More musings on a lazy afternoon.
September 29, 2001 - Saturday
Later
12:24 PM
I’m awake, my spirit clearly aware of the things around me. Of what has been happening to us lately. This might strike you as the longest entry yet...But Time comes in waves of great amount. I had a normal childhood. Although I was born a sickly child (often fainting from the slightest strain because I often suffered from convulsions and primary complex) I was well provided for. Nurses at my beck and call (even when I was still a baby wherein all I could do was bawl). I recall being first aware of happy faces, of a happy household and of great quantities of toys that made me happy in their simple way.
People kept saying he was still abroad but my heart believed there was something else. I didn’t believe that Santa Claus went down chimney to give gifts. I just believed that when there’s a star, he’d find his way. So I used to sit in front of our Christmas tree looking up at the star during Christmas Eve, silently praying for nothing else except my Dad in a big box with a blue ribbon. When I tried to find the answers, I found out the truth.
At that point, their mother decided they should leave the province altogether and start anew in Manila. That’s when they first came here, in 402 Tenement Building Taguig. Although they slept, all seven children, bent on the floor, life here was considerably fairer. During her teens, she played the guitar for religious gatherings Grandma was always involved in. That’s when she met Mama. Mama’s mother also attended the gatherings and it paved the way for them to meet. As fate would have it, they became classmates in high school and got along very well. One particular time, Mom noticed Mama sobbing during class. When finally, an opportunity came, Mom approached Mama and asked her what was wrong. And Mama told the truth. This is her story.
Mama grew up being the second to the eldest in their family. She went through hardships and became a babysitter and a laundrywoman for their neighbors to earn money. Her mother was an ordinary woman but her father was a different story. He would do all sorts of stuff on his children, including deliberately flinging the ashes of his cigarettes on his children’s heads while they watched TV. His main weakness was gambling, particularly cockfighting.
Mom gave Mama hope when hope was gone. She had found a sister in my Mom, who would eventually become a big part of her life because of how much she had helped. Mom stayed by her side.
Being in fifth grade and confronted with these truths, I felt so betrayed by life’s first impression. How come I saw it beautiful when all it did was cover the ugly truth within? How come these people who mattered to me went through all these horrible things that they didn’t deserve?
The first two things I was really aware of was love and death. At a young age, I knew what mortality meant and often at night, I contemplated about it until the very thought of dying reduced me to tears. I knew how important my guardians were and the thought of a world without them scared me. I was aware of sunny mornings and of watching TV programs such as Sesame Street and Transformers. Mom and I used to do a lot of things together. She’d read me stories at night and sometimes invent some of her own. Although Dad wasn’t really around much since he was abroad (and a great part of my memory has been affected by my illness that I can’t remember everything in my early childhood), life made its irst impression of being kind.
But another life story revolved in our house at Diaz. I grew up thinking that I had two mothers. Mom is my biological mother while Mama (Mom’s best friend since their early childhood) is my godmother. It didn’t strike me as odd because I gave one the same unconditional love I gave the other.
And Mama had a daughter who eventually grew close to my heart like a sister. We had an age gap since she was ten years older than me. Nevertheless, Ate and I crossed that gap and were real siblings in our hearts. In my young life (around the age of six or seven), I didn’t question how our families came to be. But although I didn’t ask, it doesn’t mean I wasn’t wondering. After all, everything has an origin.
These things were in the back of my mind and they didn’t surface until I was in Fifth Grade. What made me thirst for answers was the main fact that around Second Grade, Dad stopped coming home. He used to come home during Christmas and would send me letters on birthdays. The routine disappeared.
So in my quest in finding the truth about Dad, I learned to thirst for more answers. I didn’t ask questions. I observed instead. Soon, I finally found out the whole of our history.
Mom grew up in the province. She’s the second to the youngest child in a middle class family in Davao. Pretty soon, they moved to Ilocos. Life became hard for them when my Grandfather died, eaving unpaid debts. When it was time to attend school, money was enough only for few of them to continue and though she was thirsty for education, she obeyed her mother patiently when she was told to wait her turn.
