1. End-User/OBSUs must be conscientious in doing their
own market research for their procurement requirements, carefully scanning for
products actually available in the Philippine market, and coming up with
Purchase Requests based on standard technical specifications in the industry.
It must be emphasized that Branding is strictly prohibited, just like
“custom-fitting”; but specific requirements based on reputed quality/service
standard and known compatibility to existing equipment currently in use,
including considerations of “long-term acquisition costs” for maintenance,
repair or replacement of parts, may be allowed.
2. While suppliers themselves indicate specific “brands” of
items in their bids/quotations, they are not strictly bound by them and “substitution”
is possible if the replacements/substitute goods are still compliant with the
original technical specifications (weight in grams, expiration date reqts) in the PR/TOR and there would be no
change in price/cost. In the same manner, the maximum content/grams requirement
may be complied with in various packaging (combination of bottles or sachets)
if there is no specific or strict instruction. All these must be with End-User
approval and consent.
3. For goods requiring approval or prior
editing/proofing of sample designs as indicated in the Terms of
Reference or PO/contract, End-User should be realistic about timelines and
provide allowance in the contract term/periods. As such, instead of exact
dates for delivery, we suggest the use of reference dates Ex. 7
days from approval.
4. For supply of goods/equipment with installation,
besides ensuring that the technical specifications are accurate, compatibility with
other parts must likewise be duly considered. Moreover, it is highly
recommended that ocular inspections/site visits be conducted by the
supplier/service provider whether they requested or not. It is expected that in
such cases, the End-User/OBSU has properly coordinated and requested for
technical assistance from the AS-BGMS or ICTMS for matters like electrical
connection or wirings.
On Rush/Urgent
Procurements
5. Especially for rush/urgent procurements, the End-User
should take responsibility for getting all relevant documents duly signed by
their HOPE and ensuring that the PO/contract gets funded through the FMS-Budget Division.
Otherwise, this is a major source of delay.
6. No delivery shall be received without a duly signed
contract/PO. In
the same manner, all deliveries shall initially be received by the Supply Unit
staff, and even if the End-User has an urgent need for immediate issuance, it
must be duly coordinated with the Supply Unit and the Inspection Unit. Note
that in such cases, the receiving End-User will be responsible for
acknowledging delivery/receipt of goods, waiving prior inspection and/or
opportunity for rejection and immediate replacement. Nonetheless, proper
documentation shall still be required as basis for payment.
Of Delivery Schedules
and Timelines
7. Sometimes suppliers/service providers Request for
Extension due to unavailability/out-of-stock items, End-Users are duly informed
of this and must respond immediately if they approve or not, and if they
are waiving liquidated damages for the delay. Suppliers/service
providers are allowed at least 1 extension for valid reasons and if the delay
is not too long.
8. For delays not of the supplier/service provider’s fault,
such as the unreadiness or unavailability of the place where the item is to be
installed/stored, End-User must issue a Suspension of Work/Deliveries and
coordinate with PMS-CMD to duly inform supplier/service provider when work can
be resumed. End-User/OBSUs are discouraged from coordinating directly with
suppliers without notifying the PMS-CMD.
Said orders/notice of suspension of deliveries as well as
resumption of deliveries must be properly accounted for, dates and durations
recorded accordingly for proper accounting of any delays. Said periods shall
also be the basis for excusing the delays and waiving the imposition of
liquidated damages. Note that anything undocumented and outside said
authorized suspended delivery periods will be liable for penalties.
Extensions vs
Amendments
9. For Consulting Services, the End-User must ensure that the
Terms of Reference (TOR) includes all necessary arrangements with the service
provider since these should be the clear agreements reflected in the
consultancy contract. Hence, for pending deliverables or unfinished work due to
delays, extensions may be requested and granted if there is no additional
cost and change in the deliverables except for the extra time. However,
for substantial changes in the original terms and conditions affecting
the deliverables itself, payment tranches, source of fund, etc., a
new/revised TOR is needed which will also be the basis for an Amended Contract.
In such cases, the amended contract may entail another round of legal review
from the Legal Service as well as a BAC Resolution allowing the extension. Note
that extensions are allowed only prior expiration and not for lapsed contracts.
Other than these technical aspects handled by PMS, actual contract
administration and monitoring of the consultancy is done by the End-User.
Facilitation of Payments
10. Be mindful of the mandated documentary requirements as
supporting documents for disbursement vouchers during payment. For Board
and Lodging/accommodations, as well as for meals/catering, required to
be submitted are the a) complete Attendance Sheet with original
signatures of participants/attendees, and b) Certification of Services Rendered.
For bus rentals, no separate “Passengers’ List” shall be required where the
Attendance Sheet or Special Order of participants for the related activity is
available.
End-Users are advised to also submit a feedback/incident
report for any unsatisfactory service by the supplier/service provider for
appropriate action by the Procurement Mgt Service.
