Sangkusing: Kidney Disease and Virgin Coconut Oil: Virgin Coconut Oil because of its high TOCOTRIENOL content treats type 2 diabetic patients. Hyperglycemia is an abnormally high blood gluc...
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This ulianin at 89 has grown older, maybe weaker but not necessarily sicker. I have gone through the long pandemic unaffected by covid-19 and its less severe variants. The only one that affected me was COPD, which was the result of my heavy smoking from the Marlboro days until 1989 when I decided to quit. I am sorry to notice that most of my school chums are, in military parlance, either MIA or KIA. Emails that I faithfully kept sending them were simply left unread or untouched. In short, I suspect that depression and boredom have overtaken the MIA and grief has invaded the KIA minds. The good news is, some of us are living longer — and with advances in health care, older adults are living healthier, more fulfilling lives than previous generations. So what's the secret to embracing our next chapter, and to even look forward to it? I have two open secrets, which jointly can result in hoped for productive longevity: 1.0 GROUNDING/ EARTHING As an Earthing practitioner, instead of walking barefoot on the ground, I regularly connect myself to my Grounding mat on my bed by placing one or both feet on the mat as I slept at night. This morning, I woke up and found that my Grounding mat had accidentally been disconnected from the ground wire source. Quickly, I reconnected my device, placed one foot on the mat and checked my oxygen saturation level and pulse rate on my pulse oximeter. Looking at the oximeter readings, I noted that the numbers were changing: my pulse rate was going down from a high of 90 to under 80 and my SpO2 was going up, from 92% to 96%. I checked my blood pressure monitor, which read 135/80 and the pulse rate was also 78. The BP later normalized to 121/65. So, here is how to explain the effect of Earthing on blood pressure, pulse rate and oxygen saturation level. Grounding helps you naturally reduce pain, inflammation and stress while improving your mood, sleep and overall well-being. The earth's surface has a virtually unlimited supply of mobile electrons that gives the ground a natural negative electric charge. When you touch your body to the ground, it dissipates static electricity and extraneous environmental electrical charges that are built up on you from all electronic gadgets around us. At the same time, you receive a charge of energy in the form of free electrons and your body synchronizes with the natural frequencies of the earth. You can instal Earthing products as extension cords that connect you to the ground outside. Better blood flow Another major documented benefit of Earthing is better blood flow. In a 2013 study, the zeta potential of 10 healthy subjects increased by an average of about 270% within two hours of Earthing. Zeta potential relates to the strength of the negative charge on the surface of red blood cells, a factor that maintains spacing of the cells in the bloodstream. The greater the charge the greater the potential of the cells to repel each other (less clumping), the lower the viscosity of the blood, and the smother the flow. The increase measured in this study implies a natural blood thinning effect. The researchers concluded that Earthing “reduces blood viscosity and clumping” and “appears to be one of the simplest and yet most profound interventions for helping reduce cardiovascular risk and cardiovascular events.” Before Grounding, blood flow would be slow and viscous; with platelets clumped together. When grounded, the blood platelets disperse and flow easily throughout the body. This is how humans should naturally live, in harmony and in tune with the pulse of all creation – following the beat of the Creator. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A31fEvuZfBk -o0o- 2.0 VIRGIN COCONUT OIL Here are the top 10 evidence-based health benefits of virgin coconut oil. A. VCO Contains Fatty Acids With Potent Medicinal Properties Coconut oil is high in healthy saturated fats that have different effects than most other fats in your diet. These fats can boost fat burning and provide your body and brain with quick energy. They also raise the good HDL cholesterol in your blood, which is linked to reduced heart disease risk. Most fats in the diet are called long-chain triglycerides, but the fats in virgin coconut oil are known as medium chain triglycerides (MCTs). What this means is that the fatty acids are shorter than most other fats. When you eat these types of fats, they go straight to the liver, where they are used as a quick source of energy or turned into ketones. Ketones can have powerful benefits for the brain, and are being studied as treatment for epilepsy, Alzheimer’s and other forms of dementia. B. Populations That Eat a Lot of Virgin Coconut Oil Are Healthy Coconut is an exotic food in the Western world, primarily consumed by health conscious people. However, in some parts of the world, coconut (loaded with coconut oil) is a dietary staple that people have thrived on for many generations. The best example of such a population is the Tokelauans, which live in the South Pacific. They used to eat over 60% of their calories from coconuts. When studied, they were found to be in excellent health, with very low rates of heart disease. Another example of a population that ate a lot of coconut and remained in excellent health is the Kitavans. C. Virgin Coconut Oil Can Increase Fat Burning Obesity is one of the biggest health problems in the world. While some people think obesity is only a matter of calories, others (myself included) believe that the sources of those calories are important too. It is a fact that different foods affect our bodies and hormones in different ways. In this regard, a calorie is not a calorie. The medium-chain triglycerides (MCTs) in virgin coconut oil can increase how many calories you burn compared to the same amount of calories from longer chain fats (4). One study found that 15-30 grams of MCTs per day increased 24 hour energy expenditure by 5%, totalling about 120 calories per day. D. VCO Can Kill Harmful Microorganisms The 12-carbon lauric acid makes up about 50% of the fatty acids in virgin coconut oil. When lauric acid is digested, it also forms a substance called monolaurin. Both lauric acid and monolaurin can kill harmful pathogens like bacteria, viruses and fungi. For example, these substances have been shown to help kill the bacteria Staphylococcus aureus (a very dangerous pathogen) and the yeast Candida albicans, a common source of yeast infections in humans. E. VCO Can Reduce Your Hunger, Helping You Eat Less One interesting feature of the fatty acids in coconut oil is that they can reduce your hunger. This may be related to the way the fats are metabolized, because ketones can have an appetite reducing effect. In one study, varying amounts of medium and long chain triglycerides were fed to 6 healthy men. The men eating the most MCTs ate 256 fewer calories per day, on average. Another study in 14 healthy men discovered that those who ate the most MCTs at breakfast ate fewer calories at lunch. These studies were small and only done for short periods of time. If this effect were to persist over the long term, it could help lead to reduced body weight over a period of several years. F. The Fatty Acids in VCO May Reduce Seizures A so-called ketogenic (very low carb, very high fat) diet is currently being studied to treat various disorders. The best known therapeutic application of this diet is treating drug-resistant epilepsy in children. This diet involves eating very few carbohydrates and large amounts of fat, leading to greatly increased concentrations of ketones in the blood. For some reason, the diet dramatically reduces the rate of seizures in epileptic children, even those who haven't had success with multiple different types of drugs. Because the fatty acids in virgin coconut oil get shipped to the liver and turned into ketones, they are often used in epileptic patients to induce ketosis while allowing for a bit more carbs in the diet. G. VCO Can Raise The Good HDL Cholesterol Virgin coconut oil contains natural saturated fats that increase the good HDL cholesterol in your body. They may also help turn the bad LDL cholesterol into a less harmful form. By increasing HDL, many experts believe that coconut oil could be good for heart health compared to many other fats. In one study in 40 women, coconut oil reduced total and LDL cholesterol while increasing HDL compared to soybean oil. Another study in 116 patients showed that a dietary program that included virgin coconut oil raised levels of the good HDL cholesterol. H. Coconut Oil Can Protect Your Skin, Hair and Dental Health Virgin coconut oil has many uses that have nothing to do with eating it. Many people are using it for cosmetic purposes and to improve the health and appearance of their skin and hair. Studies on individuals with dry skin show that VCO can improve the moisture content of the skin. It can also reduce symptoms of eczema. It can also be protective against hair damage and one study shows effectiveness as a weak sunscreen, blocking about 20% of the sun's ultraviolet rays. Another application is using it like mouthwash in a process called oil pulling, which can kill some of the harmful bacteria in the mouth, improve dental health and reduce bad breath. I. The Fatty Acids in VCO Can Boost Brain Function in Alzheimer's Patients Alzheimer's disease is the most common cause of dementia worldwide and occurs primarily in elderly individuals. In Alzheimer's patients, there appears to be a reduced ability to use glucose for energy in certain parts of the brain. Researchers have speculated that ketones can provide an alternative energy source for these malfunctioning brain cells and reduce symptoms of Alzheimer's and other forms of dementia. J. Coconut Oil Can Help You Lose Harmful Abdominal Fat Given that virgin coconut oil can reduce appetite and increase fat burning, it makes sense that it can also help you lose weight. Coconut oil appears to be especially effective at reducing belly fat, which lodges in the abdominal cavity and around organs. This is the most dangerous fat of all and is highly associated with many chronic Western diseases. Waist circumference is easily measured and is a great marker for the amount of fat in the abdominal cavity. In a study of 40 women with abdominal obesity, supplementing with 30 mL (2 tablespoons) of VCO per day led to a significant reduction in both BMI and waist circumference over a period of 12 weeks. Another study in 20 obese males noted a reduction in waist circumference of 1.1 inches (2.86 cm) after 4 weeks of 30 mL (2 tablespoons) of virgin coconut oil per day. VCO is still high in calories, so you shouldn’t add a ton of it to your diet. But replacing some of your other cooking fats with virgin coconut oil could have a small weight loss benefit. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ceR52Zbsf2Y
April 20, 2018
I would imagine each human has
each one’s fetish – an inexplicable attachment to some trivial object or deed.
I found mine in my super-senior years.
Since my wife and I started
renovating our bedroom (the first one in 27 years), I have been feeling
lost without my bamboo back scratcher.
As soon as I wake up every
morning, for the last so many years, I have had the routine of reaching for my
back scratcher hanging on the wall beside my bed – and of course I scratch my
itchy back and find enough heavenly relief for the day.
Since I cannot find my back
scratcher, I have tried to rub my back against the walls and the door – to no
avail. I have asked assistance from my wife, who handed me her comb!??? My
grandson assisted me with a hairbrush and tried to do the job for me. His
generosity gave me some relief – in spots – in some other spots, the
assistance practically made my skin bleed.
I remember buying this beloved
stick from a travelling cart loaded with rattan-bamboo products and pulled by a
bull. I also bought from the same salesman a hand-made decorated native dagger
with carabao horn handle. I’ve already disposed of this weapon knowing that
this is now classified as a deadly weapon. This type of ambulant salesmen has gone
out of style and are already banned from our traffic-gridlocked streets of MetroManila. Hence, I am still looking for my back scratcher.
Will somebody tell me where I
can buy a similar back scratcher? Or what is the 21stcentury digital equivalent of this ancient handy tool? Would you know what your fetish is? Or
do you have a human back scratcher?
For the information
of all worried friends, my good old friend for the last 70 (yes seventy) years,
gifted me with a replacement that does not only scratch my back but massages it
too with attached rollers. Thanks, Jess.
December 22, 2014
INKONG
TASIO (Anastacio de Leon) & IMPONG BIYANG (Maria Gonzalez de Leon)
by Nunilo M. de Leon
Their Origins
Renato
“Sonny” Cano, Victorina “Turina” L. Cano’s son, has researched on this
subject. He says that Inkong Tasio was
probably born (in the late 1830s or early1840s, parentage still unknown) and
grew up in Baliuag, Bulacan. He
completed the “cartilla”, the basic education of those times, comparable to
today’s secondary education. He became the Sacristan Mayor in the parish church
of Baliuag, a position of trust which, in that era, carried a certain amount of
prestige. The priests then were
Spaniards. Tasio later moved to Malolos,
also as the Sacristan Mayor, and perhaps with the same priest, who might have
also been transferred to the Malolos parish.
