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Return to the Native Land By: Francisco M. Renion, Jr on 7/6/2007; 3:45 AM RARELY DO LUXURY VEHICLES ply the roads of Bonfal since only few are considered the haves of the place. Most of the residents here are farming folks who depend heavily on the land and river as source of subsistence. There are some though, who are well-off, but not necessarily born with golden spoons in their mouths. This sunny, humid morning, a shiny and grayish Expedition halted at our front yard. “Paran is here,” I heard Nanay calling out. She was so elated to proclaim the arrival of the guest. “Tonyo, may you look for your Tatay in the farm. Tell him that Paran ang his family has just arrived.” “Right away, Nanay,” my seventeen year old youngest brother complied. “How are you Auntie?” I heard Paran greet my mother who had been busily sweeping the front yard when Paran arrived. With him were his wife Cielo and their three young children. Cielo handed my mother a big box of mocha cake as pasalubong. “Is Uncle Toning around?” Paran asked for Tatay who was then tethering Kalakian, our carabao help, around the mango tree. “He’ll be coming over, anak. Come upstairs and have some food. You arrived just in time for the breakfast. Aning, have some extra utensils on the table. Your Manong Paran and Manang Cielo are here with the children,” commanded mother to my sister. I decided to meet our guests too in the living room. Paran smiled and winked at me. “This must be your eldest Ben, Auntie?” asked Paran to my mother. “You were just in junior high the last time I came here, weren’t you?” “That’s right, Manong,” I replied. “Breakfast is ready,” Aning was heard calling out from the dining hall. Paran used to be a resident of Bonfal. He spent his childhood in this humble, silent and small town. Everyone knows one another in this place. My father used to recall the memories of this young boy everytime father would exhort us about hardwork and perseverance. He would quip that Paran possessed an extraordinary wit and intellect which he capitalized onto where he stands now. “That boy was really smart. Just imagine his big round head, eh.” I was amused by the exchange of words that transpired on the dining table between my father and Paran. While Nanay and Cielo hapilly shared and told tales to each other, Tatay complained of rising cost of farm implements and fertilizers, of fluctuating selling prices of palay and corn in the market, of lackadaisical and irresponsible politicians, and many other local concerns which interested Paran very much. Paran would also give very exhaustive and logical arguments about the matter from the vantage point of a lawyer. “Paran is really a hardworking guy. Look where he is now. I just couldn’t imagine how he managed to move from rags to riches,” father would smilingly recall Paran’s younger days in my place. “I remember that kid would run to your Nanay crying and ask for two pesos just to have baon to school because his Tio Lando would not give him any penny. Oh my, how wonderful Paran’s life really is.” Indeed. Paran is presently a practicing lawyer in Manila. He also teaches at two prestigious law schools in the country as his part-time job. In fact, Paran had dropped off the roll one student from Bonfal who flunked his exam. You ask any law student and he/she would say, “Ah, Atty. Bermudez? He’s a Bar topnotcher.A very tough professor of law. He’s a very reasonable man. He talks to you level-headed.” He also authors books on legal education which are bestselling in the academe. Even in the law practice, Paran is considered a combative lawyer, having won major cases up to the Supreme Court and jailed this or that politician or crime mastermind. Daily, he reports to his law office atop a plush executive building in Makati, which has other branches in Cebu, Davao, and Pampanga. This dimunitive, muscular and athletic-built middle aged man has really gone too far beyond the zenith of success. In spite of poverty, Paran rose from being a small fry in my place, to become a who’s who of the country. He graduated valedictorian in the elementary school and in the provincial high school. He also graduated Summa Cum Laude from the law school of the country’s top university. He also earned two master’s degrees in political science and jurisprudence from the United States under an international scholarship grant. Right now, other than being a Ph.D in Economics holder from the national university, he’s a candidate for Doctor of Laws degree in Harvard. After having taken