11. In cases of B & L, or meals/catering services, with
Additional pax, PS-CMD will only process the original contract/Purchase
Order for immediate payment. Additional pax may require a Supplemental
Proposal for fund source purposes and/or new PO. Hence, the payment for
said extra/additional pax shall be facilitated by the End-User themselves such
as receiving directly the new, separate billing statement from the service
provider, as well as the preparation of a new PO. Said documents may be
transmitted to the FMS afterwards together with the necessary Supplemental
Proposal, and accompanying Justifications and Certifications.
Note: To avoid complications from “extras/additional pax”, we
recommend that the End-User stick to the maximum number of pax as duly stated
in the activity proposal for the PO/quotation, and just arrange with the hotel
for a “guaranteed” # of pax only, so we pay for the actual number of pax
served/fed, or at best, the “guaranteed” number of pax only. Common mistake is
pegging the # of pax to the minimum “guaranteed” for the quotation/PO, when the
attached budget proposal clearly covers more. When the number of pax eventually
“balloons”, this is difficult to explain in the required supporting
Justifications and Certifications.
Documentary
Requirements
12. For advocacy Tshirts, training kits, etc.Distribution
Lists are required, and even for undistributed items like IEC
materials, DSWD vests, laptops, etc. “one-time” Inventory Custodian Slips (ICS)
or Property Accountability Receipts (PAR) under a Director’s name may
be required to facilitate payment. The ICS shall be subsequently
be cancelled and/or transferred once there are named individuals
already. (Proc. Advisory #19-002)
13. For equipment like Desktop computers, laptops,
notebooks, vehicles, etc., delivered/downloaded to the regions/field
offices, these also require Property Transfer Reports (PTRs) in addition
to Final Acceptance and Inspection Reports. For NFA rice deliveries,
submission of Statement of Acct/actual billing, duly acknowledged/signed
Delivery Receipts, warehouse sales invoice (WSI) is required in addition to the
PO and/or MOA.
14. Deliveries of goods must be reflected in their actual
delivered quantities in the Delivery Receipts (DRs). Said amounts or quantities
must be consistent in the Purchase Order delivery terms/schedule, Delivery Receipts,
Sales Invoice, Acknowledgement Receipts and Inspection Report. Should the
supplier deliver extra quantities/amounts in case of defective items for
immediate replacement, said extra amounts should be properly documented in a
SEPARATE Delivery Receipt. And in case said extra items are not
utilized as replacement for defective goods, and supplier manifests their
willingness to “donate” said items instead, DSWD should likewise document such
as an official donation through the NRLMB’s Donation facilitation unit.
15.
Defective goods requested for replacement must be made within the allowable
3-month warranty period counted from the last date of delivery. As such, we enjoin the relevant
offices and bodies, such as the NRLMB’s Quality Assurance Unit and the DSWD
Inspection Committee to endeavour to report such defective items as soon as
possible to the PMS-CMD for proper coordination with the supplier. Note also
that only those defects and damages which were inherent to the delivered goods
such as dents, cracks, rusted cans, etc. may be covered by replacement. Other
damages caused by subsequent re-packing activities, ie., torn or cut sachets,
may not be covered by the warranty.
16.To facilitate processing of requests
for repairs of malfunctioning equipment such as laptops, printers, scanners,
still covered/under warranty, kindly attach or provide us copies of the
necessary supporting documents, such as the following:
a) Pre-Repair Inspection Report from the OBSU with relevant expertise
b)Technical Assistance Report from the OBSU with relevant
expertise;
I
will be turning “golden” in a few months and I plan to write some-sort of a
memoir/autobiography at this stage in my life. When I turned 49 last May, I
promised myself a personal project to would mark that milestone. I was
seriously going to chronicle my five decades worth of existence with a
compilation of travel essays, advocacy articles, and family blogs. There would
also probably be some poetry, love letters, and technical writing thrown in
too. I would try to capture everything that seems to define me for now, or at
least approximate the kind of person I have turned out to be. I hope the result
would be something I can be proud of.
The
first decade about my childhood years would be about my family, our ancestral
home, summer vacations, and school days punctuated by the Girl Scouts, piano
recitals and speed reading lessons. I’ll probably talk about what it’s like to
be from a large family, growing up with many siblings, the joy of family pets,
annual clan reunions, and even our resident ghost. I plan to call this chapter “Foundations
of History”. My especially “turbulent” teenage years was a decade of
transitions, where changes became opportunities to “reinvent” myself. After
years of laying-low, I decidedly tried to “excel” during my senior year in high
school and maximize the freedom of university life when I moved away to UP Los
Banos. I will call this portion, the “Promise of Reinvention”, as my secret
world of books and writing moved to the reality of balancing academics with sorority
life. The next decade as a young adult was no less tumultuous as I underwent
continuous evolution as a person – initially as a Makati office girl and then
as a law student at UP Law. This can be aptly named the “Emergence of Possibilities”
as the power of metamorphosis slowly took shape. I consider my 30s just as
dynamic as the previous decade, but more or less determinative of where I was
headed as I became increasingly known for my sectoral advocacies for women,
children, migrant workers and sexual minorities. I also managed to pursue my “first
love” which was “writing” and enrolled in an MA course in UP Diliman while
continuing to contribute to various publications. I would like to think of this
decade as the “Breakthrough Years”. Throughout my activism and advocacy work, I
discovered my communication skills were not limited to writing, but also
extended to public speaking and capacity-building. In addition, my sectoral
expertise expanded further to include the elderly/ageing concerns, Persons with
Disabilities (PWDs) and even solo parents. Eventually, people who have heard of
or experienced trainings under me recommended me for teaching positions. And
so, I found myself teaching with the University of the Philippines Open
University (UPOU) system. A few more personal upheavals came to pass, but there
were areas in my life which sort of “calmed down” as I approached middle-age. A
new committed relationship brought with it additional “family duties”, and my most
challenging role yet is been parenting a precocious little girl nowadays. So in
essence, I am currently in my “Loving Years”.
