Friday, July 10, 2009
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
"Keeping the Love Alive" - 22nd Story for the Inspirational Book
By MON PAULINO
I am not really the type of person who takes time in counting the years of our wedding anniversaries. But my daughter Mae makes our (25th) Silver Wedding Anniversary special.
Why? I’ll tell you later.
I’ll tell you first our love story and how we ended up from worst enemies to friends, and then lovers.
9 years of being steady plus 25 years of married life and still going strong is perhaps a record of sorts here in our country. Maybe we have grown tired of hearing other married people fight and getting separated that’s why our married life works - yes!
No! I think we become closer because we don’t discuss things that bother us but we talked them over. We spent a few minutes discussing things that happened within the day, before going to sleep.
We know each other so well that we give time and space when the need arises, without each one asking for it. I encourage her to go out and join her friends when she get invitations; to spend time for herself to break the monotony of a stay- at- home mom. She grants the same courtesy to me.
The Story :
She was our neighbor - the quiet type. She seldom came out of their house. My friends then were her two older sisters because I was two years older than she was.
I used to call her “Labo” because she was wearing thick eyeglasses. And she called me “Palito” because I was thin and quite a joker during those days. Our constant quarrel and bickering made our neighbors’ and friends’ day complete.
Our neighbors used to tease us every time our path crossed because they knew that we hated each other. I really don’t know why and how the hatred started.
When the “Kabataang Barangay” was first established by then President F. Marcos I was duly elected as the first Chairman and she was elected as one of my councilors. I was not aware that she had campaigned for me.
Then we became members of Confraternity of Christian Doctrine (CCD). Here I had to learn how to play the guitar because my voice was not made for singing. She was assigned to fetch the kids for Catechism classes and to serve refreshments afterwards. We managed to be civil with each other in those occasions because we were always near a Priest.
She was studying in Mapua during her High school days and I was studying at Manila High School.
One day, I was riding a jeep on my way to school when I noticed that the girl seated next to me was wearing a Mapua uniform and she was my mortal enemy.
That moment though, I realized that this mortal enemy of mine was a lovely lady, and I started to shift my gear and be a friendly gentleman. I was on my third year of High School then (maagang lumandi! hahaha!).
I was already in my fourth year of high school and she was in her second year when she realized that she loved me too!
Our theme song was a song by Michael Jackson “One day in your life”. The reason why “Jacko” would always be part of my life.
Please sing with me!
Then her parents find out our secret love, the story now becomes “You and Me Against the world“.
So on our first 5 years of being sweetheart we broke up three times. It was always my fault for falling in love with other girls and making the mistake of being caught. I had always been a happy go lucky guy that her parents never saw anything good in my person.
The third time we broke up had me crying during the night but I had to show no emotion in front of my friends. I was not able to eat and sleep that I realized that the lyrics of the song by “Hotdog” titled “Pers Lab” was so true.
"Di na makatulog
Di pa makakain
Taghiyawat sa ilong
Pati na sa pisngi
Sa kaiisip sa’yo
Taghiyawat dumadami"
(Why is it that when we are young we always associated our emotions with a song?)
Maybe those things and a lot of other petty quarrels had made us closer to each other and provided an inevitable bridge for us to come to know each other very well- like the palm of our hands.
So to cut the story short, we got married at the chapel of Sta Cruz church with only a ring bearer in tow and a pair of Godparents. The chapel was being used by the Parish Priests in their daily personal prayer.
In attendance was my mother, her parents (despite their objections) some close friends and relatives. The Choir where I belong sang in that very solemn occasion.
The reception was held at Modern Restaurant just across Sta. Cruz Church.
Would you believe that we started our family with only P10, 000.00 in savings? Part of the money was used in our wedding expenses including payment for the reception . My best friend Roland’s car was used as the official wedding car which we both decorated with flowers bought at Dangwa. See, sariling sikap talaga!
