A Great Man

April 25, 2021 --- During the early 80s, my colleagues in the university established a computer consulting firm in Iligan City. Computrade Philippines, Incorporated  was the first and the only computer firm in Iligan at that time. Upon my return in 1985, after completing my masteral studies in Manila, I was invited to join them as member of the board in-charge of software development projects. One of our clients is Mr. Henry T. Siao, a big-time businessman owning several establishments. That is how I first met him. Our business relationship gradually blossomed into a personal friendship up to a point where I am almost considered a member of his family. I could come to his house anytime on short notice and share a meal with them. He even reserved me a guest room so that I could spend a night there if I wanted to. During my wedding in March 1992, he was one of my principal sponsors.

Henry is an active member of the Rotary Club of Iligan. At one time, he was  the club president and in the words of another senior club member, he was the best district governor that they never had. He recruited me to Rotary in a somewhat elaborate way. The Rotary organization is involved in many worthwhile projects throughout the world. One of these projects is the district-to-district Group Study Exchange (GSE).  GSE is a program consisting of a team of four or five non-Rotarians to be led by a seasoned Rotarian in the district  to visit another district as ambassadors of goodwill. 

Just a few months after my wedding, he recommended me to the GSE program. On the strength of his recommendation alone, I was accepted and became a member of the GSE Team for that year. Our leader was the venerable Judge Celing Velez of the regional trial court of Cagayan de Oro. Our destination: South Texas, USA. Our other members were: Gary Pantanosas, now a successful businessman based in Orange County, California; Rommie Burlat, now an internationally known, multi-awarded movie director; the third one is Hernani “Nonoy” Chua of Cotabato City but  I have no news about him since our GSE days. The fourth member was Joel Maglunob who worked at the office of the governor of the autonomous region. After our GSE trip, he transferred to the DSWD where he rose to become the Assistant Regional Director in Cotabato. On March 11, 2003, two suspected hired killers gunned him down in front of his house.

I emigrated to the United States in 2001. When I returned to Iligan in 2016, Mr. Siao was the first person that I visited. He was now frail and sickly and lying on his bed most of the time. When he saw me, he smiled and sat up on his bed so that we can have our pictures taken. 

I write about him today because he is celebrating his birthday. So I join with his wife and sons, Ninang Nene, Congressman Frederick, Robinson and Sherjack by wishing him “Happy 83rd birthday, Ninong Henry. May you live to be a hundred and more!”

The Birthday Girl In The Land Of Roses

 

    Sat, 03 Mar 2007 10:38:40 -0500--- Last Sunday, the 25^th of February, we were invited to a party at Agnes’ home in celebration of her nth birthday. That was my first time to reach that part of Alabama which is situated midway between Ashville and Rainbow City. Her home, the seventh in a row on the right from the main gate, is simply beautiful and cozy. It was not a grand celebration. True to her style, she just invited a few friends for a small get-together. Having known her for only about a year, I felt honored to be invited to her home and probably being considered now as belonging to her inner circle. The food was plentiful and we never ran out of eager karaoke singers.

     I first met Agnes during one gathering at our home more than a year ago. Being new in Alabama at the time, I tried to meet and greet every guest while trying to memorize their names and the faces. Agnes was sitting on a chair  in the dining area and when I approached her, she introduced herself to me as someone from Zamboanga City. We met several times after that on various occasions.

     Last August 25, she sent me a “smile” in my friendster site with a request that I add her to my roster of friendster friends. That I obliged right away and gladly. From that time on I know more about her personality and her thoughts through reading her blogs.

     Today, Agnes, whose friendster name is Annette, is one of the most prolific bloggers in Friendster that I know of. Considering that English is not her native tongue--- it’s her fourth language, actually--- she wrote with such fluidity and mastery that I will not be surprised if one of these days, she will become a syndicated columnist or a novel writer. Casting all future possibilities aside, Annette is a true friend. Someone who makes you feel comfortable and at ease in her presence.        

 

 

A Day With Joy

 

April 2001. It was a perfect combination. She has a driver’s license and a car but could not drive. Being new in California, I don’t have a California license but I can drive. What I have is a temporary permit to drive but only when accompanied by a person with a valid license. I have only a vague idea of some of the places we were to visit and don’t know one street from another. She has memorized the geography of Loma Linda and nearby cities. That’s how we got teamed up last Sunday for a day’s gallivanting and doing the errands she could not do alone.

