by Nunilo M. de Leon
We found Tampoy quite crowded with fourteen already there, plus five of us from Sukol. All three bedrooms were occupied (by Dada, Tia Monang and one reserved for Lolo) and the sala, dining room and library had to be used as sleeping quarters at night. Tio Carlos and family slept in the sala. Our family was in the library while Abong and family slept in the dining room and kitchen. No one wanted to sleep in the fourth bedroom, the “kuartong madilim”. It was not only dark there but also hot. The kids had other, eerier, reasons. Most nights, the older kids, including me, slept in the porch, where it was cooler.
We found Tampoy quite crowded with fourteen already there, plus five of us from Sukol. All three bedrooms were occupied (by Dada, Tia Monang and one reserved for Lolo) and the sala, dining room and library had to be used as sleeping quarters at night. Tio Carlos and family slept in the sala. Our family was in the library while Abong and family slept in the dining room and kitchen. No one wanted to sleep in the fourth bedroom, the “kuartong madilim”. It was not only dark there but also hot. The kids had other, eerier, reasons. Most nights, the older kids, including me, slept in the porch, where it was cooler.
We were re-introduced to Tia Monang’s “alagas” or pets. She was an animal-lover and had a whole menagerie consisting then of two dogs, about a hundred pigeons, six cats, a number of geese and turkeys, a parrot and a monkey but no more guinea pigs. The size and composition of her pet population fluctuated over the years. Not included in the population count were the ducks and chickens which were being raised for food. The pets were allowed to roam freely, except for two; the parrot and the monkey were tethered loosely to horizontal poles which allowed them to move freely from one end of the pole to the other. With her “maselan” nature, Dada Ninay barely tolerated the zoo and had nothing do with them.
The amiable “Mestiza” I knew during my earlier stay had gone, replaced by two dogs who were very dissimilar. “Konoput” was a bitch, a half-breed, part black retriever with a thick glossy coat. She was ill-tempered, seldom barked but frequently bit with little provocation. She recognized only one master, Tia Monang, and had a severe case of “small dog syndrome”. She considered Eya, Nina and Turina as next in line. It always took some time before she would accept anyone as part of her pack. She had to be leashed whenever there were visitors. Tatang got along quite well with her. He had Tia Monang’s way with pets. The rest of us stayed away from her. She had several sets of puppies and we knew when she was about due; she would dig a hole in the darkest part of the silong and stay there, leaving it only for water, never for food. Not one of her several litters survived. She would kill every pup soon after birth and bury them in the hole (or probably eat them), after which she would leave her cave and never return. She spent much of her time submerged in the creek, with only the top of her head and her nostrils showing. In the water, she was an entirely different dog. She would play “fetch” and frolic with us. She would even allow us to give her a bath and pat her all over.
The other dog, “Bo-Peep” was the opposite. He was a large neutered male dog, part Great Dane, part Dalmatian, part unknown and had a short white coat with large brown and black spots. He would greet you with loud deep-throated barks while running at you. He would then rear up and try to lick your face. Since he was more than five feet tall on his rear legs, his welcomes were not exactly welcomed. He was everybody’s friend but hated the creek. Those who did not know the dogs and entered the premises unannounced usually ended up with a torn skirt or trouser leg, or worse. When they see the dogs rushing up, they would run away from the noisy but affable “Bo-Peep” and end up between the fangs of the smaller and silent but bad-tempered “Konoput”.
The cats were of various types, shapes and sizes. They came and went and one could not keep track of them, except at feeding time. They kept well clear of the dogs; “Konoput” because of her vicious instincts, “Bo-Peep” because of his rambunctious playing habits.
Pigeon cotes were scattered all over the yard; under the house eaves, on poles in the garden, under the sampaloc tree and at ground level inside the wire-enclosed poultry. Tia Monang pampered them, feeding them twice a day with a mixture of mongo and palay seeds. There were about a hundred pigeons, living in pairs in the cotes. They kept on breeding and should have been increasing in numbers, as Tia Monang frowned upon any pigeon-poaching or collection of eggs for food. Despite what should be a population boom, there was no noticeable increase in their census though we never had any for food. Some of the overflow probably just moved elsewhere but most of them were actually surreptitiously culled on Dada’s instructions. Every few weeks, Eya would raid the cotes and bring some squabs to the market to barter for food or cook some for Dada’s adobo. All this would be done while Tia Monang was away; although I am sure she knew what was going on but just pretended she did not.