These
past four months I have tried to gather and consolidate some earlier essays and
blogs, which were mostly travelogues, tributes to family members, and a few serious
advocacy pieces. I still have so much to document as far as travels are
concerned, and maybe some candid takes on my own existence especially when it
comes to my love life. In the meantime, I think I shall read some more Anthony
Bourdain, Pico Iyer, Andrew MaCarthy, Michael Crichton and Frank McCourt.
I never planned on having any
advocacies. At my eighteenth birthday party which was attended by a majority of
the resident Upsilonian brods and Sigma Deltan sisses, my elder sister Annette,
the original family activist and once-a-upon-a-time League of Filipino Students
(LFS) Sec-Gen, kidded Bong Manlulu ‘85, UPLB campus activist and survivor of
the Mendiola Massacre, that for all his persuasion skills, he was not able to
recruit me to the “cause”. However, they agreed that my personality was not the
“rah-rah” type anyway and left it at that.
When I applied to law school and was
eventually accepted at the UP College of Law, friends and family both wondered
and worried about me if I was really cut out for the job. I was in my sophomore
year when a spate of horrific crimes began hogging the headlines. One of them
was the murder of our own sorority sister, Eileen ’90 and brod Allan ’90. What
seemed like abstract concepts and theories became painfully real to me as I
reflected on the loss of their young lives. My once haphazard interest in the Family
Code and Presidential Decree 603, otherwise known as the Child and Youth
Welfare Code, was reawakened and lead me to write a paper on child abuse. I
didn’t know then that I was already embarking on a journey of Child Rights and
Women’s Welfare protection.
As luck would have it, I became a
working student halfway thought my junior year and as a student assistant at
the UP Law Center, I was tasked to help in some research regarding domestic
violence laws. At this point, it was quite helpful to have that unique insight
into gender issues having been a member of a close-knit community of women
through my sorority. The draft document we produced eventually became the basis
or predecessor of the Women in Intimate Relations bill and the Anti-Violence
against Women and Children (VAWC) law. Around this time, I was also introduced
to the network of women’s groups and began volunteering with some
Non-Governmental Organizations (NGOs). Years later, I would be on the other
side of the fence, as part of my day-job with DSWD, I would be involved in the
crafting of official statements of support and controversial position papers for
several landmark Women-Friendly Laws like the Reproductive Health law and the
Magna Carta of Women.
Throughout law school, I kept my
connections with these Civil Society Organizations (CSOs), various NGOs
criss-crossing paths as we moved from child rights to women’s welfare to general
human rights concerns. I knew that just like at university where Sigma Delta
Phi never really existed in a vacuum, good relations and partnerships were
vital to support worthwhile endeavors. When I joined DSWD, I handled sectoral
issues of women, children, Senior Citizens and Persons with Disabilities (PWDs)
as well as the occasional United Nations treaty or human rights convention, and
these previous connections proved very useful.
As I reviewed numerous bills
pertaining to women’s welfare, foremost in my mind were the images of my
sorority sisters, how these measures could protect young women like them from
sexual violence or exploitation, how these bills could ensure better social,
political or economic participation, if not actual empowerment. In a way, I
remembered that such was the purpose of sororities too. Much more than mere
social support groups, sororities like Sigma Delta Phi was a venue for
developing knowledge and skills in young women, providing them access to
opportunities to showcase and further hone their talents to ultimately be of benefit
to others. This objective can clearly be seen in the variety of projects and
activities we were always encouraged to embark on even as mere teenagers in
college.
Yet even with my legal education, I
had to learn to develop a social welfare lens and with the help on social
worker mentors, began to apply a critical balancing act of sectoral interests
and technical legalese. This entailed the careful formulation of social
policies which would serve the greater good of the public, and I was tasked to
craft policy papers on sensitive topics such HIV testing for minors, revisiting
the penal provisions on the age of sexual consent, corporal punishment and age-appropriate
sex education for children and youth. To augment my knowledge, I touched based
with youth groups and student organizations, agreeing to serve as Resource
Person in many of their school-sanctioned learning activities outside of my regular
office hours. One of my most memorable talks was when I returned to my Alma
Mater UPLB upon the invitation of UPLB Babaylan, and was very happy to see an
LGBT Youth support group now formally organized and officially recognized as a
legitimate student organization. I am
proud to note that these combined efforts to address intersecting and
cross-cutting issues pertaining to kids eventually resulted in the passage of
the Anti-Bullying Act and the amendment of the DepEd Child Protection Policy to
cover discrimination and bullying based on sexual orientation and gender identity
which affected the Right to Education of many children.
