoping that we will have the rest of our loves to spend enjoying their company.

In the latter years of marriage, as children began to leave home, there is the unselfconscious awareness that life together has been good and that marriage, in all its challenges and in all its pain, it's hard work and its exquisite joys is truly a wonderful way of life.

Have our lives truly come full circle?

Manolo Fortich Part 3

By the early part of the '70s we had all gone our separate ways.
Destiny played it's part so well and one by one, we met our lifetime partners and had our own families with the exception of Manit.
Lydia herself had a child out of wedlock that Manong Boy took as his own son.

In marriage, there's bound to be heartaches along the way.
At first we find it so hard to adjust to the rigors of married life.
There were so much responsibilities attached to it.
Each one worked hard to provide for the needs of our children so they will not experience the same hardships that we have been through.
Every now and then we would go back to Lingion to seek refuge from the storms of life that battered us.
It was always a comfort to be surrounded by loved ones in those trying times knowing that they will always be there for you.

Then Manit decided that they will build a house in the town proper.
It was a reasonably small house but it accomodated Papa, Mama, Manit, Lydia and Poypoy.
Manong Boy built his house just across from them.
But Papa kept going back to Lingion to work in his farm.
Victor was already working with the del Monte Phils. Inc. as a field supervisor and Lydia was taken in as a telephone operator in the same multinational company.
But due to the pressures of family life she did not stay long on the job and finally settled as a plain housewife.

Then, Papa got seriously ill and finally passed away after a losing battle with cancer of the prostate.
It was the first stroke of sorrow and immeasurable pain in our family.
But life has to go on and we moved along with it.

There was a time in Vic's life that he decided to enter the political arena.
He was lucky enough to win as first Kagawad in the Sanguniang Bayan.
But in the next election when he ran for the Mayoral seat he failed to muster enough votes to win. But it did not matter, he enjoyed the race more than it's price.
The electorate could not understand his ideologies because money was the language of the day.
Manong Boy also tried his luck in the dirty politics but to no avail because the playing field was not even.

Then our children graduated from elementary and were enrolled in Holy Cross High School.
From here on they were off to college with their chosen fields of interests either in Manila, Cebu, Cagayan de Oro, Musuan and Malaybalay.
They graduated as nurses, engineers, therapist, statisticians and agriculturists.
One of them turned into a policeman and another a business entrepreneur in spite of being degree holders.

As Fate would have it, some had "fallen along the way" and become single parents. But let us consider it as minor annoyances and a part of life.
Most of them had answered the call of the "Winds of Destiny" and turned OFW or lived abroad either on the shifting sands of the Gulf, the Carribean, Europe and the USA.

A few did not reach the finish line but were as equally successful as those who did.
Success is not measured by the amount of salary you receive, nor the position you are in, neither by the places you have the luxury to travel.
It is just a matter of attitude and the feeling of contentment and happiness.

Unlike us, the children chose their own careers and answered life's calling.
Unlike us, they were well provided regardless of how it is done because unlike us, they did not struggle just to stay in school.

Year later, Mama died peacefully in her sleep.
We have no premonition regarding her death because days before that she carried on with her usual calm disposition, never faltering in her speech or steps.
For us, hers was a life well lived.
People say that if you lost your mother, you lose the best of all.
How true indeed!

Manolo Fortich (Tankulan) ( 1970's to date)

Victor graduated from high school the same year i graduated from college in the summer of 1969.
He wanted to take up BS in Forestry so Manit sent him to University of the Philippines Los Banos to enroll together with his friend and classmate, Dennis Ramirez.

It suddenly dawned on us that we have stayed in Malaybalay for too long.
Ten weary years has elapsed with none of us noticing it.
All we knew was that the three of us are professionals and Civil Service eligible.
we had achieved what we had come for.
Our dreams are realized though fraught with pain, challenges and sacrifices.
Just like the swallows of Capistrano, it was time for us to go back and take Manolo Fortich by storm.

Only Lydia was still in high school so she was transferred to Manolo Fortich National High School where she continued to make waves.
The Chairman of Bukidnon's 4-H Club, Mrs. Pizarro, came to see her and ask her to represent Bukidnon in a 4-H Club conference in Los Banos, Laguna.
So, she went back to Malaybalay for a two week training before leaving for Manila.

This time, Papa was still teaching in Ticala but was nearing his retirement age.
For once in his life, he got seriously ill and was taken to the Phillips Memorial Hospital where he was diagnosed with ulcer.
For several weeks he was confined to recuperate.
Upon his release, he imediately went back to Ticala, refusing to file a sick leave amidst our persuasion to let him rest.

When Vic was in UPLB, circa 1970, student activism was at its height and Manit, fearful of his safety, begged him to come home and transfer to CMU (Central Mindanao University) in Musuan with the same course.
Unfortunately, due to unforeseen circumstances beyond our control, he dropped out and never finished his course.

Then i got my first teaching assignment in Sankanan and after a month was transfered in Lingion.
With my first salary, we bought a house and lot in Lingion where we lived for many happy years together as one big happy family.

Manit was teaching in the Cetral School of Manolo and Manong Boy was assigned in Sto. Nino.
Lydia stayed with Manit at her boarding house while the rest of us were in Lingion.
When graduation day came, Papa did not allow her to attend her commencement exercises due to her very low grades which made Papa as mad as a March hare.
She too never entered college nor graduated from any course.

Sawaga was even a better place to live in that Lingion.
It was a dismal place to live where the modern life is very slow to come.
At that time, there was no potable water system and no electricity.
It was akin to living during the Dark Ages.
Even with money in your pocket you still have nothing to buy unless you walk the few kilometers to town.
Transportation was very few and far between.
Our laundry would be done after a heavy rain and if not, we have to drag them in sacks to the Liboangan river which is quite some distance from our house.
Oft times, we would hire a laundry woman even if the job turned unsatisfactory.
If there is an available ride we would all go to Mangima river just to wash clothes and bathe.
It was here in Lingion that Papa retired from years of dedicated and selfless teaching.
His retirement pay was used to buy hectares of farmland, extended the house and built a sari-sari store for Mama.

In spite of this unaccommodating situation it was in this place that we have made some of our fondest memories.
It was here that some crucial decisions for better or for worse, were made. Decisions that eventually altered the course of our lives.

Malaybalay Part 3

In spite of the seemingly insurmountable odds stacked against us due to crippling poverty, we never abandoned hope.
Instead we managed to excel in school. In academics and extra curricular activities.
Intelligence has always been an innate characteristic amongst the five of us.
Both Vic and Lydia were outstanding pupils in the Laboratory School.
They were consistent honor pupils from Grade 1 to Grade VI, besting the rich of Malaybalay, the children of Flores, Ramos, Salang, Gayon, Eugenio, Estrada, Navarro, Azura, Cid, Borja, Cabrera, Valdez and many others.
In one singing contest of the school, Lydia won first prize in Grade 1 and Vic got the same prize in Grade IV with the same song, "South of the Border".
When a beautiful singing voice blends with intelligence, then no doubt that is the trademark of the Dumotan's family.