She had several parrots, not all at the same time but one after another, all named “Pikoy”. Soon as one died, there would be a new one to replace it. All of them were noisy, clucking away all day with their unintelligible chatter; no one had the time or patience to teach them how to talk. [Josie remembers that one of the “Pikoys” learned how to croak “Monang, Monang!” No one ever admitted teaching it and Tia Monang pretended not to hear.] All “Pikoys” would quiet down at sundown and remain silent all night.
The monkey, named “Cheetah” was something else. He was as ill-tempered as “Konoput” and probably was more vicious. Perched on his high perch, he would ambush any unwary passer-by who ventured within leaping distance. Springing from his perch, he would grab his prey by the hair and pull hard or worse, bite. These simian attacks were always very emotional encounters with much screaming and screeching from both attacker and victim. There were a lot of casualties because of this predator. [The most serious, as remembered by Tancio, was Abong. His right hand was bitten so badly that his wounds had to be sutured. His hand was partially disabled for life, as a result.] Tia Monang’s stock reply to any complaint about “Cheetah” was: “Pinagagalit kasi ninyo”. Tia Monang could get close to the monkey, pet him and feed him. Others fed him by standing outside his leaping radius and showing him the food. Cheetah would drop down to the end of his chain and hang from it by his waist. It was then safe to hand him his food, making sure that he does not grab your hand which he would always be trying to do.
Everybody steered clear of the pet geese and turkeys, specially the male ones which were fiercely protective of their respective female flocks. They would chase away and peck at anybody who they thought was coming too close for comfort.
A few days after returning to Tampoy, we celebrated Christmas, or “we did not celebrate Christmas” would be a better way of putting it. Christmas 1942 was not at all “christmasy”, compared to how it was celebrated before, which were, admittedly, not as elaborate, materialistic and festive as today’s fetes. We went to church for Christmas day Mass and not much else. There were no “Misas de Gallo”, a curfew was still in force, and there was no caroling, for the same reason. There were no Christmas gifts and no Christmas tree, no one could afford them.
The new year of 1943 came very quietly. There were no fireworks on New Year Eve but there was much ringing of church bells at midnight. There was no merry-making, I guess because no one was in the mood for it. Because of the curfew, New Year’s Eve Mass, was celebrated at 8 o’clock in the morning.
However, things were definitely not routine in Tampoy. Inang chose New Years Day to give birth to her fourth, finally a girl after three boys. Her usual attending physician, Tio Toniong, was presumably still somewhere on Panay Island and a midwife had to take his place. She gave birth to Corazon or “Nene” on Dada’s bed in Dada’s bedroom, where Tancio and Nestor were also born, while Dada slept on a spare rattan bed in Tia Monang’s bedroom.
Lolo Ramon came back from his confinement at the Doctor’s Clinic. The clinic was owned and managed by Lolo Kanor, Dr. Nicanor Jacinto, another relative. Lolo Ramon had undergone a tracheotomy and had a tube inserted into his windpipe so he could breathe. After his operation, he stayed a few days in Tia Epang’s rented house in Manila. [Josie recalls how she would watch Lolo go through a nightly ritual. He would remove the tube from his throat, clean it with soap and water, disinfect it with alcohol and place it under an ultraviolet lamp before going to bed.] In Tampoy, this ritual was done by either Nina or Turina.
Tio Carlos and his family were all set to go to Manila where he was going to be assigned by the government. His children had also skipped school that year and, like us, were enjoying an extended school holiday. Before they left, Lolo Ramon gave Tio Carlos a note containing another of his “wishes”, quoted verbatim in the following. He owned some real estate in Camarines Norte which he wanted to leave to his ten surviving children.