TO BE CONTINUED
N.B. This story has been featured in Mon's blog but it deserves to be included in the Inspirational Book for its focus on the joys of family life.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Mon as fondly called by his online buddies is a down-to-earth, passionate and indefatigable blogger.
He is the vibrant apogee behind the blog - "Fatherlyours".
He says:
"I am Ramon, 49 years old writing for FatherlYours.com to share my experiences, frustrations, happiness, success as a Father to my 5 healthy and Lovely creatures called Son’s and Daughter’s."
I admire Mon for his dedication and loyalty to his family and friends. He is the responsible man that every family wish they could have.
This story depicts family life and how it should be.
Thanks Mon for this extremely significant contribution to the Inspirational Book. Family should always take the topmost priority in our lives.
I am not really the type of person who takes time in counting the years of our wedding anniversaries. But my daughter Mae makes our (25th) Silver Wedding Anniversary special.
Why? I’ll tell you later.
I’ll tell you first our love story and how we ended up from worst enemies to friends, and then lovers.
9 years of being steady plus 25 years of married life and still going strong is perhaps a record of sorts here in our country. Maybe we have grown tired of hearing other married people fight and getting separated that’s why our married life works - yes!
No! I think we become closer because we don’t discuss things that bother us but we talked them over. We spent a few minutes discussing things that happened within the day, before going to sleep.
We know each other so well that we give time and space when the need arises, without each one asking for it. I encourage her to go out and join her friends when she get invitations; to spend time for herself to break the monotony of a stay- at- home mom. She grants the same courtesy to me.
The Story :
She was our neighbor - the quiet type. She seldom came out of their house. My friends then were her two older sisters because I was two years older than she was.
I used to call her “Labo” because she was wearing thick eyeglasses. And she called me “Palito” because I was thin and quite a joker during those days. Our constant quarrel and bickering made our neighbors’ and friends’ day complete.
Our neighbors used to tease us every time our path crossed because they knew that we hated each other. I really don’t know why and how the hatred started.
When the “Kabataang Barangay” was first established by then President F. Marcos I was duly elected as the first Chairman and she was elected as one of my councilors. I was not aware that she had campaigned for me.
Then we became members of Confraternity of Christian Doctrine (CCD). Here I had to learn how to play the guitar because my voice was not made for singing. She was assigned to fetch the kids for Catechism classes and to serve refreshments afterwards. We managed to be civil with each other in those occasions because we were always near a Priest.
She was studying in Mapua during her High school days and I was studying at Manila High School.
One day, I was riding a jeep on my way to school when I noticed that the girl seated next to me was wearing a Mapua uniform and she was my mortal enemy.
That moment though, I realized that this mortal enemy of mine was a lovely lady, and I started to shift my gear and be a friendly gentleman. I was on my third year of High School then (maagang lumandi! hahaha!).
I was already in my fourth year of high school and she was in her second year when she realized that she loved me too!
Our theme song was a song by Michael Jackson “One day in your life”. The reason why “Jacko” would always be part of my life.
Please sing with me!
Then her parents find out our secret love, the story now becomes “You and Me Against the world“.
So on our first 5 years of being sweetheart we broke up three times. It was always my fault for falling in love with other girls and making the mistake of being caught. I had always been a happy go lucky guy that her parents never saw anything good in my person.
The third time we broke up had me crying during the night but I had to show no emotion in front of my friends. I was not able to eat and sleep that I realized that the lyrics of the song by “Hotdog” titled “Pers Lab” was so true.
"Di na makatulog
Di pa makakain
Taghiyawat sa ilong
Pati na sa pisngi
Sa kaiisip sa’yo
Taghiyawat dumadami"
(Why is it that when we are young we always associated our emotions with a song?)
Maybe those things and a lot of other petty quarrels had made us closer to each other and provided an inevitable bridge for us to come to know each other very well- like the palm of our hands.
So to cut the story short, we got married at the chapel of Sta Cruz church with only a ring bearer in tow and a pair of Godparents. The chapel was being used by the Parish Priests in their daily personal prayer.
