REMEMBERING MAMA - Part I

     I always got this feeling that we disappointed her in many ways.  Knowing how meticulous and specific her standards were, I can understand how and why.  Much as we all tried to do as she pleased, we all went about living our lives the way we envisioned it to be.  In the end, Mama must have felt quite alienated and puzzled by how we all turned out and what we became.  But such is life and Mama would not be one to gripe about it.  She, herself, must have been amazed at how her own life evolved.

     Mama was born youngest in a brood of three.  Her mother, our grandmother Nanay, was quite young when she lost her own husband and as duty dictated in those times, our great-grandparents felt compelled to find her another husband to head her family.  Mama’s stepfather was a widower with three children of his own.   

     Mama was then four years old and quite spoiled by her grandparents who lived nearby.  Ibu, my aunt and Mama’s only full sister, laughingly said that Mama was a handful when she was a child.  She was a little cutie with very, very fair complexion and curly hair.  She smoked at that ridiculously tender age.  She claimed she kept her stash of cigarettes in a tin can and she normally stole a smoke behind their house in the province. 

     Mama’s family was relatively wealthy.  Among the many properties that her father left behind was their town’s marketplace and a cockpit aside from some farmlands.  Even at that age, she was already tasked to collect the daily rentals from the market vendors.  People were straightforward then and stallholders simply dropped the coins due into another tin can that she carried with her.  Unknown to Nanay, for sure, Mama would siphon off part of the collection to her own loot so she could buy her ciggies and candies. 

     The children of her stepfather, whom we called Tatay, were much older than Mama and her siblings.  His eldest daughter was already in her early twenties when they remarried; a son in late teens and a young special child-daughter completed his side of the family.  

     When arguments arose due to differences between step-siblings, Mama always piped in an answer or two causing her to be banished from dinner.  Ibu related that she, on the other hand, learned to keep whatever thoughts she may have had to herself and hurried to finish her meals quietly.  Knowing my Ibu, I can see how she did so since she was one of the kindest and sweetest persons I have ever had the privilege of knowing.  At any rate, I presume that being banished from a meal was the least of Mama’s concerns since she had a horde of cash and candies to tide her over.

      When ordered to clean up their youngest step-sister, Mama washed her up by using her foot to which the step-sister often screamed “Monyo monyo”, meaning demonyo or devil!   As I said, Mama was spoiled and, maybe, she just cannot see why she had to be the one to clean up a special child who was in her early teens. 

     Their grandparents soon realized the mistake in their choice of a step-father for the young family.  To their dismay, Tatay turned out to be a profligate gambler and drunkard and slowly, the family wealth dwindled.  As the second family started adding new members, Mama’s grandparents relocated the three children to Manila and took them under their own care.  Thus, Mama and siblings got to enjoy the city life and enjoyed education in Manila.  Sadly, her brother, Arturo, was stricken with throat cancer and died at age 16.

     Typical of their generation, Mama married early at the age of 18.  My Papa was a China born young man of 20 when they met; but atypical of the times, they married for love and not for convenience.  Maybe Mama was really quite headstrong that I never heard of any stories implying any objection to the mixed-race union. 

     I do not know if there were any objections from my father’s side of the family but surely, Papa was enamored with this Spanish mestiza that their union simply cannot be stopped. 

     Unfortunately for the young couple, they married a few months before WWII broke out.  Mama related much of their misadventures during the war since my Papa was on the Japanese army’s wanted list.  It seemed that Papa played in a series of basketball games that raised funds for anti-Japanese activities prior to their invasion of the Philippines.  They hopped from one place to another and kept on moving.  Mama would tell how she had to rub dirt and grime on her face and all over her body whenever there was need to walk out of the house.  Being such a pampered young lady, she griped and cried over their situation, their food and accommodation and Papa always promised that as soon as the war was over, he would give her the life of a queen. True to his word, Papa indulged Mama’s every whim in the short time they were together. 

     Papa’s behavior may have set the norm for which Mama had been regarded by his family throughout her life.  Of course, it helped that Mama learned to speak Fookien Chinese even in the early days of their marriage so she would understand everybody around her.   I believe that this was what endeared her to them.  Actually, she told me that she was starting to feel paranoid over everyone saying things she didn’t comprehend.  She felt like they were always talking about her.  When they all laughed, she always suspected she was the object of the laughter!  Papa did not alleviate her misgivings by adding that the Chinese as a rule loved to talk about people.  He advised that when you join a group discussion, stay until the end because as soon as you leave, they start talking about you!  Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha…. but isn’t that true of everybody! 

