It’s 8:32, evening of Christmas Day,
December 2014. For a couple of years
now, Jegs and I have embraced the thought that we do not exist for Christmas as
we consider the Christmas Season a complete example of misplaced dogma. For example, why can’t we observe the spirit
of goodwill 24/7? Why must we wait for
the Christmas Season to give to the poor?
In fact, if what all people demonstrate during Christmas is something
they do on daily basis with open hearts, then we’d be living in a world that is
much more meaningful. We have been
trying to reorient our simple lives to this direction and goal.
So, why do I feel a bit lonely at this
moment when I have not felt similarly during the last 364 days? While having dinner this evening, just the
two of us, it occurred to me, “if we’re luckier next year, would it be possible
to spend our Christmas in a place far removed from the hustle and bustle of a
modern community and live only within the means that others strive to survive
in?” Jegs immediately said, “that would
be Itbayat, Batanes?” I thought, “not
exactly, but it could be.”
Well, Itbayat is the northernmost town
of the Philippines, part of Batanes, officially one of the poorest provinces in
the Philippines. It is about 98
kilometers from the southern tip of Taiwan, and 250 kilometers north of Apparri,
Cagayan. In spite of its proximity to
Taiwan, people there don’t look like Chinese.
They look Austronesians, like their ancestors. The value system there hasn’t changed for
thousands of years. The most apparent
demonstration of this is that the jails in the six municipalities and
provincial capital of the province are completely empty. There are no criminals there, and if there
are they’re afraid to commit crimes.
When I left the town of Itbayat some 58
years ago to attend high school in Basco, and then, after that, attend the U.P,
College of Agriculture in 1963, I recall that the place was so backward I
thought people there didn’t have any space anymore to move backwards to. The
roads were all muddy and filled with puddles of water during the Christmas
Season. The weather was so cold from
November to February, when the trans-Siberian cold front would swoop down on
the islands. Children had to wear
handmade bonnets, and adults wore two or more shirts. Those who can afford had jackets. People like us, who didn’t have the means,
had to make do with worn out long sleeves (hand-me-downs), but most of us would
wrap ourselves with jute sacks which served as both mat and blanket when we
slept at night. One of the indelible
lessons I learned from my late mother about surviving in the cold was to take
your bath everyday so that you will not feel cold. “If your body is dirty,” my mother always
told us children, “you will always shiver in the cold. And when your body is clean, you will not
feel the cold.” That was lesson well
learned for me.
I come from a poverty-stricken family,
grew up under the disciplinarian authority of a single parent, and had to work
the dirt almost 24/7 to eke out a living.
In those times, I never saw paper money beyond the one-peso
denomination. And it was some one else’s
money, too. So poverty to me was never a
new experience. It was never fun, either.
When my brother, Tino, left Basco for
Los Baños, I barely remember it. All I
now recall was that the only money my mother gave him was P50, or so I thought,
saved from being laundrywoman for a Philippine Constabulary soldier, from which
she earned no more than P10 per month, from which we got all of our
expenses. My brother left Batanes
without a sure life to live. My mother
was lucky that the then Governor of Batanes, the late Gov. Eugenio Agudo agreed
to grant her request to bring along Kuya Tino as houseboy in Los Baños, because
he wanted to study at the U.P. College of Agriculture. In Los Baños, Kuya Tino was taken as houseboy
of the Uichanco Family. The family
patriarch, the late Dr. Leopoldo Uichanco, was then the Dean of the U.P.
College of Agriculture. After a few
semesters, Kuya Tino was hired as student assistant in the then Office of the
College Secretary, when the late Professor Melanio Gapud was the UPCA
Secretary. To make a very long story
short, Kuya graduated from UPCA under the Honors Curriculum (perhaps that was
the last time that UPCA had the Honors Curriculum offerred). Almost right away Kuya Tino was hired as Farm
Technologist of the then Farm and Home Development Program (FHDP) of UPCA's Department of Agricultural Economics, which later
became the Farm and Home Development Office (FHDO) of UPCA, and the Office of the
Director of Extension first under UPCA then later under the UPLB. The FHDP was a
joint project of UPCA and Cornell University.
That was the time when Kuya Tino sent me to school, starting with high
school and then college (UPCA).
I consider myself extremely lucky. I was from a dirt-poor family but I got to
the best university in the country. I
was an ordinary student, but I survived the intellectual cadence at UPCA. I was not an honor graduate, but I was
employed by my Alma Mater. I was not the luckiest graduate of my academic department because I was the first major of the
department hired as an administrative staff rather than academic staff. I did
not enjoy the leaps and bounds of promotion because I started out as
administrative staff, then as Instructor (2-7), Assistant Professor (1-4),
Associate Professor (1-7), and then Professor (2-12) every step of the ladder
in all positions, which means I had to stop at every step of the promotion
ladder. Alongside, I was given
opportunities to serve (additional assignments without additional pay) as
Departmental Section Head, Department Chair, Institute Director, Associate
Dean, Dean, Vice Chancellor for R&D, Chancellor, and then as Faculty
Regent. I was the Centennial Faculty
Regent of UP, and I was assured that there would be only one Centennial Faculty
Regent within 100 years. So I can say
that I have had a fair share of glory as a professional, a survivor of
sorts. So why do I feel a bit lonely
this Christmas Season?
Well, for one, my Kuya Tino survived a
stroke in November 2014. I must say, I
was not prepared for that one. When your
brother comes so close to stepping into the other side, it hits you like you
didn’t know what was going on; that all you knew was “no, this isn’t
happening.” But, then, of course, the
reality sinks in and you have to deal with it.
I’m glad that Kuya Tino is still with us. I’m also glad that in February 2008, the UP
Board of Regents awarded me the lifetime title of Professor Emeritus. And, then, of course, the UPOU continues to
give me teaching assignments, so that at least I get the feeling that I’m still
useful. So it is not that I have lost
things to be happy about. Still, why
must I feel a bit lonely this Christmas Season?
If there’s anything I am completely happy
about (except the usual LQ that happens
now and then), it’s living with an excellent partner, Jegs. I believe that both of us have installed each
other on a pedestal so high, as pointed out by the singer Anne Murray in one of
her hit songs, “that I could even see eternity.”
And so, why do I feel a bit lonely this
Christmas Season? I think it all boils
down to one thing. I need to reconnect
to my past. I think I need to revisit my
past to appreciate what I have become.
Hopefully, that would explain why I feel a bit lonely this Christmas
Season.
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