OF SUBSTANCE AND SPIRIT
(Last of two parts)
That old family mirror my father used in his youth was my father himself during the Japanese occupation.
In some of his more popular short stories, as critics and scholars observed, like Teodoro Agoncillo (Mga Piling Kuwento 1886-1948), there were no heroes, no figure that stood out in the drama, “Walang tiyak na tauhang nangingibabaw.” This is a departure from the usual mold of short stories. What counts is the ability of the thought configuration and the clever use of words to capture and mirror the reality of the milieu. True, what people did during the Japanese time were nothing short of heroic. As one poet during Stalin’s time expressed: “No foreign sky protected me, no stranger’s wing shielded my face, I stand as witness to the common lot, survivor of that time, that place.”
For my father was a survivor. He fought as a Filipino guerrilla against Japan’s Imperial Army. He received a posthumous US Congressional Medal of Honor as second lieutenant in the United States Armed Forces in the Far East (USAFFE) last October 25, 2017.
As a survivor of the war, he captured the travails of Filipinos running away from the bombarded city. In “At Patuloy ang mga Anino,” Tatang annotated the horrors of the war on faceless, sweaty Filipinos caught in a war between the US and Japan. People suffered. An old man “gusgusin ang nakita kong aampang-ampang sa kaniyang paglapit sa aming harapan…ang kaniyang mga mata ay tila kahuhukay na lubak — malalim na malalim at tila natatamad kumurap…” He was taking the long journey alone:
“Galing pa ako anak sa Maynila…Ako ay may anak, siya ay muling ipiniit ng mga Hapon sa Fort Santiago, dahil sa binintang ang nakikipag-unawaan sa mga gerilya….”
My father brought to the fore the misfortune of individuals and a nation that chose to outlive the war. People resorted to excavating dead bodies for their gold teeth to trade them for a ganta of rice. Yet compassion was in generous supply during the war; not so much for things they could extract from some rice, but to help a child breathing his last.
Tatang concluded this commentary on the war with this beautiful rendition: “Ang marahang yabag ng maninipis na aninong yaon ng mga payat na tao ay nararamdaman ko…ang malalagong dahon ng mangga, ng saging at ng mga akasya na marahang kumukunday sa mabining simoy ng hangin ang siyang nag papaligamgam sa matinding kaalinsanganang nanaig sa kaguluhan at alingasngas ng sangkatauhang hindi nakatitiyak ng lubos na kaligtasan.”
Yes, my father talked of the war, and not of the uncertainty of the pandemic.
Tatang was in his element when he documented his own survival after the war in Manila. Most quoted, cited, and included in various anthologies of great short stories in Filipino, “Nagmamadali ang Maynila” was also translated in English and the subject of two animations in YouTube. Together with another great story of the countryside, “Si Ingkong Gaton at ang Kaniyang Kalakian,” this short story was included in the Philippine secondary schools’ reading list in Filipino literature. It was first published in Liwayway on November 27, 1943.
Written in his old Remington, Manila pulsated with so much life and commerce. “Sa tawaran ay hindi magkamayaw. Tingin. Tawad. Tingin. Silip. Tawad. Tingin…Ano? In running condition ba? Baka hindi…mapapahiya tayo…Hoy, tsiko, ang iyong lote, may tawad ba? …Balut, balut…puto, puto!”
Unlike the quiet anonymity of “At Patuloy and mga Anino,” this short story depended on the robust buildup of Maciong’s character and his skeptical wife, Luisita: “Maciong, tigilan mona ang lintik na buy and sell na yan. Payat ka na…” But Maciong was not about to give up. Street smart, he succeeded.
Manila was like any other city that thrived on short trade. “Kabilang… si Maciong sa hukbo ng mga nagbibili at bumibili ng hindi kanila at wala pa sa kanila.” This was consummated because of mutual trust: “Tiyak ba ang iyong sinabi? Malayo ba? Tayo na…” The point, and this has always been the point of economic activities, is for buyer and seller, supply and demand, to reach a convergence.
Maciong sold truck tires which Tasyo, whom he loathed, was looking forto buy for another person. Antipathy aside, economics prevailed. Maciong overpriced each tire by P200; Tasyo agreed and claimed anything above the quoted price. What dawned on Maciong was that he found his fortune in the darkness of a basement untouched by the sun.
Nagmamadali ang Maynila: “... Tigib ang mga karitela. Punuan ang mga trambiya. Humahangos ang mga tao sa lahat ng lansangan ng Maynila. Gumagalaw ang lahat ng bisig, ang lahat ng isip, ang buong katawan ng Maynila.”
My father also wrote on what is now extra-judicial killing in his short story “Kabukiran: Punlo at Ligalig.” Due to the apathy of the Philippine Constabulary, “nakikita kong nanglisaw lamang sa gubat ang mga salarin ay hindi nila pansin…ayaw nilang dakpin,” People in the Mountain Province were pushed to defend themselves against their enemies. As expected, some people were caught in between. The law enforcers gave the people a choice: “kailangang maputol ang inyong pakikipag-unawaan sa mga taong labas…mamimli kayo sa dalawa — maging katulong ng ating Pamahalaan o sumama na nang tuluyan sa mga mararahas?”
Violence is definitely not one of the things my father taught me. Avoiding violence was definitely one of the reasons he joined the public service – “to make a difference between joy and sorrow in the narrative.” To maintain the subtlety and sensitivity of his literature, he opted to live a more engaged public life.
Pivoting from law and literature to politics was both a victory and defeat of literature in the personal realm of Ka Apin.
It was a victory for literature because the people of his time believed in his stories and poetry. Bulakeños savored his many comedies and samples of his Balagtasan days. He did not have to buy votes. Votes were cast in his favor because people believed in the moral integrity of published writers and poets.
He served the people of Bulacan as member of the Provincial Board. Providing infrastructure like local roads and bridges, puericulture centers and artesian wells was his obsession. Righteousness in government was his banner. He refused bribery, for example, in exchange for the approval for subdivisions in the province. Provincial boards then dispensed with this type of license and permits.
This was another thing my father did not teach me. He did not believe in public office as a means of accumulating gold. He believed instead in the old saying that public office is indeed a public trust. He was not a tradpol.
As public servant, he could not represent the labor unions and peasant groups in their court cases anymore. Instead, he helped establish industrial and agrarian peace by ensuring that the provincial government delivered.
During the 1950s and 1960s, Tatang remained a vanguard of his art, being head of both Panitikan and KAWIKA for many years. He was judge in short stories for the Palanca awards several times. Literature and public service gave him up only when he passed away in December 1970.
Tatang did not teach me to forget about the need for circumspection. Pagninilay. Of which he wrote:
“…Inuusig ka ng mga kamay na iyong sinawi. Ang katiwasayan ng isang umaga’y hindi na ngingiti.”
Tatang did not teach me to dismiss the idea of a Savior. In many of his stories, he would talk about people’s God-ordained destiny. On this coming Christmas, he had this to say:“O dakilang araw ng Iyong pagsilang ang lantang pag-asa’y nabigyan ng buhay; …Dala mo ang sinag ng katahimikan sa mundong sinilim sa katanghalian.”