Village Elders

I have always wondered how the village elders managed to grow to be so old. The average age was somewhere in the 90s. One such older gentleman - my grandfather - grew to a ripe old age of 108. I am not a scientist and I have no empirical data to present. All I know is that these folks lived just like most of us in the village. They smoked and chewed locally grown tobacco, chewed betel nut with lime, they indulged in a little bit of sugar cane wine every now and then and even drank hard whiskey when it was available.

Was it their diet and lifestyle that contributed to their longevity? Let's see. The prevailing diet when I was growing up was very simple. Steamed rice. The only difference between this rice from the store bought rice is that it was from that year's freshly harvested rice crop. The grain was threshed using mortar and pestle since there were no machines to husk the grain. Could it be that part of the rice germ remained intact thus adding to the nutritional value of the starch? Then there would be an accompanying dish of mainly vegetables in broth. Poached, flavored with salted fish. Fresh greens gathered from the vines and plants grown in the backyard or growing wild out in the nearby fields. Purslane, spinach, Indian spinach, watercress, sweet potato leaves, horseradish tree leaves, bitter melon, winter gourd, lima beans, squash, long beans, pole beans, legumes, eggplants, tomatoes, corn - whichever of these were in season. There would also be a liberal serving of seaweed as salad - sea lettuce, precious tengusa, sea grapes, and young kelp. Since there was no refrigeration and/or other preservatives readily available, except salt and dehydration, vegetables were eaten in their prime freshness. That included freshly caught fish and crustaecians, mullusks and cepalophods.

Since there was no motorized transportation, people walked a lot. They walked to their place of work, to town, to church services, to the market, and to the fields. They walked to school. There were no television sets, no video games, just an old radio left behind by the GIs who were encamped in the village towards the end of World War II. Entertainment was left to the few talented guitarists, musicians, and local artists to provide. Sing alongs, short plays called sarsuelas were the staple. Even potluck suppers and a harvest festival.

People were either farmers, share croppers, or fishermen. The farmers began their trek to the fields early in the dawn, working in the slightly dusky morning light taking advantage of the cooler atmosphere morning sunlight. The heat from the sun easily becomes oppressive and unhealthy as the day approaches noon. For the fishermen, if they are not on the water with their nets fishing, they spend most of their days mending their nets, scraping barnacles from their catamarans, re-stringing their bamboo rafts, repainting their paddles and maintaining their equipment.

Could it be the absence of bills to pay, no cell phones ringing, no violent spectator sports thrills, no alarm armed homes, no petty thieves or gang bangers to threaten the peace, no homicide, no drugs and no lawyers. I am sure there was plenty of sex but no rock and roll.

Tropical

Coconut trees grow to willowy heights, their slender trunks obedient to the prevailing winds. I think they grow so tall so they can protect their fruits from unscrupulous poachers. If you can climb all the way to the top then you may pick the fruit, drink the juice and eat the meat. If you can't shinny up the tree, then you may just wait until the ripe and dried coconuts drop to the ground below. But by then they would only be good for cooking.

Coconuts are strong and pliable. I have never seen a coconut snap while being blown every which way by a passing typhoon. They just dance and sway like roosters in a cock fight. If the ground they grow on gives way, the trees may slant close to the ground but then will straighten back up their crown and reach out toward the waiting sky. Coconuts grow taller and taller mostly unnoticed. They keep growing; they seem timeless. When its time for the coconut to die the natives take its trunk to create walking canes, boat paddles, oars, batons, and other strong dowel shaped rods out of its trunk core.

Just as the fruits are used for many purposes, even the fronds of coconuts are very useful. The frond leaves can be woven and interlaced so that the whole frond can then be hung as a hut siding, or the roof of a shed, or room divider, or laid atop a boat like a tarp. The leaves may also be taken individually and used to line the bottom of clay pots while cooking rice and other vayands. The coconut leaf imparts an aroma and flavor to the cooked food that is unique.

