Monday
It was a Monday, I woke up the usual time....the usual time being something from 8:30 am onwards. I went to my tiny so called classroom, attended to my one and only student, I didn't even know what to teach...but that's nothing new. We had been working on a essay about the qualities of a leader in the 21st century. It wouldn't be such a damned difficult thing to do except for the fact that my one and only student has MMR. Thus, he has no idea of what life is, fortunately, his parents had been able to raise him with a sense of Christianism bound life emoboli in his veins. We went online, did this and that from 9 'til 11 am, explanations here and there...honestly, I am a bit tired of our regimen, it's like I'm Helen Keller's teacher or something, I have to explain thing to the oddest detail in the span of 2 hours 3 times a week, and I cannot even assure myself that I was indeed understood. My job is to keep his mind occupied, but my mission is to make him learn. His parents on the other hand...I have no idea what they really want. So there it was, my Monday, 'til his driver picked him up at the usual 11am dismissal. At that I went into the house, and checked on some stuff in my room, I went to check on my grandma, which I hadn't usually done because I had at some point become saturated with her condition that I didn't wanna have anything to do with her because it, and she seemed so impossible. My mind seems to just slam onto a dead end everytime I am presented with her situation.
My grandma...
She's my dad's mom. She's a lovely character, her roots trace back to Ilocos Sur, where she'd spent her youth with her only sibling Lola Mary, they were orphaned at a very young age. According to her stories, her mom had died early on, and her dad simply disappeared, maybe went away into some far away place without a word. So, for the most part of her younger years she was under the care of her grandma whom she had taken good care of. However, when this "rich" acres and acres of land owning grandma died, the relatives, as relatives always do took whatever property there was and kept it for themselves. She on the other hand was left to the care of Tiyas...and I guess, not cool aunt ever existed back in those times, I guess the 70's groovy character had never occured to anyone back then. So, she was demoted to no more than an "alalay" to various aunts and uncles pronbably. She and her sister fend for themselves. I do not know how they came to Manila, but they did...they experienced the Japanese reign. I remember how my grandma told me stories about the Japanese, of how all of a sudden sirens would be heard from loud speakers and everyone would mindlessly take cover, lie on the ground or something and airplanes would come wooshing above. Yes, they did drop bombs. My grandma, whom we call "mama," told us about life in the time of the Japanese, of how, you would need a "bayong" full of cash to be able to make a purchase at the market, of how, they had to put "uling" on their faces and of how she would fix herself up to look miserable and ugly just that the Japanese soldiers would not notice them, and would not rape them. (Oh, and yeah, I do recall her talking about a brother...I forgot what his name was...but I think she had a brother, I don't know if his name was Roque. ) Back then Filipinos were not allowed to keep knives at home, but any kitchen fairing person would know it to be impossible to survive sane in a kitchen without a decent knife, let alone...no knife at all!! So, they seemlingly could not succumb to that condition, so, daring death by bayonet and rape, they hid their knives, they would dig a hole and hide their knives under the soil. When it was time for cooking, there was a knife lo an behold! Maybe they cooked adobo, sinigang and made all those cubey cuts and the Japanese never had a clue! My grandma also talked about how she witnessed a Japanese throw a baby into the air and catch it with his bayonet...godless! Sons of bitches! I have not met any Japanese of the generations anew... I hope they are not anything like that. There are however, kind Japanese soldiers. My grandma had a Jap soldier friend who would warn them about anything that would put them in harm's way. There was this one time when this Japanese soldier told them to leave the place they were because the Japanese was going to make some sort of a raid, I don't know or remember what kind of raid exactly. I don't know if they'd gone on a pillaging, raping and killing spree, all i know is my grandma and his sister was spared from all that because of that warning.
Further into the Japanese reign, my grandma worked at the Philippine Refining...something...where she spoke about them making candies in a factory. She recounts the visit of the Japanese emperor or something to that effect, and how everyone was to bow and not look at this high-ranking official, or else, well, let's just say the Japanese fed their bayonets with blood whenever they could. No death march stories though, my grandma had her own luck or political abilities, I figure.
Moving on...
You know how it is with grandmas and their stories, they jump from one thought to another, all I can say is, I am glad I enjoyed her stories, even if she had a knack of repeating them over and over again. She told me about the time she had been in the movies. She became an "artista" at a certain point in her life, which isn't at all impossible because she was a beautiful lady. She would be in the ranks of "kikay," but unlike the typical kikay, my grandma was beautiful, strong, willful, smart and uncanny. She managed to do business, although unstructured, she managed to feed a great many relatives who were unable to fend for themselves. She was a woman with a golden heart...it's not something I am just saying out of respect, but it is something I remember having felt her imbibe, I know I liked her a lot.