*
* *
When I first moved from the DSWD Legal
Service to its Policy Development and Planning Bureau, I was unfortunately
straddled with the burden of handling a very problematic sector - the senior
citizens. No one wanted the assignment because seniors were known to file
complaints and waste your whole day with continuous phone calls and endless
letters. But as we have learned even from our neophyte days, no challenge is
too big as not to at least give it a try. Borrowing from my agribusiness
background lingo, even weeds can bloom where they grow, so I gave it a shot. Fortunately,
I once again called upon the skills I developed as a junior sis in the sorority
where even the most outrageous fund-raising ideas had to take shape and produce
the results your Grand Archon requires of you.
Like my involvement with the women’s
sector, my sectoral work for the senior citizens did not stop at my regular day-job
with DSWD. Often times, I would utilize my weekends and vacation leaves to
conduct trainings and seminars for elderly groups, LGUs, or even private sector
establishments to ensure uniform and consistent application of the senior
citizens law, especially on discount privileges. I also took advantage of the
opportunity to engage other government agencies, educational institutions as
well as professional associations, who can assist in furthering elderly welfare
through the conduct of researches or the development of new, responsive
programs. These efforts lead to the posting of standard notices on the application
of the senior citizens’ discount privileges among businesses, established a
definite monitoring and complaints system by identified government bodies,
especially the LGU’s Office of Senior Citizens Affairs (OSCA), and the issuance
of clearer rules and proper guidelines by respective national government
agencies like the DOH, FDA, DTI and DA, the LTFRB and even water utility
companies and electric service providers.
Wherever did I get such energy and
passion? But such was our training in the Sigma Delta Phi;after attending our classes, studying and
taking exams, we were expected to participate fully in sorority activities
after class hours. The older sisses always said that when you strongly believe
in the relevance and importance of what you are doing, you will always have the
energy and the time to accomplish what needs to be done.
My involvement in the women’s groups and
their gender issues then introduced me to the LGBT Community whose growing
visibility was becoming more evident. Before I knew it, I was at the forefront
of a burgeoning LGBT Rights activism that was purposefully going beyond
HIV/AIDS issues and no longer hiding behind “general” gender and sexuality
issues of women.
I never wanted to be a ”leader” and
all I wanted was to do my part, whatever of added-value I can share. My years
in the Sigma Delta Phi instilled in me a sense of responsibility to the point
of not being afraid to step up and exhibit the kind of leadership the situation
requires when the occasion calls for it. So while initial LGBT activism merely
took advantage of “alternative classroom learning experience sessions” and
“media interviews”, I was one of those who suggested it was time we engage
government institutions and use official mechanisms to put forth our concerns. This
idea gave birth to the LGBT legislative advocacy and lobbying group, LAGABLAB,
whose primary task was to draft a legislative agenda for the LGBT Community and
lead in the lobbying for these bills in Congress. As a founding member, I also
served as its Policy Advocacy and Research Committee Head for some time.
Sadly, LGBTs have also been typecast
and boxed into certain occupations, and we agreed that we needed to have
greater representation and visibility from other areas and professions.
Ultimately, I decided to maximize my own legal background and modify our kind
of advocacy by focusing on legal avenues. This resulted in my establishment of
a new LGBT advocacy group, RAINBOW RIGHTS PROJECT (R-Rights), which was
composed of lawyers and law students who aim to consolidate legal references
and materials to push for LGBT rights protection, develop fellow LGBTs through
a paralegal program to capacitate them about their basic human rights and what
are the official and legal remedies available, and identify relevant topics
pertaining to LGBTs in particular and look into the possibility of recommending
appropriate policies and laws to address these issues. R-RIGHTS became
recognized by the alternative lawyering network and human rights groups
coalition as the first and only developmental law NGO catering to sexual
minorities. During my stint as its Founding President, we were able to connect
with and capacitate various LGBT groups around the Philippines like Baguio,
Cebu, Davao, Cagayan de Oro, even Zamboanga and Sulu. These connections and
alliances enabled us to have more visibility outside MM-NCR and consolidate our
national presence as the Philippine LGBT Community as a whole. These efforts
would also pave the way for Ang LADLAD when the Community decided to give the Partylist
System a try for greater political participation and actual representation in
Congress. And once again, I was thrust into the leadership role as one of the
Trustees and Officers, eventually becoming a partylist nominee.
While our advocacy then was quite new,
we were mindful of learning from the strategies and tactics which worked for
the other sectors and human rights groups. My attitude then was similar to the
coaching and mentoring techniques I observed during my years in the sorority –
beginning from the indoctrinations of our “masters” to the senior sisses taking
each of us under their wing. There was always much to learn and one must keep
an open mind. It was then I realized that the concept of seniority had a
special purpose to play – never meant to be abusive or oppressive, it was a
matter of “succession” training and developing capable “second-liners.” The
respect and deference we owe to those who went before us, blazing the path, so
that the next generation can move forward and enjoy the benefits of such
bravery is of great value.