At dusk the coconut fronds seem to droop as if in preparation for their passage through the dark of night. Trees growing closer to the water's edge, specially the younger and much shorter ones yield to the invading crabs and birds seeking shelter. Sometimes snakes even make it to the crown. The Rhinoceros beetle is one beetle than can be a coconut killer. With its hard horns it can burrow deep into the coconuts' crown and infest it eventually killing the tree. It is always a sad sight to see a tall, majestic coconut tree felled by a lowly, overgrown, inconsiderate dunglike beetle. The coconut readily gives shelter to the beetle not realizing it is also giving up its life in the process. In the end, the coconut tree looks like a leafless stake stuck in the ground.

Tancredo's Credo

Illegal immigration ought to take its rightful place in the debate. Way up in front. Congressman Tancredo's tireless efforts at raising the national level of consciousness to this problem facing us is worthy of notice and support.

It is depressing to watch the government do nothing to secure our southern border beyond that of talking and arguing about it. It is downright irritating and frustrating to hear the president and the senate suggesting that a guest worker program would be an acceptable solution in dealing with the 11 million undocumented aliens now in the country.

While the fruitless and incessant arguments go on in Washington, businesses such as real estate, insurance and financial institutions all conspire to make sure that the illegal alien can buy a home and have it financed. Fast food chains, the service sector and building contractors readily employ them. The DMV, not to be outdone, issues them drivers licenses - yes, so that the car dealerships can sell them cars, so that they can drive to work, buy gasoline, send their children to school, shop at Target and Sears, borrow money from the bank and in some cases so that they can open their own businesses. Now, where else in the world can you find a place like America?

So in the end who is to blame for encouraging these hordes of illegal aliens to rampage through our borders unrestricted and without regard to our laws? We are. Our entire nation of wealthy, obese, slothful, greedy, welfare-fed, morally bankrupt businesses, politicians and bleeding heart citizenry - the responsibility is ours. All this finger pointing, bill-writing and law-passing are nothing more than futile machinations of a society in its death throes - all part of a "free and open society" in its "pursuit of happiness," in its preoccupation of extending "due process" to all who seek justice - yes, even if some of these "justice-seekers" will in the end kill all of us.

My Little Corner of the World

Last year I went home on my Christmas vacation to the Philippines. My, oh my, how the place has changed. New block constructed homes with cemented driveways and wrought iron fences. Tile roofs and building facades painted in bright colors. Even the country dirt road that led to the sea that wound past our house was concretized albeit narrow and sidewalk-like. But the progress was evident everywhere in the newly built structures.

I took a bus to the big city. It was a six hour ride. The bus was air conditioned and kept extremely cold the condensation began to form around the windows into little water droplets. It was as if a snowless blizzard was blowing inside the bus. The people bundled up in their parkas, animal skins, layers of blankets and other types of inclement weather clothing. The bus radio was tuned to some station playing reggae music and hip hop. The videotape player was turned on too with some kind of locally made for TV movie about two lovers having a quarrel. The noise from the blowers, the TV chatter along with the heavy thumping bass of the gangsta rap music gave me a headache. The conductor came around checking tickets. He was swaying and dancing to the cacophony. Outside the bus was the simmering heatwave rising from the asphalt road. It was a most uncomfortable ride.

We stopped at a couple of truck stops owned by the bus company. The toilet facilities were practically non-existent. The hole in the wall designated as the men's room had a trough but had no running water. My nose was immediately assaulted by the strong, unmistakable smell of human waste. I imagined that even with an oxygen mask fully deployed the repugnant smell would have been unbearable nevertheless. I held my breath for the duration and got out of there quickly.

There were vendors selling every kind of locally prepared snack and finger food. Crackling pork skins, chicken skins, fried chicken entrails, coconut confections, sweet rice cakes and warm coconut juice. Everywhere there were people milling about. I wondered what was there that attracted so many people to congregate?

That was last year...