Once the school staged an operetta "Thumbelina", the plum role was given to Lydia while Vic played the role of Mr. Mole, the mouse, because both of them can sing as well as act. Much to the consternation of the wealthy families of Malaybalay.
When Mama attended the opening show at the BNC auditorium she was given front seat and all the teachers congratulated her for her fine children.
It was a well attended presentation, all the "noveau riche" of the town watched.
It was a heart warming and proud moment when the show garnered a standing ovation at the end.
At that one shining moment of our lives, Mama felt she was above the clouds and wished a thousand times that Papa was beside her to share the limelight of his children.

During the hectic rehearsal, Lydia lost her voice so Mrs. Exconde took her to a private doctor and had her stay at her home to rest her vocal chords. She did not want to derail the project as no one can take her place.

Not to be outdone, Victor himself was an eloquent speaker.
He was given an oratorical piece written by Senator Raul Manglapus, "Land of Bondage, Land of the Free", which he delivered flawlessly.
Another one was the telling of "The Night Before Christmas" and he also acted the role of Father Time complete with an hourglass.
He also gave a moving presentation of Carlos P. Romulo's "I Am A Filipino".
Almost every declamation piece was given to him because he could give justice to each one and hold the audience spellbound.
Not one school program would be presented without featuring either one of them, be it Lydia singing or Vic with an elocution piece.


Because of these talents they were the "teacher's pets", moreso with Mr. Godofredo Yedro.
Whenever he came back from Manila he would bring plenty of school supplies for both of them which he would deliver personally to our house.

When Vic was in high school, he was the Band Major of the BPHS Drum and Bugle Corps which assisted every school activity on a parade around town.

Vic also ran for the highest seat, the Presidency of the Student Body Governent which he won hands down.
There was a bet amongst the teachers as to who would win the election.
There were only two candidates for President, Victor and _________(?), another favorite of the male teachers.
The loser was to buy a couple case of beer.
His oponent was the bet of some teachers but Vic was the "Man of the Hour" among the students.
When the day was over, he was the new President of the Student Body Government of the Bukidnon Provincial High School circa 1967-1968.

He also represented the high school in a Science Contest at Xavier University with his Investigatory Project, "What Causes Waves?".

These school achievement, feathers on our caps, more than compensated all the trials and vicissitudes which lay in our path as we continue on our lonely quest for a better life.

Our peaceful sojourn by Sawaga was marred when a battalion of soldiers made their camp just across the river.
During their off hours, some of them would come to our house with all kinds of alibis.
Perhaps they just wanted to make friends with us or maybe, just wanted to have other people to talk to, if not seeking a different kind of company.
But Mama was so afraid of them that we decided to rent a house again.
This time it was the Dumindin residence, a somewhat dilapidated house with a leaking roof that hardly left a dry area when it rains.Besides, it was covered with grime.

We did not stay there for long and rented another house owned by the Canezo family.
It was a cramped two bedroom house with a dining area, dirty kitchen and a small verandah.
It was there that Vic, Quirino Nonan and Rudy Oblad would play the guitar and singsongs whenever classes are over.
Some of our classmates and friends would come over to while away the time.

Our immediate neighbors were the Padillas, Abundas, Gallardos, Corpuses, Ejems and Pinars.
Still we transferred to a better house still owned by the Canezos, it was the best house that we had rented.
Our boardmate was Mr. Baltazar, a high school teacher, who has a big family and whose wife seems like "The Old Woman Who Lived In A Shoe, She Has So Many Children She Did Not Know What to Do" nursery rhyme.

But then Mama realized that renting a house was weighing heavily on our budget so we decided to go back to Sawaga.
This time we had a neighbor, a family of a laundry woman who worked for the Chinese of Malaybalay.
Manag Cita, her two children and her ailing aged mother who died months later.

Everytime there was a downpour, the river would flood and Mama was worried that our house will be carried away by the rushing water so we would all scamper towards the Grand Stand and some kind hearted souls would offer that we spend the night at their homes.
We would return early the next morning when the flood had abated.

In the midst of ourdships, not one of us uttered a word of complaint or a feeling of remorse.
We just moved on through life.
Nobody said we did not want this life, neither asked for it, expected it or deserved it.
For all of us, it was a part of our search of our elusive drea.

Since money was so very scarce and hard to come by, it was decided that i stop my studies temporarily.
I was in second year college then and Manit was about to graduate so i had to give way to loosen the tight grip of our financial situation.
With me out of school and no rent to pay, our budget eased somehow and Mama was able to buy a big radio with a big battery which quickly runs out of power  so Mama had to hide it every time she went out.
It was our only source of entertainment and we were now updated on the latest songs, news and soap operas.

But our fear of the soldiers across the river was constantly nagging our minds.
Everytime we would wash clothes, they would come over and gather around us in the pretense of doing their laundry too.
Others would be bold enough to ask for our names and Mama would give them a different one.
Sometimes they would come on Sunday afternoons asking for some sugar cane then would linger long enough to engage us in conversations perhaps to pave a friendship but Mama would not tolerate any of their unexpected visits.
She was afraid that if we were too friendly they would have all the reasons to keep coming back.
This was the main reason why we decided to leave Sawaga for good and rented a house owned by the Moreno's who were Mama's distant relatives.
This was the last  we rented and where we spent our last years in Malaybalay.
It was a one bedroom house with a dining room and sala rolled into one and a very small kitchen.
Our immediate neighbors were the Bahayanans, Belisarios, Gayaos, Kaguings and the Florendos.
Our boardmate was Romando Sambile, a good friend and classmate of Manong Boy.

Then Manit graduated from college and her first teaching assignment was in Camp 3 of del Monte.
When she received her first salary she bought clothes for each one of us, lots of groceries and other things needed at home.
The next one to graduate was Manong Boy whose first teacing assignment was in Dahilayan.
His first salary was spent on a motorcycle which he used to commute to his station and Malaybalay.

Gradually, our financial situation improved.
We have enough money to spend and a little more to spare.
Manit provided for our little "luxuries" like shoes and new clothes every now and then, wnough food and merienda on our table, a picnic or an outing with friends and a movie once in a while.
We even had a trasistorized radio bought by Manit in Cagayan.

As we rolled into our teen-age years, there was no shortage of girls for the brothers nor suitors for us girls.
But Mama and Manit was so adamant about romantic entanglements even though this was a part of our growing up years.
There were infatuations, hero-worships, crushes, calf-love, first loves gone wrong and a number of poignant affairs of the heart.

Malaybalay Part 2

While the sickle moon gleams dimly among the leaves, the deafening silence was like a gentle snow fall, soft and hushed, as soothing as the whisper of a summer wind....
as quiet as the passage of the stars.

Some relatives have stayed with us for quite some time and we were just so glad for the company.
But since Sawaga was far from school and the grocery stores, they did not stay long.

It was a torture living there specially during inclement weather.
Our uniforms and shoes would get too muddy before we reach school and would be soaking wet upon coming home.

On the way to school and back we would pass by the Grand Stand where we would take shelter from a downpour, the continue our way down a hillock before reaching home.