I met Mercy Joy Corpuz way back in the early 80s at the Solijons’ residence more popularly known as 737 Constancia in Sampaloc. That place was then a regular hangout of people like Godfrey Calleja, Roger Saldia, Girlie Flores, myself and others. In fact Girlie eventually found her Romeo among those Alvin Patrimonio wannabes playing basketball in that vacant lot across the street. They are now residing in Mountain View College in Bukidnon with their two healthy boys. Girlie is teaching music while Jun works in the general maintenance section.

Joy has the height and bearing of a beauty contestant and Joandel  calls her Joy Tangkad to differentiate her from another Constancia habitué, Joy Gamponia, who is now residing in Seattle. At the time we first met, she was a fresh Journalism graduate from UP Diliman and was teaching at UP Los Baños. A typical UP student during the Martial Law years, Joy was an avid anti-Marcos activist in the same category with Joe Oclarit.

Her teaching stint in Los Baños was cut short when she went to Loma Linda University to pursue a master’s degree in Public Health. After obtaining her MPH degree she was hired by our denomination and was sent to Nicaragua as ADRA representative. She was only 6 months into her work in that country when she met an accident that changed her life forever. The car she was driving rammed into a huge military truck, whose fault it was, she could not remember now. She was in coma for 3 months. She stayed in a Nicaraguan hospital for one month until her condition stabilized before she was airlifted to Loma Linda Medical Center for treatment of severe brain injury.

Today she is blind in one eye, her speech a little bit slurry and walks with a limp. After a series of occupational therapy, her short-term memory is still poor but her long-term memory is returning. She has regained her wit and sense of humor. Her right arm still lacks full coordination but she can now do light chores like cooking and operating the washing machine. When working with her computer she uses her left hand to hold the mouse.

She was a gracious guide reminding me constantly of the traffic rules and signs that we conveniently disregard in the Philippines. She was a good navigator too except that I have to double check her directions because once in a while she got confused and would tell me to turn right or left when she meant exactly the opposite. Admittedly we made a couple of wrong turns.

We went to a gas station to refuel, to CompUSA to buy ink for her printer and to Cosco to buy some juice. Then we went to Loma Linda Medical Center and she toured me around. On the sixth floor, she proudly showed me the room which became her home for more than 2 months. It was one of a dozen or so rooms arranged in a circular fashion with the nursing station located at the center.

On our way to a Filipino fast-food restaurant named Manileño for a late lunch, we saw Dr. Levi Pagunsan driving a car with his wife Tess. He was pleasantly surprised to see me. We exchanged hellos and had a short conversation but he has to drive on because he was obstructing the traffic. It was a vegetarian lunch. I ordered halo-halo for dessert.                                         

                                  

A Significant Life

 

Emmanuel S. Bacleon, an ardent Filipino nationalist and a passionate student activist in his time, died peacefully in his home in Arleta, California last April 7, 2010. He was 58.

Manny's unassuming personality, humility and sincerity endeared him to his friends. He was a dutiful son to his parents and a caring brother to his siblings.

He was born on August 20, 1951 in Cabadbaran, Agusan del Norte, Philippines, the fifth child among the nine children of Melencio Ala-an Bacleon and Irene Josefa Antiga Sarita. His father was a tailor and his mother was a full-time housewife. After finishing his elementary education at Candelaria Institute in Cabadbaran, he entered the Sacred Heart Seminary in Lawaan, Talisay, Cebu.

His high school classmates Celestino Mausisa and Mercurio Montenegro fondly remember him as small in stature with a big heart and very approachable especially when it came to helping them in their Latin subject where Manny excelled. He was the valedictorian of class 1967.

After his high school graduation, he stayed in the seminary for two more years as a college student majoring in Philosophy. Upon the encouragement and a scholarship offer from Fr. Matthew van Santvoord, MSC, at the time, the parish priest of Cabadbaran and Director of Candelaria Institute, Manny left the seminary and took up BS Physics at the University of San Carlos in Cebu City starting on the summer of 1969.