breakfast, Paran, Tatay and I walked through our small ricefeld at the back of the house. Tatay showed him the sprouting greenblades on the seedbed. I heard Paran’s kids giggling and laughing at our backyard as Tonyo and Aning harvest some Indian mangoes for them. Nanay and Cielo were talking on the porch at the side of our house. The time flew so swiftly that is was already ten minutes past ten o’clock. “I think we gonna leave, Uncle Toning,” bade Paran to my father. “Aren’t you going to visit your cousins?” Tatay asked. “For what reason do I have to?” Paran retorted. “Paran, anak, it’s been a long time since your Uncle Lando and Tia Nora passed away.You have to let bygones be bygones.” “You’re the only relatives I have here, Uncle Toning.” Paran seemed to have been hurt by Tatay when he mentioned his relatives. I sensed there was pain in him, an agony he longed harbored since childhood. Paran was just like that. Whenever he visits Bonfal, he would speed to our house but wouldn’t drop by his immediate relatives in the place. His Tio Lando, the youngest brother of Paran’s father fostered him, since he was bereaved by his parents at an early age. Unfortunately, Paran’s life with his paternal uncle had been hell to him. Tio Lando was physical, while Tia Nora was verbal. More than the beating and whipping of Tio Lando, Paran hated the scoffs, cynicism and vexations of his Tia Nora.To him, forgiving would just be the least thing to consider to let go of the past. Many more months passed. We’ve missed Paran and his family coming over the house. One day, I accompanied Tatay to Manila to meet with Paran. Tatay had to consult Paran’s legal expertise on a certain cadastral dispute on one of our lands in Laod. That land was actually an inheritance of Tatay from my late grandfather which at the moment is in the hands of a possessor named Mang Juan, the son of my gradfather’s laborer. Tatay wanted to repossess the land so that he himself could till it. Paran’s house is situated on an exclusive subdivision in Makati. The parking space in front of his mansion can accommodate five cars. A fountain is at the center of the front yard. Tatay said that Paran’s house is worth eight million pesos. A guard opened the gate for us while Cielo waited at the veranda. She was smiling at us and told one of their house maids to show us the way. “Please wait for Paran in a little while, Uncle Toning. He stayed late in the evening reviewing the documents you sent through courier the other day,” Cielo greeted us in the spacious living room. We sat on a velvety sofa. A chandelier hung above the central ceiling. Paintings of Amorsolo and Francisco hung on the walls. The house was adorned with expensive furniture and China-glazed figurines and urns, embellished with Parisian quilt and curtains, Iranian carpet, and Italian rubber wall panels. “Have some drinks or refreshments for I know you’re tired from the long trip.” “Thank you, Manang Cielo,” I replied. “How are the kids, anak?” Tatay asked Cielo and glanced upstairs as if the kids were there. “They’ve been to school early this morning. It’s their exam.” “Oh, Uncle Toning, Ben, how’s your trip?” Paran said while coming out of his room on the second floor. He was only wearing a white sando and pajama “I already reviewed all the documents. Everything will just be alright. You got a very easy case, afterall. Not so complicated.” For the whole morning, Paran and Tatay talked about legal actions to be taken on our case. I took notes on a small pocket-size notebook of terms that were esoteric to me. When Paran spoke, he exuded the confidence and depth of a statesman. He was undeniably charismatic that anyone would be spellbound by the way he spoke and gesticulate. No doubt, this man wins a case with less tension. For just two and a half hours, I learned a lot from this man. The fecundity of his thoughts, the depth of his analysis, the pragmatic and practical stratagem and the humane considerations of a tough lawyer like him were his admirable qualities. He got a way of simplifying a very complicated case. It was already past two in the afternoon when we left Paran’s mansion. Cielo asked the driver to ferry us to the bus station in Cubao. Tatay thanked the couple for their time and assistance. “Any time Uncle Toning, as long as I can,” Paran tapped Tatay’s shoulder. Paran handled our case for almost five months until my father received a mail from Cielo. “Something bad happened,” said father. Paran had been confined in the hospital for two weeks now. He was lying on the hospital bed drabbed