Because all of us were in school, we have "division of labor" during weekends.
Mama and Manit would wash and starch clothes the whole day.
I would clean the house and cook lunch.
Manong Boy and Vic would cross the river to gather dry firewood that would last the whole week, then fetch drinking water from a tiny spring wedged among the boulders at the upper part of the river.
Lydia who was still small to help would just play with her paper dolls with paper clothes.
On Sunday afternoons, while Manit irons our clothes I would be sent to Canejos Store where we had a credit line to get our groceries enough for a week.

There was a time that we had no drinking water and we could not cross Sawaga because it was inundated, turning the water murky and brown.
Mama had no recourse but to get water from the river and boil it for hours just so we have something to drink.

Our idea of fun during weekends was swimming and diving with our cousins in Jordan (a part of Sawaga upriver) that runs deep and still.
We would spend the whole afternoon swimming like fish until our eyes turned red and our hands and feet turned blue.

Nights in Sawaga were sometimes coupled with frightening incidents that would make ones hair stand on end.
One early evening we smelt something like broiled dried fish. Later on, we heard a loud noise like something big and hard had fallen under our stairs.
We did not mind it, thinking it was just a normal occurrence of the night.
Then at about midnight, we were awakened by incessant knocking at our walls.
Everyone jumped out of bed and sat huddled on one corner.
Mama went into a panic of fear.
Then all of a sudden the knocking stopped and continued again for another thirty minutes.
It was a good thing we had two grown up male companions from Kisolon aside from Manong Boy, who were brave enough to call out and find the source of the weird knocking.
Finally it stopped and silence reigned one more.
Nobody was able to go back to sleep again until morning came.
Mama told the previous owner of the lot about the nightmarish experience and it was then that we found out that the old man who owned the area, who had been dead for ages, had a habit of knocking on wood as some sort of odd behavior.
The reason why we experienced the nocturnal visit was maybe to let his presence known .
Luckily it did not happein until we left the place.

Once Lydia had just recovered from fever and felt very hungry.
It was in the dead of night and Mama was reluctant to go down to our kitchen to cook porridge but pity won.
While waiting for the food to get cooked, they saw a big white cat sitting on the table as if watching over them.
When they finally went up with the food, the cat also vanished as if it was never there.

Supernaturals have a way of making their presence felt.
On moonlit nights when Sawaga is bathe in ethereal silence, we would hear some kind of beautiful music blending its innumerable notes in an endless changeful melody.
You can hear the blended laughter, voices and the tinkling of glasses and silverware that was borne by the sound of the flowing river and the whispering wind.
As though the enchanted inhabitants of the boulders of the river were having some kind of a party.

Aside from her unwavering faith in God, Mama was also a firm believer of the protection of the Spirits of our dead ancestors.
Every opening of classes, all our school supplies would undergo a "pamuhat, pamalas or gimukod" rituals.
Mama, like a high priestess, would invoke the help of the Spirits to protect and guide us always, even in our studies.

As a way of offering, she would put a plate of rice and hard boiled eggs over our head while calling on the Spirits.
It had always worked.
We never got seriously sick and we had better grades with no failing marks in all our subjects.

Our parents made the ultimate sacrifice of all.
While Papa was alone teaching in Siloo, Mama tried hard to keep us all in school.
She was the one to cross Sawaga river to harvest corn for our consumption or she wold go to the back of the rice mill in Sumpong to winnow the rice shaff from the grains so we could eat rice sometimes.
She would sell coffee beans in the cockpit or raise a pig only to sell it at a much lower price to buy our  uniforms for a playground demonstration.
If not, she would come home to Tankulan and buy crates of lanzones so she could peddle it near the school.
She would also bring back bundles of firewood, which our sarcastic relatives would refer to as "sugnod sa Iningles" or firewood "to cook our English with".
Until the last moment,they, our so-called relatives, still ridiculed our dreams for the future.

Sometimes, Mama would sell "sandfried"peanuts or salted fish just to have money for our expenses because we could not rely on Papa's meager salary.
We could hardly make both ends meet.
As we moved on with our studies, so did our expenses.
Sometimes we have to skip some school activities because we can no longer cope up with the requirements that meant money.
Mama had to engage in a "five-six" loanwith Mrs. Ebora or Mr. Tulang just so we could address some of our immediate school needs.
I had to stop schooling twice, once in high school and once in college because the family coffers had long dried out.

Food consisted mostly of corn meal with sardines often mixed with ginamos hipon, sayote, young marang or jackfruit or rootcrops or a bottle of patis.
To make it tastier, Mama would boil it with lemongrass.
If the going got rough, we would mix salt and water, which we would call "dagat" if not lumps of brown sugar boiled with our cornmeal called "tinughong".
If boiled sayote with sardines is a constant dish on our dining table, Manong Boy would feel queasy about it and will not eat anymore because he would complain of stomach pains.

To warm our stomach we had brewed coffee drunk with any kind of root crops as our merienda but if it runs out, Mama would boil coffee leaves which tasted like tea, better than having nothing at all.
We have never tasted milk, chocolate or any carbonated drinks because we can ill-afford them.
We no longer consider the nutritive value of our food as long as we can appease the hunger pangs that we felt within.

Since we have nothing to amuse ourselves with, not even a transistorized radio or anything, we would eat supper as early as 4pm but before it time to go to bed at 6pm we would be hungry again.
We would have to let go of the hunger pains by pretending to go to sleep in spite of the grumbling in our stomach because we all knew there was nothing to eat anymore so what choice do we have?

We would go to school without a single centavo in our pocket, not even for a small piece of candy.
Then at night we would study our lessons in the uncertain glow of our single source of illumination---a smoky kerosene lamp.

Birthdays or any milestones were never marked nor Christmas or New Year celebrated.
We just considered them as just another ordinary day and sleep it out.
The better for us to cease counting our age.
We just comforted ourselves with the thought that perhaps next time, we will have the money for it.

During vacation, in spite of his being frail, Manong Boy would apply for some low paying summer jobs with his buddy Mulong (Romulo Abunda).
They went to the Forestry office and fell in line along with the other laborers.
Unluckily, when the roll call was done their names were not on the list so they had to go home and ate their "baon" of cassava suman, supposed to be their lunch at the Grand Stand.
The next day they'd go back again and were hired as planters of pine tree seedlings which they carried together in a basket.

One time he joined the survey group of Mr. Canezo and went as far as Lilingayon in Lantapan.
It was a distant place and Papa went after him bringing him provisions and warm clothing.
When he received his pay, he bought a big plate of "pancit guisado" from Chan's restaurant and pieces of brown bread from Little Town Bakery.
For us it was considered a feast that happens only once in a blue moon.

(to be continued)

Malaybalay (1959-1969) "In Chasing An Elusive Dream"

Without second thoughts, we packed all our lives in bags and boxes and left for Malaybalay not knowing what to expect.
It was difficult for us to leave but much harder for us to stay.
Papa hired the jeep of Mr. Vaguchay to accommodate all our belongings in only one trip.

We stayed in Malaybalay for ten long years. Years filled with sacrifices and challenges.
Those were the hearless years of our lives.
It was here in Malaybalay that we laid bare our hopes and dreams of a bright future, nurtured our aspirations and secret desires with a courageous heart and a promise to make it through whatever our tomorrows may bring and to find within ourselves, the strength to face whatever would come.
For after all, the future belongs to those who believe in the reality of their dreams.