“Impong
Biyang” was born in 1841 from still unknown parents. It is not clear where Inkong met Impo, who
was probably also from Baliuag. There have always been many Gonzalez-surnamed
families in that town. They were probably married in 1870, based on the 1872
birth year of their first-born. They both married late, in their late-20s, not
a common practice in those days of early marriages.
“Sonny” Cano has also looked into the Gonzalez
connection. According to his research,
there is a Gonzalez clan from Pampanga and Bulacan which originated in the town
of Apalit, Pampanga, across the Pampanga River from Calumpit, Bulacan. The sire was a Spaniard who claimed to be an
engineer from Villadolid in Spain and who introduced himself as Gonzalez. He married a young lady from the wealthy
Arnedo clan of Sulipan in Apalit. Later,
it was discovered that the “engineer” was actually an Augustinian friar, a
member of the Spanish nobility, Fray Francisco Lopez, and was a parish priest
of Baliuag, Bulacan, some ten kilometers up the Angat River from Sulipan.
It is to be noted, however, that the wedding
described in the above account happened in the mid-1850s and the off-springs of
this marriage would have been born in the 1870s, at the earliest. By that time, Inkong Tasio and Impong Biyang would
have been already adults. Impong Biyang probably
sprung from another Gonzalez clan; Gonzalez must have been a popular alias for
some “frailes”. There were quite a few
families with that name in Pampanga and Bulacan at that time. In the same narrative cited by “Sonny”, there
was mention of an hacendero Gonzalez family in Baliuag who also had a Spanish
“fraile” ancestor. It is possible that
our Gonzalez ancestors were from that clan.
Lolo
Ramon (Ramon Gonzalez de Leon) and Lola Juli (Juliana Pantangco de Leon)
by Nunilo M. de Leon
My interest in
knowing more about Lolo Ramon began when, while still in grade school (5th
grade), I witnessed what was then supposed to be a very historical event.
Nippon
restores Philippines independence -
“The
Philippines will again be an independent nation, and this is going to happen on
14 October 1943.” This was how the Philippine government,
with Jose P. Laurel as president, described the coming event, which was to
happen a little more than a year after the Second World War reached our land. In Nippon’s view, we had been a mere colony
of the United States since Admiral George Dewey’s Asiatic Fleet appeared in
Manila Bay, sunk the Spanish flotilla and snatched victory away from Gen.
Emilio Aguinaldo’s Revolutionary Army. “Nippon
had come to our shores to liberate us and give us the freedom we had first
earned on 12 June 1898.”
For
several days before the indicated date in 1943, we were busy in school at the
Immaculata Academy of Malolos, rehearsing for that day. We practised the Philippine national anthem,
to be sung for the first time in Tagalog, with the same tune but with slightly
different lyrics from the current one. On
the day itself, we marched two kilometers or so to the Bulacan provincial
capitol grounds to attend the independence ceremony. With us were delegations from the other
schools in Malolos. On the way, I
noticed that the Malolos church, the “municipios” (both the new one [erected in 1940 and still in use at the
time of this writing] and the old Spanish era “casa real”), the Barasoain
church, the post office and the provincial capitol were all spruced up for the
occasion. The rites were held in front
of the capitol building flagpole, between the pair of 19th century
muzzle-loader cannons which were fixtures there.
A
police detachment was there, armed with revolvers and night sticks. There was also a unit from the General
Service Corps (the counterpart of the pre-war Philippine Constabulary). The GSC were veterans of the pre-war Philippine
Army, mostly from the Western Visayan 71st “Ilonggo” Division and
the Eastern Visayan 91st “Waray” Division, who had to stay in Luzon
after their release from “Camp O’Donnell”, the “death march” concentration
camp. To travel home was still a chancy
proposition. They were armed with US
1903 Springfield rifles, the same ones previously issued to them in the
Philippine Army. The Japanese had
allowed the organization and arming of local peacekeeping units, as part of a
gradual turnover of government functions to the Filipinos. No Japanese were there, military or
civilian. They remained in their
garrison, the former Constabulary barracks, behind the provincial capitol and
beside the provincial hospital.
The
independence ceremony was inspiring. The
brass bands, including the “Republica Filipina” and the “Banda 1896”, which, half-a-century
ago, also played in President Emilio Aguinaldo’s independence celebrations of
1898, played stirring martial (including US military Souza marches) and
traditional Filipino music.
February 20, 2014
A Piece of
History
courtesy of Wikepedia
The continuing high-handedness of the civil government
bureaucrats compounded by the abuses of the church frailes became the sources
of widespread unrest, which eventually reached Malolos in 1880. The enlightened
and educated young ilustrados of Manila, having been exposed to European
education, thoughts and political views, began to question the Philippines
situation. These reformists, José Rizal, Marcelo del Pilar and Graciano Lopez
Jaena among them, began to expose the weaknesses of the status and to give
voice to the need for reform.
In Malolos, Marcelo H. del Plar, whose wife
Marciana was from Malolos, made the town a principal reformist and propaganda
target. Due mainly to his efforts, Malolos by 1882 became known as a center of
anti-Spanish propaganda. Things came to a head in 1884, when a liberal, Manuel
Crisostomo, was elected a gobernadorcillo. Led by him, a group of town leaders,
including past, present a future town alcaldes, collided head-on with the
town's friar curate on the list of taxpayers. The curate wanted to bloat the
list, a move meant for the parish's financial gain. In 1888, during a deadly
cholera epidemic, the group again clashed with the friars. To limit the spread
of the epidemic, the civil government had issued a ban against church wakes for
cholera victims. The church defied the ban, purportedly because of the fees
which the church earned from these wakes. The town leaders took the side of the
civil authorities. The situation was further inflamed with the visit of José
Rizal in 1888 to the house of Tomas Tanchangco, a former alcalde and member of
the reformist group. Among the alcaldes in the group were Jose A. Bautista,
Jose and Antonio Tiongson, Mateo Buizon, Anastacio de Leon, Vicente Gatmaitan,
Francisco Bernardo, Antonio Chiong and Jose R. Tiongson.
January 16, 2012
by Nunilo M. de Leon
This happened when I was once in Dada’s bedroom where there were two large color portraits hanging on the wall; one of a pretty young lady and the other of a more mature lady who looked like Dada. “Ako iyan”, she said, pointing at the younger lady’s picture. “Ako” was my grandaunt Dada Ninay, Catalina Gonzales de Leon. “At iyan ang ina ko, ang Impong Biyang mo”, waving towards the other picture, which was that of her mother, my great-grandmother, the late Maria Gonzales de Leon, Inkong Tasio’s wife. Then she took me to the adjoining bedroom, indicated another portrait on the wall, that of another young lady, and said “Siya naman ang Lola Juli mo, asawa ng Lolo Ramon mo”. “Lola Juli”, Juliana Santos Pantangco de Leon, was my late grandmother, the first wife of “Lolo Ramon” Gonzales de Leon, my grandfather and Dada Ninay’s elder brother.
This happened when I was once in Dada’s bedroom where there were two large color portraits hanging on the wall; one of a pretty young lady and the other of a more mature lady who looked like Dada. “Ako iyan”, she said, pointing at the younger lady’s picture. “Ako” was my grandaunt Dada Ninay, Catalina Gonzales de Leon. “At iyan ang ina ko, ang Impong Biyang mo”, waving towards the other picture, which was that of her mother, my great-grandmother, the late Maria Gonzales de Leon, Inkong Tasio’s wife. Then she took me to the adjoining bedroom, indicated another portrait on the wall, that of another young lady, and said “Siya naman ang Lola Juli mo, asawa ng Lolo Ramon mo”. “Lola Juli”, Juliana Santos Pantangco de Leon, was my late grandmother, the first wife of “Lolo Ramon” Gonzales de Leon, my grandfather and Dada Ninay’s elder brother.
“Hindi ko alam kung saang lupalop siya nakatira. Doon yata sa Hagunoy.” That was how “Dada Ninay” replied when I first asked about her father, my “Inkong” whose name, I later learned, was Anastacio de Leon or “Inkong Tasio”, Dada’s father and my great-grandfather. Then she began to talk about other things, which was her way of saying “Subject closed! Period!”
Of course I had to ask where Inkong was. That was when she gave me her curt reply about “kung saang lupalop . . . sa Hagunoy”. I also wanted to ask her about the other portraits and the diplomas on the walls of the sala, but I knew it was not the time for more questions. Her inborn initial reticence, however, did not stop me from trying to learn more about Inkong later. Revelations would only come little by little, from many other sources, including Dada herself, and over a long time.
by Nunilo M. de Leon
I was born in Manila, at the Mary Johnston Hospital on Quesada St., overlooking Manila Bay. The North Harbor area was still under the sea then and Calle Bangkusay, which is now some distance from the sea, was then the shoreline of Tondo. I was actually my mother’s second pregnancy. She had a miscarriage in her first one.
I was born in Manila, at the Mary Johnston Hospital on Quesada St., overlooking Manila Bay. The North Harbor area was still under the sea then and Calle Bangkusay, which is now some distance from the sea, was then the shoreline of Tondo. I was actually my mother’s second pregnancy. She had a miscarriage in her first one.
My parents were schoolmates at the Bulacan Provincial High School in Malolos and my father had been wooing my mother since high school. Father was a senior Bachelor of Science in Commerce student at the University of the Philippines while Mother was in fourth year of her Bachelor of Science in Pharmacy course at the University of Santo Tomas when they were wed, and “Tatang” had to find a job. Having to mix work and studies, he only got his diploma the year after their marriage. When they were married, “Inang” had stopped her studies, as it later turned out, for keeps. We lived in a rented accessoria, as budget-priced apartments were then called, on Calle Ilaya, very near the Tondo parish church. The UP was then on Padre Faura St. in Ermita district, Manila while the UST was where it continues to be, along España Blvd.
“Tatang” was Roque Pantangco de Leon, the ninth and youngest child of Lolo Ramon and Lola Juli, who died soon after giving birth to Tatang. “Inang” was Anita Mendoza Macapugay de Leon, the third child and only daughter of Lolo Luis Macapugay and Lola “Celang”, Marcela Mendoza y Macapugay. The Macapugays originated in the towns of Bulacan and Hagunoy, which are neighbor towns of Malolos, in the province of Bulacan.
by Nunilo M. de Leon
After a few years with the Chong’s, Tatang found a new job as an accountant at the United Paracale Mines, a gold-mining firm in the town of Paracale, province of Camarines Norte. Not knowing what was waiting in his new job, Tatang went on alone (Inang was again on the way, with her third) to sort of survey the place. Traveling to that part of the country then was quite arduous although the rail network was quite good and extensively used, extending from Damortis, La Union in the north to Lucena, Tayabas in the south. The railroad was then being extended to Legaspi, Albay. To speed things up, the extension was being built from either end, from Lucena and from Legaspi. However, at that time, there was still a gap in the railways, some mountains and rivers in Tayabas province, between the towns of Lopez and Tagkawayan.
The first leg of the trip was an hour-long train ride from Malolos to Tutuban in Manila followed by eight hours on another train to Lopez, Tayabas. The railroad stopped at that point. Following was a six-hour ferryboat ride to reach the town of Calauag on the other side of the gap. Then came another two-hour bus ride to Tagkawayan where the railway resumed and continued all the way to Legaspi in Albay. To reach Paracale, one had to get off the train at the town of Sipocot, Camarines Sur, take the bus to Daet, Camarines Norte and take a smaller vehicle to Paracale. The 400-kilometer trip took more than a whole day.
Some months after Tatang departed, Nestor or “Istong” came, also born in Tampoy with Tio Toniong as attending physician, again.