In attendance was my mother, her parents (despite their objections) some close friends and relatives. The Choir where I belong sang in that very solemn occasion.
The reception was held at Modern Restaurant just across Sta. Cruz Church.
Would you believe that we started our family with only P10, 000.00 in savings? Part of the money was used in our wedding expenses including payment for the reception . My best friend Roland’s car was used as the official wedding car which we both decorated with flowers bought at Dangwa. See, sariling sikap talaga!
TO BE CONTINUED
N.B. This story has been featured in Mon's blog but it deserves to be included in the Inspirational Book for its focus on the joys of family life.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Mon as fondly called by his online buddies is a down-to-earth, passionate and indefatigable blogger.
He is the vibrant apogee behind the blog - "Fatherlyours".
He says:
"I am Ramon, 49 years old writing for FatherlYours.com to share my experiences, frustrations, happiness, success as a Father to my 5 healthy and Lovely creatures called Son’s and Daughter’s."
I admire Mon for his dedication and loyalty to his family and friends. He is the responsible man that every family wish they could have.
This story depicts family life and how it should be.
Thanks Mon for this extremely significant contribution to the Inspirational Book. Family should always take the topmost priority in our lives.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Top WOOF Picks for July 6
Justine, Zorlone, Jennifer and the rest of the winners, congratulations.
Way to go, guys!
Way to go, guys!
Prose / Fiction
Jennifer M Scott – “Dreaming of Eve” – This story is for mature audiences for strong language. sexual situations and violence just wanted to forewarn you. a woman is haunted by her former boyfriend.
H. Benjamin Petrie – “Is this Love?” - A stream-of-consciousness piece aiming to combine a Raymond Carver-style relationship story with James Joyce-style internal monologuing.
Webbielady – “Blue Moon” - At last!
Dragon Blogger – “Who Will Make Coffee” - Funny and humorous poem about a volunteer brewing a pot of coffee.
Zorlone – “Untamed beauty” - One cannot claim full knowledge behind a woman's smile. "Looks like the girl is full of mystery..." - Snow
Free Spirit – “Armageddon” - When earth is too filthy to live in...
Presenting the finest of the writer’s blogs by the bloggers who write them. Highlighting the top posts as chosen by the July 3, 2009 WOOF Contest participants. Want in to join the next WOOF? The next contest ends July 10. Submit a link to your best writing post of the last 3 weeks using the form on this page. Participants, repost the winning link list within a week and you’re all set.
Other WOOF Contestants for 07/03/09Prose / Fiction / Novel Excerpt
Jena Isle - “Chapter 1Umma Ayam Sinsana (Where are you now?)” - A true to life novel about Kalinga.
Jena Isle – “Chapter 2- Umma Ayam Sinsana (Where are you now?)” - Chapter 2 of the story of the Kalinga man.
Redrogue – “My Antipatic Colleague” - She is on the verge of hating her until the reality comes into view... What she's going to do now?
Jennifer M Scott – “Candlelight Red” - A poem inspired by the words candlelight red.
Zorlone – “Last night” - "Without pain, can there be any real sense of joy? Without darkness, would we even understand the concept of light? This is a writer's curse and blessing, to feel things deeply and to make others feel them through our words." - Holly Jahangiri
Dragon Blogger – “Hurt Lives” - Poem about difficulty and staying the course in ones life.
Dragon Blogger – “Lost Drug Addict” - Random word poem including 19 random words about someone who slips into drug addiction.
Friday, July 3, 2009
CHAPTER 3 - UMMA AYAM SINSANA (WHERE ARE YOU NOW?)
Technorati Profile
You may want to read Chapter 2 first.
“ Mr. Benedict Lomiwan is hereby voted as president of the class,” the instructor announced.
It was barely his third week in the University, but everyone in class already knew who he was. It would be impossible not to! He always got the highest scores in their quizzes - even in algebra - which everyone considered “very difficult”.