Today I read in the papers that the Philippines is toying around with the idea of limiting a family to two children. Some kind of "family planning" ala China. The Catholic Church opposes it and prolife groups here in the US are definitely against it. I read in the article that some young upstart lawmaker thought of the idea. I can only surmise that this young solon has been exposed to the radical feminism running rampant in the western world... the same kind of feminism that puts career first before family. What's next, abortion on demand, euthanasia, same sex marriage and the homosexual agenda - and not necessarily in that order?

Progress certainly has its side effects. True, the Philippine economy is helped tremendously with the monies transmitted back home by the Overseas Filipino Workers (OFW) to their families. But along with that infusion of wealth and resources comes the "trends, fashions and other cultural nits" and factors that these overseas workers pick up from where they work and bring back home. I saw this "trendiness" during the Christmas show that the local folks put on during their barrio fiesta celebration. Baggy pants on boys with the waist hanging so low way past their hips and almost down to their knees, girls wearing the Madonna and Spears clothing and adults sporting thick make up on their faces. I was surprised too to see young, seven-to-eight year old little girls doing the Paula Abdul dance routine choreographed to Michael Jackson's Thriller music. Then there were the beauty pageants with teenaged girls dressed in bikinis. I was in total disbelief. It was as if these people were trying to do their own little Las Vegas scene.

I came back to the US still thinking about the things I saw and witnessed happening in that little place where I grew up. I still don't understand how that obscure little place could have gotten influenced by outside forces, events and trends. I think it is true... perhaps things are truly going global.

What Now...

News these days is nothing more than tabloid presentations. Lost people, dead people, missing people, same sex marriage, Hollywood personalities becoming foreign policy experts, the riots in France, shootings, the culture of death...

Gone from the spotlight and close scrutiny are the real issues that ought to be foremost on people's minds: Illegal immigration, the higher price of gas and fuel, terrorism and the ACLU.

What now?

If I were in charge, this would be my priority scheme:

1. Address illegal immigration by immediately sealing and fixing the border using the military, the national guard, border police, or citizen volunteers. Deputize all law enforcement organizations giving them the responsibility to apprehend and turn in all illegal aliens. Deport all illegal aliens immediately upon being caught. Severely punish all illegal aliens who commit crimes while they are on US soil illegally. Stop all bogus court appearances and hearings for these people. Grant NO citizenship for children born of illegal aliens even if they were born on US soil. Severely punish with stiff fines and jail time all employers that employ illegal immigrants up to an including closing down their businesses. Immediately reform immigration policies and its administration to give good, law-abiding people a legal way to come to America to pursue their dream.

2. Get the fuel situation under control. Drill for oil, build vehicles that use other kinds of fuels and more sparingly, put up refineries and control the price gouging.

3. Demolish the ACLU and other such radical elements from practicing and spreading their venom, bile and poisonous secularism. Root out all elements and venues for terrorists. Tighten up jail recruitment rules and procedures. Look out for imams that use the mosque for spreading hatred for Americans.

4. Create a bootcamp for young people not bound for college or working. These training camps will address healthy living and train the youth on trades and other skills that will prepare them for the work force. Create work in the Park and Environment Bureaus, Transportation, Oil exploration, wildlife preservation, etc. Employ these trained young people in "Peace Corps" style jobs. Deploy them in the inner cities and other economically depressed areas.

We should all be disciples of the "Broken Window" policy that Malcolm Gladwell wrote about in his book, "Tipping Point". It worked well for New York in lowering its crime rate and in solving its subway train service. It should work for America.

Shoe Shine Boy

1950. It's been four years since the last armored troop carrier rolled up the road signalling the liberation of the islands. I was eight years old. We were staying at my Grandfather Nicolas' house in the town of Santa, Ilocos Sur. Money was tight in those days. I only saw a five centavo piece or a quarter centavo piece maybe once a year and usually during Christmas. It is the one time of the year when all the relatives would come to pay their respects to Grandpa Nicolas... sort of like an annual pilgrimmage to renew their family ties with the patriarch of the family.