Our first stop was with the Lumansis family.
They were Papa's distant relatives but they received us with indifference.
Perhaps because they were already a big family so to them we were a nuisance or an additional burden.
Their house, at Claro M. Recto St., was small with two bedrooms, a sala bereft of any furniture and a dining room that includes a dirty kitchen.
It could hardly accommodate another family.
Besides, their children were boisterous that Mama decided to look for another house.

Before Papa went back to Siloo where he was still teaching, he made sure that we were all enrolled.
Manit and Manong Boy were in the Bukidnon Provincial High School as first and second year students.
When we were still in Manolo Fortich, Manit was already a first year student of BPHS and stayed with the family of Papa Atong in Calawaig.
Vic and myself were enrolled in the Bukidnon Normal School  Laboratory School as Grade 1 and Grade VI pupils.
This school, the equivalent of a Montessori of today, was where you will find the children of the "rich and famous" of Malaybalay.
I was in the class of Mrs. Rufina Murrillo, a king and gentle teacher who knew Papa in the good old days.
I passed the grade even though i was a below average pupil. Perhaps for "old time's sake".

Victor was under Mrs. Tilanduca, a very "motherly" Grade One teacher who took to her pupils as a mother hen to her chicks.

When Vic was in Grade 2 under Mrs. Geanga, he got into his first fistfight with a much older and bigger classmate.
Just like Papa, he never looked for trouble, but when trouble finds him he is not one to run away either.
When he came home with a bleeding head and full of scratches, Mama blew her top.
She went to confront the teacher in school.
They had a "close door" meeting but Mama could not be dissuaded by any flimsy reasoning so she told the teacher to be more vigilant and make sure nothing of the sort will happen again.

Since papa was still in Siloo and comes home only when he receives his salary, Mama made all the decisions and laid down the rules, making sure that her words were always followed.
She was the one who worked hard to find ways and means on how we will survive, have three square meals a day, have our school needs and the basic necessities day after day.

Our next boarding house was owned by an old maid.
It has three bedrooms, a small porch, a bare sala, a dining room and kitchen.
There were other boarders too, and one of them was the Salvo family of Sankanan.
But we left as fast as we had come because the brother of the owner had leprosy and was sleeping in one of the rooms.
Fearful of contamination, we left in a hurry and transferred to Amay Sualaw's house near the highway.

To describe this house as filthy was an understatement.
It was not only squalid but it also stinks of dampness, garbage, smoke, of human excreta with puddles of mud that surrounded the dirty kitchen.
Everywhere you look you smell obnoxious things that we have to eat inside an empty sari-sari store near our bedroom.
Due to this deplorable living conditions, Manong Boy had asthma attacks very often that he was always absent from school with Mama spending many sleepless nights taking care of him.

We left again and transferred to another big house owned by the Melendez family in Calawaig.
It was a long walk to school that we had a hard time coping up especially during rainy days when the roads would turn muddy.
Along the way were tall grass with guava trees and the houses we passed by owned ferocious dogs.
We felt very uncomfortable staying there because oftentimes their relatives would come down from the mountains and would stay for days on end.
They were messy people, spitting on every corner without knowledge of proper hygiene.
Since we were not used to living in unsanitary conditions, we decided to move on once again, this time to a house in Sumpong.

Before we left Calawaig, Manong Boy underwent a treatment at the Bethel Baptist Mission Clinic.
A six-month daily injection of streptomycin due to his frequent bouts of asthma.
Then, every morning, in whatever kind of weather, Mama would take him to a nearby spring where he would take a bath and steam, like coming from boiling water, would evaporate from his body.
That was the only time that his ailment was lessened until he had fully recovered from it.

In Sumpong, we occupied the second floor of a two-storey house and another family was living below.
It was still far from school but nearer to the Medrano's Bakery.

We did not stay long there and moved back once more to Amay Sualaw's house.
This time we stayed upstairs. Much better than the ground floor we used to occupy.
Our boardmates were Edgar and Sergio Magallones who were also studying in the same high school we were in.
Then there were the Saripa sisters from Kisolonwho were studying in San Isidro College.
They were very good friends of Manong Boy, so much that he would sleep between them in their room.
Then there was also the Sevilla couple whose husband worked in the Provincial Capitol as a technician and the wife had a painted face of red lipstick and blue eyelids. She'd bring him lunch everyday to show off her beauty.

They were nice people and easy to get along with.
We could ask them for help and they would never turn us down.

Then the owner of the house, a very old man and his wife asked papa and Mama if they were willing to own a property where we could build our house in exchange for our carabao which was on lease in a farm in Linabo owned by Mr. Cabrejas.
Since Mama wanted so much to have a place of our own, they both agreed and the deal was on.

After having been in Malaybalay for a year, we built our house in Sawaga.
Something we can call a "home by the river".
Made of lumber and galvanized iron, it was much better from the houses where we have lived before.
It was a tall house and the ground floor was made of bamboo slats and sawali where we have our kitchen and dining room.
Upstairs were our sleeping quarters.
It had two rooms with no divisions, two big windows covered with sawali.
The makeshift stairs had no steps but were made up of sticks/branches and if you were not careful you will slip and fall.
Later on Papa changed it with bamboo poles.

Life in Sawaga was very peaceful and serene, with crisp fresh air and since we lived near the river, water was never a problem.
We had no neighbors so gossip and intrigue was out of the question.
Our place had lots of fruit trees like jackfruit, santol, marang, guava and coffee trees.
Everytime Papa was home he would be planting vegetables, sugar cane and all kinds of root crops.

At night, all we can hear is the gurgling of the flowing river that would lull us all to slumber.

(to be continued)

Tankulan/Manolo Fortich Part 2

Then came a time when Papa's brothers-in-law, our supposed to be relatives, the very people whom we taught cared for us and whom we could count and rely on started to cause trouble for our family.
They would come to our house from their drinking spree and begin hurling invectives towards us, especially to Papa.
They would challenge him to a fistfight or threaten to skin him alive for one false move. An apprent sign that they don't want us among them.
Whatever the reason or motives they had for doing so was truly beyond us.
Sometimes the people we think we know best we don't really know at all.

But papa always kept his cool.
He never lost his temper for he knew they were intoxicated and he would never stoop down to their level out of respect to Tatay Iping and most of all, to Mama.
Not that he was a "yellow-livered chicken", but Papa, for all they know, had never known fear, having seen and survived hell, there's nothing that could buckle him down.

There were times when they would bring their group of friends and visitors to our house and consume whatever food they could find on our table.
They would feast and indulge themselves with edible things from Mama's store without paying for them.
What items they can't eat, they bring to their homes.
They would also bring their distant relatives to stay with us for a couple of weeks at our expense.

Our Grandmother, Nanay Biyang, would take Mama's clothes from her "baul" and give it to her daughter, Atilana (Tiyay Tiyang) so she could run away from her husband.
Then her children would be left with us for Mama to feed and take care of.
They were our cousins favored by our Lola because they were goodlooking and prettier than us.
Besides, their father comes from the Neri clan of Tagoloan, not a Talaandig like Papa.