It was in Algebra and English that he excelled - a deadly combination. Some students were good in Algebra but not in English, and vice versa. Only Benny, did good in both and that made him an “Exceptional” student.
He knew that by being in the Dean’s List of scholars, he would do justice to the sacrifices of his parents and Fr. Belucci.
He had enrolled in A.B Political Science as he had plans of becoming a lawyer someday. College exposed him to the various cultural minorities in the country and people were less discriminating because of ethnic origin.
Image from: Free Digital Photos
It was a cultural activity in the University and he was in his native costume - a g-string. During school days, he went to class in clothes everybody wore – warm and comfortable city clothes, and it was the first time he had to wear his native costume again. He had looked forward to it.
“Hey Benny, I’d cover myself if I were you,” someone from the crowd teased him, “half of the girls in class would be asking for a date next Monday.”
Benny just smiled and waved. He had always been proud of his heritage, even when other people had looked down upon him. He stood tall among his peers; his sinewy muscles, bulging in the right places. He had a handsome face – dark fringed eyes, sensuous lips and a slightly crooked nose that complimented his other features to perfection. He was almost naked, except for the g string around his waist and his private parts.
They started beating the gongs and Benny led his barrio mates in the “taddok” (native dance). His g-string undulated with his every movement and the crowd cheered excitedly as his group of dancers circled the plaza. It was a joyous and festive, cultural dance. When it was done, there were rivulets of sweat on Benny’s face.
“I think you need this,” a voice from behind him intoned.
He turned and stared at the most beautiful woman he had ever set eyes on. For the first time in his life, he became speechless.
“C’mon, use it,” the woman smiled reassuringly, proffering the handkerchief in her hand.
He reached out for it and wiped his face with one swift motion. His racing heartbeat slowed down a bit. “ Thanks, I’m Benny Lomiwan, Miss…” he extended a hand.
“ Call me Julie, Julia Santos,” she grasped his hand firmly.
The contact sent shivers through his spine. “Good God,” he thought to himself, “this is not me – going all weak over a woman.”
“ Your group was good,” she was saying. “I am sure, you will win the grand prize.”
“ We danced to share our culture not for anything else,” he replied with a smile.
She flashed white even teeth at him. “ Well, nice meeting you Benny, see you around,” she said, and she was gone.
Whew! what was that? He shook his head in amazement. He had never imagined himself going gaga over a woman. It was a strange feeling and he was totally taken by surprise by the new emotion. He would have wanted to know more about her. He released a long drawn sigh to calm his nerves. Well, he had to forget about her, he had more pressing priorities to think about.
************
February came. It was the coldest month of the year. He was growing accustomed to the gelid, city air. He had anticipated that it would be cold, but not these bone-freezing temperatures. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought he was abroad and not in a tropical country. He had layers of clothing on; but still, the cold air permeated his skin and gnawed at his bones.
The University’s first semester went according to his plans. He was able to maintain his academic scholarship well into the second semester. Fr. Belucci took charge of his board and lodging in the University’s dorm for boys. He also deposited in the bank a monthly allowance for him. He knew he was lucky to have a benefactor in the person of the priest and had expressed it openly the last time the old priest hugged him goodbye.
“ Get a good education and look after your own people,” the generous and benevolent priest had said. “That would be enough payment for me.”
And that was what he wanted to do that Saturday night. He had been secretly contacted to a meeting as a Youth Representative regarding the building of a dam in the Chico river, which may pollute its clear, pristine waters . It was a clandestine meeting as powerful political forces were bent on pushing through with it. The dam- supposedly- will provide electricity for the neighboring towns.
“ Are you Benny?” his train of thought was broken.
He eyed warily a burly man accosting him.
“Yes, “ he replied.
“Come, they’re waiting,” he said and started to lead him to a parked car.
He was about to demand an ID from the man, but thought, “What the heck, if it’s time for me to go, I’ll go, no matter what I do.” and he quickly followed him.