Christmas was the time when we kids would go on a begging spree, asking, cajoling and playing cutesy with the aunts and uncles for whatever they can donate to the children's bank - our bank. I was in second grade then and had only a lunch pail and a plastic book bag to call my own.

After much thought and analysis, I came to the conclusion there were two ways I could earn some cash. One was tending to my sweet potato patch and selling the shoots and tender leaves for ten centavos a bunch. The customers came and picked the shoots themselves. Then I had this idea that I could perhaps put up my own shoe shine stand or shoe leather rejuvenation company. Since the gardening only took a few minutes each day for watering and weeding, I had plenty of time left on my hands.

I used my savings to buy a shoe shine box, a horsehair shoe brush, some black, brown and neutral shoe polish and black dye. For buffer rags I scrounged around my aunt's old sea chest of goodies for some old velvet material. My grandfather had an old white tattered t-shirt that he gladly donated for my spit-shine buffer. A couple of old and wornout toothbrushes and I was off and running.

I took off on Saturdays and hit the little hamlets along the seaside road. These were fishermen mostly and had at least a good pair of leather shoes for Sunday services. These were the shoes that I targeted. My tag line ran something like this, "Sir let me shine your shoes. If you like the shine you can pay me. If not, you don't have to pay me."

It was amazing. It worked like magic. Why not... they couldn't lose no matter what. If I did a job they weren't satisfied with they didn't have to pay. But you know what? I spit-shined all those shoes, yes even a pair of old, torn combat boots... from the tip of the shoes, its heels and up the leggings. Soon my customers included the farmers who lived in the foothills.

I think the venture was successful because of these factors: 1) There was a need for the services I offered, 2) It was affordable 3) Customer satisfaction was of utmost importance 4) The product delivered was of the highest quality.

The Balloon

It was not just one of those tiny balloons that come in a package of thirty used for general decoration. It was a helium-filled balloon; It was gigantic. It was so huge it felt like a spaceship on a tether tugging at my hand. My grandfather probably spent a pretty penny for it but that thought never occurred to me at the time. I was just so excited to get a flying balloon all I wanted to do was grab the string and run out in the open to show it off.

My grandfather was a very frugal man. He hesitantly handed me the string. "Here let's tie it around you wrist," he said. I was too excited to listen. I was jumping up and down trying to snatch the string from his hand.

"I can handle it grandpa... I want the balloon..."

"Alright," he said handing me the string. And off I went, balloon in hand, jumping and skipping toward the gate. The gate had a knee-high angle-iron in the bottom to secure the door on one side of the gate. As I tried to clear the angle-iron, one of my feet caught the edge. Down to the ground I went hurtling, face first. Quickly realizing that gravity was overpowering me and winning the contest I prepared to soften the landing to save my face (no pun intended). Almost in an instant I automatically stretched out my arms in front of me. My fingers spread out as my palms opened for the impact. Off went the string... off went the balloon... higher and higher up the sky. I followed it with my eyes now filling with tears.

I felt a smack on the back of my head. "Punyeta! Hudido. Sin Verguenza!" It was my grandfather who, witnessing the whole tragedy unfold, became so incensed he lost his cool at having invested his last few centavos on a helium-filled balloon and for what? I cried rivers. I was inconsolable.

That day I learned a couple of lessons. 1) You tend not to value as much the things that you did not pay or work for, 2) If you give a gift to someone, what they do with the gift after you have given it to them is none of your business.

Pantalon a Nakiting

"Nanang, konkona daguidiay babbai nga nakiting launayen kano daytoy pantalonko," inyarungaing ni Selmo ken ni Nanang na nga agdadait. Ali latta ta dait. Di na nga ipang-pangag diay imbaga ni Selmo. "Nanang," uliten koma manen ni Selmo nga ibaga ngem saan na nga naituloy diay sarita na ta simmungbaten ni Nanang na.