But while we adopt the knowledge and
practices as they are passed down to us, we also inject our own learnings as
added-value and such is our indoctrinations to new neophytes. For me, I
anchored my arguments strongly on women’s rights and welfare, where the
concepts of gender and sexuality used to explain marginalization, subjugation,
and oppression were the very same used against sexual minorities.
I believe that while it is good to be
part of a homogenous community, there can also be Unity within Diversity. It
was in the Sigma Delta Phi that I first learned to appreciate and value
DIVERSITY, that the variety of personalities that comprise an organization can
be a source of strength too. I was taught in the sorority, as early as the Tea
Party and screening/Presentation, that each of us can bring something to the
table because of our own uniqueness. We have different talents and skills,
ideas and opinions even, but what is important is that we practice mutual
respect, and as much as possible, extend that to the kind of acceptance the
concept of Grand Sisterhood demands.
It is my LGBT rights advocacy which
has unexpectedly taken me to the international stage as well. Filipino LGBT
advocates have long lead the way in LGBT human rights promotion in Asia. I
never expected my participation in regional human rights conferences to
represent LGBTs activists as Human Rights Defenders would bring me to Geneva to
speak at the United Nations Human Rights Council. After we successfully lobbied
for an international human rights report on the status of LGBTs or “people of
diverse sexualities” around the world, the UN High Commissioner for Human
Rights called for the continued efforts of monitoring the status of LGBTs
worldwide, legitimizing us as a valid sector worthy of attention. Our biggest
accomplishment as a coalition of LGBT human rights advocates around the world
was the recommendation of the establishment of an Independent Expert on Sexual
Orientation, Gender Identity and Expression (SOGIE), which we put forth as a
special procedure or human rights mechanism in the absence of a specific treaty
or convention.
Recently, I have had the pleasure of
seeing some of my hard work pay off. The earlier versions of the Senior Citizens
Act has since been amended to give more benefits to our Filipino elderly,
expanding discounts to free services, financial assistance and universal health
coverage. The Centenarians Act was also passed to recognize our 100 year olds
and award them with a special financial assistance. The original Magna Carta of
PWDs was likewise amended to expand their benefits for clearer implementation.
But most of all, our proposed national agency for the elderly sector has
recently been passed in the form of the newly established “National Commission
for Senior Citizens” and bills to address elderly abuse have been filed in
Congress since we raised this as an emerging trend. While I am happy to have
been instrumental in passage of the VAWC law, the Magna Carta of Women and the
Repro Health law, I have yet to see the amendment of the Solo Parents Act which
we have tried to revisit and the expansion of the women’s crisis centers
protocols for various Gender-Based Violence.
So I am not done yet. As a Sigma
Deltan, it is incumbent upon all of us to continue doing relevant, if not
important work for society; to always be at our best as a reflection of the
excellence of our beloved sorority and to be worthy of its great name. We were
never taught to rest on our laurels and simply rely on the prestigious
reputation of Sigma Delta Phi. Instead, we are expected to be the bright points
of light in our respective communities, wherever we may be.
Illustration: Daniela Terrazzini
We had borrowed the house from a friend none of us seemed to know.
Highfallen House stood on an eminence overlooking the sea. It was a
square Victorian gentleman's residence. The large bay windows looked
down through the pines towards the shore. Six stone steps led the
visitor up to the double front door where a gothic bell-pull released
a loud mournful clang deep into the distances of the house.
Laurel lined the drive. The stable block was disused. The walled
garden had been locked up in 1914 when the gardeners went to war. Only
one had returned. I had been warned that the high brick wall enclosing
the garden was unsafe. As I passed it slowly in the car, I saw a faded
notice falling off the paint-peeled door. DO NOT ENTER.
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I
was the first to arrive. My friends were following by train and I was
to collect them the next day and then we would settle down to Christmas.
I had driven from Bristol and I was tired. There was a Christmas tree
roped on the top of my 4x4 and a trunk-load of provisions. We were not
near any town. But the housekeeper had left stacked wood to build a fire
and I had brought a shepherd's pie and a bottle of rioja for my first
night.
The kitchen was cheerful enough once I had got the fire going and the
radio playing while I unpacked our festive supplies. I checked my phone
– no signal. Still, I knew the time of the train tomorrow and it was a
relief to feel that the world had gone away. I put my food in the oven
to heat up, poured a glass of wine, and went upstairs to find myself a
bedroom.
The first landing had three bedrooms leading off it. Each had
a moth-eaten rug, a metal bed and a mahogany chest of drawers. At the
far end of the landing was a second set of stairs up to the attic floor.
I am not romantic about maids' rooms or nurseries, and there was
something about that second set of stairs that made me hesitate. The
landing was bright in the sudden way of late sun on a winter's
afternoon. Yet the light ended abruptly at the foot of the stairs as
though it couldn't go any farther. I didn't want to be near that set of
stairs, so I chose the room at the front of the house.
As I went to bring up my bag, the house bell started to ring, its
jerky metallic hammers sounding somewhere in the guts of the house. I
was surprised but not alarmed. I expected the housekeeper. I opened the
door. There was no one there. I went down the steps and looked round.