(to be continued)
HOME
__________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________
You may want to read Chapter 2 first.
“ Mr. Benedict Lomiwan is hereby voted as president of the class,” the instructor announced.
It was barely his third week in the University, but everyone in class already knew who he was. It would be impossible not to! He always got the highest scores in their quizzes - even in algebra - which everyone considered “very difficult”.
It was in Algebra and English that he excelled - a deadly combination. Some students were good in Algebra but not in English, and vice versa. Only Benny, did good in both and that made him an “Exceptional” student.
He knew that by being in the Dean’s List of scholars, he would do justice to the sacrifices of his parents and Fr. Belucci.
He had enrolled in A.B Political Science as he had plans of becoming a lawyer someday. College exposed him to the various cultural minorities in the country and people were less discriminating because of ethnic origin.
Image from: Free Digital Photos
It was a cultural activity in the University and he was in his native costume - a g-string. During school days, he went to class in clothes everybody wore – warm and comfortable city clothes, and it was the first time he had to wear his native costume again. He had looked forward to it.
“Hey Benny, I’d cover myself if I were you,” someone from the crowd teased him, “half of the girls in class would be asking for a date next Monday.”
Benny just smiled and waved. He had always been proud of his heritage, even when other people had looked down upon him. He stood tall among his peers; his sinewy muscles, bulging in the right places. He had a handsome face – dark fringed eyes, sensuous lips and a slightly crooked nose that complimented his other features to perfection. He was almost naked, except for the g string around his waist and his private parts.
They started beating the gongs and Benny led his barrio mates in the “taddok” (native dance). His g-string undulated with his every movement and the crowd cheered excitedly as his group of dancers circled the plaza. It was a joyous and festive, cultural dance. When it was done, there were rivulets of sweat on Benny’s face.
“I think you need this,” a voice from behind him intoned.
He turned and stared at the most beautiful woman he had ever set eyes on. For the first time in his life, he became speechless.
“C’mon, use it,” the woman smiled reassuringly, proffering the handkerchief in her hand.
He reached out for it and wiped his face with one swift motion. His racing heartbeat slowed down a bit. “ Thanks, I’m Benny Lomiwan, Miss…” he extended a hand.
“ Call me Julie, Julia Santos,” she grasped his hand firmly.
The contact sent shivers through his spine. “Good God,” he thought to himself, “this is not me – going all weak over a woman.”
“ Your group was good,” she was saying. “I am sure, you will win the grand prize.”
“ We danced to share our culture not for anything else,” he replied with a smile.
She flashed white even teeth at him. “ Well, nice meeting you Benny, see you around,” she said, and she was gone.
Whew! what was that? He shook his head in amazement. He had never imagined himself going gaga over a woman. It was a strange feeling and he was totally taken by surprise by the new emotion. He would have wanted to know more about her. He released a long drawn sigh to calm his nerves. Well, he had to forget about her, he had more pressing priorities to think about.
************
February came. It was the coldest month of the year. He was growing accustomed to the gelid, city air. He had anticipated that it would be cold, but not these bone-freezing temperatures. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought he was abroad and not in a tropical country. He had layers of clothing on; but still, the cold air permeated his skin and gnawed at his bones.
The University’s first semester went according to his plans. He was able to maintain his academic scholarship well into the second semester. Fr. Belucci took charge of his board and lodging in the University’s dorm for boys. He also deposited in the bank a monthly allowance for him. He knew he was lucky to have a benefactor in the person of the priest and had expressed it openly the last time the old priest hugged him goodbye.
“ Get a good education and look after your own people,” the generous and benevolent priest had said. “That would be enough payment for me.”
And that was what he wanted to do that Saturday night. He had been secretly contacted to a meeting as a Youth Representative regarding the building of a dam in the Chico river, which may pollute its clear, pristine waters . It was a clandestine meeting as powerful political forces were bent on pushing through with it. The dam- supposedly- will provide electricity for the neighboring towns.