He was just few months into the university when he discovered his debating skills and polished it by joining debating contests and garnering awards as Best Debater and as Best Speaker during the USC debate in the same summer that he entered the university. For some time he was president of the USC Debating Team.

 During these times, the Philippines was simmering in a political turmoil. Student protests filled the air and on the streets. Manny found himself in the midst of heightened student activism and together with the rest of the studentry in the whole country took up the cudgel of toppling down the oppressive regime that was becoming unpopular by the day.

 He joined several student organizations. Due to his oratorical mastery he rose from the ranks and became the Secretary General of Samahang Demokratikong Kabataan (Society of Democratic Youth) in the province of Cebu. Later he joined the hard core revolutionary group Kabataang Makabayan (Patriotic Youth) and became one of its top leaders.

He was about to finish his studies in San Carlos when martial law was declared by then President Ferdinand Marcos. Manny was among those wanted by the military being one of the top student leaders and he went into hiding to elude arrest.

A few days before Christmas, Manny was with his sister Gilda attending the Misa de Gallo at the Santo Rosario Church in P. del Rosario Street in Cebu City when military-looking men approached them and whisked Manny away. Gilda remembers that day very well: December 16, 1972.

Manny never returned to their boarding house which was just located near the church. That afternoon at about 6 PM, Gilda received a call from the military camp in Jones Avenue informing her that Manny was in detention and that she had to bring him clothing, mat, mosquito net and other personal belongings. He stayed in the stockade in Jones Avenue for a few months. He was later transferred to Camp Lapu-lapu in Lahug, Cebu City.

While in detention, he joined tournaments in the game of chess with his fellow political prisoners and he won many times in those games. His sister Gilda visited him every week and brought him food and news stories of what's happening in the country. The prisoners had no access to newspapers, TV and radio.

In the summer of 1974, Manny was transferred to Fort Bonifacio Rehabilitation Center in Makati where he suffered torture and deprivation which caused him and other detainees to launch hunger strike. His sister Gilda got a first-hand experience of how relatives of detainees felt shame and humiliation as they underwent strict body search and inspection before they could see their imprisoned kin.

By this time, some concerned sector of the Philippine society started organizing themselves to help detainees and their families through legal channels. Foremost among these organizations was the Task Force Detainee who worked for the release of the political prisoners. Prominent nationalist lawyers like the late Senators Jose Diokno and Lorenzo Tanada extended their legal expertise and their resources through these organizations.

Manny was a beneficiary of these concerted efforts. He was released from prison weak and emaciated. His body bore scars due to physical torture. Later on his sisters realized that he bore psychological scars too. He was no longer the energetic and enthusiastic person that they used to know.

After his release he came to the United States to join his parents and some of his siblings who were already residing here. His years in prison made him incapable of finding work in his new country. But his sisters and brother were supportive of him. He was in constant medication to keep those mental demons restrained and to keep him from having nervous breakdown. Freed from the rigors of employment, his typical day included going to the library to read any book that interested him. He also tutored his nieces in their math and science lessons.

Manny had one dream that persisted up to the day he died. He wanted to go back to the Philippines to help his struggling countrymen in any way he could. But his sisters won't let him. Manny is gone but his indomitable spirit lives on

To many of his colleagues who were infected by his enthusiasm and learned from him, he is a hero. In the words of Dr. Raul Monton, a colleague who considered him his mentor during the student activism days, "He was such a likable and a fiercely unselfish nationalist who dedicated his life to serving the Filipino. He was unwavering in his conviction. There are only a few Filipinos like him. I will not forget the days we were together fighting the Dictatorship while others were just enjoying in their comfort zone."

Finally, Manny's favorite quotation is worth contemplating: "Every person dies; but each death varies in significance." Indeed, Manny's death was significant. But it was because he led a significant life, touching the lives of countless of his countrymen. A life that was willing to sacrifice for what he believed in.           

Epilogue

I wrote this piece as a eulogy during Manny's wake. Like Dr. Monton, I also considered Manny as my mentor. I first met him in the summer of 1971 when I attended a teach-in seminar conducted by him and other vacationing student leaders from Cebu and Manila. Manny and his group converted me and my friend, Misach, overnight and opened our understanding on the relevant political issues of the country at the time. I lost track of him after martial law was declared.