A few weeks later Tatang sent for us. He had found a suitable house in the middle of town, a short ride from his office in the mines. By then fully recovered from giving birth, Inang bailed me out of kindergarten and we left (Inang, the 3 kids and an Ilokana maid named Marta) not long after. I do not remember much about our trip to Paracale nor of our life there but it must have been quite difficult for Inang, a new household with three small kids, in a strange place. What I clearly recall were the many huge smoke-breathing, hot and noisy coal-fired iron monsters called locomotives inside the Manila Railroad’s cavernous Tutuban terminal, my nostrils sooty from the thick black smoke inhaled during the long train ride, the particles of cinder in my hair, the cool sea breeze during the nighttime ferry crossing, the bumpy bus ride to Tagkawayan, another train and . . . I fell asleep at that point.
After a few years with the Chong’s, Tatang found a new job as an accountant at the United Paracale Mines, a gold-mining firm in the town of Paracale, province of Camarines Norte. Not knowing what was waiting in his new job, Tatang went on alone (Inang was again on the way, with her third) to sort of survey the place. Traveling to that part of the country then was quite arduous although the rail network was quite good and extensively used, extending from Damortis, La Union in the north to Lucena, Tayabas in the south. The railroad was then being extended to Legaspi, Albay. To speed things up, the extension was being built from either end, from Lucena and from Legaspi. However, at that time, there was still a gap in the railways, some mountains and rivers in Tayabas province, between the towns of Lopez and Tagkawayan.
The first leg of the trip was an hour-long train ride from Malolos to Tutuban in Manila followed by eight hours on another train to Lopez, Tayabas. The railroad stopped at that point. Following was a six-hour ferryboat ride to reach the town of Calauag on the other side of the gap. Then came another two-hour bus ride to Tagkawayan where the railway resumed and continued all the way to Legaspi in Albay. To reach Paracale, one had to get off the train at the town of Sipocot, Camarines Sur, take the bus to Daet, Camarines Norte and take a smaller vehicle to Paracale. The 400-kilometer trip took more than a whole day.
Some months after Tatang departed, Nestor or “Istong” came, also born in Tampoy with Tio Toniong as attending physician, again.
A few weeks later Tatang sent for us. He had found a suitable house in the middle of town, a short ride from his office in the mines. By then fully recovered from giving birth, Inang bailed me out of kindergarten and we left (Inang, the 3 kids and an Ilokana maid named Marta) not long after. I do not remember much about our trip to Paracale nor of our life there but it must have been quite difficult for Inang, a new household with three small kids, in a strange place. What I clearly recall were the many huge smoke-breathing, hot and noisy coal-fired iron monsters called locomotives inside the Manila Railroad’s cavernous Tutuban terminal, my nostrils sooty from the thick black smoke inhaled during the long train ride, the particles of cinder in my hair, the cool sea breeze during the nighttime ferry crossing, the bumpy bus ride to Tagkawayan, another train and . . . I fell asleep at that point.
by Nunilo M. de Leon
Our house in Daet was located along the Sipocot-Daet provincial highway, between the Daet Central Elementary School and the town plaza and a short walk away from either one. The town plaza or park was by the Daet River. The municipal building was on one side of the plaza and the town church on the opposite side, both overlooking the river. The town’s business center and town market were just across the river, which was spanned by a two-lane vehicle bridge, with walkways for pedestrians on either side. The walkways were made of widely-spaced wooden slats and I always felt I was going to fall through the slats every time I crossed the bridge.
The highway between Daet and Sipocot was then considered quite “busy”. This meant that a horse-drawn calesa or carretela would clip-clop along the asphalt highway every couple of minutes and an Alatco bus or another motor vehicle would roar by every quarter hour or so. This highway ran past the town plaza, crossed the river at the bridge and wound up at a crossroad a short distance from the bridge. Beyond the crossroad was a barrio dirt road leading to and ending at the Pacific Ocean in Bagasbas, a barrio of Daet. The left fork led to the northern towns of the province, such as Indan, Labo, Talisay, Paracale and Capalonga, where the road ran out. The right fork led to another dead-end at the seaport barrio of Mercedes.
Our house, like most houses then, was a single elevated level chalet, with a low silong, surrounded by a small fenced-in yard, with an area of perhaps two hundred square meters. A silong was essential because when in rained, the surrounding area would always be under a few inches of water. It had two bedrooms, a sala, a dining room, a kitchen, toilet/bathroom, a batalan, where the backstairs were, and a small entry porch. We had 24-hour electricity and piped-in running water, clay stoves using firewood, no refrigerator but with a paminggalan for keeping cooked food, very much like what we had in Tampoy. Inang had to go every day to the market to buy fresh food which had to be cooked the same day. For furniture, we had wooden double-deckers for the kids, a large rattan bed for Tatang and Inang, wooden aparadors for clothes, and furniture sets for the sala and comedor. There was very little entertainment to speak of, but much reading with so many materials available, and some story-telling. We had one radio, a small shortwave radio, which only Tatang could operate, and which was used only for listening to the news. Commercial radio stations in Manila were too weak-powered to reach Daet. The house was newly constructed and we were the first tenant. The furnishings were also brand new, recently purchased by Inang and Tatang, who obviously intended to live there for some time.
Our house in Daet was located along the Sipocot-Daet provincial highway, between the Daet Central Elementary School and the town plaza and a short walk away from either one. The town plaza or park was by the Daet River. The municipal building was on one side of the plaza and the town church on the opposite side, both overlooking the river. The town’s business center and town market were just across the river, which was spanned by a two-lane vehicle bridge, with walkways for pedestrians on either side. The walkways were made of widely-spaced wooden slats and I always felt I was going to fall through the slats every time I crossed the bridge.
The highway between Daet and Sipocot was then considered quite “busy”. This meant that a horse-drawn calesa or carretela would clip-clop along the asphalt highway every couple of minutes and an Alatco bus or another motor vehicle would roar by every quarter hour or so. This highway ran past the town plaza, crossed the river at the bridge and wound up at a crossroad a short distance from the bridge. Beyond the crossroad was a barrio dirt road leading to and ending at the Pacific Ocean in Bagasbas, a barrio of Daet. The left fork led to the northern towns of the province, such as Indan, Labo, Talisay, Paracale and Capalonga, where the road ran out. The right fork led to another dead-end at the seaport barrio of Mercedes.
Our house, like most houses then, was a single elevated level chalet, with a low silong, surrounded by a small fenced-in yard, with an area of perhaps two hundred square meters. A silong was essential because when in rained, the surrounding area would always be under a few inches of water. It had two bedrooms, a sala, a dining room, a kitchen, toilet/bathroom, a batalan, where the backstairs were, and a small entry porch. We had 24-hour electricity and piped-in running water, clay stoves using firewood, no refrigerator but with a paminggalan for keeping cooked food, very much like what we had in Tampoy. Inang had to go every day to the market to buy fresh food which had to be cooked the same day. For furniture, we had wooden double-deckers for the kids, a large rattan bed for Tatang and Inang, wooden aparadors for clothes, and furniture sets for the sala and comedor. There was very little entertainment to speak of, but much reading with so many materials available, and some story-telling. We had one radio, a small shortwave radio, which only Tatang could operate, and which was used only for listening to the news. Commercial radio stations in Manila were too weak-powered to reach Daet. The house was newly constructed and we were the first tenant. The furnishings were also brand new, recently purchased by Inang and Tatang, who obviously intended to live there for some time.
by Nunilo M. de Leon
It was the morning of December 8, 1941, a Sunday. We were walking home from the church when Inang noticed a visibly-agitated crowd in front of the Daet Municipio and learned that the worst we had feared had happened. The Japanese had bombed Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. Hurrying home, we told Tatang who switched on the shortwave radio. He found out that the news was for real and war had already been declared. As a US commonwealth, the Philippines was at war too. That same afternoon, we packed, entrusted our pet dog to a neighbor, closed our house, gave the keys to the landlord and rushed to Manguisok. There, Tatang’s superiors, Alexander Morris, a Scotsman, and Giorgi Skribikin, a Czarist Russian, were getting ready to leave, hiring Alatco cars to take them to the railroad in Sipocot and on to Manila. They were in a rush. Morris was with his wife Dorothy, and daughter Margaret, and wanted to catch a ship in Manila to return to England, or proceed to any British colony. Giorgi, who claimed to be a bachelor and who had fled Russia after World War I, just wanted to join his compatriots in Manila. He was a stateless refugee. Morris told Tatang to stay behind, close down the company’s operations, safeguard the company assets and wait for further instructions from the head office in Manila. He was to retain essential personnel but pay off the rest. Tatang accepted the responsibility. Everyone believed that the war would not last very long. The Americans were believed to be too mighty for the Japanese.
Lolo Luis was still in Manguisok and so were Tio Joaquin and his family. Over Tatang’s shortwave radio, we tried to keep abreast of things. Japanese planes had raided Nichols Field and Fort McKinley in Pasay and Makati, the Port Area in Manila, and Clark Field in Pampanga. After a few more days, the Japanese landed near Legaspi in Albay province, only a hundred or so kilometers away. Then came other landings in Aparri, in La Union, in Lingayen, but these were far away in the north and did not bother us too much. Then we heard of the landing in Atimonan, in Tayabas province, which linked the Bicol region to Manila. That cut off the land route from the Bicol Peninsula to Manila. Tatang got a radio message from Manila, which authorized him to abandon the facilities and allow the employees to ransack the place once the Japanese came near enough.
It was the morning of December 8, 1941, a Sunday. We were walking home from the church when Inang noticed a visibly-agitated crowd in front of the Daet Municipio and learned that the worst we had feared had happened. The Japanese had bombed Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. Hurrying home, we told Tatang who switched on the shortwave radio. He found out that the news was for real and war had already been declared. As a US commonwealth, the Philippines was at war too. That same afternoon, we packed, entrusted our pet dog to a neighbor, closed our house, gave the keys to the landlord and rushed to Manguisok. There, Tatang’s superiors, Alexander Morris, a Scotsman, and Giorgi Skribikin, a Czarist Russian, were getting ready to leave, hiring Alatco cars to take them to the railroad in Sipocot and on to Manila. They were in a rush. Morris was with his wife Dorothy, and daughter Margaret, and wanted to catch a ship in Manila to return to England, or proceed to any British colony. Giorgi, who claimed to be a bachelor and who had fled Russia after World War I, just wanted to join his compatriots in Manila. He was a stateless refugee. Morris told Tatang to stay behind, close down the company’s operations, safeguard the company assets and wait for further instructions from the head office in Manila. He was to retain essential personnel but pay off the rest. Tatang accepted the responsibility. Everyone believed that the war would not last very long. The Americans were believed to be too mighty for the Japanese.
Lolo Luis was still in Manguisok and so were Tio Joaquin and his family. Over Tatang’s shortwave radio, we tried to keep abreast of things. Japanese planes had raided Nichols Field and Fort McKinley in Pasay and Makati, the Port Area in Manila, and Clark Field in Pampanga. After a few more days, the Japanese landed near Legaspi in Albay province, only a hundred or so kilometers away. Then came other landings in Aparri, in La Union, in Lingayen, but these were far away in the north and did not bother us too much. Then we heard of the landing in Atimonan, in Tayabas province, which linked the Bicol region to Manila. That cut off the land route from the Bicol Peninsula to Manila. Tatang got a radio message from Manila, which authorized him to abandon the facilities and allow the employees to ransack the place once the Japanese came near enough.
by Nunilo M. de Leon
Tampoy was almost deserted. Lolo Ramon and Tia Monang were there, together with Abong, Eya and Nina. The other Tampoy residents, including Dada Ninay and Turina were in the rice farm in Sukol, Hagunoy. Many residents of Malolos had fled to the surrounding farms even before the Japanese reached Malolos. Lolo Ramon was already very ill and did not evacuate. He had been confined at the Doctors’ Clinic in Manila and was brought home to Tampoy only because of the war. Tia Monang and a few others stayed in Tampoy to take care of him.