All of these things they did purposely to enrage Papa, but one thing is almost sure, he is one person who did not look for trouble but never looked away from one either.

For four miserable years, we endured this kind of harsh treatment.
Young as we were, we feel and understand how it is to be ridiculed by relatives just because we have a father whom they can not tolerate and accept to be one of them.
For all the abusive behaviors of his in-laws, Papa's patience was worn thin.
He can no longer afford to live amongst people who dislike him too much.
He felt he can't survive the hatred, the derision and cruelty of his in-laws that Papa and Mama decided to sell our property and moved on to Malaybalay especially that we are about to reach secondary learning with Vic and Lydia about to enter school too.
The prospect of a brighter future looked good in Malaybalay, away from the cantankerous and belligerent people and their prying eyes.

Our differences were greater than the things we have in common with them.
Such insensitivity had created wounds that would never heal and rifts that would never mend.

Tankulan/ Manolo Fortich (1955-1958)

Our family reached this place on the early part of 1955.
We had no inkling that we were settling in a hostile situation.
We lived with Mama's step-family because we have no place of our own.
Mama's stp-brothers and step-sisters were somewhat glad we came out of the wilderness all in one piece but some of them proved so indifferent and unfriendly especially when they are inebriated.

Our parents managed to buy an eight hectare piece of property in Kihare.
We built our home and a sari-sari store which Mama ran so efficiently that it generated a modest income to augment Papa's salary.
In no time at all, Mama could buy and sell corn and other produce from farmers.
Several delivery vans would come and bring us their products from Cagayan de Oro.
Gradually, our store grew and prospered much to the consternation of our relatives.
The more our financial status improved, the more they hated us for it.
At that time, we did not understand or fathom why.

During vacation, Papa would work on the farm planting corn, cassava, vegetables, sugar cane and anything in between.
From dawn to dusk you would find him in the field, resting only for his lunch break which we'd usually bring in a basket.

Resourceful to the end, Papa devised a sugar mill pulled by carabaos which would go round and round. The harvested sugar cane stalks were crushed to produce liquefied white sugar which we enjoyed drinking.
It was a good thing nobody had diabetes.

The three of us (Nang Nita, Manong Boy and myself) were enrolled in the Manolo Fortich Central Elementary School.
Manit and Nong Boy were in Grade IV while i was in Grade II.
But Manong Boy had to stop school for a year due to his recurrent asthma attacks.
In 1957, Manit graduated from Garde VI and the year after that Manong Boy did the same.
When Manong Boy was out of school he kept going with Papa to Siloo where he was still teaching.
They would wake up at dawn and start their hike along the mountain trails, crossing and recrossing the swollen Tagoloan river several times.

In our time, we don't have the expensive things which seemed so necessary in schools today.
All we have were small empty candy boxes to hold our paper and pencils, wooden shoes (bakya) if not going barefoot to school. Hats during hot days or big banana and gabi (yam) leaves to cover our heads during the rainy days.
Sometimes, in very inclement weather, our immediate neighbor, the Ostreas, would take us to school in their owner-type jeep and we would consider it a great blessing in disguise that it rained.

The Ostreas were very good friends of Papa and Mama.
During their free time they would come to the store and sit idly talking about the way of life, weather, the latest marriages, deaths, births, latest immorality and all the juicy gossips about the lives of  people.
Oftentimes, their older children would be left at home.
They were the ones who had a big battery operated radio and at night we would stay under their window and get a stiff neck just listening to a drama being play that usually lasts an hour.

Then comes the town fiesta.
Mama would sometimes buy us new clothes and shoes to wear to church.
But I, in spite of it being my birthday, would not wear my new shoes because it pinches my feet being an inch too small and not used to wearing one.
There would be special food on our table for visitors, never mind that half of our preparation goes to our abusive relatives.
In the afternoon, we would go to the school building and watch a black and white Tagalog movie, then buy ice drop on our way home.

There was one movie shown in the town plaza which we liked so much we never ceased to talk about it for a long time.
It was about a Mexican boy whose cow, called Gitano, was stolen by cattle rustlers and was sold in the city.
He went to seek the help of their President to get it back.
Manong Boy enjoed the movie so much that our cow got the same name Gitano, out of that movie.

At that time and age, Manong Boy was already a movie fanatic.
So evertime there's a movie in town, he would sell string beans, ripe bananas, empty tin cans and bottle or shine shoes so he can have money to buy a ticket.
Then he would retell it to us. On his own version of the movie, a hundred times.

In summer, when May beetles were numerous, we would gather them all from the coffee trees in the yard and fry them because our Lolo Iping says it tasted good.
We would build a fire and put them all in the frying pan without taking off their wings.
The moment they felt the heat they would all fly away leaving us with nothing but the blackened pan.
Or we would gather cashew nuts and eat them raw giving us blistered tongues and mouths.

Summertime would find us climbing the mango and/or guava trees of our neighbors to pick the ripe fruits.
Papa would reprimand us for not asking permission for that would be tantamount to stealing- a behavior he could not condone.

To pass the time away, we would be running around the yard playing war games or "balay-balay" with our cousins.
Mama would be frantic because some of her kitchen utensils would be found out on the yard filled with mud and leaves.

Swimming in the swollen Mangima river was one of our ideas of fun-filled activities.
We would go swimming and be caught in a thunder storm unmindful of the danger of being swept downstream by the swirling torrent.

Those had been long years, the blazing sunsets of our childhood days --- carefree, all frolic and fun without a worry in the world but, a time lost forever to us.
We were children only once for a few brief years, but those were the most impressionable years of our lifetime.

Siloo Part 2

On Christmas and New Year's Day, everybody would gather in the plaza for the celebration.
There was food of every kind that the people can afford  to share with the whole barrio.
There were singing and dancing and drinking locally made wine or "langkuga".
Merry making that would last until the wee hours of dawn.

Barrio fiesta was also a well attended festivity.
People would don their Sunday's best to attend mass.
There will be picture takings because this is the only time that the photographer would be in the barrio. His old-fashioned camera would produce black and white photos.

It was during one of those fiesta days that Papa and Mama opted to reaffirm their marriage vows, this time it was solemnized by Fr. Joseph Venere with all the barrio folks in attendance
The vows were the same then and now.
And both times there was love.
Though they were unable to measure its intensity, LOVE is most definitely there.

Papa's leadership qualities was truly manifested with the way he managed Siloo and it's barrio people.
Everyday except Sundays, a big bell whose sound would reverberate throughout the barrio would ring three times.
First bell would be at 5 o'clock at dawn when everyone except the babies and the infirm would wake up to prepare food  and start the work that needs to be done for that day.
Second bell at 6 means that everyone has eaten their meal and will leave for the farm or what labor awaits them.
The third and final bell at 7 o'clock means that classes are about to begin and pupils should be in school already.
Failure to adhere to these rules means a tongue lashing from Papa unless there's a valid reason for being late.

