(4th of ‘Life’ Series)
I was four when we left Tagbilaran for Manila, which means that most of my memories from that old neighborhood in Tagbilaran are more like fuzzy postcards than sharp photographs.
Papa had found a job with the country’s first airline, the Philippine Airlines. He must have shown a lot of promise because, in 1960, he was plucked from Tagbilaran for transfer to insular Manila. And so, we boarded a PAL plane bound for Manila, there to start a new life.
There, we would transfer from 1 house to another, as Papa would find a better deal, with a better location, etc with the fresh acquaintances he started to develop in Manila. Papa was a jolly charmer, and he was easy to befriend. He was the kind of person who could turn a cramped apartment into a standing-room-only party with stories, laughter, and that infectious grin; hence he was able to make new friends in Manila easily. It also helped that Papa was close to ex-President Carlos Garcia then – played chess with him often – and this opened a lot of doors for Papa as well.
But we stayed longest in a 2-bedroom home in Iriga St in La Loma, Quezon City. The place belonged to a Cebuano lawyer who became close to Papa. There I found myself making friends with different types of people – from middle-class kids to those who lived in a squatters’ area just right near our home. It was a neighborhood of contrasts that somehow felt like the perfect training ground for life: you learn how to deal with bullies; you learn to share your toys, your littlest snacks, your blessings; and you learn to laugh through the chaos. It was there where I made friends with all types of people, from the kids who lived in fenced homes, to the kids in the apartment houses, to those who lived in broken-down shanties right nearby.
Our days were a merry mix of games: war games that ended in laughter rather than battles, boxing matches with gloriously sweat-soaked stinky old gloves that surrendered with time, quick sprints around the block, and a dozen other kiddie adventures that sounded grand in the telling, and were even grander in the moment.
I recall befriending a polio-stricken kid my age. His name was Albert. He would always be the butt of jokes with the other kids, and so I decided to befriend him. I realized then that it felt good to be doing that. It was the kind of moment that made me understand better what “kindness” truly means – in this case, standing up for someone who isn’t your usual type of buddy, simply because they’re human and deserving of fair treatment.
Iriga gave us wonderful memories. Manoy Monching and I attended a good private school – Lourdes School – which provided us the proper academic foundation and the great Christian values that would keep me in step during those youthful years.
But then came the stormy chapter in our family’s stay in Manila: Papa, who had rose through the ranks to become the Vice President of the PAL Employees’ Association (PALEA), led an employees’ strike against the airline. It was a tense period that brought dire financial difficulties into our home for the very first time. It would also be my first brush with management – labor interaction.
Due to the financial woes caused by the strike, the family had to transfer to Ermita, where my Papa had found a sideline gig as an insurance agent, while still continuing the strike against PAL. That strike would drag on for 3-plus years, making those years the most difficult years in our family’s stay in Manila. Hence, I had to transfer from the high standards of Lourdes School in Quezon City to the Ermita Catholic School, a small, obscure parochial school in Ermita, Manila which was not really known for academic excellence.
But it turned out to be a blessing for me though. I became a favorite of our Grade 6 teacher, Ms Chan. She inspired me to do better with my studies, particularly in Math. She coached me, and made me the school rep in many inter-school competitions. And that would work wonders, as I would pass the exam for the prestigious Philippine Science High School (fondly called Pisay) that year. I was all set to join my elder brother Monching in UP Prep at that time, but the scholarship offer that went with passing Pisay’s entrance test was something my parents could not pass up on. Hence, it was on to the Philippine Science High School the following year. It would be the first time for me to be living independent of my parents.
Growing up in this environment, I learned that one’s development doesn’t happen in one single blazing stroke, but through the slow tempering of one’s character. I learned to measure strength not by imposing one’s will on the likes of Albert, who deserved a friend. I discovered that life wasn’t always fair, and I developed an empathy for those who had less in life.
The urban storm in Manila didn’t erode me. While it did draw a hidden fire in me, it also weathered me into something kinder, more curious, more patient with the underserved. Those good old days provided some crude lessons for the kid in me: that kindness is always a good deed; that integrity may be difficult but need not be compromised; and that true growth can be nurtured with courage, responsibility and the warmth of family and community.
Cover pic courtesy of WordPress AI. Other pics courtesy of Pinterest, Global Campaign for Peace Education, Instagram and the Holgy Library. For a closer look, just click on the pics.
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