The Japanese soldiers were well-disciplined when they first entered the town which was almost empty. They met no resistance and behaved quite well. Eya told us that the first Japanese soldiers who entered the Tampoy house had tried to make advances on Tia Monang, a pretty young lady, but an officer appeared and ordered the soldiers to leave. The officer then bowed to Tia Monang, in apology, and also left. No mention of this was ever made by Tia Monang. Like most others of her generation, she kept things to herself.
The Japanese set up a garrison at the provincial capitol, two kilometers from the middle of town, and appeared very rarely in the town proper. In fact, the only Japanese soldiers we saw in our long trip from Manguisok to Malolos were the four who guarded the “batel” in Pasacao and one sentry standing in front of their garrison at the Far Eastern University along Quezon Blvd. in Manila. They must have been very busy with Bataan and were stretched out very thinly.
There were other members of the clan in Sukol, aside from Dada Ninay and Turina. Tio Aurel, Aurelio Lularga Peña, and Tia Epang, Josefa Pantangco de Leon y Peña, were there with their four children; Josefina “Josie”, Rogelio “Boying”, Fiorello “Pio” and the baby, Aurelio, Jr. “Rely”. The family of Tio Aurel’s younger brother, Rafael, had also evacuated there. “Tia Pacita”, Paz Pantangco de Leon y Crisostomo, the eldest of the siblings, was with “Tio Amado”, Armando Crisostomo in their family home in Barihan, a barrio of Malolos. With them were their three living children; Lydia, Jesus “Bebot” and Mercia “Meya”. No word had as yet been received on the whereabouts of two other De Leon siblings. Tio Carlos was caught by the war with his family in Lingayen. Tio Toniong was in Iloilo when war broke out. He was with Tia Lily and Lourdes, their recently born baby daughter. Four of the De Leon – Pantangco siblings had been accounted for. Two were still missing.
Tampoy was almost deserted. Lolo Ramon and Tia Monang were there, together with Abong, Eya and Nina. The other Tampoy residents, including Dada Ninay and Turina were in the rice farm in Sukol, Hagunoy. Many residents of Malolos had fled to the surrounding farms even before the Japanese reached Malolos. Lolo Ramon was already very ill and did not evacuate. He had been confined at the Doctors’ Clinic in Manila and was brought home to Tampoy only because of the war. Tia Monang and a few others stayed in Tampoy to take care of him.
The Japanese soldiers were well-disciplined when they first entered the town which was almost empty. They met no resistance and behaved quite well. Eya told us that the first Japanese soldiers who entered the Tampoy house had tried to make advances on Tia Monang, a pretty young lady, but an officer appeared and ordered the soldiers to leave. The officer then bowed to Tia Monang, in apology, and also left. No mention of this was ever made by Tia Monang. Like most others of her generation, she kept things to herself.
The Japanese set up a garrison at the provincial capitol, two kilometers from the middle of town, and appeared very rarely in the town proper. In fact, the only Japanese soldiers we saw in our long trip from Manguisok to Malolos were the four who guarded the “batel” in Pasacao and one sentry standing in front of their garrison at the Far Eastern University along Quezon Blvd. in Manila. They must have been very busy with Bataan and were stretched out very thinly.
There were other members of the clan in Sukol, aside from Dada Ninay and Turina. Tio Aurel, Aurelio Lularga Peña, and Tia Epang, Josefa Pantangco de Leon y Peña, were there with their four children; Josefina “Josie”, Rogelio “Boying”, Fiorello “Pio” and the baby, Aurelio, Jr. “Rely”. The family of Tio Aurel’s younger brother, Rafael, had also evacuated there. “Tia Pacita”, Paz Pantangco de Leon y Crisostomo, the eldest of the siblings, was with “Tio Amado”, Armando Crisostomo in their family home in Barihan, a barrio of Malolos. With them were their three living children; Lydia, Jesus “Bebot” and Mercia “Meya”. No word had as yet been received on the whereabouts of two other De Leon siblings. Tio Carlos was caught by the war with his family in Lingayen. Tio Toniong was in Iloilo when war broke out. He was with Tia Lily and Lourdes, their recently born baby daughter. Four of the De Leon – Pantangco siblings had been accounted for. Two were still missing.
by Nunilo M. de Leon
Tampoy was almost deserted. Lolo Ramon and Tia Monang were there, together with Abong, Eya and Nina. The other Tampoy residents, including Dada Ninay and Turina were in the rice farm in Sukol, Hagunoy. Many residents of Malolos had fled to the surrounding farms even before the Japanese reached Malolos. Lolo Ramon was already very ill and did not evacuate. He had been confined at the Doctors’ Clinic in Manila and was brought home to Tampoy only because of the war. Tia Monang and a few others stayed in Tampoy to take care of him.
The Japanese soldiers were well-disciplined when they first entered the town which was almost empty. They met no resistance and behaved quite well. Eya told us that the first Japanese soldiers who entered the Tampoy house had tried to make advances on Tia Monang, a pretty young lady, but an officer appeared and ordered the soldiers to leave. The officer then bowed to Tia Monang, in apology, and also left. No mention of this was ever made by Tia Monang. Like most others of her generation, she kept things to herself.
The Japanese set up a garrison at the provincial capitol, two kilometers from the middle of town, and appeared very rarely in the town proper. In fact, the only Japanese soldiers we saw in our long trip from Manguisok to Malolos were the four who guarded the “batel” in Pasacao and one sentry standing in front of their garrison at the Far Eastern University along Quezon Blvd. in Manila. They must have been very busy with Bataan and were stretched out very thinly.
Tampoy was almost deserted. Lolo Ramon and Tia Monang were there, together with Abong, Eya and Nina. The other Tampoy residents, including Dada Ninay and Turina were in the rice farm in Sukol, Hagunoy. Many residents of Malolos had fled to the surrounding farms even before the Japanese reached Malolos. Lolo Ramon was already very ill and did not evacuate. He had been confined at the Doctors’ Clinic in Manila and was brought home to Tampoy only because of the war. Tia Monang and a few others stayed in Tampoy to take care of him.
The Japanese soldiers were well-disciplined when they first entered the town which was almost empty. They met no resistance and behaved quite well. Eya told us that the first Japanese soldiers who entered the Tampoy house had tried to make advances on Tia Monang, a pretty young lady, but an officer appeared and ordered the soldiers to leave. The officer then bowed to Tia Monang, in apology, and also left. No mention of this was ever made by Tia Monang. Like most others of her generation, she kept things to herself.
The Japanese set up a garrison at the provincial capitol, two kilometers from the middle of town, and appeared very rarely in the town proper. In fact, the only Japanese soldiers we saw in our long trip from Manguisok to Malolos were the four who guarded the “batel” in Pasacao and one sentry standing in front of their garrison at the Far Eastern University along Quezon Blvd. in Manila. They must have been very busy with Bataan and were stretched out very thinly.
January 15, 2012
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.
January 14, 2012
by Nunilo M. de Leon
We were enrolled at the Immaculata Academy of Malolos, where I started my kindergarten. It was and still is run by the Holy Ghost (Holy Spirit) order of nuns, though it has now been relocated to Sta. Isabel. I had to start Grade 5 from scratch. The months I had already spent in Grade 5 were not recognized because I could not present written proof that I was in the middle of 5th grade in Daet when the war started. It was next to impossible to go to Daet at that time. I was to be two years behind my former classmates in Malolos who were about to begin their first year, high school. They were allowed to skip the 5th grade and had completed 6th grade the previous year, while we were on our extended vacation. Tancio went to Grade 3, Nestor to kindergarten.
We were enrolled at the Immaculata Academy of Malolos, where I started my kindergarten. It was and still is run by the Holy Ghost (Holy Spirit) order of nuns, though it has now been relocated to Sta. Isabel. I had to start Grade 5 from scratch. The months I had already spent in Grade 5 were not recognized because I could not present written proof that I was in the middle of 5th grade in Daet when the war started. It was next to impossible to go to Daet at that time. I was to be two years behind my former classmates in Malolos who were about to begin their first year, high school. They were allowed to skip the 5th grade and had completed 6th grade the previous year, while we were on our extended vacation. Tancio went to Grade 3, Nestor to kindergarten.
The Immaculata was a two-minute meander from Tampoy, past the side of the town hall or municipio, across Calle Pariancillo, up the street one block to Cine Estrella, across the street to the church patio, stroll across the patio to the rear gate of the school, the gate which was commonly used. The school’s main and service gates were at the other side of the compound, the street side, but they were seldom used. They were built for vehicles, which no one had at that time. Mother Dolorata, the dungeon keeper of my kindergarten class had become the school’s principal. My class teacher in Grade 5 was Mother Henrietta (or Agatha or Agnes), a tall German lady. There were about 40 pupils in the co-ed class, with only one section. The first one I recognized among my classmates was Fernando Lim, my classmate in Grades 3 and 4 in the Malolos Elementary School. Like me, he had lost two years of school. Also there were some of my neighbors and playmates; Lucio Tan, Manuel Crisostomo, Victorino Hizon, Francisco Gatchalian and Antonio Fernando. Others I recall were Laurentino Tengco, Narciso Crisostomo, Renato Reyes, Fabian Tiongson, Domingo Chong, Jr., Bayani Tiongson, Manuel Jacinto and Santiago Co. Some girl classmates were Emma de Ocampo, Gliceria Queri, Aida Fernando, Consuelo Aniag, Araceli Buenaseda, Amelita Magsaysay, Cecilia Ejercito, Patria Garcia, Concepcion Tantoco, Purificacion Santos, Virginia Manio and Myrna Reyes.
January 13, 2012
by Nunilo M. de Leon
After the excitement and bereavement of that week came the mundane day-to-day struggles of wartime life. The rice planting season was still months away and the harvest further away. Things were going to be increasingly harder until the harvest.
After the excitement and bereavement of that week came the mundane day-to-day struggles of wartime life. The rice planting season was still months away and the harvest further away. Things were going to be increasingly harder until the harvest.
The families who had come to attend the wake and funeral went back to Manila bringing home with them a little rice for the next few months. [Turo recalls that he had to stay in Tampoy after the funeral because he was stricken with a severe case of what was thought to be “rayuma”. He could barely stand up and had to stay for some weeks in a rocking chair. No wheeled chair was then available. Only after he had fully recovered was he able to follow the rest of his family to Manila.]
Many of those who, before the war, were gainfully employed were then jobless and depended on savings or odd jobs to survive. With much idle time, the Tampoy menfolk, longtime neighbors and friends, spent their time in “barkadahan” and “kuwentuhan”. They would congregate in the late afternoons and just chat. These sessions were held under a small tree in front of the Antonio house, the place where Tampoy curved. In more affluent times, these would have become drinking sessions but the lack of money to buy the wherewithal prevented this. The womenfolk, who had less leisure time, had their own “kumarehans”; during their daily trips together to the palengke and brief cook-ins in one another’s kitchens. Tatang went regularly to the Chong office in Canalate, helping them out, and did not have much time for these neighborhood gatherings.