Malolos, Enero 22, 1943
Carlos:
Sakaling ako ay bawian na ng buhay ng Panginoong Diyos, ipinagbibilin ko sa inyong magkakapatid na yaong mga lupa ko at niugan sa Camarines Norte, Municipio ng Basud at Labo, ay pagbahabahaginan o pagpartipartihanan ng sampung magkakapatid na sina: anim sa unang asawa; Paz, Carlos, Josefa, Antonio, Ramona at Roque de Leon y Pantangco; at apat sa ikalawang asawa na sina Jose, Araceli, Carmen at Dolores de Leon y Seoane.
Yaong mga lupa at niugang ito, sa mga Municipio ng Basud at Labo, provincia ng Camarines Norte ay hindi na dapat makialam si Lolita Seoane, na naging pangalawa kong asawa, dahilang hindi na maaaring gananciales namin ang mga pagaaring ito; sapagkat nang panahong iyo’y pagbibilin ko, siya ay nakahiwalay na nang kusa sa akin at kami ay nabubuhay nang parang hindi na magasawa, na siya ay umalis dito sa Filipinas at nagpunta sa España, kasama niya ang apat na anak, na wala akong pagkaalam at kapahintulutan na siya ay pumunta sa España; at kung siya man ay pinahintulutan ng govierno noon ay dahilang niloko niya, na sinabi sa ilalim ng panunumpa na siya raw ay ABANDONADA ng kanyang asawa, na tunay na kasinungalingan; kaya siya ay umalis dito sa Filipinas bilang patanan sa akin. Noong siya ay umalis ayon sa anuncio ng periodico ay tila mandin ika-6 ng Abril, 1928. At nang siya naman ay magbalik na dito sa Filipinas, noong taong 1930 ay niyayaya ko siya uli na magsama kami, ngunit ayaw na raw siya makisama sa akin. Nang simulan ko ang pagbili ng mga lupain kong iyan ay magbuhat nang 1931 o 1932, na noon nga ay hindi na kami nagsasama at hanggang ngayong mga araw na ito ay magkahiwalay pa rin kami.
Sakaling ako ay bawian na ng buhay ng Panginoong Diyos, ipinagbibilin ko sa inyong magkakapatid na yaong mga lupa ko at niugan sa Camarines Norte, Municipio ng Basud at Labo, ay pagbahabahaginan o pagpartipartihanan ng sampung magkakapatid na sina: anim sa unang asawa; Paz, Carlos, Josefa, Antonio, Ramona at Roque de Leon y Pantangco; at apat sa ikalawang asawa na sina Jose, Araceli, Carmen at Dolores de Leon y Seoane.
Yaong mga lupa at niugang ito, sa mga Municipio ng Basud at Labo, provincia ng Camarines Norte ay hindi na dapat makialam si Lolita Seoane, na naging pangalawa kong asawa, dahilang hindi na maaaring gananciales namin ang mga pagaaring ito; sapagkat nang panahong iyo’y pagbibilin ko, siya ay nakahiwalay na nang kusa sa akin at kami ay nabubuhay nang parang hindi na magasawa, na siya ay umalis dito sa Filipinas at nagpunta sa España, kasama niya ang apat na anak, na wala akong pagkaalam at kapahintulutan na siya ay pumunta sa España; at kung siya man ay pinahintulutan ng govierno noon ay dahilang niloko niya, na sinabi sa ilalim ng panunumpa na siya raw ay ABANDONADA ng kanyang asawa, na tunay na kasinungalingan; kaya siya ay umalis dito sa Filipinas bilang patanan sa akin. Noong siya ay umalis ayon sa anuncio ng periodico ay tila mandin ika-6 ng Abril, 1928. At nang siya naman ay magbalik na dito sa Filipinas, noong taong 1930 ay niyayaya ko siya uli na magsama kami, ngunit ayaw na raw siya makisama sa akin. Nang simulan ko ang pagbili ng mga lupain kong iyan ay magbuhat nang 1931 o 1932, na noon nga ay hindi na kami nagsasama at hanggang ngayong mga araw na ito ay magkahiwalay pa rin kami.