Life in Siloo was idyllic, very ordinary and undemanding.
But the future looked bleak and dreary especially for the five of us who had never seen any means of transportation.
Vic once asked Mama what a bus looks like. Or if it looks like Handsome (Mr. Berial's horse).
Mama looked for a picture of a bus, car or jeep in one of the school books and showed it to all of us.
It was at this point in time that Papa and Mama realized the despondency of the situation and decided that we have to return to civilization.
All for the sake of our future.

Having made a firm decision after thorough consideration, we packed up and left for Tankulan, leaving that tranquil part of the world, Siloo, with all its happy memories behind.

Our family bravely said goodbye, giving up the security of family ties and the comforts of our old life for the promise of the new.

Five years in solitary confinement with only the towering mountains, azure skies and wild animals for companion have made a fine imprint in our young minds that can never be eradicated with the passing of time.

Siloo is already a part of our lives.

Magahat

In one of those very rare days, the leader of the "Magahats" came down from their mountain lair with his whole band of warriors to see the "Maestro".
Riding into the barrio in a white stallion, he presented a formidable presence in his flowing white hair and beard with a red headband, a saber looking bolo tucked on his waist.
Papa met him half-way on the barrio and all the folks came to find out the purpose of the unexpected visit.
All they wanted was our big dog Patsy for their hunting expedition which Papa gladly gave or lose a life in the process.

Siloo (1950-1954)

Siloo, a place trapped in time, was almost paradise and life was one of comfort and tranquility.
Though naturally beautiful, it was a primitive place even by the standards of time.
Ours had been a solitary existence but one that we had grown to love just as we have come to terms with the place with its haunting sunsets and limpid streams so clear.
Horizons so distant they seemed impossible to reach.

Nightfall, blanketing the valley in a boundless blackness brought an even keener sense of solitude.
The profound silence was broken only by the chirr of the crickets or the gentle swish of the tall trees or by the call of the wild.

Our family reached this place in early 1950's  and it was here in 1952 that the fifth child and second son was born, Victor, fondly called Avic, and where in 1954 the youngest child and fourth daughter, Lydia or Lingling, first saw the light of day.

It was here that we had our first rudiments of learning under the tutelage of Mr. and Mrs. Pedrito and Estrella  Berial.
Another co-teacher of Papa was Mr. Eugenio Blanco, who came from the Ilocos Region, whose first teaching assignment was with Papa in Siloo.

The common folks of Siloo have simple hopes and dreams.
They are self-reliant, hard-working and honest-to-goodness gentle people leading an ordinary way of life.
Adversity has strengthened them and they are conditioned by their mountainous, sometimes harsh environment
and other than generous soil.
In spite of this, they are God-fearing and God-trusting.
Never wavering in their faith on the Divine Providence.

Manit and Manong Boy were classmates from Grade 1 to 3 under Mr. Berial.
Both the teacher and Manong Boy would spend hours riding a carabao while at the same time plowing and preparing the school garden for planting vegetables and root crops.

In 1954, i was enrolled in grade 1 at a very young age of four due to lack of enrollments
Because i was not of school age i would daydream all through my lessons with Mrs. Berial and i kept skipping classes..

I would pretend to drop my pencil on the floor made of bamboo slats so i could have an excuse to go down and ran home without coming back.
A clear indication that i have no interest in being in class.
When the school year ended, i can't read or write a single word.

Together with the teachers, papa built two dormitories. One for male and the other for female pupils who came down from the mountains to enroll in class.
Some of these over aged pupils came in handy for they helped mama at home doing the laundry, cooking, cleaning, pounding rice, working on the flower beds and other menial household chores.
Some of these mature pupils were track and field athletes who could run like the wind and have competed in District and Provincial Sports Fest, always emerging victorious.

They also constructed a spring that flowed into a fishpond where Papa raised tialpia for everybody's consumption icluding the people in the barrio.
We never ran out of food supply becasue the reiver that flows nearby was teeming with fresh water fish.
Wild pigs and big birds (kalaw) abound in the nearby forest where Papa would hunt them down with his dog Patsy and a rifle.
Neither do we have a short supply of snakes the size of anacondas, for they would come creeping up on us in the dead of the night, entwined on our verandah after having eaten its fill of our chicken in the coop.

Fresh vegetables and root crops were also grown in the school garden and fresh fruits can be harvested from the surroundings if not given freely byt the barrio folks.
Banana trees heavy with ripening fruits grew on one side of the school premises.

We lived in a very big house with a wide verandah made of bamboo and sawali which we called "The Cottage".
Through Mama's supervision, it was always spic and span.
Complete with white curtains billowing from every door and windows.
We also have a flower garden lush with colorfully blooming flowers.

There was one time when the National, Provincial and District Education officials from the Central office of the Bureau of Public Schools came riding in to inspect the barrio school.
They were so impressed with the way Papa and his teachers managed the school that they were profuse in their praises and commendation for them.
Thus, making Siloo Farm School a model in the District of Manolo Fortich if not in the Division of  Bukidnon.

After The Liberation

Life then shifted to normalcy and the halcyon days passed by unnoticed.
It was 1946 when Mr. Salvador Albarece, the erstwhile District Supervisor of manolo Fortich gave Papa a new teaching assignment at Dalirig Barrio School where their first child died and the second daughter was born (?) , christened Anita (Mama Nits). They lived in a tumbledown shack, too small to accommodate them but it was "home" to a family of three.

Unlike today, teachers were not paid during summer vacation so Papa had to find another source of income.
He applied in Philippine Packing Corporation and was taken in as a tractor operator.
Not one to squander his time, he was always one step ahead of his schedule and leave way after off hours.
His total dedication to his job did not escape the attention of his supervisor, Mr. Cubero.
He was offered a permanent position with the company and when he asked the permission of mr. Albarece to transfer to the multinational company he was not allowed to do so.
Instead he was assigned to Kalugmanan Barrio School.
When he learned that his permanent position with PPC was given to Mr. Yongco, he did not harbor any hard feelings nor grudges or the "sour grape" attitude.
He consoled himself with the thought that perhaps it was not meant to be.

The following year, 1947, Papa was transferred to Pontol (now known as Kalugmanan) where their third child was born.
This time it was a sone baptized Carlito (Manong Boy).
He was a sickly child suffering from frequent bouts of asthma (an illness that runs in the family) thus making him somewhat the favorite of the family.

Two years later, 1949, the third daughter and fourth child was born during the town fiesta of Manolo Fortich which Mama attended.
She was named Emma (or Emben) (The writer of this saga), after the patron saint Immaculata Conception.
Since all the layettes were left in Kalugmanan, Mama borrowed the baby clothes of Helen, whose mother, Nenita Hinoyog (Tiyay Nene), was a teacher under Papa in Kalugmanan.
The name Emma was given by Mrs. Marcelina Albarece with the added reason that it would be easier to write upon reaching grade one.

Then another teaching assignment came, taking papa and his growing family to a village at the edge of time, Siloo.
A far-flung barrio of Malitbog where we spent the next uneventful five years of our lives.

LIBERATION (1945)

Finally, after the long agonizing years of waiting, peace came at last.
General MacArthur made good his promise to return and free the Filipinos from bondage.
Japan was ultimately brought to her knees.