The local rice mills were not operating. They ran on electricity, which was made available only during limited periods. We had to find a substitute for the rice mill, so the old wooden mortar and mallets were retrieved from the depths of the silong, where they had been stashed away for decades, and put them to use. There were three steps in this work. First, the palay was “babayuhin”, pounded on the “lusong” or wooden mortar (carved from a meter-high thick tree trunk), using the “masos”, large and heavy wooden mallets or hammers, to separate the chaff from the grain. Then the palay was winnowed or “itatahip”, which meant pouring the palay from a “bilao” or wide and flat bamboo-mesh basket held head-high, to a mat spread on the ground. This had to be done when there was a breeze. If the winnower had the right touch, the pounded palay would separate into three parts. The heavy brown rice grains or “pinawa” would fall vertically almost at the winnower’s feet. The lighter bran or “darak” would fall a little farther away. The much lighter “ipa” or chaff would fall farthest away. The “ipa” was placed in the bonfire, the “darak” was fed to the livestock and the “pinawa” stored in large wide-mouthed bamboo-mesh baskets called “bakol” and larger “tiklis”. The “pinawa” still had to undergo further processing. It had to be winnowed again to remove any remaining chaff. Then it had to be “pipilian” where the rice was spread on a “bilao”, the foreign objects like small pebbles, soil, remaining grains of palay, etc. were picked up and thrown away.
Those in my generation were assigned to this rice milling task. The older kids did the “pagbabayo”, the older girls did the “pagtatahip”, and the youngest kids, the “pamimili”.
Meals were skimpy but well-balanced, I think. The usual breakfast was carabao milk, “kesong puti” or carabao milk cheese, fried or boiled “kamote or “saging na saba” (sweet potato or banana) or fried rice and small salted fish “daing” or “tuyo”. For special occasions, we had one egg each, fried or soft-boiled. Instead of milk, the adults had what passed for coffee, made from roasted-until-almost-burned rice grains with “carriba” shavings as sweetener, or “salabat”, made from boiled and sweetened ginger root. “Carriba” was made from sugar cane juice, boiled to a very thick syrup, placed in half a coconut shell, or “bao”, cooled and dried, The result was a solid hemisphere of rock-hard, dark-brown sugar. It had to be shaved or broken into smaller pieces and dissolved before it could be used. Carriba syrup, mixed with coconut milk and then hardened, was our hard candy.
For lunch and supper, there usually was a cup of “pinawa” brown rice (only one cup to each person), a piece of cooked fresh fish, usually smallish asuhos, liwalo, biya, banak, gourami or kitang and plenty of vegetables. There were many options for merienda; “casta-niyog” (named after “castañas” or roasted chestnuts) which was coconut meat cut into pieces, marinaded in carriba syrup, and roasted, or the ancestors of the latter-day “kamote-cue” and “banana-cue”, then named simply “minatamis na kamote” and “maruyang saging”. For special events, which were rare and far between, we had “nilagang baboy o manok” or “tapang kalabaw”. There was also the farm food called “taghilaw” which was very welcome. It was cooked rice mixed with partially cooked shrimps or fish, salt and vinegar and then left to ferment for several days. Just before the mixture started to decay, it would be boiled to stop the fermentation process. Sauteed in garlic and served with nilagang “talong”, it was a very tasty dish. It is still served in Central Luzon eateries and now bottled and sold in supermarkets under the name “burong hipon” or “burong isda”. I do not recall eating any beef during that time.
For cigarettes, dried papaya leaves (sometimes, but very rarely, highly-valued tobacco leaves from the Ilocos), were shredded and rolled on specially chosen paper. Not just any type of paper would do; preferred was a certain kind of book paper, resulting in many books going up in smoke, happily not a single one from our library, which Tia Monang still held under lock and key. For cigarette-rolling, they used a home-made box-like device for rolling cigarettes, a quite common chore then. [Turo says that Tia Helen in Manila became quite adept at this cigarette-rolling. She was a heavy smoker.] There were plenty of hard drinks; “tuba” from the nipa and coconut palms, “sui hock tong” rice wine, “basi” and rum from sugar cane. No shortages there although no one in the clan indulged in them, as far as I know, except for occasional sweet “tuba ng sasa” from nearby swamps, which even Inang liked.
For entertainment, we rediscovered the phonograph in the living room. Its brand name was Victor and had, as its trademark, a dog, on its haunches, listening to a gramophone. It was purchased when Lolo’s children were in college and was well supplied with phonograph records, most of them classical. The spring-operated phonograph had to be hand-wound before playing a record. The playing heads were fitted with half-inch long steel needles, which had to be replaced or sharpened after some time. Records were two-sided hard wax disks, with only one song or tune per side. Each was twelve inches in diameter and revolved at 78 RPM. There was a larger record, fourteen inches in diameter, which had two songs per side. Although most of the recordings were operatic, there were a few popular ones, American and Tagalog. My favorite was Beer Barrel Polka by the Andrew Sisters. A variation was to spin the record by hand, which made for very strange and, sometimes, funny effects, like what present-day disc jockeys make.
And of course, there was the library where I spent much of my spare time.
After the declaration of independence, Japanese control of the civilian population was relaxed. The curfew was reduced to five hours every night, during the wee hours of the morning. Only Filipino policemen kept the peace in town. The only Japanese soldiers I saw were those who were on small-unit maneuvers. A squad or so would paddle stealthily up the creek in inflatable rubber boats to the landing in our backyard. They were fully armed, rifles with fixed-bayonets, and equipped for combat. They would pretend to make a surprise landing, deploy in the garden, silently slip out, one-at-a-time, through the front gate, leap-frog down the street to its end, crawl through the thickly overgrown “dulo” to the creek on the other side, and re-embark on their inflatables, which were waiting there. On other times, they did the reverse: land at the “dulo” tiptoe up Tampoy and wind up with a Banzai charge at the municipio. They did not seem to mind our watching them from the porch and windows of the house; in fact they seemed to enjoy having an audience. Strangely enough, the dogs never raised a howl when the Japanese soldiers were around. They must have been repelled by their strange but not unpleasant odor due to, some say, the strong Japanese military disinfectant soap they used. Or they might have been awed by their number, or their shouts of “banzai”, or the glinting of all those bayonets. Once, one of the soldiers charged at our corrugated iron gate, lunged and pierced it through and through with his bayonet, ending with a glance and a smile at the audience, probably trying hard not to finish with a bow. He was obviously just showing off. My classmates told me that the Japanese held similar exercises in their neighborhoods, those which were near a waterway.
There was then only one Japanese unit in town, a platoon-sized one based in the former Philippine Constabulary barracks behind the provincial capitol. Not all the towns had a Japanese contingent; in Bulacan only the bigger towns like Malolos, San Miguel, Baliuag and Meycauayan, probably only a reinforced company or two in the whole province.
Among the common past-times then was boxing. Boxing bouts were held in the town cockpit once or twice a month. Someone found out that the houseboy in the house of my classmate, Manuel Crisostomo, used to box in his home province, Negros Occidental. A small gym was put up on the ground floor of the Crisostomo’s house on Pariancillo St., a block away from Tampoy. The houseboy trained there and fought, perhaps once a month, in the Malolos cockpit and in other towns nearby. They named him Midget Dado. Of course, we were frequently in the gym to watch the training. He was less than five feet tall, probably a mini-flyweight. I was never able to watch his actual fights. They were held in the evenings and one had to pay to watch. I do not know what his fight record was.
Across the town square, there was another gym and another houseboy-boxer who also fought in the local boxing cards. He was named Baby Tura and was from Bohol. This gym was frequented by another group of boys, the “San Vicente” boys led by Jesus Tanchangco, whose house was at the foot of the bridge. During school vacations our neighborhood “Santo Niño” group engaged this “San Vicente” group in “tiraduran” battles, using “tiradors”, slingshots made from Y-shaped bayabas twigs and strips of rubber tire inner tubes, and fire-hardened clay pellets as missiles. Some of my classmates belonged to this other group. The usual battleground was the area around the municipio, including the square in front of it. For protection, we wore discarded automobile headlights (without the bulbs) as helmets. Many of us were hit during these skirmishes but I do not recall anybody being hurt so seriously that the elders had to know about it. The “tiraduran” skirmishes were held only during the early afternoon, when everybody else was on siesta. At other hours when the streets were busy, the church plaza and the square in front of the municipio were de-militarized zones, with the priests and police as peacekepers.
The town square and church plaza formed the boundary between the San Vicente boys and the Santo Niño kids. San Vicente was the street which led from the church to the market to the east. San Niño St. headed west from the church. The boundary was not a permanent one. It was in force only during “war periods”.
It was at the beginning of 1944 when Tio Toniong and his family finally made it back to Tampoy. They had quite an adventure. Tio Toniong was working in the Iloilo Provincial Hospital when the war broke out. When the Japanese army landed in Iloilo, Tio Toniong, Tia Lily and their baby, Lourdes or “Inday”, evacuated to the western part of Iloilo province. As the Japanese came closer, they evacuated farther away. Their exodus stopped when they reached the foothill towns, where they stayed for sometime, out of the Japanese’s reach. After the hostilities, when the hospitals reopened, they went back to Iloilo, worked in the provincial hospital and stayed there until the opportunity to travel back to Manila finally came, after a wait of almost two years. They were assigned Lolo Ramon’s former bedroom. Tio Toniong, who was much more sociable than Tatang, soon discovered the every-afternoon Tampoy “umpukan” and became a regular attendee.
The end of that school year coincided with the harvest season. Tio Toniong and Tatang went to each of the farms to preside over the sharing of the crop. The De Leon’s share of the harvest used to be stored in rice mill warehouses but these had closed down. The only practical option was to store the palay in the Tampoy silong, but the space was not big enough to accommodate the entire harvest. It would not have been wise to sell the palay; the Japanese-issued currency’s value was fast depreciating. The final decision was to try and cram the palay into all the available space in the Tampoy house and store the balance in the rice mill bodegas of some of our relatives in Malolos.
The first palay deliveries were stored in the usual bodega, the “sawali” bins in the silong. These would not be enough and the library was chosen as the auxiliary bodega. The long study table and the stand-alone book cabinets on two sides of the library were moved to the “sala” and the porch to make room for two huge rice bins, each one four meters in diameter and two meters in height, which were erected in the library. The bins were made of “sawali” or woven thin strips of bamboo. The bins occupied the greater part of the library and left only a half-meter-wide passageway on either side. Then the bulk of the harvest started to come, transported in big bancas via the creek. The palay were in sacks, carried bodily from the banca to the library, and emptied into the bins. The bancas had to shuttle to and from the farms. The sacks had to be brought back to the farm and filled again each time. There were not enough bancas or sacks. The process lasted for several days. When it ended the bins were filled to overflowing. What was left of the harvest was stored in two bodegas, I think; at the Antonio Bautista rice mill across the creek and at the Angel Tantoco rice mill in the Kamistisuhan area. Up to now, the library floor sags in the middle, proof of its brief bodega experience. (The sag has been corrected, thanks to Tessie’s restoration work, at the expense of the knothole on the library floor, which had served generations of Tampoy kids as a peephole into an imagined nether world.)
After the harvest, things eased up somewhat. Our food ration improved in variety, quality and quantity. Electrical supply improved and became available even during daytime. The water supply likewise improved. The rice mills began to operate and the mortar and pestles were again put in mothballs. There was enough palay to barter for the conversion of the old wood-fired Franklin stove into one fuelled with “ipa” or palay husk. Wood had become very scarce while “ipa” was available for the taking at the Bautista’s rice mill across the creek.
Because of the harvest, the family was no longer too financially hard-pressed and our household chores were considerably lightened. The rice mill began to operate a few hours a week and our rice-pounding task had been replaced by an easier one. Once or twice a week we would cross the creek on one of the family bancas. From the mound of freshly-milled palay hull at the rice mill, we would fill a few sacks and bring them back for use as fuel for our new ipa-fuelled cooking range. We no longer had to gather or buy firewood for fuel.
