CARYANA

Welcome

It was 1986.

Amid the political turmoil sweeping across the country, millions of Filipinos were at their homes watching the news of People Power at EDSA. Images of throngs of people nationwide flashed across television screens, as nuns and the masses formed human barricades against military tanks. All determined to topple the suppressive Marcos regime through a peaceful demonstration of democracy and people power. That time heralded a new day of freedom for the Filipinos. Free from the iron hands of a dictator who so long governed the country with military control.

I attended primary school at Bayanan Elementary School when I was six. My teacher, Ms. Catindig as we called her was rather strict. She always had a stick in her hand while she taught as. With it she would call our attention by pointing it at us while calling our names in a high-pitched voice. She was a stern lady who would take no for an answer. When she told us to recite whatever was written on the board, she meant it to read loud and clear as best we could. And if for some reason we were listless when she tells her pupil to stand up for a recitation, she would gently nudge us with her stick to straighten up. If that fails, a swift lash from her stick would surely land on our buttocks.

Ms. Catinding was quite a terror teacher, but we all loved her because she was a good and caring teacher. Whenever we could not manage to do things on our own easily, she would readily assist us with whatever endeavour we might be having trouble with.

My stay in primary school was quite brief, I barely stayed a month because from out of the blue, my mother informed me that I would not be going to school anymore because she had to bring us to Pampanga to have a better life, unfortunately, away from her. It did not matter much to me, because honestly I did not enjoy being at school with some rowdy children who were not familiar to me.

So it was that preparations were being made for our departure to Pampanga while our mother did everything to convince me and my brother, Louie, to stay in Pampanga for our own good. She told us stories, and of course made promises just to convince us. It took some weeks and some psychological beating with stories and promises before my brother and I agreed to her plan.

I cannot remember exactly when we had our last sleep in the embrace of our mother, but we were quite excited and uncertain at the same time. No one knew what would happen. We got up early and headed for Posadas Village. We arrived at the house of Mrs. Ramirez where we were led to a spacious living room. The adornments suggested prestige and wealth. The sofas were large and throw pillows adorned the back rests in a neat row.

We had a hearty breakfast of bacon, ham and hotdogs. It was a sumptuous feast for us because growing in the slums deprived us of such luxurious meals and which could only happen only if ever, very rarely. Fruits were also served together hot milk and chocolate.

After breakfast we all said our thanksgiving and headed to the garage. We boarded the maroon Hi-ace van bound for Pampanga. Mrs. Ramirez gave me and my brother oranges and told us that we could use the peels if ever along the way we felt dizzy or about to vomit. She also instructed my Mother to rub eucalyptus oil on our foreheads to ease our headaches should it occur.

Since it would take quite a long time before we reached Pampanga, mother told us to sleep and that she would wake us up as soon as we reached our destination. At first we said we would make it awake all the way, but for kids the trip was just too long and sure enough we dozed off to a peaceful slumber as the van crawled through the traffic along EDSA and out into the busy roads of the suburbs. We were already in San Fernando when I lazily opened my eyes and took to the windows to have a peek of the surroundings. Green agojo pine foliage lined the roadside interspersed with a myriad of movie billboards and commercial advertisements done in paint on canvass. A few minutes more the van was winding through the dusty roads of San Isidro, Magalang with vast tracts of fields on both sides which welcomed us as birds busily flew in every direction. Along the way we stopped at a variety store where my brother and I bought suggested that we buy some snacks. Our mother knew that that would be the last time we would ever get to have money in our hands and buy from a store so she readily gave us a few coins. I had Snacku and Rinbee while my brother had Pompoms and candies.

We arrived at the gate of the monastery at around lunch time. it was painted moss green with a rope leading to a bell which you had to pull in order to alert the gatekeeper. Brother Sinen who drove the van got off and cautiously made his way to the gate and pulled the rope. The bell rang and after a few seconds a simply dressed couple opened the gate and greeted Brother Sinen and followed him to the van. The adults exchanged niceties and introduced us to the couple who also rode the van.

We were led to guest house where we were offered a hearty meal of pork and sautéed beans complimented with a refreshing concoction of roselle juice. It was somewhat tart but the sweet taste invited us to pour more into our glasses. After that we were served dessert of chilled mung bean in milk and cream. It was reminiscent of ice cream.

While we were having lunch, my mother was speaking to us in light manner ensuring us that we would do well during our stay in the monastery and that we would grow up to be good boys. That time, sadness was already creeping inside of me but knowing that my brother was me was enough to comfort me. At least I had someone I knew with me in a place far from our mother.

After our meal, the caretaker of the guest house brought us to the office of the priest and formally introduced us to him and his assistant, Mama Monsie. They were good people and they welcomed us with such kindness and warmth. They had a brief discussion with my mother. A few moments later, mother came to us and gave us her final hugs and kisses before we were finally parted from her. She promised she would come back to pick us when the time was right, a week after, a month after, she was not sure. Then she gave me and my brother one peso each to get by with, just for keeps.

The caretaker led us out of the priest's office back bound for Holy Child. We burst out in tears as we waved goodbye to our mother each other for the last time, as the car slowly rolled obscuring her from view. We sobbed for most part of the short trip till finally we reached our destination.

Although sadness still loomed over us, we managed to cheer up right away the moment we entered Holy Child. Sister Beatrice welcomed us and led us to the dining room and gave us warm milk and guava candy and instructed us to wait for her to come back. We were nervous at first but the longer my brother and I waited, sooner did our restlessness and doubt subside as soon as we saw her walk through the door. A few minutes later she came back with another lady who greeted us with a smile and asked our names to which we sheepishly responded. The lady told us to call her Mama Nagi. She donned a warm personality which was enough to assure us that we could trust her. She had that air about her which exuded authority and masked motherly love beneath her strict cover.

She introduced us to the other kids and who greeted us with smiles and laughter, of course you I was easily able to spot the bullies from the flock of children around us. Stocky kids with airy attitudes were ready to swoop on us as new-comers. There were two sisters we happened to know who were also brought by their mother to St. Maurus. They were among our first acquaintances which made it easier for us to adjust to our new environment away from our mother. The rest of the afternoon was spent on recreational activities to further build our confidence and trust with the other children.

Supper time came and after that it was bedtime. Mama Nagi led me and my brother to the dormitory and assigned a cubicle for each of us. She handed us our individuals sheets and pillows and while telling us that we should get used to sleeping apart from each other. At first we hesitated and begged to sleep beside each other, but she declined our request. It was a totally new and different experience not sleeping next to our mother. It was lonely at first but as the days progressed we slowly grew accustomed to mother's absence, gradually acquainting ourselves with the various activities inside Holy Child.

Mama Nagi had a sister, Mama Andy. She had a boyish approach to us and everything she does. She loved riding horses and would speak to us in a low pitched tone comparable to a man. Yet I must conclude that she was manly beautiful. I still remember I was so fond of looking at the thick hair growth on her thighs which cast a shade of black against her white skin. Though boyish in nature, I could sense something in me that she is someone else trapped in her own body, and I loved that fact though I was yet a kid. And oh, Mama Andy was an angel and gave us a feeling of security and companionship whenever she took charge of us. And we loved it.

I relished every moment Mama Andy watched over us, because often times she was out riding across the fields which surrounded the monastery we were brought to.