“ Are you Benny?” his train of thought was broken.
He eyed warily a burly man accosting him.
“Yes, “ he replied.
“Come, they’re waiting,” he said and started to lead him to a parked car.
He was about to demand an ID from the man, but thought, “What the heck, if it’s time for me to go, I’ll go, no matter what I do.” and he quickly followed him.
(to be continued)
HOME
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___________________________________________________________
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Friday, June 26, 2009
CHAPTER 2 - UMMA AYAM SINSANA (WHERE ARE YOU NOW?)
( If you still have not read chapter 1, do read it here.)As soon as they arrived in Lubuagan, Guinnaban was baptized to Christianity by Fr. Belucci and named Benedict - after St. Benedict. To Guinnaban, the name symbolized hope and courage - and he liked the sound of it!
The abrupt change of environment though, had made him and his family uncomfortable. There were sad moments that they thought of going back to the simple life in the barrio. It was difficult for them to adjust to the ways of the progressively booming town. The good priest however, insisted that they stay on as he knew Benny was a brilliant boy who could pursue a much needed education for the sake of his people.
The following school year, Fr. Belucci enrolled him at the Parish secondary school.
On the very first day, Benny was already taunted by his classmates. “Hey, what’s your name?”
“Benedict” he would reply.
“Benedict? that's a fancy name, huh? Far from your ugly, Kalinga name.” then the group would roar with laughter.
“ Let’s see if you can live up to it, “ laughing, they would leave him speechless at the center of the school’s quadrangle.
They frequently picked on him and made fun of him. “Here’s the native,” they taunted and ridiculed him.
On the 5th day of school, Francis the most intelligent of the class, challenged him to a spelling contest. Benedict was reluctant to participate, as he was brought up by his parents believing that a truly brave man did not have to prove himself.
But the whole class jeered at him:" C'mon, you - from Taloctoc, let's see if you know something, " and they refused to allow him to leave the room.
Thinking that it would do no harm to anyone, he accepted the challenge and stayed. They unceremoniously pushed him beside Francis; he could see the beads of sweat mushrooming in Francis' excited face as he gleefully grinned at him.
Each of the students started yelling words for them to spell.
"pneumonia," one shouted.
"Use the chalk dumbo! Write " Francis snarled at him, "Let's see if your teeny weeny brain recognizes words."
" psychology"
Images from: All Free Clipart"gobbledygook"
"millennium"
"minuscule"
"sacrilegious"
There were two students assigned to both blackboards to check what they have written.
After each word, the uproar grew lesser and lesser as Benny had been able to spell the words correctly.
Unknown to them, since Benny's first day with Fr. Belucci, he was allowed to use the old priests' personal book collection. He devoured them like someone starving, and spent every free time savoring each page of the variety of books available for his perusal. He even started reading theology!
"And what is this all about?" a voice thundered from the doorway.
Everyone turned to meet Mrs. Garcia's unsmiling face. "What are you up to, now Francis?" her piercing stare made Francis wince.
"Err... we were just having a spelling contest," he was meek as a lamb in front of Mrs. Garcia.
The teacher took one long look at the board and said sternly, " the two of you, come to my office, right now." Her manner was succinct but there was a hint of pride in her tone.
Francis got most of the scolding as Mrs. Garcia was aware of his boisterous behavior at times.
"Let me finish what you started," her voice was gentler now and there was a twinkle in her eye.
"Spell liaison" , she motioned to Francis.
Francis stood at attention and proudly blurted out, " L - I - A - S - O - N" .
Mrs. Garcia - her face expressionless - nodded to Benny .
" L I A I S O N", Benny enunciated each word deliberately.
The teacher happily tapped the shoulder of Francis, " Now we have a new champion, Francis ," she strode towards Benny and intoned excitedly, " You are correct! I have high hopes we will win the championship this year. From now on, both of you should work together."