The rice harvest also paid for the installation of a manually-operated artesian well pump. The municipal water supply was spotty. It was run by electricity, which was not very reliable. For supplementary lighting, when electricity was off, we had coconut oil wick lamps.
We would also make visits to Tia Lioning’s sari-sari store at their home in Barrio Buhangin, on the way to Atlag. Tia Lioning had closed the refreshment parlor she had operated in the town center because of the poor business conditions. While she chatted with Inang upstairs, she would leave us kids to run the store, after briefing us on the selling prices. Acting as sales boys was a refreshing change for us. As our wages, we got some candy, a treat during those days.
The only means of transportation in Malolos, aside from bicycles, were horse-drawn caretelas and calesas, used on paved roads. Caritons pulled by carabaos were also used but mostly for use in the fields and over unpaved roads and paths. Horses were faster and could go over longer distances while carabaos were slow and needed frequent rests and cooling off.
One had to be extra alert when traveling, especially at night. Walking on the streets on foot was something like crossing a minefield or a sewage canal, with all the horse manure, carabao dung and urine scattered all over. Things were particularly bad in front of the public market. Its wide front plaza was used as a caretela and calesa parking lot, where horses were fed, watered and did their thing. That is one reason why thick-soled wooden clogs or “bakya” were common then. They kept one’s bare skin far enough away from the “landmines” and were easy to clean. Obviously, the present day “traditionalists and environmentalists” who advocate a return to animal transport have not experienced this. The church plazas, municipio front yard and school yard were for pedestrians only, which made them safer and more sanitary places to walk on.
Thus went that stage of World War II. It was a period of relative peace after the turbulence of its first months. This hiatus proved to be simply the lull in the eye of a typhoon. The much stronger gales of the typhoon’s tail were soon to hit us.
January 12, 2012
by Nunilo M. de Leon
One night, a few weeks into the 1944-1945 school year, at a little past midnight, we were awakened by a fusillade of gunshots. They came from Pariancillo St., from in front of the Cine Estrella, one block from Tampoy. The exchange of gunfire went on for, perhaps, five minutes then suddenly died down. A midnight-to-dawn curfew was in effect and no one could go out to find out what had happened. The following morning, we got the news. A group of suspected “Huks” had tried to make a hit-and-run raid on the municipio and got as far as the edge of the town square, where the municipio’s policemen stopped them and drove them away. The “Huks” came from the direction of Canalate. They must have travelled in bancas and landed on the banks of the river there, from their strongholds downstream. Lucio Tan, my classmate, lived across the street from Cine Estrella. He said that the “Huks” reached as far as the front of their house. He could hear them shooting and talking beneath his bedroom window. He could not understand them. They were probably using Kapampangan, the dialect used in the province of Pampanga. His account was corroborated by two of my classmates, by Victorino Hizon, who lived across the street, and by Manuel Crisostomo (who lived next door. (“Manoling” Crisostomo was to meet a tragic end a few years later, in his first year of medical school. He had come home for the weekend and was just entering their family house on Calle Pariancillo when he met the robbers, who were on their way out. He was shot dead by members of a notorious criminal gang led by “Ben Ulo”, from Tondo and Hagunoy. Manoling was a descendant of the Manuel Crisostomo who, with Inkong, was sent on exile during the last years of the Spanish era. )
That was the end of the period of relative peace and quiet that had prevailed in Malolos since early 1943. The war had come back.
One night, a few weeks into the 1944-1945 school year, at a little past midnight, we were awakened by a fusillade of gunshots. They came from Pariancillo St., from in front of the Cine Estrella, one block from Tampoy. The exchange of gunfire went on for, perhaps, five minutes then suddenly died down. A midnight-to-dawn curfew was in effect and no one could go out to find out what had happened. The following morning, we got the news. A group of suspected “Huks” had tried to make a hit-and-run raid on the municipio and got as far as the edge of the town square, where the municipio’s policemen stopped them and drove them away. The “Huks” came from the direction of Canalate. They must have travelled in bancas and landed on the banks of the river there, from their strongholds downstream. Lucio Tan, my classmate, lived across the street from Cine Estrella. He said that the “Huks” reached as far as the front of their house. He could hear them shooting and talking beneath his bedroom window. He could not understand them. They were probably using Kapampangan, the dialect used in the province of Pampanga. His account was corroborated by two of my classmates, by Victorino Hizon, who lived across the street, and by Manuel Crisostomo (who lived next door. (“Manoling” Crisostomo was to meet a tragic end a few years later, in his first year of medical school. He had come home for the weekend and was just entering their family house on Calle Pariancillo when he met the robbers, who were on their way out. He was shot dead by members of a notorious criminal gang led by “Ben Ulo”, from Tondo and Hagunoy. Manoling was a descendant of the Manuel Crisostomo who, with Inkong, was sent on exile during the last years of the Spanish era. )
That was the end of the period of relative peace and quiet that had prevailed in Malolos since early 1943. The war had come back.
January 11, 2012
by Nunilo M. de Leon
It was a Sunday morning in September 1944. Together with other Immaculatans, I was in
church attending Sunday Mass. The hum of
an approaching plane came, a common enough sound, what with Japanese planes regularly
shuttling between Clark Field in the north and Nichols Field in the south. The plane was almost directly overhead when
the sound of its engine was drowned out by the deep-throated and much-louder
roar of other planes, followed by a long and thunderous burst of many large-caliber
machine guns. Then silence. We had to wait till after the Mass to find
out what had happened.
An aerial dogfight had taken place in the skies above
Malolos, the first ever seen there. A lone
Japanese plane had flown from the north, zigzagging at low altitude. Two strange-looking fighter planes, with
large blue and white stars and bars on each wing, dove from a high altitude,
pounced on the Japanese and promptly shot it down. It crashed in Huk territory to the west. The strange-looking planes could not be
anything else but US fighter planes, no longer sporting the star-with-a-red-cheese
ball-in-the-middle, which was their emblem before the war. We did not know that they were anywhere near
the Philippines.
More good news came later via the guerilla-operated
grapevine. The Americans had raided
Clark Field in Pampanga and Nichols Field in Makati and had attacked shipping
in Manila Bay, all of which caused much destruction. [Turo
was in Tia Pacita’s house in Manila when these initial air raids came. He says there was no warning, the US Navy
dive bombers had already completed their passes when the air raid sirens
sounded. Boying, who was then staying in
Pasig with his family, also remembers these air raids quite well. They had built a shelter inside their garage
and they would rush there every time planes flew overhead, and for good
reason. A bomb fragment actually fell
and shattered on their driveway, leaving a small crater.]
We were later to learn that the US fighter planess were from
a carrier task group in the Philippine Sea, off the coast of Eastern
Luzon. They were testing the strength of
the Japanese forces in the Philippines.
They discovered that Japanese air and sea defenses were quite weak and
that the archipelago was ripe for the picking.
The Japanese propaganda press had a different story. They claimed that the US forces were still in
the jungles of New Guinea, thousands of miles away, trapped and being slowly
but surely annihilated by the vastly superior Imperial Japanese “samurais”. They announced that the air raids were acts
of desperation and all the ships and planes that participated in the raids had
been destroyed. They did not bother to
explain how the Americans were able to get so near.
Life became less secure in Manila. The theaters were still open and entertaining
people with stage shows. Tio Amado
continued to appear in them. The
government offices and schools were still functioning and Tio Carlos, Tio Aurel
and Tia Epang were also still working.
However, the guerillas were getting to be increasingly
active and the Japanese were beginning to crack down harder. “Zonas” were frequently resorted to. These were cordons or dragnets set up around
a specific block or community by the Japanese “Kempeitai” or military
police. All males caught inside the
dragnet, looking old enough, or young enough, to be guerillas, were rounded
up. A “makapili” or Filipino informer,
usually wearing a hood fashioned from a large “buri” bag or “bayong”, would
then point out which ones were guerillas.
Those selected would be brought to military garrisons for interrogation,
a.k.a. torture. A few of them were
sometimes later released but most of them disappeared forever. Tia Pacita later narrated that their only
living son, Bebot, who was then only in his early teens, disappeared and was
feared to be one of those caught in one of the “Zonas”. However, they later
learned that he, with other boys from their neighborhood, had gone to the hills
of Montalban, Rizal to join Eleuterio “Terry” Adevoso’s ROTC Hunter
Guerillas. Tio Amado made the danger-fraught
trek to the guerilla lair, convinced the guerillas that Bebot was still too
young to fight and brought him back to Manila.
Some time after this, their entire family returned to their Malolos home
barrio, Barihan.
The government bureau where Tio Carlos worked had ceased to
operate but he and his family chose to stay on in Manila. Tia Helen was operating a store-eatery there
and probably thought that they were better off in Manila than in Malolos. Hearing of what had happened to Bebot,
Cancho, who was only a year older than Bebot but big for his age, was to be sent
to Malolos, for fear that the Japanese might mistake him for a guerilla in one
of their Manila “Zonas”.
Some time afterwards, Tia Epang and her family decided to
move back to Malolos from Pasig. The US
armed forces were nearing the Philippines.
They had occupied the Marianas in June 1944 and had landed on Peleliu
Island in September 1944, very close to Mindanao. American planes had resumed raiding air
fields in Luzon. Manila was rapidly
being evacuated, as life there was sure to get worse. On the road to Malolos and by fortunate
coincidence, Tio Aurel, who had hired a charcoal-fueled vehicle, saw Cancho
hiking on the national road, also bound for Malolos. They picked him up and brought him to Tampoy,
where he was going to stay.
Tia Epang and her family rented a house near the Malolos
railway station. Josie enrolled in my
Grade 6 class while her brothers Boying and Pio went to lower grades in the
same school. They were previously in
that school and found no difficulty moving back.
Cancho kept himself busy in Tampoy. He was mechanically minded and loved to put
things together. In one of his scrounging
around the silong, he found some bicycle parts which he used to build a
makeshift bicycle and a wheelbarrow or “carretilla”, which was put to good
use. He also usually was one of the
designated “rowers” whenever the household banca was needed for a trip or errand. Cancho had also managed to assemble a crystal
radio set. He kept on trying to operate
it, although it was very unreliable. One
could make out very little because of the static. The radio set was kept hidden away in the
silong and only used there. Having a
shortwave radio was then punishable by imprisonment or worse.
This initial “shock and awe” air raid by the Americans was
followed by a few weeks of waiting, during which life went on as usual, except
for the birth of Tio Toniong’s and Tia Lily’s second child, a girl named
Teresita or “Tessie”. She was born in
the corner bedroom, with the wrap-around porch, with, who else but, Tio Toniong
as attending physician.
In mid-October 1944, another death visited the clan. Lola Merced passed away in her Malolos
home. Because of the perilous and
penurious times, her wake and funeral were hardly noticed. We attended the wake, which was also held in
the Tampoy sala, and her burial at the family plot in the Malolos Catholic
cemetery. These were very much like
those held for Lolo Ramon a year earlier, except for the military-related
ceremonies.
Through all these we continued to go to school, the local
police stayed in the municipio, the Japanese in the capitolio, the Huks in the
rice fields and fishponds to the west and the BMA guerillas in the east. The days were peaceful. The nights were likewise quiet but
deceptively so. During the nightly
curfew, the Japanese, the Huks and the guerillas played their stealthy and lethal
games of hide-and-seek, hunt-and-kill in the streets while the few, unarmed and
intimidated police force simply watched and listened.