in white over-alls and was smiling at us when we opened the door. “Nice that you were able to come, Uncle Toning, Ben.” “Why? What happened to you?” Tatay asked him. Paran was lanky now probably because he could not take in much food these days as prescribed by the doctor. He was depending on the dextrose injected in his veins. “I suddenly felt excruciating stomach pain in the office. Good thing I did not have this while in court,” Paran was even laughing while he recalled the first day he experienced it. “The doctor said I got intestinal ulcer.” “How many times have I told you not to skip meals? Now look at you, you’ve lost almost a hundred pounds,” Tatay jested. “I couldn’t help, eh. I got a lot of work to do in the office, in my business, and of course the array of cases filed in court,” Paran explained. “By the way, I already asked my junior partner to attend to your case. He’s willing to travel for the litigation of your case. You don’t have to worry. He’ll give you a good counsel.” We left him a basket of fruits and eggs. We also brought two bottles of fresh carabao milk. Cielo and the maid fixed some essentials at the corner of the room. Looking at us, the kids were playing at the sofa and were unmindful of Paran and Tatay’s conversation. “Please visit me often.I feel bored in this four-cornered white room. This will just be temporary anyway,” Paran asked my father. “We will,” Tatay replied. One month after our first visit, Paran’s conditioned worsened. Cielo sent Tatay another mail. This time, she was telling him that it’s an emergency so Tatay needed to travel the soonest possible time. In the hospital, I noticed Paran grew lankier than the last time I saw him. He seemed bony and skinny. His body emphasized his big round head. I heard a little murmur from his chest as he breathed. He smiled at us. “Damn it, Uncle Toning! This ulcer has become an intestinal cancer yet I never knew it until yesterday,” Paran jokingly expressed amidst the critical condition that he had been diagnosed with. “Don’t say a word, anak. Your situation has worsened. Take your rest instead,” Tatay advised. I saw Cielo take the kids out of the room with their maid. She fixed some towel and clothes from the bag. The other maid assisted her. “Uncle, I told my wife Cielo that if I die, she has to let me be buried here in the city, not in Bonfal. Here.” “What are you blabbering? May you stop this nonsense!” Irate, though teary eyed, Tatay told Paran. “I already asked my lawyer to arrange my last will and testament. I’ve named you to take charge of my land in Isabela and Nueva Vizcaya. Cielo will definitely head our group of companies. I even told her, if she makes up her mind and will want to remarry, she can do so, if that’s what will make her happy. Anyway, I’ve long prepared for the education of my kids. Suffice that they have something to capitalize on for a new life by the time I leave this world,” Paran continued wishing. “Just take your rest, Manong. Your talking may cause you further anxiety,” without ruminating, I told him for I got nothing to say. I glanced at Tatay and he wiped his eyes with his handkerchief. Another month passed since our second visit. On our third visit, Paran could already barely move. He gasped for deep breath. The more he lost weight this time. Cielo was feeding her husband with oatmeal. “I feel sad that you rarely visit me, Uncle Toning,” Paran complained. “We attended to some problems in the farm, Manong,” I defended Tatay. Paran was sulking for our inability to see him regularly. “Has anyone from among your cousins come to visit you?” Tatay asked, probably he too, got nothing more to say. “I am not waiting for them, Uncle Toning.” “Please, Paran, you better let got of the past. Your hated uncle and aunt were long dead. This time, you must have had forgiven them. What else do you ask for? You got everything now at your disposal.Your life is far better than theirs. Why?” Tatay exhorted him. “I’m pretty damn serious, Uncle Toning with what I told you last time.I feel I could no longer endure this pain. In a couple of days, maybe weeks, I may pass out. When I die, let me be buried here in Manila. Don’t take my body back to Bonfal,” I could feel Paran’s firm and resolute desire. His inner pains, more painful than his illness, radiate palpably. He could not forget the pangs of his past in Bonfal. Paran apparently projected the image of a tough guy, a man who had been tempered by the fires of pain and bitter memories. He desperately tried to create an image of valor against all odds. But he was