People didn't care whether the war was won and the Filipino soldiers were the conquering heroes, what mattered most was the days of fear were finally over.
At long last, the glorious dawn of hope and peace has come.

After the last shot has been fired and the guns had finally fallen silent, Papa was assigned as the Depot In-charge at Mindanao Zone (now known as San Miguel).
He was tasked to make an inventory of the remnants of war.
Twenty tents of war materials and/or equipment consisting of army trucks and jeeps, guns and other armaments, parachutes, beds or "tejeras", all sorts of ammunitionsand medicines.
All those things he brought and turned over at Camp Evangelista with not a strand or piece missingand/or lost.
Every single thing was accounted for.

Early on he was offered an assignment in Corregidor as a member of the elite Philippine Scout but Mama was not sold to the idea.
For years she had lead a life fraught with perils and traumatic experiences and she wants nothing but a peaceful life with her family. Free from fear and anxiety.
So, papa declined the offer politely and was given an honorable discharge with distinction from the military service.
With him were his brother-in-law, Alfredo Cahuan (whom we call Papa Pedong) and a certain Vaguchay.

When peace and order was fully restored, his love for his teaching profession took center stage.
Papa was chosen to open the first of its kind Tent Schools in Camp 12 (now known as Phillips) by no less than General Manager of the now defunct Philippine Packing Corporation, Merc Phillips.

It was situated under the teak tress where the jeep terminal is now located.
Just as what its name implies, the school was made up of tents, perhaps salvaged from junk war materialsand the desks were improvised from scraps of lumber.
His first pupils to name a few were Araya Amante, Perla Alay and Ignacio Fabia.
It was named Plantation Elementary School and at present is now a landmark in Camp Phillips.
Little did Papa know that someday his oldest son, Carlito (Manong Boy) would take over as the school Principal of the school that he has started.

But since being a farmer was second nature to him, he went back with his family to Kaangaan. (near Ticala) and took up his farm implements once more.
He was a farmer who loved the feel of the newly turned dirt, the smell of the rain-soaked earth ready for planting, the whiff of corn almost ready for harvest and the ripening rice grains.
The fertile smell of the soil pleases him, but most of all, he could not ignore the satisfaction he derives from being a farmer.
His life moved to the rhythm of planting and the harvesting, the rains and the drought.


(to be continued)

The War (1941-1945) "The Flames of Love Amidst the Chill of Fear"

Then World War 2 broke out and both their lives were caught in a maelstrom of chaos and confusion.

Papa, being a teacher and an intelligent one at that, became the sought after person for the position of an "escribente" (secretary) under the Japanese regime.
This was supposed to be an enviable and prestigious position if not for the risk and the danger it entails so he politely turned it down.
He wants nothing more than to be a farmer other than being a teacher.
By refusing he incurred the wrath and vindictiveness of some people he considered and whom he thought of as his friends.
He was earmarked to be arrested and incarcerated so to save himself he surreptitiously enlisted in the guerilla movement.

As the war gained momentum and as it spread like wildfire, he found himself thrown in the vortex of the struggle.
He fought shoulder to shoulder with other soldiers fighting for what they believed in.

Meanwhile, Mama's family has left town, which has turned into a war zone because the Japanese soldiers were closing in for the kill causing atrocities and pillage where it hurts most.
They have to stay out of harms way to save their skin and hide.
They sought haven in a remote mountain hideaway in Alas-as, nestled in the foothills of Mt. Kitanglad amidst the company of both American and Filipino soldiers.
With Papa among them.

This time Fate had presented a new deck of cards.
Papa was no longer the person that Tatay Iping used to call as unworthy and a nobody.
What he saw before him was a fully decorated soldier in complete military uniform holding the post of a Quarter master of the 111th Batallion of the USAFFE.
Hi "Band of Brothers" to name a few were Alejandro Sale, Antonio Tortola, Pedro Daapong, Esmeraldo Cudal and Jaime Lozada, Sr.

So in the midst of the turmoils of war with the cool splendor of the mountain fastness of Mt. Kitangland serving as the backdrop, Mama and Papa met once again and found comfort in each other's arms.
It was a whirlwind romance, no words were spoken for words were inadequate.
In an instant sparks flew from the dying embers of love that had been smoldering beneath cold ashes and engulfing the lovers in its fiery embrace.

Love has paved the way for the grief stricken couple.
Heart in hand, Papa tried his luck once more, begging Tatay Iping for Mama's hand in marriage.
This time he stood his ground and refused to change his mind.
Finallym his persistence and constancy of purpose paid off and broke down Tatay Iping's line of resistance.
For who could deny a person whose arguments are too convincing to be ignored?

At last, the once immovable Rock of Gibraltar has moved an inch.
Tatay Iping has no choice but to accept the marriage proposal for Mama.
And as Time stood still and Nature seems to hold its breath, he consented to the bethrothal which was officiated by no less than the Commanding Officer of the USAFFE, a certain Major McLaughlin, with the presence of General Jonathan Wainwright.

There was no honeymoon for the newly weds.
Only an enchanted night all to themselves.

Then war claimed the groom once more and took him far away from his bride.
Heavy with pregnancy of their first child, Mama was left behind.
Adept at sewing and needle work, she kept herself busy darning the tattered uniforms of the soldiers and selling food to them.
The meager income she derived was set aside in hopes of spending it when the liberation will come.

Months later, she delivered a baby girl, their first child, whose name we have no way of knowing.
She died before the age of three due to an undiagnosed illness.

Then Mama went through a terrible ordeal.
She got seriously ill.
Medical attention was not available.
She only had Tatay Iping, her soldier brothers and Atilana Enderes (Tiyay Ata) to lean on.
They took care of her, attending to her needs and administering what crude herbal medicines they could lay their hands on.
Asking for the intercession of the spirits of their ancestors and the help of the supernaturals to save her from the clutches of imminent death.
She was wasting away fast, slipping in and out of consciousness nearer to death than to life while Papa was beyond reach.

Then in one of her delirious nights, she had a dream and a vision.
She was walking inside a big house with several rooms.
In one of these rooms, there was a woman sewing curtains who told her she can't stay yet because the room reserved for her was not yet ready for occupancy.
She has to go back where she came from because her time was not yet come to stay.
When she turned around to go she found herself in a long , winding stairway which she descended.
Upon reaching the last step down she woke up bathe in sweat.
The next day Papa arrived from his mission to find his wife so weak and barely alive.
Her long debilitating illness caused her failing eyesight, deafness and minor paralysis.

Papa had a cud with him given by an old man whom he met in his sojourn in the mountains.
He was told to rub it on Mama's whole body to revive her.
The cud worked like magic for in no time at all, Mama was up and about doing the usual daily chores she used to do.

The days flipped the pages of Time that flew by on gossamer wings of uncertainty. And hopelessness formed an unbroken circle of their existence; uncertain of the future and the seeming hopelessness of the situation.