I admit I was frightened. The night was clear and soundless. There was
no car in the distance. No footsteps walking away. Determined to conquer
my fear, I walked round a little. Then, turning back to the house, I
saw it; the bell wire ran along the side of the house under a sheltering
gutter. Perhaps 30 or 40 bats were dangling upside down on the
vibrating wire. The same number swooped and swerved in a dark mass.
Obviously their movement on the wire had set off the bell. I like bats.
Clever bats. Good. Now supper.
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I
ate. I drank. I wondered why love is so hard and life is so short.
I went to bed. The room was warmer now and I was ready to sleep. The
sound of the sea ebbed into the flow of my dreams.
I woke from a dead sleep in dead darkness to hear… what? What can I
hear? It sounded like a ball bearing or a marble rolling on the bare
floor above my head. It rolled hard on hard then hit the wall. Then it
rolled again in the other direction. This might not have mattered except
that the other direction was upwards. Things can come loose and roll
downwards, but they cannot come loose and roll up. Unless someone…
That thought was so unwelcome that I dismissed it along with the law
of gravity. Whatever was rolling over my head must be a natural
dislodging. The house was draughty and unused. The attics were under the
eaves where any kind of weather might get in. Weather or an animal.
Remember the bats. I pulled the covers up to my eyebrows and pretended
not to listen.
There it was again: hard on hard on hit on pause on roll.
I waited for sleep, waiting for daylight.
We are lucky, even the worst of us, because daylight comes.
It was a brooding day that 21st of December. The shortest day of the year. Coffee, coat on, car keys. Shouldn't I just check the attic?
The second set of stairs was narrow – a servants' staircase. It led
to a lath and plaster corridor barely a shoulder-width wide. I started
coughing. Breathing was difficult. Damp had dropped the plaster in
thick, crumbling heaps on the floorboards. As below, there were three
doors. Two were closed. The door to the room above my room was ajar. I
made myself go forward.
The room was under the eaves as I had guessed. The floor was rough. There was no bed, only a washstand and a clothes rail.
What surprised me was the nativity scene in the corner.
Standing about two feet tall, it was more like a doll's house than
a Christmas decoration. Inside the open-fronted stable stood the
animals, the shepherds, the crib, Joseph. Above the roof, on a bit of
wire, was a battered star. It was old, handmade in a workmanlike but not
craftsmanlike sort of way, the painted wood now rubbed and faded like
pigments of time.
I thought I would carry it downstairs and put it by our Christmas
tree. It must have been made for the children when there were children
here. I stuffed my pockets with the figures and animals, and left
quickly, leaving the door open. I had to set off for the station.
Stephen and Susie could help me with the rest later.
As soon as I was out of the house, my lungs felt clear again. It must be the plaster dust.
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The
drive to the station was along the coast road. Lonely and unyielding,
the road turned in a series of blind bends and tight corners. I met no
one and I saw no one. Gulls circled over the sea.
The station itself was a simple shelter on a long single track. There were no information boards. I checked my phone. No signal.
At last the train appeared distantly down the track. I was excited.
Memories of visiting my father as a child when he was stationed at his
RAF base give me a rush of pleasure whenever I travel by train or come
to meet one.
The train slowed and halted. The guard stood down for a moment. I
watched the doors – it wasn't a big train, this branch line train – but
none of the doors opened. I waved at the guard who came over.
"I am meeting my friends."
He shook his head. "Train's empty. Next stop is the end of the line."
I was confused. Had they got off at the earlier stop? I described
them. The guard shook his head again. "I notice strangers. They would
have boarded at Carlisle, asked me where to get off – always do."
"Is there another train before tomorrow?'
"One a day and that's your lot, and more than anybody needs in a place like this. Where are you staying?"
"Highfallen House. Do you know it?"
"Oh aye. We all know it." He looked as if he were about to say
something else. Instead, he blew his whistle. The empty train pulled
away, leaving me staring down the long track watching the red light like
a warning.
I needed to get a signal on my phone.
I drove on past the station, following the steep hill, hoping some
height would connect me to the rest of the world. At the top of the hill
I stopped the car and got out, pulling up the collar of my coat. The
first snow hit my face with insect insistence. Sharp and spiteful, like
little bites.
I looked out across the whitening bay. That must be Highfallen House.
But what's that? Two figures walking on the beach. Is it Stephen and
Susie? Had they driven here after all? Then, as I strained my eyes
against the deceit of distance, I realised that the second figure was
much smaller than the first. They were walking purposefully towards the
house.
When I arrived back, it was nearly dark.
I put on the lights, blew the fire into a blaze. There was no sign of
the mysterious couple I had seen from the hill. Perhaps it had been the
housekeeper and her daughter come to make sure that everything was all
right. I had a telephone number for Mrs Wormwood, but without a signal I
could not call her.
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The snow was thickening in windy swirls. Relax. Have a whisky.
I leaned on the warm kitchen range with my whisky in my hand. The
wooden figures I had brought down from the attic were lying on the
kitchen table. I should go up and get the stable. I don't want to.
