Stepping into golden age

We reach the pinnacle of our career then turn around and reluctantly begin the slow walk down into the entrance of golden age. With a sense of serenity we take occasional nostalgic walks to memory lane to revisit people and places we’ve seen over the years.

I recall graceful faces, hands I have pressed, meals we’ve shared, prayers we’ve said together in rosaries and novenas, music we’ve sung in island harmony, and friends who’ve sailed home into the sunset. It’s one sentimental walk as we deal with yet another final query: how much time is left?

Yes, the untiring personal discipline seeking answers to unanswered prayers, dreams that have disappeared at dawn, and trusted friends who failed us. Nevertheless, we kept dreaming and praying, daily. It’s all part and whole of a discipline we’ve learned from our parents. Call it persistence!

It seems a timeless journey crowned by the wisdom of our time-honored traditions. Yes, the latter evaporates like morning dew at sunrise but returns the next day as though a reminder that there’s room for renewal. And we begin anew with eyes set on brighter tomorrows. Call it hope!

I’ve heard the familiar voices of cousins and friends a long time ago. Yes the happy times we had at a school playground, family farm, and public beaches. We certainly miss youthful formative years where we learned the essence of strong spiritual anchor. It served as our north star through the years.

Through it all familial unity has kept us a closely-knit clan. We’ve toiled the soil, fished alongside master fishermen, mud surf (suberudai`) the school playground on rainy days, head to church on Christmas Eve with rags on our back and settled for coffee and boiled taro in the old kitchen. I call it breakfast!

I miss the meaningful family conversations and laughter of yester-years that cemented the bond of love amongst us. We are also most grateful for the untiring efforts and wise counsel of our saintly parents who stood by our side through thick and thin.

I also miss the once strong sense of communal sharing where, poor as we were, we looked out for each other’s wellbeing. It gave me the opportunity to see issues through the prism of our people’s eyes. I lived it too! It’s the foundational barometer discerning sentiments and conditions in the islands. I never miss a beat and have learned from it throughout the years.

The veneration of the Baby Jesus on Christmas Day in the villages is a religious tradition here. We welcome the King of Kings into our homes even if only twice a year. Each family member humbly kneels down and kisses His feet. The exchange of heartfelt felicitations with the accompanying choir is sheer joy.

Up until the earl ’60s, communal sharing means joining other families net-fishing, corn picking and husking, tapioca grating, picking young and ripe coconuts for food and oil, helping our elderly in the slaughter or butcher of farm animals, etc. These occasional gatherings involve the entire neighborhood pitching-in, including talking stories when chores are done.

Master fishermen do what I call the “slam” form of fishing—hit the water hard to corral fish to the net—to help a family in difficult times or village fiestas. This too is basically history!

Indeed, some of these once customary things we do as neighbors have also disappeared over time. It disappeared with the migration of friends to new village homesteads in Kagman, Dandan, Tanapag, As Matuis, and China Town. The old fabric is gone. I don’t see it in the new villages. We’ve also become more individualistic where we resolutely mind our own business. We close our doors so we don’t see our neighbors anymore.

The customary help we give our elderly in their golden years has slowly changed into hiring outside hands to handle them while we’re at work. Understood. But it remains filial obligation. We must return to honoring them with patience and generosity for their roles and timeless contributions.

Thought I’d share a brief and somewhat melancholic account of our recent past in our trials and tribulations. We’re now at the crossroads of modernity or the massive shift being imposed by the digital age. We find tougher sealanes to navigate up ahead. Tell us your version some 70 years from now. Si Iku!

Dangerous lull
The test of leadership is how quickly it seizes command and control of a disastrous situation that pummeled the islands like Supertyphoon Soudelor.

Immediate instructions would have helped guide the multitude about shelters, where to go for specific help, etc. Of course, it was very disappointing! It must have been driven wildly by the lack of timely solutions or call it inexperience!

One quizzes emergency preparedness in the event the islands is hit by a major earthquake the strength of 6.0 on the Richter scale. Remember, a 5.0 temblor no longer allows you to stand up. You sit down where you are until the shaking is done. Move away from major structures and telephone poles too. Troubling given that north of the archipelago Japan goes through regular earthquake exercises monthly. Shouldn’t this be a concern too?

The NMI is a volcanic offshoot that has active underwater volcanoes nearby. We’ve seen how the Pagan eruption displaced its residents. We’ve seen how the skies turned pitch black when the Anatahan volcano erupted. Even chickens were jumping unto tree branches at 10am fooled it was sunset. Think about it. We’ve got volcanoes, tectonic plates and the Pacific Ring of Fire to contend with annually. Must prepare in the event the big one hits!