Thirty years later, I would meet him again in Los Angeles, California. He was sharing an apartment with their mother in San Fernando Valley while I was then teaching at a nearby city of Oxnard. I was a frequent visitor in their apartment during weekends where we enjoyed reminiscing our student activism days. Manny and I were actively involved in the organizational formation of the Cabadbaranons of Southern California where we were both elected as Public Relations officers. The following year, I transferred to New York and then to Alabama.

I returned to California in late February of 2010. I informed Manny that I was back and promised that I would visit him in a few weeks as soon as I get myself settled down and my schedule would allow me. That promise did not materialize. The week before my planned visit, his sister Emma informed me that Manny had already passed away.

Looking For A Long Lost Friend In The Concrete Jungles of Manhattan

Not long ago I recieved a snail mail with a New York postmark from a man named James Jacob. The name was new to me but the penmanship was very familiar. It was a penmanship I can always recognize anywhere in the world for my association with this man started way back 31 years ago when we were still high school freshmen. (The attached photo will prove to that.) How the name evolved from being Jaime Egpan Ondoy to James Jacob must have something to do with his change of allegiance from being a true-bloodied pinoy to a newly-minted American.

My relationship with James in high school was friendly but adversarial because of a healthy competition of being the top in the class. He was a wide reader and very studious while my interests were in something else. He drowned me in World History subject which almost cost me the top honors. Our school remembers him as that student who wrote to then US Ambassador to the Philippines Henry Byroade which resulted to a donation of several crates of books to our school library including a couple of complete sets of Encyclopaedia. We were in sophomore year when I became an Adventist and James was my first VOP student. (My second VOP student was a dynamic curly-haired freshman named Marcelo Sumaya Rara Jr. who hailed from Kabayawa but I reserve him for a future piece.)

We went to MSU together. And since he did not belong to any student organization yet, he was forced by circumstance to go with me join the Adventist group. Nong Johnny spotted him, gave him a bible study and by October he was one of those baptized by Dr. Dick in Tibanga together with Paul Sanchez and Richinor Villano. Due to his diligence in his studies he earned a full scholarship during his last semester of his last year in International Relations.

After graduation he ventured to Manila doing odd jobs here and there until he attained what he aimed for--- a career position in the Department of Foreign Affairs. In one of his rare visits to MSU conducting examinations to foreign service applicants, he gave me an application form which I filled up and sent to the Japanese Embassy on the very last day and forgot all about it. Three months later I received the longest RCPI telegram in my life covering one whole page telling me in a very elaborate language which simply meant I was accepted to visit Japan for one month all expenses paid.

Three days before our departure, I paid him a visit in his office telling him that I was accepted to visit Japan but unfortunately I do not have my passport yet. He accompanied me to the Passport Division which was then housed at the Film Center. My heart sank when I saw that the queue of passport applicants went out of the main entrance, circled the whole building and overflowed into the parking area. We went inside directly and he let me stay in a corner while he went further into the innermost cubicle. Thirty minutes later, he handed to me my brand-new passport bearing the signature of a consul who was also our kababayan. When we went out of the building the queue appeared to have not moved at all. I pity them but, really, life is full of unfairness.

One day while in office, Miss Chito Madrigal, the wife of then Secretary Manuel Collantes saw the artistic talents in him and offered him a job of curator of their family museum in New Ayala-Alabang a few houses away from the residence of a military officer turned politician named Fidel Valdez Ramos. I visited him once and I sensed that he was enjoying his new job.

I lost contact with him after my return from Japan until the time that I received that snail mail from New York. When I visited my home church in Cabadbaran, I saw a lot of improvement and learned from the mother of Marcelo Rara that James is regularly contributing dollars for the church building fund. He has an open invitation for me to visit his place in Park Avenue but until now I do not have the time ("read money") to accept his invitation.

Ah, yes. I write about James today because Pastor Peter Magarang of Taiwan is inquiring about him.

Epilogue

I wrote this piece in 1999 when I was still working at Iligan Light and Power, Inc. in Iligan City, Philippines. Between 2003 and 2005 I worked around the New York-New Jersey area crisscrossing the numbered avenues and streets of Manhattan but could not find a shadow of him. The phone number he gave me was no longer in service and the phone directory was not helpful for there are dozens of entries under the name James Jacob.