Once in a while, our family would visit Tia Epang’s family
in their newly-rented house beside the national highway, only a stone’s throw
from the Malolos railroad station. They
could not use the house which they occupied before the war, as it was inside
the capitol compound which was being used by the military. There was a squad-sized Japanese detachment
next door to their rented house, assigned to secure the nearby stretch of
highway and railway which connected Manila to the provinces to the north. There, we observed the tight, even cruel,
discipline practiced by the Japanese military within their own ranks. Whenever one was summoned by a superior, he
would come running, make a deep bow and wait to be spoken to. If he was slow in responding to the call, or
if he failed to make a deep-enough bow, he would receive a stentorian “bakero”
and sometimes one or two hard slaps on the face. No wonder the Japanese imposed the same
discipline and punishment on the civilian population. Obvious too, was their desire to luxuriate in
hot baths and their strict adherence to their pecking order. Every morning, a steel drum would be placed
on an improvised stove, filled with water and heated. Once the water was hot enough, the fire would
be banked and the detachment sergeant would climb into the tank and enjoy his
bath. When he was through, the non-com
who was next in rank would climb in, then the next and the next. This would go on until the lowliest private
had taken his bath, cleaned up the ashes, emptied the tank and put it away.
Towards the end of October 1944, things heated up
again. There were dogfights in the skies
over Malolos almost every morning. The railroad
and railway station at the edge of town were repeatedly strafed by US planes to
prevent any military traffic and, naturally, the Japanese resisted
fiercely. We watched the daily air shows
from our azotea on top of the air raid shelter, diving into the shelter
whenever the contending planes got too near.
We soon learned the reason for the air battles. The Americans had landed in Leyte. They had returned to the Philippines, as Gen.
Douglas MacArthur had promised.
The air raids cut the electrical transmission lines which
supplied much of Luzon, including Malolos, and we were again without
electricity. The water system was
powered by electricity so there was no water too. This did not pose too much of a problem for
us. The new rice husk stove was there
for the cooking although we had to stock up on rice husks because the rice mill
had again ceased to operate. The new
artesian well hand pump could supply all of our water needs, although water
still had to be boiled to make it safe for drinking. For lighting, “gaseras” or small one-candlepower
oil lamps were available, purchased or improvised. These were simply small tin or glass containers,
filled with coconut oil, fitted with a partly-submerged rag wick at one end and
lighted. There was enough supply of
matches, manufactured locally. We had no
other use for electricity; the phonograph was hand-wound and there were large
palm fronds hand fans for cooling. The
house was designed the traditional Filipino way; generously proportioned
windows and “ventanillas”, which provided large floor-to-ceiling openings for
cross-ventilation. If it became too warm
inside, one could always go out, to the breezy porch or to the bamboo “papag”
in the cooler “silong”.
Soon the situation became more perilous, people began to
leave town and schools were closed down. Tio Aurel, Tia Epang and their
children, whose rented house was beside the national highway and just a stone’s
throw from the often-targeted railroad, hurriedly moved to another rented house
near the town center, across the street from the Malolos Elementary School.
Japanese soldiers stopped straying too far from the highways
and main roads. We no longer saw them in
town, which had effectively become BMA territory. Looking back, it was a great blessing that
the Japanese did not commit atrocities in Malolos, as they had done in other
places where the same level of guerilla activity had taken place. They were probably hard-pressed just trying
to protect their main transportation routes and did not have the manpower nor
the time to bother with the guerillas and civilians in Malolos.
In Manila, it was another matter. The interdiction from the sky by US planes
constricted, if not completely sealed up, transportation to and from
Manila. Food from the provinces could no
longer enter Manila. Japanese troops
became more conspicuous and were obviously being reinforced. Fortifications were being built all over the
city and checkpoints had been set up everywhere. More and more “zonas” were being held and these
produced a much greater number of men who were suspected of underground
activities, arrested and brought to either Fort Santiago or Bilibid prison. There they were imprisoned and tortured. Those who were deemed guilty, which was most
of them, were executed. The few others
either managed to escape or had to wait until the US armed forces came and
liberated them.
At first, Tio Carlos and Tia Helen wanted to tough it out in
Manila. They had received a supply of
rice from the last harvest season and were thinking that, by bartering some of
the rice, they could have enough food to see them through to the end of the
war. Soon, however, no more food could
be found to barter for. They returned to
Tampoy, with Turo, Joby, Diana and Bong; leaving Ofelia, their eldest,
behind. Ofelia had gotten married to
David Alegre, a native Manileño whom she
had met during their stay in Manila.
Tampoy had become too close to the air battles. The stub-nosed fighter planes which were the
first ones over Malolos, and which I later found out were US Navy Grumman F-6 “Hellcat”
fighters, were no longer seen in the skies, replaced by other plane types. Most of the newcomers looked like the shark-nosed
P-39 “Aerocobra” fighters I had seen in the pre-war Popular Science but which, I
later discovered, were newer and better North American P-51 “Mustangs” from the
US Army Air Corps. Some were twin-boomed,
twin-engined fighters, Lockheed P-38 “Lightnings” which I had also read about
in Popular Science. There were also more
recent P-47 “Thunderbolt” fighters and B-25 North American “Mitchell”
twin-engined medium bombers. On some of
their strafing runs on the highway and railroad, the US planes passed overhead
at very low altitude and empty 50-caliber casings rained down on the town,
yielding a good harvest of souvenirs. A
P-38 was hit on one of those raids, crashed in a field outside of town and
exploded. While other fighters circled
overhead, some of those who were living nearby, mostly boys, rushed to the
crash scene. The pilot’s body was not to
be found, except for one hairy forearm, which still had a watch attached. We were quite reckless boys.
Tampoy was deemed to be too close to the battle zone and
might have to be evacuated at extremely short notice. It was, therefore, decided to evacuate the
female family members and the smaller boys.
The men and bigger boys were to be left behind as it was believed that
they could cope with any swift exodus that might be needed. A few days after Christmas, when the large
household banca was ready for the evacuation, plans suddenly went awry. Dada Ninay and Tia Monang refused to leave
Tampoy. They did not say so in so many
words, but I think Dada did not relish the inconveniences of farm life and Tia
Monang could not leave her pets behind. Tia Helen did not want to leave without
Tio Carlos so their whole family stayed.
Since Dada and Tia Monang were not going, neither were Eya, Abong, Nina
and Turina; only Tio Toniong’s and Tatang’s families evacuated. The destination was again going to be Hagunoy,
which was now Huk territory; this time, not the more-distant barrio Sukol, but the
nearer barrio Carillo, near Iba.
Normally, travel to Carillo by banca over the usual river
route was more than seven kilometers long and took some four hours to
negotiate. However, the “kasamas” had
shown us a shortcut which cut the travel time by an hour. This meant passing through narrow and shallow
creeks, avoiding some of the wide S-curves of the usual river route.
The banca could carry only one family at a time. The first trip had Tio Toniong, Tia Lily and
their two small daughters as passengers with Tio Toniong, Cancho and Turina
paddling. They were to stay with the
family of Ka Iking and Ka Aning, who were not relatives but Tio Toniong’s “inaanak
sa kasal”. He was the main sponsor at
their wedding. Ka Iking and Ka Aning
owned their farm and were relatively well-off.
After lunch, Cancho and Turina made the return trip to Tampoy.
The next day was our family’s turn to evacuate. Tatang did most of the paddling while Tancio
and I helped. Inang, Nestor and Nene
provided the ballast. We made a stopover
at Ka Iking’s place to see how the recent arrivals were doing. We were intending to proceed to the nearby
farm of Tata Tino (Faustino Martin) and Nana Sencia (Paciencia de la Cruz de
Leon y Martin), where we were supposed to stay, but Tia Lily persuaded Inang to
remain with her. Tia Lily was a Manileña
and could not quickly adjust to rural life.
Inang acceded to Tia Lily’s appeal and we stayed with them. Tio Toniong and Tatang paddled back to Tampoy
that same afternoon. They knew we were
safe in Carillo and felt they were more needed in Tampoy.
Nana Sencia was Inkong Tasio’s daughter by his second wife. They likewise owned their farm. That eastern part of Hagunoy was not part of
the delta and had a higher elevation than the western portion where Sukol
was. Rice could not be grown here, the
ground level was much higher than the river’s water level and irrigation would
have been too difficult. The main crops
were sugar cane, corn, pineapple and vegetables, which did not need irrigation,
and which moreover were more profitable than rice, making the farmers here
better off than the rice farmers. Many
of these farmers had been able to buy all or part of their holdings from their
landlords.
Life in Carillo was much like life in Sukol in the early
days of the war, with only a few differences.
The varied crop meant more variety in our diet. Another difference were the air shows over
the national highway and railways which were still visible, although more
distant. There was a third Carillo
feature which we did not have in Sukol, the “squadrons”.
One late afternoon, we saw a line of men in the distance,
walking towards us. Silhouetted by the
setting sun, they looked like farmers coming in from the field with a load of
sugarcane on their shoulders. When Ka
Iking saw them, he said, “Dumating na naman ang squadron”. The men separated into several small groups,
one group going to each of the farm houses.
A group of ten headed for our house.
As they came nearer, we saw that the sugar cane we thought they were
carrying, were actually rifles, 30-caliber Springfields and Japanese “Nambus”
or “pik-bongs”. The Nambu was given that
name because of the ammo it used, which produced two distinct noises when
fired. The primer or fuse of the
cartridge produced the very audible “pik”, followed an instant later by the much
louder “bong” of the main powder charge.
The group stayed some distance from the house while one of them,
probably their leader, approached and respectfully asked Ka Iking if they could
stay for a few days in the farm’s storage shed “kamalig” and rest. Ka Iking responded that they were welcome and
motioned to the others to come in. They
headed for the nearby storage shed and proceeded to make themselves at
home. They went to the river to bathe
and wash their clothes. Ka Aning placed
some uncooked rice in a pot, gave it to the strangers and told them that they
were free to get anything from the vegetable garden for food. They picked some fruits from the “balimbing”
tree and tomato plants, gathered some “camote” and “kulitis” leaves, cooked
them with some dried fish “daing” they brought with them, and had a rice and “bulanglang”
supper.
Ka Iking related that these were members of a hundred-men-strong
squadron of Huks and that it was one of several squadrons which occasionally
dropped in. She said that one of the
young men in the barrio was a Huk and the leader of any passing squadron would always
stay in his house, which was about half a kilometer away. The other squadron members were dispersed
among the neighboring farms. After they
had eaten, the Huks began to entertain themselves with songs; they had a
ukulele with them. Hearing them, Inang
said that they must be Kapampangan. The
Huks seemed to be very much at ease and I do not think they even bothered to
send out a sentry during the night.
The next morning, the Huks were up early and began to
prepare their own breakfast; boiled “camote” sweet potato from the garden,
coffee from over-roasted rice, and “carriba” which they themselves supplied. After breakfast, they began to help in the
farm chores. Some went to replenish the
farm’s firewood and water stocks. Others
pounded palay for rice. Still others
watered the vegetable garden and gathered whatever was ready for harvest, while
others borrowed Ka Iking’s fishing net and began to fish in the river. In today’s terminology, they were trying not
to leave “too large a footprint”.
Their spokesman-leader went to the house and asked Inang,
who was washing clothes, for some laundry soap.
Inang, who could speak Kapampangan and some other languages and dialects
quite fluently, answered the Pampango in his own dialect. He was obviously delighted at finding someone
whom he thought was a “cabalen” and began to converse animatedly with her. The Huks spoke very little Tagalog and during
their short stay one or two of them would always stay close to Inang, chatting
with her, probably trying to dissipate some of the homesickness which they were
feeling. They stayed the whole day in
the farm. When I woke up the following
morning, they were gone.