     Papa died of atherosclerosis when Mama was only 29 years old.  My Ah-pe, Papa’s older and only brother, appealed for Mama to stay with our Chinese relatives instead of setting out on her own.  Consequently, my brothers and I grew up in the wide open spaces of my uncle’s lumberyard.  As a testament of their love and consideration for her, Ah-pe and his family accepted and even offered their generosity to Mama’s half-brothers, half-sisters, cousins and even mere friends whenever they came to the city to study.   Mama’s half-brothers later ended up being employed by Ah-pe.  In my adult years, Mama disclosed that she made her half-brothers promise to stay with her until all her children were grown.  Nervous at the prospect of raising three boys by herself, she thought she needed their male presence to influence my brothers.  Of course, the promises were really not kept because both half-brothers met their destined life partners earlier than Mama’s schedule.  Like a loving sister, she took it all in with calm and good wishes for them.

     It was fortunate on their part, too, that Mama was treated very generously by Ah-pe because their family slowly but surely lost all financial resources because of Tatay’s gambling and drinking.  Mama had to regularly send money to Nanay so they could plant crops on their heavily indebted farmlands.  Tatay, in his older years, suffered a stroke which left him paralyzed and bedridden for a long, long time.  The years of paralysis must have stirred Tatay’s conscience because on his death bed, there was no one else he asked to speak with but Mama.  She quickly traveled to the province to see him.  What transpired, she never told. 

     We had a house of our own in the lumber yard.  It was spacious with trees all around.  Mama joyfully indulged in all kinds of hobbies in her own yard.   I remember we had banana, mango, nangka (jackfruit), papaya, and santol trees fronting our house.   With her favorite music playing over the radio, she would putter around with her roses and other flowering plants.  I was then too young to identify what kinds of flowering plants she busied with but the yard looked pretty at all times. 

     When Mama was not meddling with other people’s affairs, she was continually preoccupied with one project or another.  Believing she could do it all, she contemplated various ventures she could undertake.   

     There was one time when she obsessed about going into hog-raising.  To try her idea, Ah-pe gifted her with a piglet so she could experience how it was to raise a pig.  The pig was a “landrace”, a term I heard them mention when it was delivered.  It was white and bigger than the normal local piglet.  Mama had a pigpen built which was quite roomy and she tended to this piglet with the help of our houseboy.  The pen was kept spotlessly clean and dry at all times.  Mama was so entertained by this pig and made the big mistake of naming him.  She called him “Balloon”; that was his name and she would call out “Loon, loon, loon” to him whenever she came to check up on his condition.   Surprisingly, Loon lumbered along and oinked his way over to seek her hand.  He nibbled softly at her hand when she stroked and caressed him.   This was their ritual mornings, afternoons and evenings and Mama had a grand time caring for and loving Balloon.  Unfortunately, the time came when Balloon grew to his ideal weight for slaughtering.  Stoically, Mama allowed it to happen but it must have broken her heart to do so.  The pen was immediately dismantled and the idea of hog-raising was quickly forgotten! 

     At one point, she also got attracted to raising a pair of pigeons.  She thought she could just have these two and train them to become homing pigeons.  Well, “homing” was exactly what they were.  They flew away and came home with some other pigeons.  They did this repeatedly and offered a home to maybe more than a hundred pigeons that our “kisame” teemed with cooing and scratching pigeons.  It became so noisy and bothersome that she had to expurgate the entire roof space to drive all her feathered friends away! 

     I don’t know if it was because of Mama’s vivacity or because of sheer number of people living in it, our house was a constant hub of activity morning till late at night.  Mama was always the ringleader of all kinds of activities.  Some nights, we would all be gathered around in the verandah with the adults taking turns relating the most atrocious horror stories.  Other nights, there was music and those with two left feet were taken on the floor and taught how to dance.  Even the children were taught to tango and boogie!  There were special nights out, too, when they trooped to Isaac Peral to bowl. Isaac Peral is now United Nations Avenue and the bowling alley had been replaced by the Unilever. There was a good panciteria right beside or very near that place where Mama and her gang of relatives went to buy a delightful soup dish with plenty of meatballs after their games.  As was customary then, they always brought a kaldero (casserole) with them where their order was filled.  For this treat, all of us kids would wait up no matter how late.  I remember that on most nights, I had to be carried to bed since I fell asleep watching and enjoying what the adults were up to!