"Innan. Kitaen ta man dayta konkonada nga nakiting?" Innawid na diay abaga ni Selmo nga inyasideg idiay makina a pagdaitan. Agpangato agpababa diay mata ni Nanang ni Selmo. "Daytoy nga short pant ti konkona daguidiay babbai nga nakiting?"

"Wen Nang." Kasla timek ti karnero diay timek ni Selmo. Managbabain nga ubing daytoy.

"Tumalikod ka man," punosipos ni Nanang na ni Selmo. Nagistayan pay naligos ta kimpet diay pagtarayan ti kulintipay a rikep ti tawa. "Amom nakkong, kitkitaek dayta short pant mo ket dita pay met laeng ngato ti tumeng mo ti gayadanna. Nagayad pay laeng dayta."

"Diak ngarud makikalugan kaniadan a diay caretela ni Tata Otiong," indayamudom ni Selmo kabayatan pinagininnayad na nga rimuar. Tumrem pay diay matana ti lua. "Siak to man laeng ti adda pagsapulanna," pinanunot na daytoy. "Agpantalonak to ti kapkapnekak."

Adda Ag-si-siim

Madmadlawen ni Tetang nga umas-asideg metten daytoy pag-padigosan ti nuang ka daydiay paglabaan. A ta idi naminsan nga aldaw, idi ag-gawgawen ti sinabonanna idiay ayan ti agay-ayos adda metten kasla naiyanod nga kakolkolor ti verde ken ti libegna kasla la tay pespes. Sinurot diay matana no ania't paggapuan daydiay nga kasla pespes. Isu metten ti pinnakasirpatna ken ni Berto nga mammastor. Nagsabat diay matada.

Agrukrukob ni Berto ta gawgaw-atenna daydiay natnagna nga tali ta nagwang-it diay nuang. Idi ingato na diay matana, isu metten iti pinnakakita na nga tumaltaliaw gayam kenkuana ni Tetang. Para ken ni Berto laeng a ket kasla nagbalin nga paralitico. Dina metten magunay diay tengngedna ta diay matana ket naipigketten ken ni Tetang. Ni Tetang met, intuloy na ti aggawgaw. Immuna nga nagsao ni Tetang. "Manong, ta nuang yo... rugrugitan na daytoy danum."

"Di bale ading, pumanaw kamin. Napadigos kon toy... keck... keck... che... che... whey... tchk ... tchk..." insungbat met ni Berto kabayatan isasalpana diay bukot ti nuangna. Ginotad ni Berto diay tali. Nag-wang-it diay nuang ta naguyod diay agongna. Pagamammoan "Psaw!" natinnag ni Berto ta naaros idi timmakder diay nuang. No di nan to met kitkitaen ti ar-aramiden na. Diay met mang-mingmingming ken ni Tetang ti obra na di kad pay napallogsitten. Ti bain na nga timmakder. Agar-aroyot ti basa diay pantalon na nga putot - tay sako ti bagas pay ketdi ti tela na. Aggagarikgik daguidiay babbai nga kadwa ni Tetang nga aglablaba. Agsaragasag diay putot nga sapin ni Berto, makita daguidiay babbai diay "alahas" nga iduldulinna.

Pinadas manen ni Berto ti sumalta. Agkalkalumbaba idiay pingir ti tengnged ken bukot diay nuang, daytay met ramay ti dapan na ket nagbatay diay siko ti makannigid nga saka diay nuang. Idi nakasaltan ginutad na manen diay tali. Nagnan diay nuang nga immoli diay bangkete nga darat. Gimmaw-is ni Berto ti bulong ti madre cacao (kawkawati) ken nag-pito ti kansion. Ti ayog diay pitona ket tay met kansion ni Engelbert Humperdinck nga "Cuando Cuando Cuando"...

"Uy... oy.. . ni Tetang... addan sa met mangsi-siim kenkan..." inkanta met daguidiay kadwa ni Tetang. Kasla da la tay coro diay simbaan nga nagpigsa diay kansion da.

(Maituloy daytoy nga istorya)