Tio Toniong, Tatang and Cancho traveled regularly between
Tampoy and Carillo. On one of their
trips, they brought some leaflets which US planes had been dropping. The leaflets advised all Filipinos to stay
alert, to stay away from possible targets of air raids and be ready “to strike
against the enemy”. The island of Leyte
had been liberated and Gen. MacArthur was soon going to land in Luzon.
On one of the later trips, Tio Toniong decided to stay
behind in Carillo. We persuaded Tatang,
who was going to return to Tampoy alone, to let us tag along with him. He agreed and took Tancio and me with
him. Things were very exciting in
Tampoy. Everyone was packed, ready to
leave at short notice. If an evacuation
was going to be necessary, the plan was for everyone to go to Ba Mundo’s farm
in Caingin, two kilometers from Tampoy.
Dada Ninay, Tia Monang, Tia Helen and Eya were to be brought there by
banca, with Cancho, Turo, Joby and Turina paddling. The others were to travel on foot.
Malolos had been completely shut down. The municipio, the schools and the public
market were closed. So were the stores. Although the Japanese were mostly out of it,
occupied as they were with securing the highway, the BMA guerillas and the Huks
were busily contesting the possession and control of Malolos. Shots could be heard day and night, proof of that
initial deadly struggle between Filipinos which, after the war, expanded into an
internecine “war between democracy and communism”, as it became commonly
known. That seven-decade-long conflict
continues to sap the strength of the nation to this day.
Not long after we arrived in Tampoy, news came that the
Americans had landed on the beaches of Pangasinan and La Union. The situation in Malolos turned for the
worse. US planes constantly hovered over
the highway during the day, forcing the Japanese to move troops and supplies
from Manila to the north only at night. The
guerillas would then take over and make nocturnal hit-and-run attacks on the Japanese
truck convoys.
Dada Ninay was finally convinced to leave Tampoy for
Carillo. The others remained in Tampoy ready
to leave according to the original evacuation plan but to be carried out
entirely on foot. We rode one of the
household bancas for Dada’s evacuation. Tancio
and I somehow convinced everybody that we were strong enough to do the rowing
by ourselves. Surprisingly, it was Dada
who least doubted our ability. Our banca
trip to Carillo was uneventful, except for the inevitable string of expletives
from Dada whenever the banca was steered too close, deliberately or
unavoidably, to the many “floaters” which we passed on the way. We brought Dada to her half-sister Nana
Sencia’s house, where she preferred to stay.
Contrary to my initial misimpressions, Dada got on quite
well with Nana Sencia, although they treated one another like aunt and niece rather
than as sisters, probably because of their wide age difference. Nana Sencia was closer to Tia Monang’s
age. Nana Sencia’s siblings, who were
living with their mother, Impong Puling, in another Hagunoy barrio some
distance from where we were, visited Dada at least once during her stay in
Carillo. Dada treated them the same way
she did Nana Sencia. I noticed that they
never talked about Inkong Tasio nor about Impong Puling, who never visited. Once I asked Nana Sencia about this. She replied, “Masama pa rin ang loob nila sa
kanila”. The children from
Inkong Tasio’s first family had not yet forgiven him for having a second
family.
(According to an historical account published by the Masonic Lodge, Inkong
Tasio was a founding member of the Masonic lodge called “Logio Kupang”, named
after the barrio in Bulacan town, where the national hero Marcelo H. del Pilar
was born. The leaders of the lodge were
Maloleños; Vicente Gatmaytan, Jose Bautista and Manuel Crisostomo. Many of the Masons, including Inkong who was
elected “Teniente de Granados”, Spanish for Senior Lieutenant, were elected in
November 1894 to serve as municipal government officials of Malolos. The “cura parroco” and the “capitan del
guardia civil” blocked this move, claiming that the Masons were anti-government
as well as anti-religion. Another
election was held in December 1894. The
results were the same and the authorities had no other choice but to allow them
to take over their elected positions, which happened on 1st January
1895. However, six months later, they
were formally charged in court, this time for plotting against the government
and the church, and found guilty. The
leaders, including Inkong, were exiled to various distant parts of the Islands;
Manuel Crisostomo to Sulu, Inkong and Ceferino Aldaba to Palawan, Vicente
Gatmaytan and Valentin Aldaba to Lanao. Some
of them never returned from their exile.
Inkong did, but only after six years.
Later, in 1897, Lolo Ramon was also convicted for sedition and was also
exiled, to Dapitan in Zamboanga. Soon,
Lolo Ramon escaped, returned to Malolos and began to fight with his comrades in
the Katipunan against Spain and then against the Americans. When Inkong Tasio finally returned from exile
in 1901, he was elected to be a delegate in the first town council organized by
the Americans in Malolos. Subsequently,
the second town council elected Lolo Ramon as the first mayor of the town. In 1918, Lolo Ramon became a founding member
of the first Masonic lodge in Malolos, the “Logio Malolos 46”, different from
the older “Logio Kupang”.)
In Malolos, the situation soon became very serious. The US forces which had landed in Pangasinan had
consolidated their initial beachheads and were making steady progress across
the plains of central Luzon. As the
Americans came closer, the guerillas and Huks grew bolder. More hit-and-run raids were made on Japanese
military installations, culminating in an ambush of Japanese soldiers on the
national road on the outskirts of Malolos.
The news that the ambush resulted in two Japanese killed and many others
wounded panicked the Malolos residents.
It was believed that the Japanese were sure to retaliate against the
civilians. The Tampoy residents decided
to evacuate, not to nearby Caingin as originally planned, but to the more
distant barrio Iba in Hagunoy. Tio
Carlos’ and Tia Helen’s family, except for Cancho and Turo, fled to one of the
De Leon’s tenanted farms in Iba. Turo,
with Tia Monang, Nina and Turina joined Dada in Nana Sencia’s farmhouse in
Carillo while Tatang, Cancho and Abong opted to continue staying in Tampoy with
Eya. Tia Pacita’s and Tia Epang’s
families stayed in Malolos, not in Tampoy but in their own homes. So did the Robleses.
A family banca, always manned by two rowers from Tampoy
would shuttle to and from Carillo and Iba, bringing supplies or passengers and
news. One morning, it came with the
shocking news that Cancho had been kidnapped.
Cancho and Abong were then on a shuttle trip to Iba. While passing through one of the creek
shortcuts mentioned earlier, they were stopped by armed men. Cancho, who spoke Tagalog brokenly and with a
heavy Pangasinan accent, was suspected of being a spy, either of the guerillas
or the Japanese. The armed men, who
turned out to be Huks, kept the banca and Cancho. They sent Abong, a Kapampangan and “cabalen”,
back to Tampoy on foot. That was all
Abong could relate, when he arrived back in Tampoy. He did not know what the Huks planned to do
to Cancho. A week or so later came the
sequel to Cancho’s kidnapping. From Iba,
Tio Carlos sent word to us in Carillo that we were not to worry, that Cancho
was safe with them in Iba. Only after we
had all returned to Tampoy did we get the rest of this story.
Two weeks passed by with nothing unusual happening. No more Huk squadrons dropped by, no more
news about kidnappings, no more dogfights. The US planes patrolling at high altitude,
dominated the skies. Even the occasional
sound of gunfire had stopped.
Early one morning, we awoke to excited voices. Ka Doming, the ex-USAFFE “kasama” who had
fought in Bataan and was in the Death March, was the source of the
commotion. He was coming from his farm
in Sapang Munti, where he had heard that the Americans had crossed the Pampanga
and Angat rivers, between the towns of Macabebe and Calumpit, and were already
in Bagbag, a riverside barrio not far from Iba.
Together with many other farm folks, Tio Toniong, Tata Tino, Ka Iking,
Turo, Tancio and I eagerly went with Ka Doming.
We brought along some tomatoes and boiled chicken eggs, which Ka Doming said
was always a welcome present for combat soldiers. We hurried to Bagbag which we reached after an
hour hike.
The Americans we saw in Bagbag did not at all look like the
soldiers we had seen before the war.
Gone were the shallow-basin steel helmets, replaced by bigger ones which
resembled those worn by German troops.
Gone too were the trim-looking khaki-colored uniforms; loose-fitting,
baggy-looking olive greens were worn instead. Nowhere were the knee-high wrap-around canvas tape
leggings, with strapped-on leather combat boots which reached to mid-calf
taking their place.
A pontoon bridge, good only for foot traffic, had already
been built and was in use in Bagbag. The
spearhead infantry and armor had crossed the river at dawn that morning, using
amphibious vehicles. They were said to
be already at the Tabang road junction, five kilometers past Malolos, and were
expected to be in Manila by nightfall. Mopping-up
operations were still going on at the capitol grounds in Malolos but, on the
whole, the US forces were meeting little resistance, thanks to the Huks and
guerillas, who had helped clear the way.
The troops we saw in Bagbag were army combat engineers. They had built the pontoon bridge and were
building a steel bailey bridge which could take heavy wheeled traffic. We watched the engineers, marveling at how
speedily they worked. They had lots of
tools and equipment, including unwieldy-looking amphibian trucks, which I had
never seen before, and which were busily ferrying loads of soldiers and
supplies across the river. I also saw
jeeps, weapon carriers, personnel carriers, command cars and 2-1/2 ton
“six-by-six” trucks all of which I had seen in the Popular Mechanics and
Popular Science some years back. The
Americans had enough men, materiel and supplies. They did not need any help from the people
who had come to welcome them and offer their aid. What they welcomed were the fresh food
brought for them. They popped the
tomatoes into their mouths right then and there but kept the eggs for later. In exchange they gave the civilians M &
M, Baby Ruth and Mars, B and C ready-to-eat meal packs plus Camels,
Chesterfields and Lucky Strikes. We did
not spend too much time in Bagbag. We
hurried back to Carillo to enjoy our GI presents. We shared our haul with the others in Carillo
and made sure that they lasted as long as possible. It had been three years since we had a taste
of these treats. For the new-borns,
Inday, Nene and Tessie, it was their first.
Upon learning that Malolos had been liberated by the
Americans, the De Leons in Iba decided to go home. Tia Monang decided to go with them, together
with Turo. She was probably worried
about her many pets. The others in
Carillo, including Dada decided to wait a while before going home. Tio Carlos’ family, plus Tia Monang, tried to
ride a banca home but were stopped by the Huks who claimed it was still unsafe
to travel. The entourage got off the
banca and walked, taking the route the American soldiers were using; overland
to the national highway, past the capitol building to the crossing and then back
to Tampoy. Nobody tried to stop them.
A few days later, Tatang and Cancho came from Tampoy, riding
a banca which had been borrowed from a Tampoy neighbor, the Tiongsons. We went back to Tampoy the same day, riding
on the borrowed banca, big enough to accommodate all the remaining evacuees. The Huks were no longer around to stop us.
Back in Tampoy, when he had the chance, Cancho related the
still undisclosed details about his kidnapping.
After Abong had left, the Huks continued to ply him with questions. He told them that he knew people from Iba and
gave them some names. One of those he
claimed he knew, “Ba Piliong”, turned out to be the Huk coordinator in
Iba. The Huks told Cancho that they
would take him along and check on his story when they were supposed to go to
Iba after several days. When they
eventually reached Iba, Cancho’s story checked out so they released him to “Ba
Piliong”, who then brought him to the house where Tio Carlos and family were
staying. Ba Piliong said that the Huks had
found out that Cancho was from a landlord family and wanted to know if he was
from the “good” or the “bad” ones. They probably
decided that he was “good” so they released him. However, they kept the banca, probably as
payment for Cancho’s “board and lodging”.
