 |
| There's more to the Philippines than just beaches and dirty politics! |
“Are we there yet?” My tone came with a tinge of impatience.
“You tell me! You’re the one leading.” My dad said in jest. For a second it
sounded like a blend of sarcasm and condescension. Being one of the best
athletes in our city, I hated being patronized. I knew the only reason he put
me on the lead was for him to catch me in case I fell. I chose not to give any
response lest my voice betray my growing irritation. Somehow he sensed my
resentment, so he said “It’s just a walk’s distance!” Y’see, good timing is
probably not my dad’s best talent! My annoyance gave me this shot of
adrenaline that channeled all my strength to my arms because my legs had all
but hung purposelessly from my torso. Then I pushed myself up the trail with my
trekking poles piercing the ground. But by some freak of fate, I stepped on a
loose rock and my right calf got cramped. The pain was unbearable that I
screamed “Fu#k!” The word was a warm congratulation to my frustration that had consummated
itself into anger! I was so humiliated! I was in my prime and Dad, at fifty-five,
was walking uphill without the aid of trekking poles. Yet there I was, looking
like a lifeless object strewn carelessly on the ground. He casually sat down next
to me. Then, staring blankly into the mist he said “You’re not the only one! Thirty
years ago, at this same spot, I kept calling out ‘Hello! Anybody there?’ shivering in the cold…scared…’’ after a
short pause he turned to me and said “ashamed.”
 |
| the foggy trail up that nameless mountain in Atok, Benguet |
“But I pushed on and saw a woman quietly staring at me in
front of that house. And she gave me directions to the tower I was looking for!”
Obscured by the thick afternoon fog, a house was indeed at the direction my dad
was pointing at. For a moment, the pain disappeared and I managed a sigh of
jubilation. Dad went on to stretch and massage my calf. “Feelin’ better?” I
gave a nod that pretended to be angry. But Dad knew I was in a good mood again.
We resumed our trek and upon reaching the house, we turned
right. About 500 meters farther was the peak with the tower. We camped outside
the walls of the tower. After dinner, Dad told me a story that he said changed
his life.
Thirty years ago, at the spot where we camped, Dad met a man
named Elmer Basongit. He was the security guard manning the tower then. In Apo Elmer's childhood, he had a simple dream—to ride a plane! His father had always told
him that for a child born to a simple farmer in Benguet, the dream to ride a
plane was a fantasy no more realizable than the legend of Kabunian. But Apo
Elmer was unfazed. He kept his dream alive in his heart and when he was in his
twenties, he was among the three individuals who were chosen by the DENR to
help in the reforestation and rehabilitation of Mt Halcon! And so he was flown from Manila to Mindoro. He had fulfilled his dream!
After his job in Mindoro, he came back to Benguet and raised
a family. When all his twelve children had settled down, he quit farming and
became a security guard. My dad never met Apo Elmer again.
 |
| a picture of my dad taken by Apo Elmer 30 years ago |
The following morning, I woke up with an upset stomach. Dad
told me to ask permission from the guard at the tower to use the outhouse.
Sensing the urgency of the situation, the guard hurriedly opened the gate. When
I pushed the loose door of the run-down outhouse, I saw a row of planks on the ground
with a cover at the center. And when I lifted the moist cover, the stench was
more than I could take. The drum under the planks stored all the dirt that fell
through the nasty hole. I felt sick but I knew there was no turning back. It
was a five-minute ordeal but somehow, I did it! When I came out I saw my dad giving
me this grin that seemed to say “Thirty years ago, that same thing happened to
me.” I still had no appetite so we decided to take pictures. The views were
spectacular! The peaks around were like rocks jutting out of a vast sea of
clouds! It made me think that indeed there was more to the Philippines than
just beaches and corruption. And I almost did not notice—the field had been
covered with frost. ‘Is this for real?’ Dad smiled saying, “They call this andap, it may look cute to you but the
farmers in Benguet dread this. This lays waste to their crops when it melts!” Before
having breakfast, I lingered on a boulder contemplating the beauty and peace of that nameless mountain in Atok, Benguet. I wanted to stay one
more day but we had to catch our flight back to Cebu.
 |
| the sea of clouds that greeted us in the morning |
Apo Elmer’s life story was so profound that it took Dad
about ten years before he was able to come up with words that could justify its
depth. Then one day, following the lesson that he learned from Apo Elmer’s
story, Dad did what his heart wanted—he quit his job and focused on writing. In
2014, he joined a writing contest and his story about Apo Elmer won an
award. That success opened a lot of doors to his writing career.
On our flight back to Cebu, I kept thinking about a very
important lesson that I learned from that trip. It was the same lesson that had
kept my dad optimistic and worry-free doing what his heart wanted. It was a conviction
to start following my heart and stop worrying about failing and suffering
afterwards because if I could survive that trek and if I could poop in that
outhouse, there’s nothing in life I can’t survive!
________________________________________________________________________________
Blogger's note: In case it wasn't obvious enough, this is a story written by my future son twenty years from now.
________________________________________________________________________________
Blogger's note: In case it wasn't obvious enough, this is a story written by my future son twenty years from now.