Petra Sambalon Cahuan (April 13,1911 - May 11,2002)

Mama was the only beloved daughter of first wife of Felipe Cahuan (Tatay Iping).
She is not just a pretty face but a nice bundle of beauty and brains, an attribute she managed to pass on to her children and grandchildren.
Her mother died on childbirth so she was raised by her paternal grandmother who pampered her with all the love she was capable of giving.
Almost all her whims and caprices were indulged. But, in spite of her sheltered life, she was not a spoiled child.

Their family belonged to the landed gentry and at that time, her father was the "El Presidente" of Tankulan.
A position that demanded respect and brought prestige to their already well-known family.
He was tasked to settle any form of dispute, intercede to those who wants to get married and represented his sleepy town to the provincial and national government.
All inn all, people considered him as a pundit, a stature which allowed him to take a second wife, Elena Sambalon (Nanay Biyang), the grandmother we knew when we were small but never learned to love.
Perhaps, because we don't know her enough or for reasons we don't know or simply understand.

Since Mama was the small town beauty queen, the Miss Tankulan of yesteryears, she attracted a horde of persistent suitors.
Amongst them was Papa.
Unfortunately, at the tender age of 16 (not a marriageable age by today's standards) Tatay Iping married her off for money, so much against her wishes, to a Boholano cloth merchant who is much older than her. Tatay Iping may have hoped that she will be well provided for in the future.

This union, short lived as it was, brought forth three children (two are stil alive up to this writing).
But once again, Fate intervened.
Her husband, Beltran, was struck by a lightning bolt, killing him instantly, while riding a carabao (water buffalo).
Mama is now a widow at the age of 20.

Cirilo Linsahay Dumotan (July 9, 1909 - September 13, 1986)

Papa was raised from a dirt-poor family of eight (three sisters and two brothers) in Tankulan.

His father was an unskilled carpenter who more often than not, has no work while his mother was a plain housewife by anybody's standard.
In spite of this crippling poverty, he set his sight towards a better future, hoping that in one way or another, he could turn his life around.
He was a firm believer in education so he enrolled himself in an agricultural school in Managok, hundreds of kilometers away from home.
This secondary school was run by American soldier known as the Thomasites. These Thomasites established the first public education in the country.
Papa trod every step of the way, unmindful of the blazing heat of the sun or the driving rain with only a threadbare shirt on his back, a bagful of corngrits and dried salted fish and an only other pair of clothes to wear to school.

During vacation and in between his studies, he was a farmer first and foremost.
He worked hard in the field from sunrise to moonrise, tilling, weeding, planting, harvesting and taking care of their beast of burden.

Papa was the most honest-to-goodness man God has ever created.
He was a man of intelligence and deep convictions.
He was an inspiring presence and straight as an arrow.
Once you know him, you would walk to the ends of the earth for him.

He was not only good looking but he was handsome in a rugged sort of way.
Any woman who fell for his charms was asking for a broken heart. But, fall in love he did! With Mama, who at a very young age of 15, was as pretty as spring time.
It was love at first sight for both of them and they will not have it any other way.
They loved each other with a love no one would ever understand, more than anything that their hearts could hold in silence.

Though quite reluctant, Papa tried to ask Tatay Iping (Mama's father, Felipe Cahuan) for Mama's hand in marriage. But Tatay would not hear a word of it. He was immovable as the proverbial Rock of Gibraltar.
Papa was turned down just as fast as he had proposed.
Accordingly, he was a nobody, someone who would not amount to anything. He has nothing to his name, no feather on his cap and not a penny in his pocket.
Their family name was not a by-word because, in Tatay Iping's words, they were wallowing in the quagmire or destitution. Thus, all his sincere intentions were vehemently denied.

In time, he realized that their love that defied all convictions would not survive the forces that tore them apart. So, he decided it would be best to get back to his studies and try his luck again when he had graduated.

With all the seemingly insurmountable hardships and sacrificeshe endured, he was able to graduate and was awarded the diploma for a two-year Elementary Teaching Course. More or less, he was now a teacher and it made him a fulfilled man you cannot second guess.
At least he has realized a part of his lifetime dream.

Upon returning from graduation, he retraced his steps back to Mama's heart only to find that the love of his life was already married.

Not one to brood over his private sorrows, though nursing a broken heart and trying to forget his disappointments, he went to the farm in Kaangan (Ticala) to lick his wounds in seclusion. There he spent all his working hours working in the field. Applying all the techniques and expertise as well as the knowledge he learned from Managok Agricultural School, laboring as if there's no tomorrow.

Then Papa reached a crossroad in his young life and politics presented itself.

While working in his farm in Ticala, his close friend, a certain Mr. Ducusin, the erstwhile secretary of the municipal government in Maluko filed for Papa's candidacy as vice-mayor without Papa's permission and knowledge. He was listed under the ticket of Mateo Gumaling, a candidate for mayor.
Since he was not interested in his candidacy, he just went about his work day in and day out.
He never campaigned for himself, much less for his fellow candidates.
Because politics was not his cup of tea, he ignored all the election sorties, preferring his farm work over everything,
But, in spite of his indifference, he won the position without even lifting a finger.

But since the noblest profession has carved a niche in his mind and heart, he decided to apply for a teaching position in the Bureau of Public Schools, Division of Bukidnon, under an American Schools Superintendent.

He was given the most remote barrio school in Bukidnon, Omayam, as his first teaching assignment where the inhabitants had never known nor heard about a teacher.
Some were know to be headhunters, others with cannibalistic tendencies.
This was a place where the forces of the good and bad supernaturals were known to exist and strong enough to scare you out of your mind.
It was here that he witnessed tribal wars between fierce tribes and the infamous "Tampeda hu Balagen", a ritual either ending or commencing a tribal feud.
That if successful, will pave the friendship between tribes but if it fails, will begin a war that will escalate for generations.

But papa was a very persuasive person both in manner and speech so he won them easily to his side.
he was thus successful in teaching them their first ABC's. For a teacher's life on the job was far from easy but his love for teaching helped him withstand the difficluties.
He considered teaching and eternity job.
For who can tell how far reaching are the ideas planted in the heart and mind of a child?

For three months he taught in Omayam, then Kaburakanan and Silae for another three months.
Places that were worse than the ones he left.
Being one of the "best teachers" of the Division, his responsibility was to start and develop the schools in the jungle.
A person who never shirks from responsibility he has promised to uphold, he moved on from one place to another without qualms or misgivings nor regard of his personal safety.

All the hardships he endured in the mountains was compensated by winning the confidence of the American Superintendent. His reliability, honesty, sincerity in his work, dynamic leadership and above all, his punctuality, which is the most important virtue considered by the Americans, won his superior.

After his legendary "Tour of Duty" in the mountains of Bukidnon, this time he was assigned in a much nearer place to civilization, Kalasungay.
Here, there was no shortage of girls.
One of his female co-teacher tried her best to catch his attention and win his heart, sending him love notes in an envelope filled with fragrant talcum powder (since there were no stationery those days). But, he never took advantage of their flirtations because deep in his heart he still cherished that "someone" who had taken his heart away.

And though hard as he tried, he was unable to forget the face that was never far from his mind.

To get over his heartache, he met and married, though not necessarily loved, a woman from the Hilayag family, who became his first wife but died shortly thereafter leaving him childless and a young widower.