I bounded up the first set of stairs using energy to force out
unease. At my bedroom I put on the light. That felt better. The second
set of stairs stood in shadow at the end of the long landing. I felt
that constriction in my lungs again. Why am I holding on to the handrail
like an old man?
I could see that the only light to the attic was at the top of the
stairs. I found the round brown Bakelite switch. I flicked down the
nipple. A single bulb lit up reluctantly. The room was straight ahead.
The door was closed. Hadn't I left it open?
I turned the handle and stood in the doorway, the room dimly lit by
the light from the stairs. Washstand. Nativity. Clothes rail. On
the clothes rail was a child's dress. I hadn't noticed that before.
I suppose I had been in a hurry. Pushing aside my misgivings, I went in
purposefully and bent down to pick up the wooden nativity. It was heavy
and I had just got it secure in my arms when the light on the landing
went out. Hello? Who's there?
There's someone breathing like they can barely breathe. Not faint.
Struggling for breath. I mustn't turn round, because whoever or whatever
it is, is behind me.
I stood still for a minute, steadying my nerve. Then I shuffled
forward towards the edge of light coming up from downstairs. At the
doorway I heard a step behind me, lost my balance and put out a hand to
steady myself. My hand gripped something wet. The clothes rail. It must
be the dress.
My heart was over-beating. Don't panic. Bakelite. Bad wiring. Strange house. Darkness. Aloneness. But you're not alone, are you?
Back in the kitchen with whisky, Radio 4 and pasta boiling,
I examined the dress. It was for a small child and it was hand-knitted.
The wool was smelly and sopping. I washed it out and left it hanging
over the sink to drip. I guessed there must be a hole in the roof
and the dress had been soaking up the rain for a long time.
I ate my supper, tried to read, told myself it had been nothing,
nothing at all. It was only 8pm. I didn't want to go to bed, though the
snow outside was like a quilt.
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I
decided to arrange the nativity. Donkey, sheep, camels, wise men,
shepherds, star, Joseph. The crib was there, but it was empty. There was
no Christ child. And there was no Mary. Had I dropped them in the dark
room? I hadn't heard anything fall and these wooden figures were six
inches tall.
Joseph was wearing a woollen tunic, but his wooden legs had painted
puttees. I pulled off the tunic. Underneath, wooden Joseph wore a
painted uniform. First world war.
When I turned him round, I saw there was a gash in his back like a stab wound.
My phone beeped.
I dropped Joseph, grabbed the phone. It was a text message from Susie. TRYING 2 CALL U. LEAVE 2MORO.
I pressed CALL. Nothing. I tried to send a text. Nothing. But what
did it matter? Suddenly I felt relief and calm. They had been delayed,
that was all. Tomorrow they would be here.
I sat down again with the nativity. Perhaps the missing figures were
inside. I put in my hand. My fingers closed round a metal object. It was
a small iron key with a hoop top. Maybe it was the key to the attic
door.
Outside, snow had fallen snow on snow. The sky had cleared. The moon sped above the sea.
I had gone to bed and I was deep asleep when I heard it clearly.
Above me. Footsteps. Pacing. Down the room. Hesitate. Turn. Return.
I lay in bed, eyes staring blindly at the blind ceiling. Why do we
open our eyes when we can't see anything? And what was there to see? I don't believe in ghosts.
I wanted to put on the light, but what if the light didn't come on?
Why would it be worse to be in darkness I had not chosen than darkness I
was choosing? But it would be worse. I sat up in bed and pulled back
the curtain a little. The moon had been so bright tonight, surely there
would be light?
There was light. Outside the house, hand in hand, stood the still and silent figures of a mother and child.
I did not sleep again till daylight, and when I slept and woke again, it was almost midday and already the light was lowering.
Hurrying to get coffee, I saw that the dress was gone. I had left it dripping over the sink and it was gone. Get out of the house.
I set off for the station. There was an air frost that had coated the
trees in glittering white. It was beautiful and deathly. The world held
in ice.
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On the road there were no car tracks. No noise but the roar and drop of the sea.
I moved slowly and saw no one. In the white, unmoving landscape, I wondered if there was anyone else left alive?
At the station, I waited. I waited some time past the time until the
train whistled on the track. The train stopped. The guard got down and
saw me. He shook his head. "There's no one," he said. "No one at all."
I thought I would cry. I took out my mute phone. I flashed up the message. TRYING TO CALL U. LEAVE 2MORO.
The guard looked at it. "Happen it's you who should be leaving," he
said. "There's no more trains past Carlisle now till the 27th. Tomorrow
was the last and that's been cancelled. Weather."
I wrote down a number and gave it to the guard. "Will you phone my friends and tell them I am on my way home?"
On the slow journey back to Highfallen House, I filled my mind with
my departure. It would be slow and dangerous to travel at night, but I
could not consider another night alone. Or not alone.
All I had to do was manage 40 miles to Inchbarn. There was a pub and a guesthouse and remote but normal life.
The text message kept playing in my head. Had it really meant that I
should leave? And why? Because Susie and Stephen couldn't come? Weather?