Itong lahat ang katotohanan ng kabuhayan naming dalawa.
Ramon de Leon
It promised to be a difficult year for those of us who were to remain in Tampoy. By then, savings had all been exhausted. All were jobless, including Tia Monang who had decided to stay home to watch over Lolo. We made do on what was left of the previous year’s rice harvest, which was running low. Some belt-tightening had to be done, until the rice harvest in April and May.
We had electricity but only for a few hours in the early evening, from five to eight o’clock, and we had to resort to using coconut oil lamps. Electricity was from the hydro-electric plant at Ipo Dam in Norzagaray, Bulacan which did not need oil to power its generators. The Malolos water system depended on the availability of electricity to pump out the ground water so the supply of water was irregular. Water had to be collected every evening when water flowed from the water faucets. Large clay jars were used to store drinking water, metal drums for water intended for other uses. All baths and heavy washing had to be done in the early evenings. Cooking was difficult, fire wood was getting to be scarce although coconut charcoal or “uling na bao” was still being sold in the public market. Food had to be purchased, except for what came from the backyard poultry and small vegetable garden. We had plenty of milled rice for food, although the remnants of last year’s harvest stored in the “silong” had to be carefully husbanded. Dada provided the cash for buying other necessities. She still had something left over from selling her share of last year’s harvest.
The restoration of the old, already filled-in well in the front yard was eyed for additional water. Before the town water system was built decades ago, it served as the house’s main water source. It was dug up again by Tatang and some kasamas brought in from Sukol and Caingin. Tancio and I also pitched in. [Tancio remembers finding some old coins from the well; source, age and value unknown.] The well added to our water supply and also served as a source of additional food. The Japanese had brought some “gourami” fish fingerlings and distributed them through the local government to fishpond operators. The “gourami” was new to the Philippines. It was a predatory fish and fishpond owners refused to stock them for they would wipe out the milkfish or “bangus”; so they were used only for backyard fishponds, like our water well. They were tasty and fleshy enough but were very bony, worse in that respect than “bangus” and “liwalu”.
Schools were in the middle of their terms and another school year was not to begin until June. Tancio, Nestor and I, who were the only kids left in Tampoy, had some months left of our extended vacation. Much of these were spent playing the outdoor games children played then; taguan, patintero, habulan, moro-moro, guerra-guerrahan. We roamed Tampoy and the neighboring streets to make friends with kids about our own age; with Ibarra Santos, Rogelio and Bienvenido Antonio, the Garcia brothers among others.
The house and yard themselves were excellent playgrounds. Behind the many doors and cabinets in the house, and under the desks and tables, one could hide during “taguans”. If one cared to go to all the trouble, one could even climb to the top of the “dispensa”, push the attic trapdoor open and hide in the attic where no one would ever look for you. It was suspected to be the home of unearthly creatures found only in Dada’s favorite Hiwaga magazine. For the less adventurous, there was the top of the seemingly limitless roof to use as a hideaway. And there was the dark and eerie “silong” with its many mysteries.
We climbed the fruit trees in our yard and picked their fruits; mango, suha, macopa, sampalok, santol, kaimito, bayabas, duhat, siniguelas and camachili. Young leaves from mango and sampalok trees made very good fresh salads, especially when mixed with “bagoong”. We discovered, from painful experience, which trees not to climb, those which were the nesting places of large red ants or “tagasaw” and fierce wasps or “putakti” which violently resisted all invading climbers. Those trees also bore the sweetest fruit. We had to be content with using a long bamboo pole with a hook-and-basket tip called a “sungkit” to harvest the fruit from those trees.
There was the creek, which was still deep, wide and clean enough for swimming, perfect for the hot months. There were other useful plants in our yard: the leaves of the “banaba” tree produced a tea which cured urinary ailments; a bitter-tasting vine, called “katakataka ” effectively weaned a baby from mother’s breast; the raspy leaves from the “pakiling” tree were used as scrubbing pads for household cleaning; and banana leaves were useful linings for pots, pans and plates as well as for polishing wooden floors to a glossy shine.