weak, very susceptible to pain and loneliness. He was afraid of being left out, yet he had been telling us that he was prepared for his passing away. Wasn’t he afraid of death? He was. He dreaded death very much. He just did not want to admit it. If he weren’t afraid and if he were really strong, then why would he always reiterate being buried in the city? He seemed to hate Bonfal where he grew up, but why did he still mention it over and over again? “Uncle Toning, your son Ben is indeed a writer,” Paran interrupted my cogitation. “He seems to be thinking a lot of things.” He noticed after all my deep reflection of his life. I answered him with a dry smile. His presupposition was not baseless. I finished Journalism from the national university a year ago and I am currently working as news bureau correspondent for Northern Luzon for a national daily. “I had been a writer too like you, Ben. Back in college, I used to be the editor-in chief of the university organ. I supported my schooling by working as news editor for a tabloid of city-wide circulation. I normally worked at night, and studied full-time during the day,” Paran continued. “That’s why you always skipped meals before, hence, your illness,” Tatay added. “Precisely, Uncle Toning. I developed ulcer in college because I had to work hard. I was a working student in the university and I would continue working on a grave-yard shift just to augment my allowances. Life was really hard back then.” There was a deafening silence that followed. It was intense. Painful. Tatay broke the silence. “Paran, your relatives in Bonfal are long waiting for you. They have been asking you to forgive them and let go of the past.” “Have you forgotten, Uncle Toning? Have you forgotten what they’ve done to me? To my family? They were the ones who rejected me. They never let me feel I belonged to their family. In their cruel hands, I grew up. In their harsh and demeaning words, I was shaped. Not even once did I become happy in their fold. All they implanted to me was pain, bitterness, grudge, loneliness…” Teardrops began rolling down his cheeks. Tatay too let loose drops of tears welling up at the corner of his eyes. “Anak, never will you have peace of heart and mind if you relentlessly linger the pain in your heart,” Tatay mused. “Life is just so short. We gotta do everything right before it’s too late.” Paran was silent. He bit his lower lip. I noticed his hands turned into hard fists. “By the way, even those compatriots who are working abroad wish to return to their hometown, don’t they? They also want to be buried in their native land because it is where one finds his/her roots,” Tatay desperately convinced Paran. “I’ll only be alone there, Uncle Toning,” Paran answered. “Whom will I arrive at? No one! No one! Remember what they’ve done to my parents’ grave site? That Chinese businessman who owns a poultryhouse in Bonfal bought that part of the original cemetery where my parents are lain. Now what has become of it? It’s all gone. I will only be alone there.” Paran was no longer looking at us. He was staring at the ceiling. His round eyes were wide open. I surmised that by this hour, his soul had transcended and trekked back to his long forgotten town, the town where he spent his childhood and teenage years, the native land where he first carved his lofty dreams and aspirations. Of course, his life then was full of bitter memories, of excruciating pain that put a stigma in his heart, of hatred that consumed his being. But as time flies swiftly, wounds heal unnoticeably until the scar that is left becomes negligible for the eyes to see. Two weeks after our last visit, a black Cadillac arrived in Bonfal. It had passed from towns to towns from the city. At every town, the car stopped and the chauffeur sought permission from the local officials to pass by. Many people from all walks of life in Bonfal were patiently waiting for the car. When it arrived, they thronged behind it to pay their last respects for the sole passenger of the car. Now, he was destined to lay in his final resting place. All newspapers around the country published the interment of a renowned lawyer, educator, civil servant, businessman, journalist, and philanthropist. The newspapers stated that his remains will be buried in Bonfal, his native land.#
RE: Return to the Native Land By: Mark Morgan on 7/6/2007; 9:15 AM Gah! Sorry about that. You have to hit return twice between paragraphs to avoid them jumbling like that. Want to edit it before I publish?
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