She's the only grand parent I got to know so well. Enough of that for the moment though, let's stick to the chronology of things...my grandma later on resided in Manila, Dapitan Steet somewhere...she had kids with this Chinese guy (my lolo) Jose Sy Beng....otherwise known as Jose Sy if Jose was his real first name. The real last name is not Sy Beng, it was supposed to be Sy, not that it matters. The family lineage and relationships were rather unclear. My Lolo had another family I think, but he tried his best to provide for mama. Unfortunately my grandma and lolo Jose weren't that good at managing the business and pilferage and didn't quite control the input and output of cash from the register. They had a bakery business, it was a huge operation, trucks, cash registers, bakers, etc. Top quality!
To be Continued...
My grandma...
She's my dad's mom. She's a lovely character, her roots trace back to Ilocos Sur, where she'd spent her youth with her only sibling Lola Mary, they were orphaned at a very young age. According to her stories, her mom had died early on, and her dad simply disappeared, maybe went away into some far away place without a word. So, for the most part of her younger years she was under the care of her grandma whom she had taken good care of. However, when this "rich" acres and acres of land owning grandma died, the relatives, as relatives always do took whatever property there was and kept it for themselves. She on the other hand was left to the care of Tiyas...and I guess, not cool aunt ever existed back in those times, I guess the 70's groovy character had never occured to anyone back then. So, she was demoted to no more than an "alalay" to various aunts and uncles pronbably. She and her sister fend for themselves. I do not know how they came to Manila, but they did...they experienced the Japanese reign. I remember how my grandma told me stories about the Japanese, of how all of a sudden sirens would be heard from loud speakers and everyone would mindlessly take cover, lie on the ground or something and airplanes would come wooshing above. Yes, they did drop bombs. My grandma, whom we call "mama," told us about life in the time of the Japanese, of how, you would need a "bayong" full of cash to be able to make a purchase at the market, of how, they had to put "uling" on their faces and of how she would fix herself up to look miserable and ugly just that the Japanese soldiers would not notice them, and would not rape them. (Oh, and yeah, I do recall her talking about a brother...I forgot what his name was...but I think she had a brother, I don't know if his name was Roque. ) Back then Filipinos were not allowed to keep knives at home, but any kitchen fairing person would know it to be impossible to survive sane in a kitchen without a decent knife, let alone...no knife at all!! So, they seemlingly could not succumb to that condition, so, daring death by bayonet and rape, they hid their knives, they would dig a hole and hide their knives under the soil. When it was time for cooking, there was a knife lo an behold! Maybe they cooked adobo, sinigang and made all those cubey cuts and the Japanese never had a clue! My grandma also talked about how she witnessed a Japanese throw a baby into the air and catch it with his bayonet...godless! Sons of bitches! I have not met any Japanese of the generations anew... I hope they are not anything like that. There are however, kind Japanese soldiers. My grandma had a Jap soldier friend who would warn them about anything that would put them in harm's way. There was this one time when this Japanese soldier told them to leave the place they were because the Japanese was going to make some sort of a raid, I don't know or remember what kind of raid exactly. I don't know if they'd gone on a pillaging, raping and killing spree, all i know is my grandma and his sister was spared from all that because of that warning.
Further into the Japanese reign, my grandma worked at the Philippine Refining...something...where she spoke about them making candies in a factory. She recounts the visit of the Japanese emperor or something to that effect, and how everyone was to bow and not look at this high-ranking official, or else, well, let's just say the Japanese fed their bayonets with blood whenever they could. No death march stories though, my grandma had her own luck or political abilities, I figure.
Moving on...
You know how it is with grandmas and their stories, they jump from one thought to another, all I can say is, I am glad I enjoyed her stories, even if she had a knack of repeating them over and over again. She told me about the time she had been in the movies. She became an "artista" at a certain point in her life, which isn't at all impossible because she was a beautiful lady. She would be in the ranks of "kikay," but unlike the typical kikay, my grandma was beautiful, strong, willful, smart and uncanny. She managed to do business, although unstructured, she managed to feed a great many relatives who were unable to fend for themselves. She was a woman with a golden heart...it's not something I am just saying out of respect, but it is something I remember having felt her imbibe, I know I liked her a lot.
She's the only grand parent I got to know so well. Enough of that for the moment though, let's stick to the chronology of things...my grandma later on resided in Manila, Dapitan Steet somewhere...she had kids with this Chinese guy (my lolo) Jose Sy Beng....otherwise known as Jose Sy if Jose was his real first name. The real last name is not Sy Beng, it was supposed to be Sy, not that it matters. The family lineage and relationships were rather unclear. My Lolo had another family I think, but he tried his best to provide for mama. Unfortunately my grandma and lolo Jose weren't that good at managing the business and pilferage and didn't quite control the input and output of cash from the register. They had a bakery business, it was a huge operation, trucks, cash registers, bakers, etc. Top quality!
To be Continued...
posted by Jdee at 3:34 AM
1 Comments:
can't wait for part 2! :)
what a mama！
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