(NOTE: The following short story appeared in the January-February 1991 issue of the CLSU Collegian. It was the first ever published work of a trying hard fictionist who went by the name of Kimat T. Amianan. The accompanying illustration above was by [now Dr.] Angelito Saliganan.)
He stood transfixed --- hypnotized by the vast green and golden patches of ripening palay, the leaves shivering with every gust of the cool northern breeze creating an emerald sea with waves rippling systematically. Morning dews tenaciously cling to the sheaths, to the intricately woven spider webs, fiercely resisting the radiating heat of the sun, sparkling and dazzling like priceless diamonds.
A colossal figure, he stands five feet and eight inches of solid bone and muscle. The squared jaw and prominent nose added an aura of mystery to his unfathomable expression, the sunken eyes fixed steadily forward. His rich tan complexion contrasted strikingly with a mass of thinning gray hair. He has the looks of a sage and probably, he is.
I call him Amang Lakay. It was more of a name than a reverence for when I was unraveling the mysteries of life, I failed to understand its true context. It’s more of a habit and I got used to it. In fact, I grew up with it.
It was during my sixth year in grade school, I was twelve years old then, when I attempted to probe deeper into that expressionless mask he wore. With childish fervor, I invaded him with questions, some logical, some of plain interest, and other things with stupidity or innocence. He would narrate a tale or two plucked from the history of his rich and colorful life. It may be about his brother Agapito who helped him harvest guavas one summer afternoon… an ordinary story except that his brother was dead three years earlier. Or his experience as the leader of a group of guerillas during the war, exchanging lethal bullets, ambushing the enemy and everything to give the invaders hard life and the worst accommodation they’d ever had.
Nostalgia and emotion overcomes me whenever I reminisce those wonderful evenings we had, together with some cousins, huddled in a dark room illuminated by a solitary lamp, totally absorbed as Amang Lakay took us to another world in a different time.
He brought us to pre-war Philippines --- on what it was long before our fathers were born; of the forest covered mountains, deer hunts, battles, politics, the bizarre world of the supernatural --- of kapres, tikbalangs and aswangs; of elfins, fairies and gremlins. He told us what it was when life was life and man was man.
That was ninen years ago. He was seventy-one then. We were an odd pair --- dusk and dawn. He having spent the best years of his life, while I was still trying to understand what it was. He was rich with experience, brimming with knowledge. I was just beginning to feel what it was like to live, to appreciate and understand the complicated process of life.
It was he who taught me the value of diligence and discipline. “The sweetest reward for a good work is the work itself,” he used to say. He was my first teacher --- teaching me a deeper perception of the world, how to live on what you have, how to be human. It took years but I became the man he wanted me to be.
He had great plans for me. “You’re going to be a good soldier son,” he said one sleepy afternoon. We had just finished eating our lunch of broiled dalag with sliced tomatoes and bagoong, pinakbet the way Inang Baket cooked it, a bunch of yellow bananas. “The art of arms is for real men, for those who feel at ease in the face of danger and peril, for those who feel they are man enough to meet every challenge, for those who know how to apply their principles.”
I can never forget that wrinkled face when, during the crux of my life, he visited me in prison. I cannot endure to stare into his pained expression. He looked so gloomy, so disappointed, so discouraged.
Suddenly, he looked older. He is no longer the strong and determined man I leaned upon whenever I needed support. He is no longer the sage who have an answer to every query. Tears trickled in my cheeks not in self pity but for the man I caused so much pain. He spoke slowly, releasing a charge that pierced the innermost shell of my life.
“I taught you how to become a man. I taught him how to vanquish a foe. But I also taught you how to conquer yourself.”
There was no reproach. What persisted was the mutual feeling we had for both.
And he left, leaving me with his parting words. “Beat the storm, son…” I did.
He died four days before my twentieth birthday. He was eighty. On his death bed, Inang Baket casually asked him, “Are you leaving?” He nodded weakly, flashed a faint smile, and was gone.
When we placed his coffin to its final resting place, I didn’t shed a tear. He hates it. I tried hard to conceal my emotions. I wanted to please him even if he was gone.
He should have been proud of me. Not only that I conquered myself, I also beat the storm. It was for him that I wrote this story, as a tribute to a man who taught me to love life and live with it.
Amang Lakay, eighty years old. War veteran, a hardy pioneer, teacher, adviser, father and friend. He was also my grandfather.
The flickr Philippines Group (flickristas) recently held a photo exhibit cum contest at the Trinoma Cinema Hall last October 15-18. There were 56 entries who responded to the “08-08-08: Ikatlong Banat” challenge and one of these is mine.