The early evenings were spent in trying to catch “alitaptap” or fireflies and “kuliglig” or crickets which glowed and chirped early in the evening and lived in abundance in the trees. Later at night, we would hear the geckos or “tuko”, living in the trees and scaring the neighborhood kids with their wierd cry. We would also try to catch a glimpse of the resident-pythons or “sawa” in the “silong”. We never saw them but we knew they were there. They regularly left their “pinaghunusan”, molted skins, in the silong. The absence of rats was another proof of their presence. Eya told us that the snakes had burrows which extended from the silong all the way to the creek where thick grass grew.
The “silong” had the same floor area as the main house but was only five feet high. It had no ceiling and had a dirt floor. It was completely enclosed with crisscrossed wooden slats, with just one access gate. In his younger days, when he was still working with the Chong family in Canalate, Tatang tried to convert the silong into a proper basement, which could be used as living quarters. He started to dig the soft dirt floor so the silong would be at least seven feet high. He probably did it, partly for exercise. He had to give up when we moved to Paracale. The digging was less than half done. That was where the work stopped. Part of the dug-up portion was used to build an air-raid shelter in 1941, a few months before Pearl Harbor. It was never used for that purpose, as Malolos did not experience an air raid worthy of the name. It, however, was very useful for long-term storage of “antique” photos, furniture, odds-and-ends, as well as a hiding place for “taguan” and also as a bunker for “guerra-guerrahan”.
That was when I first discovered the treasures in the locked cabinets which lined the walls of the library. Inang said that Tia Monang had locked them to prevent damage to their contents. She told me to ask Tia Monang about them. Tia Monang seemed especially quiet those days, probably worried about Lolo’s worsening condition, and I felt it was not the right time to talk to her. One afternoon, however, she saw me peeking through the glass front of one of the cabinets. With one hand, she gestured at me to wait and then went back to her room. She came back with a bunch of keys, opened one of the cabinets and gave me one of the keys. She said, “Pagkatapos mo, isara mo ang cabinete at isauli mo sa akin ang susi”, then went on to Lolo’s bedroom.
The cabinet shelves contained complete sets of the “Book of Knowledge”, “American Encyclopedia”, “English and American Literary Classics” and many textbooks used by education students. The books in that cabinet, I later learned, were bought by Lolo Ramon for the use of Tia Monang, who was an English teacher. From that time on, I spent much of my spare time raiding that treasury. After some time, Tia Monang unlocked all the library cabinets and allowed me to feast at will on the library’s contents. There were all kinds of textbooks in the other cabinets: engineering books for Tio Carlos, medical books for Tio Toniong, accounting and business books for Tatang, teaching books and manuals for Tia Pacita, Tia Epang and Tia Monang, mathematics, statistics and economics books for Tia Epang, who taught those subjects.
Aside from the textbooks, were magazines such as “Livestock and Farmer”, “Agricultural Digest”, “The Agronomist”, “Saturday Evening Post”, “Readers Digest”, “Popular Science” and “Popular Mechanics”. Many other hardbound books and paperbacks were there; cowboy and Tarzan novels by Zane Grey, detective stories by Erle Stanley Gardner, Mark Twain stories, short stories by O’Henry, stories about “Hopalong Cassidy”, “the Shadow”, “the Phantom”, and countless others. There were also comic books featuring Superman, Batman and Robin, Captain Marvel, Plastic Man, Green Lantern, the Shadow, the Phantom, the Lone Ranger and Tonto, etc. It took me years but I am sure I was able to read 75% of the materials there.
These more than made up for my missing some schoolwork.
There were other things about Malolos that I discovered for the first time in my extended school vacation. The town plaza, the wide patio in front of the church, had been neglected and was no place for play. Only the paths along the perimeter walls of the patio and the space right in front of the church, the convent and the school were useable. Most of the patio was flooded during the rainy season and overgrown with weeds the rest of the year. The concrete glorieta (raised circular platform used in peacetime as a stage, bandstand, etc.) in the middle of the patio was in very bad shape and almost inaccessible because of the water and the weeds. Some twenty meters in front of the church and facing its front door was a wooden cross, about five meters tall, planted on a solid stone base, two meters high. There were a few shade trees in front of the convent, one of them very historical. In 1898, the newly proclaimed president, Gen. Emilio Aguinaldo and members of his cabinet would sit under that tree in the early evenings to talk about the affairs of the fledgling Philippine Republic or, maybe, less weighty and more frivolous matters. The church convent was used by the general as residence and office during the early days of the republic while the Congress was meeting in Barasoain church, half a kilometer from the Malolos church.