As days laboriously passed , it was evident that academically, Benny performed better than Francis - to the other one's obvious chagrin. In fact - he was the best in all categories - be it in Mathematics, English, Literature, or Music.
He had an eye and a heart for all extra-curricular and academic pursuits. He was the Grand Champion in the Math Quiz bee, the Spelling Bee and had won the Short Story Writing Contest sponsored by the English Society.
He then earned their respect and admiration. No one dared to taunt him anymore. Everyone wanted to be in his list of friends.
He graduated from St Theresa’s College as the Valedictorian of High School Class ‘ 76; with 6 medals: the gold, the leadership medal, the Insular Life gold, the Best in math, the Best in English, and was awarded "The Most Outstanding Graduate."
(TO BE CONTINUED)
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GO BACK TO UMMA AYAM CHAPTERS
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Sunday, June 21, 2009
CHAPTER 1 - UMMA AYAM SINSANA (WHERE ARE YOU NOW?)
By: Jena Isle
The mournful chant reverberated through the small four walls of the hut…” Aieeeee”.
Guinnaban - 9 at that time - was cowering in the eerie shadows. He was staring at the wrinkled woman wailing for the gaunt, pale corpse laid on the long table. The head of the corpse was at a grotesque angle, almost totally severed from his body.
“ Uma nangwa kansika anna?” ( Who have done this to you?) the woman wailed even louder.
“Aiieeeeee”….. everyone joined in and the hut became a cacophony of mournful cries.
The barrio captain motioned to the elders for a conference and they filed outside, their faces grim and murderous. Outside, a heated and frenzied debate took place.
Finally, the barrio captain raised his arm and shouted amidst the din, “ Intakkon no, umma uwayon yo, ittod tako kanida de kingwada.”( Then what are we waiting for? Let’s avenge his death.)
And so a full blown “tribal war” had began.
Guinnaban, grew amidst these bloody chaos caused by two warring tribes, who both fought for domination over the municipality. He accepted it as a way of life: the constant refuge in the deep forest even in the stillness of the night when the “enemy” had come to attack and the code of silence even when all he wanted was to protest at the top of his voice at the injustice of it all - these had become routine occurrences for him. And at age 10, he had stood as a sentinel on one of the night watches.
The “enemy” did not select their victims. Women and children were not spared by their avenging spears and bolos. Men had their heads always severed from their bodies, as a symbol of victory. The victor would bring home the grotesque, bloody head and would proudly display it like a trophy in their barrio. The warriors would dance gleefully around it till the wee hours of dawn. Head-hunting was normal and considered a warrior's noble deed.
It is for this reason that women and children did not dare venture outside their barrio’s perimeter unless escorted by warriors.
He was 12, when a Belgian, missionary priest , Fr. Carl Belucci, visited their far flung barrio. Everyone was wary of him. What did this white haired man with a long aquiline nose want with them? He was not the enemy surely but might he be a spy? No one wanted to welcome Fr. Belucci and his companions to their nipa huts.
Guinnaban could not explain what prompted him to approach the priest, “ You are not here to help us, are you?” he queried, his big round eyes - probing and curious.
“I am here not only to help, “ the priest said in his soft, mellow voice.
Guinnaban believed him. At his age, he had a keen perception of people. He can perceive just by looking at people's eyes, whether they were sincere or not; and he knew, the priest was his salvation.
From then on, Guinnaban served as the altar boy in each Holy Mass the priest celebrated. He began to listen to Fr. Belucci and learned that there is salvation for everyone, even for his enemies.
The elders however, were too far gone to forgive and forget whatever the sins of the past were, and continued with their thirst for vengeance. Some younger men, pleaded with the elders to forge a peace pact with the other tribe to end the senseless war.
They started proceedings but it seemed that their efforts were futile, there was still no vestige of reconciliation.
It was at this time that Fr. Belucci was called back to the parish church in town as it was becoming increasingly dangerous for him to stay on, in the barrio.