     I cannot now imagine how our house, with all of its residents and activities, could be kept so clean at all times.  There were times when we were fifteen or more living in that spacious residence; add to that my cousins and Ibu who came to sleep over on weekends.  Not to forget, of course, the household staff!  Our wooden floor was always gleaming and furniture was clear of dust despite lumbers and sawdust being somewhere near.  We always had household helpers and Mama was quite exacting in her demands.  The household helpers, however, were always treated like members of the family and Mama always knew their personal circumstances.  Upon her encouragement, my cousin, Fausto, even organized dance parties for our helpers and the compound workers so they didn’t get too homesick.  On summers, all helpers were sent home so they could enjoy the season with their own families and friends.  Those who wanted to return were instructed on how to contact her so she could send them fare.  Most chose to return and many left for good in tears only because parents made pre-arranged marriages or whose parents needed caring.     

     In their absence, we, the children, had to take over many of the chores.  The cleaning of the house, the washing of dishes, setting of table at meal times – all these fell on our shoulders.  We worked in teams of two.  My brothers, Harry and Tom, made up one team and Dick and myself the other team.  Somehow, we were able to work out an acceptable schedule among ourselves.  Most hated chore was the wiping of dishes because per Mama’s instructions, plates and glasses needed to be wiped dry and shiny after washing.  It also became routine for my brothers to guard the shiny floor from the stairs and to warn everyone coming in to wipe their shoes or slippers. 

     When we grew a bit older, my two eldest brothers were added the task of going to the market to purchase the few necessities needed for the day’s meals.  This became a whole new ballgame for them because that was when their entrepreneurial spirit kicked in.  Noticing that vendors converged in the compound when the workers took their breaks at 10AM and 3PM, Harry and Tom decided they wanted a piece of the action, too.  They purchased cantaloupe and avocado and made watered down juices loaded with plenty of ice for sale.  Those were better times because vendors threw out fruits that had even just a little bitty stain.  The two fiends shrewdly picked up these discards as well and used them to make additional juice.  No one knew any different.  They likewise purchased all sorts of breads to sell.   And, business was good because they extended credit and collected on paydays.  This became their routine every summer until the time that they became old enough to work for real. 

    It was quite a democratic community we had; we were free to play and roamed around with the children of the foremen, the driver or the laborer.  We didn’t know what social status meant; only their names as neighbors and friends.  Mama, bless her good heart, never explained wealthy versus poor to us.  She, herself, played a vital role in the community for her homegrown knowledge of medical practicalities.  I think, everyone must have taken for granted that she was some kind of nurse or midwife because every time someone got sick, they came calling on “Aling Alice”. 

     Mama may be a softie for people who needed her help but she was extremely particular about good manners.  It was not beyond her to turn nasty on anyone that may have offended her sense of propriety.  People who got to see her ugly side were mostly outsiders such as laborers, drivers or dispatchers who came to make deliveries.  If a man made the mistake of whistling at her, she looked intently at him in an effort to wilt him down, and called all her male relatives to confront the boor.  Ultimately, workers in the compound learned to warn visitors to keep away from the Espanola if they ever encountered her.     

     Mama was all about abiding by rules.  Important in the morning was waking up early; earlier than the full sunrise.  This, I guess, was one factor that contributed to our becoming hardworking adults.  I was never sent out on errands; those were always tasks for the boys.  Thinking that she had to be tough especially with the boys, Mama did not hesitate to use the rod to discipline all of us.  When my brothers were teenagers and beatings no longer a threat, she simply locked the door after curfew and left them to sleep on the ground if they came in late.  She was, by then, an expert in tough love and the silent treatment! 

     Mama was also a stickler to a high moral standard.  I remember very well an incident when she strongly manifested her views on mistresses and their kind.  Employees of long-standing enjoyed free housing in the compound.  One such person was a Chinese employee whose wife stayed behind in China.  Came a time when he brought home a pretty Filipina partner.  As customary of those times, no one befriended nor even spoke to this woman.  She took to calling me into their home whenever I walked by on my way home from school.  I was only around 8 or maybe 9 years old at that time.  Unaware of the animosity of the community towards the woman, I felt nothing wrong with being friends and staying to play with her for a few minutes before proceeding home.  When Christmas came, she gifted me with such a lovely princess dress that I ecstatically brought home.  Mama inquired as to its source and upon being told that it came from this woman, Mama immediately ordered me to return the gift and to stop seeing her.  No amount of pouting and crying on my part made her change her mind.  I guess that was my first lesson on morality! 