Mom grew up in the province. She’s the second to the youngest child in a middle class family in Davao. Pretty soon, they moved to Ilocos. Life became hard for them when my Grandfather died, eaving unpaid debts. When it was time to attend school, money was enough only for few of them to continue and though she was thirsty for education, she obeyed her mother patiently when she was told to wait her turn.
After a few years, she was finally able to study but stopped often since there were years when money was scarce. There were times when she and an older sister had to go to school through a route where there's a swamp they needed to cross. Unfortunately the swamp was swarming with leeches.
The only way to cross, unharmed, was by taking a boat ride that charged a high fee. Their allowance wasn’t enough for both of them. In short, the older sister rode the boat while she waded through the swamp on foot, mindful of the pain from the leeches but afterwards, sitting on the bank and patiently picking them off her small legs. She considered the small wounds a joy because in a way, if she hadn’t endured them, she wouldn’t have gotten across to get to school. She loved school that much.
The only way to cross, unharmed, was by taking a boat ride that charged a high fee. Their allowance wasn’t enough for both of them. In short, the older sister rode the boat while she waded through the swamp on foot, mindful of the pain from the leeches but afterwards, sitting on the bank and patiently picking them off her small legs. She considered the small wounds a joy because in a way, if she hadn’t endured them, she wouldn’t have gotten across to get to school. She loved school that much.
Time came when her mother felt she didn't have any other options but to give the kids away to people who can look after them. She and her youngest brother were the only ones separated in a pair. They were brought to a well-off family to be adopted. But one of her older siblings came and separated her and brought her to her relatives in the province where she was treated cruelly, punished for things she didn’t do.
Nevertheless, she worked in their field, tilling the land, driving the carabaos, washing their clothes in the river. She was abused, emotionally, spiritually and physically. Punished by a whip for groundless reasons at a tender age, the field became her home. She grew accustomed to her cousins who enjoyed afternoons throwing stones at her and because of this, she was able to make a wobbly tree house and often stayed there until dark, when they got tired of picking on her.
Mama grew up being the second to the eldest in their family. She went through hardships and became a babysitter and a laundrywoman for their neighbors to earn money. Her mother was an ordinary woman but her father was a different story. He would do all sorts of stuff on his children, including deliberately flinging the ashes of his cigarettes on his children’s heads while they watched TV. His main weakness was gambling, particularly cockfighting.
Mom gave Mama hope when hope was gone. She had found a sister in my Mom, who would eventually become a big part of her life because of how much she had helped. Mom stayed by her side.
Being in fifth grade and confronted with these truths, I felt so betrayed by life’s first impression. How come I saw it beautiful when all it did was cover the ugly truth within? How come these people who mattered to me went through all these horrible things that they didn’t deserve?
So I rebelled. Not against my parents but against life and feeling. I started dressing like a boy and acting tough. Not because I felt like I was a boy but because when I dressed like a boy, I challenged the world to be foolish and try to hurt me the way it hurt them. In my heart, I felt like I was putting on an indestructible armor. I didn’t trust anyone anymore. When before, I used to pray to God often, this time my faith deteriorated. When things didn’t go the way I want them to, I grew stupidly fierce, punching walls with all my might. This is the reason why some bones in my right hand start to ache after a short time of writing or typing.
My anger was immense. I hurt for them. Something in me was completely destroyed when I learned how much they’ve been played by fate. I became numb. When I was very little I wanted to be God’s little daughter. But a dark cloud hung over me and suddenly, sides didn’t matter anymore. Wasn't it written that we might make plans but it is the Lord that judges our motives?
Mama is now suffering from all kinds of ailments. Everyone used to look up to her when she was well-off. Now that she’s in this state, I can count with one hand those who've remained faithful to her. I don’t know if there’s anything else I can do to help besides pray.
I’ve changed. I’ve learned to look at suffering as the foundation of our unwavering strength. I’ve learned to accept the purpose of hardships. It taught me a lesson in life more precious than gold or silver, more precious than the education all the best schools can offer.
We're lucky because we were loved exceedingly. Because we have them both to love us and suffer for us when our fathers were absent. Because they suffered from our pain and hurt for us when they could not provide us with the best.
Because we may be blessed with intellect and value but never as blessed as having two loving mothers in a single lifetime.
Life is too short to be spent in bitterness. I hope everything would work out for the best soon.
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