My photo entry’s story started with a brisk walk from the National Zoo to my hotel in Washington DC then passing by a small group of Tibetan exiles holding a vigil at the Dupont Circle. I saw them earlier picketing the Chinese Embassy while riding to one of our federal government agency meetings. The activist in me was naturally drawn in as the incenses started burning and the Buddhist monks chanted their prayer. I walked around, looking at graphic photos of bleeding and dead people from the recent crackdown in Tibet. In solidarity, I helped a couple of young Tibetans light up small candles. Then I started shooting. It was 08 August 2008, the opening ceremonies of the Beijing Olympics.
I did not win though and I somewhat expected that. It’s enough for me that my work was included in the exhibit. I was happy too that jobarracuda went home with the Toshiba computer notebook first prize and angrylittleboy with the point and shoot digital camera second prize. I met them once during the final turn-over of the Lagalag Notebooks and I consider them as my friends and mentors. And thank you to Stitch who made the exhibit possible.
Dear Shubert,
GREETINGS!!!
This is Manong Ben from Colton, CA 92324 USA. I am under the impression you are posting from the United Kingdom.
Be that as it may, I am extremely elated, albeit, euphoric I have come across someone who really and fully comprehends what I have referred to. AVL was my Junior & Senior classmate in NELA in 1968-1970 and my close friend. I was able to trace and see him and his family somewhere in a Bambang barrio in 1997. We reminisced those good old days. OF COURSE, I know Nana Ansing very well; same with the late Tata Peping --- kind, approachable and nice folks. Rollie once studied in NLA (Artacho) but only now that I learned he's now in USA, presumably New Jersey. I hope Cristopher Marlowe (as I called him then) makes it eventually. TIDBIT: You know I almost became attached to Almaguer "by, and in accordance to, law"; quite unfortunately it didn't materialize. Like you said, I was a young teenager then, full of idealistic utopianism and mindful of having a successful future in the USA --- on the condition I had the right partner in life. I have been divorced since 2003. In the late 1990s I often teased "Uncle Mike" (Americanized version of Micquias) here in Glendora, CA USA having failed --- utterly and so miserably --- not having had him as my uncle-in-law. Dang !!! But that is life. C'est le vie!!!
My younger sister the doctor spent the 1969 Christmas vacation with Nana Ansing's daughter and GC; I was having my Laoac, Pangasinan vacation then but went to Almaguer in the interim to catch-up with them; riding on the carabao-drawn cart of their relative from the National Highway to Purok 2 (Saranay), Almaguer and alighting from the cart directly in front of their house. Those were the days. On Saturday we went to Sto. Domingo; Sunday naman, sa Salinas Salt Springs and on Monday I went back to Laoac. I again saw them in March, 1971 when I spent the Holy Week there while GC and Nana Ansing's daughter came from NELA. I once more saw them in April, 1985 and lastly, March, 1997. None thereafter. (Since you call Nana Ansing as an aunt; then you must be by kinship related to her two sons. You know she has a daughter --- by the late FD. You can read between the lines...).
Uncle Mike has some "T-related" relatives in Villa Fermin, Echague, Isabela (Nana married to some SDA TP; their daughters LL and C, I believe, live in Spain). Too bad, his wife passed away --- cancer.
NELA has always been very close to my heart; but not lately since I had a stroke in August 2006; got confined; had rehab and recuperation for 5 months and won't be back to work till April. In my younger years, my older sister and I stayed with my Uncle and Aunt in the old NELA site in Divisoria, Santiago, Isabela; also we were there when it was transferred to Alicia in 1958-1959. They were Principal and Registrar, respectively. My dad EBG taught there in 1966-1970, inclusive, then assumed Principalship in 1969-1970. I again re-appeared in 1985; then continuously between 1988 and 1997; absent thereafter. As an alumnus of THAT school, a small part of what I received from America's bountiful blessings and comforts went back in return. It's a matter of remembering your alma mater. But times have changed and I'm no longer associated in any way coz of changed priorities.
I hope you understand that Almaguer and NELA are tremendously THAT close to my heart. THREE missed opportunities on the place; quite a success on the school. If by chance you come across any or all of them, please do extend my cordial and heartfelt regards. What it was then; what it could have been and just resting on all those what God has given... for keeps. I'll be contended with yesterday's memories, knowing some Almaguer lass thinks of me --- once in a while. The reverse, obviously, is true. Memories never die.
I think this sums up all things now. Kudos and continued success on your pictured churches, places and blow-by-blow accounting of events. KEEP IT COMIN'. You did a great job. Likewise, before the end of February, 2007 I should be able to post into the web a compilation of my appellation's clan/family tree (genealogy).
Take care and more power to you. Keep me posted. Warmest regards.
Truly,
Manong Ben
Colton, CA 92324
USA
Profile: Church of Imus, Cavite
The Jesuits built the first church between 1618 and 1629. This was probably replaced by another church that was built by the Augustinian Recollects at around 1686. The church was destroyed by a typhoon in 1779 and relocated to Toclong where another church was probably built. Not long after, the church was again moved to its present site.