     Mama religiously went to Mass on Sundays and on Wednesdays for the Perpetual Help Novena.  I used to tag along whenever she went and many times got my ear pinched because I never listened to the prayers and instead gazed in awe at the murals on the ceiling and the images on the stained glass window.  These never failed to fascinate my impressionable mind!  The one thing that turned me off, though, was waking up at dawn to attend the 4AM Mass on Sundays.  Mama always insisted on going to the first Mass of the day!  Ah-pe enjoyed teasing her about it and made sure to position himself along our way home.  He would routinely ask Mama where we had been.  On being told that we went to Mass, he always advised that we should go at a later hour because we irritated God by waking Him so early.   He also commented on our Sunday best attire telling her that God will not give what she asked for because she already looked rich!   This was the same thing he told another employee who also went in his best long-sleeved shirt and tie.  He told us we should go to church looking like paupers so God will take pity on us!  But, what do you expect of an atheist?  Ah-pe continually claimed that he preferred to go to hell because he expected he would have no friend in heaven.  He presumed they will all go to hell! 

     One of the best gifts Mama gave us was her love for music.  She had a clear soprano voice and she loved to sing to all of us while encouraging everybody else to sing, too.  She constantly had her radio turned to stations that played old time music.  Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Sammy Davis, Vic Damone, even Neil Sedaka, Matt Monro, all these crooners she introduced us to.  It’s this love for music that connected her to her grandchildren.  My older kids, especially Only Son, who got to spend some time with Mama, can easily identify the songs from those days.  My nephews also tend to call on Frank Sinatra when challenged to sing!   As for myself, every so often, I can still hear the song “Goodnight, Sweetheart” whenever night falls. It brings me back to nights at home in the compound when everybody turned in and all the sound one can hear was this song. 

     Mama was also a voracious reader.  She had stacks of magazines and pocketbooks and spent siesta time reading.  She may have gotten plenty of ideas from the magazines because she was also into self-help projects.  There was a time when my uncles were almost graduating and looking forward to applying for work elsewhere.  They were all uncertain of how they can wing their interviews so Mama devised the EOP project; meaning English Only Policy.  The rule was everyone had to speak in English at home and anyone caught speaking Tagalog was penalized Twenty-five centavos per occasion.  The fund went into a pot which was spent on treats by weekend.  Twenty-five centavos was a lot of money at that time, the basic wage being something like Two Pesos only.  Uncle Ador often devised a trick by waiting until he was out of the house and shouting a question to his cousin, Carding, in their dialect.  Carding, who was still inside the house, often instinctively replied also in their dialect.   The pot got fattened by tricks they played on each other. 

     Another high score on Mama’s expectations on good behavior was consideration for others.  It may have been because there were so many of us that she insisted we be considerate in everything we said and did or because she did not want her relatives to feel like they were second class.  As the only girl in her brood, however, Mama allowed me some leeway when I threw a tantrum which was really, really rare anyway.  Vivid in my memory was an incident involving my pet chick, Pinchi.  How I came to own such a pet chick was an interesting story.  I raised this chick from the time he broke out of his shell.  Helping Mama put eggs to the right basket. I heard cracking sound and the chick suddenly peered through the shell and maybe, thought I was its mother hen.  At that same time, I was the proud owner of a kitten named Mimi and she became the bosom buddy of Pinchi.  The three of us were inseparable until one day when Carding, unaware that Pinchi started to follow him, went out the verandah door that automatically shut and broke Pinchi’s neck!  On seeing this, I bawled like my life depended on it!  To make matters worse, I demanded between sobs for Carding to bring Pinchi back to life.  Since I was unstoppable at that point, the poor man took the chick, laid it on a clear surface, took a deep aluminum pan and covered it over the chick.  He then took another pot and banged on it with a stick and started to chant.  Soon, all the adults in the household chanted along with him.  Every few seconds, he opened the pan to check on the chick.  Of course, Pinchi was still lifeless and I sobbed even harder.  This went on for a few rounds and I cannot now recall how the incident ended.  I am pretty sure it must have involved being served some coveted snack courtesy of my wise mother.        

     Our hectic, happy family life slowly turned into placid and gentle days when Mama’s half-brothers and cousins started getting married.  One by one, they found a life outside of the compound and started their own families elsewhere.   Her half-sisters graduated from college and started careers in the province.  My three brothers, too, were then starting work in different places and we moved out of the compound.  Mama, with her boundless energy, contented herself with reading her favorite magazines while listening to the radio and keeping up with friends and relatives.  Ibu and our cousins, Josie and Lynn, remained a constant part of our lives.  The tradition of spending weekends and holidays together was continued; a tradition that we, likewise, kept in our generation until everyone in Ibu’s family migrated to the United States.