I found a gate on Calle Estrella beside Cine Malolos which was not there during my earlier sojourn in Tampoy. The gate was always shut but I could see that there was nothing behind it but thick foliage. I began to imagine that it was a “secret passageway” to someplace mysterious. One afternoon, while passing by alone, I saw that the gate was ajar. I peeked through the small opening and saw a deserted narrow winding lane inside, overgrown with vines and marsh plants, disappearing in the distance. Dogs were howling from somewhere inside and I decided not to go any farther. Some days later I saw that the gate was again ajar. This time I had reinforcements with me, I think Victorino “Vic” Hizon and Lucio “Kehong” Tan. We slipped through the gate, carefully made our way over the concrete path, raised about a meter above the water-logged “kangkungan” which the path traversed. The “secret passageway” ended at the other end at another gate, which was ajar. No dogs were barking at the gate but we were expecting the worse as we pushed it open. We were terrified when we saw a man in white waiting at the other side, which turned out to be the backyard of the Santos Eye, Ear, Nose and Throat Clinic. To our relief, we saw that it was only Lolo Dr. Luis Santos there. He laughingly asked us: “Bakit magpapagamot ba kayo”? The gates and lane had been built for the convenience of his patients, as a shortcut to and from the town’s main road. Then he asked whose children we were and jokingly told us to tell our parents to bring us to his clinic soon, “para magpatuli”. We fled. I told Inang about it. She must have taken it quite seriously. Soon I was back, this time with Tancio, to take up Lolo Luis’ offer. His field of ophthalmology covered much more than it does today. I do not know how my companions in this escapade fared with him.
I looked for other playgrounds and wandered to the “palengke” or public market, on San Vicente Street a hundred meters from the church patio. Part of the concrete public market had been converted into an all-weather basketball court. For the first time, I saw how basketball was played but could not participate in the games. Only the young men from the neighborhood, the “batang palengke” could use the court. This group, most of them high school and college players from schools in Malolos and Manila, practiced there and organized tournaments among other neighboring teams. I would regularly visit the palengke to watch the games. When the market vendors eventually reclaimed the court, the “batang palengke” found a new site, the vacant Tiongson lot in Tampoy, next to our house. They built a court there by simply pulling out the undergrowth, tamping down the dirt surface and erecting two goals. There were basketball games to watch almost every afternoon during the dry months. The court became muddy during the rainy season and could not be used. Some of those players were good enough to later make it to the Bulacan Provincial High School team and then to Manila college varsity teams.
Another playground I discovered was the town cockpit, found on a backstreet which led to the Malolos Elementary School and the church cemetery. I could get in free and I usually spent Saturday afternoons there. I learned a lot about cockfighting. There were the cries of the “kristos” or bet-takers’ of “sa pula, sa puti, sa bulik, sa talisain, sa meron, sa wala” and “walo-dies, walo-anim, dublado”. I saw how the “mananaris”, or men who specialized in attaching fighting spurs to the left leg of a fighting cock, would carefully wrap cloth strips around the leg, attach the steel spur or “tari” on top of the wrap and tightly tie it to the leg with waxed string. I found out what a “manlilipad” or a “balulang” was and how different it was from a “manlulupa”. The former was the equivalent of a boxer who leads while the latter was a counterpuncher. I saw how cock owners would arrive in the cockpit, proudly cradling their fighting cocks in their arms. I also saw half of them walking home dejectedly at the end of the day, with their defeated and deceased fighters hanging head down by their legs, for the women folk to cook for supper “tinola”.
With so many things to do, time passed very quickly and soon it was July 1943. We had to go back to school.