“Do you want to come with me?” Fr. Belucci asked Guinnaban, two days before his scheduled departure.
“You can continue serving as an altar boy and can go to school simultaneously.”
“But what about ina and ama?” Guinnaban wanted to go, but feared for the safety of his parents.
“They can come with you.” The old priest patted his head.
So on that gloomy, Monday morning, Guinnaban and his parents got what little was left of their belongings and joined Fr. Belucci in his 5 hr-trek to town.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
HOME______________________________________________________________________________________________
The mournful chant reverberated through the small four walls of the hut…” Aieeeee”.
Guinnaban - 9 at that time - was cowering in the eerie shadows. He was staring at the wrinkled woman wailing for the gaunt, pale corpse laid on the long table. The head of the corpse was at a grotesque angle, almost totally severed from his body.
“ Uma nangwa kansika anna?” ( Who have done this to you?) the woman wailed even louder.
“Aiieeeeee”….. everyone joined in and the hut became a cacophony of mournful cries.
The barrio captain motioned to the elders for a conference and they filed outside, their faces grim and murderous. Outside, a heated and frenzied debate took place.
Finally, the barrio captain raised his arm and shouted amidst the din, “ Intakkon no, umma uwayon yo, ittod tako kanida de kingwada.”( Then what are we waiting for? Let’s avenge his death.)
And so a full blown “tribal war” had began.
Guinnaban, grew amidst these bloody chaos caused by two warring tribes, who both fought for domination over the municipality. He accepted it as a way of life: the constant refuge in the deep forest even in the stillness of the night when the “enemy” had come to attack and the code of silence even when all he wanted was to protest at the top of his voice at the injustice of it all - these had become routine occurrences for him. And at age 10, he had stood as a sentinel on one of the night watches.
The “enemy” did not select their victims. Women and children were not spared by their avenging spears and bolos. Men had their heads always severed from their bodies, as a symbol of victory. The victor would bring home the grotesque, bloody head and would proudly display it like a trophy in their barrio. The warriors would dance gleefully around it till the wee hours of dawn. Head-hunting was normal and considered a warrior's noble deed.
It is for this reason that women and children did not dare venture outside their barrio’s perimeter unless escorted by warriors.
He was 12, when a Belgian, missionary priest , Fr. Carl Belucci, visited their far flung barrio. Everyone was wary of him. What did this white haired man with a long aquiline nose want with them? He was not the enemy surely but might he be a spy? No one wanted to welcome Fr. Belucci and his companions to their nipa huts.
Guinnaban could not explain what prompted him to approach the priest, “ You are not here to help us, are you?” he queried, his big round eyes - probing and curious.
“I am here not only to help, “ the priest said in his soft, mellow voice.
Guinnaban believed him. At his age, he had a keen perception of people. He can perceive just by looking at people's eyes, whether they were sincere or not; and he knew, the priest was his salvation.
From then on, Guinnaban served as the altar boy in each Holy Mass the priest celebrated. He began to listen to Fr. Belucci and learned that there is salvation for everyone, even for his enemies.
The elders however, were too far gone to forgive and forget whatever the sins of the past were, and continued with their thirst for vengeance. Some younger men, pleaded with the elders to forge a peace pact with the other tribe to end the senseless war.
They started proceedings but it seemed that their efforts were futile, there was still no vestige of reconciliation.
It was at this time that Fr. Belucci was called back to the parish church in town as it was becoming increasingly dangerous for him to stay on, in the barrio.
“Do you want to come with me?” Fr. Belucci asked Guinnaban, two days before his scheduled departure.
“You can continue serving as an altar boy and can go to school simultaneously.”
“But what about ina and ama?” Guinnaban wanted to go, but feared for the safety of his parents.
“They can come with you.” The old priest patted his head.
So on that gloomy, Monday morning, Guinnaban and his parents got what little was left of their belongings and joined Fr. Belucci in his 5 hr-trek to town.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
HOME______________________________________________________________________________________________
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