Illness? It's all a guessing game. The fact is, I have to go.
The house seemed subdued when I returned. I had left the lights on
and I went straight upstairs to pack my bag. At once I saw that the
light to the attic was on. I paused. Breathed. Of course it's on. I
never switched it off. That proves it's a wiring fault. I must tell the
housekeeper.
My bag packed, I threw the food into a box and put everything back in
the car. I had the whisky in the front, a blanket I stole from the bed,
and I made a hot-water bottle, just in case.
It was only five o'clock. At worst I'd be in Inchbarn by 9pm.
I got in the car and turned the key. The radio came on for a second,
died, and as the ignition clicked and clicked, I knew that the battery
was flat. Two hours ago at the station, the car had started first time.
Even if I had left the lights on… But I hadn't left the lights on. A
cold panic hit me. I took a swig of the whisky. I couldn't sleep in the
car all night. I would die. I don't want to die.
Back in the house, I wondered what I was going to do all night.
I must not fall asleep. I had noticed some old books and volumes when I
had explored downstairs yesterday – assorted dusty adventure stories and
tales of empire. As I sorted through them, I came across a faded velvet
photograph album. In the cold, deserted sitting room, I began to
discover the past.
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Highfallen
House 1910. The women in long skirts with miraculous waists. The men in
shooting tweeds. The stable boys in waistcoats, the gardening boys
wearing flat caps. The maids in starched aprons. And here they are again
in their Sunday best: a wedding photograph. Joseph and Mary Lock. 1912.
He was a gardener. She was a maid. In the back of the album, loose and
unsorted, were further photographs and newspaper cuttings. 1914. The men
in uniform. There was Joseph.
I took the album back into the kitchen and put it next to my wooden
solider. I had on my coat and scarf. I propped myself up in two chairs
by the wood-fired range and dozed and waited and waited and dozed.
It was perhaps two o'clock when I heard a child crying. Not a child
who has scraped his knee, or lost a toy, but an abandoned child. A child
whose own voice is his last hold on life. A child who cries and knows
that no one will come.
The sound was not above me – it was above the above me. I knew where it was coming from.
I put my hands over my ears and my head between my knees. I could not
shut out the sound; a locked-up child, a hungry child, a child who is
cold and wet and frightened.
Twice I got up and went to the door. Twice I sat down again.
The crying stopped. Silence. A dreadful silence.
I raised my head. Footsteps were coming down the stairs. Not one foot
in front of the other, but one foot dragging slightly, then the other
joining it, steadying, stepping again.
At the bottom of the stairs, the footsteps paused. Then they did what
I knew they would do with all the terror in my body. The footsteps came
towards the kitchen door. Whatever was out there was standing 12 feet
away on the other side of the door. I stood behind the table and picked
up a knife.
The door swung open with violent force that rammed the brass doorknob
into the plaster of the wall. Wind and snow blew into the kitchen,
whirling up the photographs and cuttings on the table. I saw that the
front door itself was wide open, the entrance hall like a wind tunnel.
Holding the knife, I went forward into the hall to shut the door. The
pendant metal lantern that hung from the ceiling was swinging wildly on
its long chain. A sudden gust lurched it forward like a child's swing
pushed too high. It fell back at force against the large semi-circular
fanlight over the front door. The fanlight shattered and fell round my
shoulders in shards of sharp rain. Flicker. Buzz. Darkness. The house
lights were out. No wind now. No cries. Silence again.
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Glass-hit
in the snow-lit hall, I walked out of the front door and into the
night. At the drive, I turned left and I saw them: the mother and child.
The child was wearing the woollen dress. She had no shoes. She held up her arms piteously to her mother, who stood like stone.
I ran forward. I grabbed the child in my arms.
There was no child. I had fallen face down in the snow. Help me. That's not my voice.
I'm on my feet again. The mother is ahead of me. I follow her. She's
going towards the walled garden. She seems to pass through the door,
leaving me on the other side.
DO NOT ENTER
I tried the rusty hoop handle. It broke off, taking a piece of door
with it. I kicked the door open. It fell off its hinges. The ruined and
abandoned garden lay before me. A walled garden of one acre used to feed
20 people. But that was a long time ago.
There were footprints in the snow. I followed them. They led me to
the bothy, its roof patched with corrugated iron. There was no door, but
the inside seemed dry and sound. There was a tear-off calendar still on
the wall: 22 December 1916.
I put my hand in my pocket and I realised that the key from the
nativity was there. At the same time, I heard a chair scrape on the
floor in the room beyond. I had no fear any more. As the body first
shivers and then numbs with cold, my feelings were frozen. I was moving
through shadows as one who dreams.
In the room beyond there was a low fire lit in the tiny tin
fireplace. On either side of the fire sat the mother and child. The
child was absorbed playing with a marble. Her bare feet were blue, but
she did not seem to feel the cold any more than I did. Are we dead then?
The woman with the shawl over her head looked at me with deep
expressionless eyes. I recognised her. It was Mary Lock. She nodded at
me, or at not me, at some other me in some other time, I do not know.
Her gaze went to a tall cupboard. I knew that my key fitted this
cupboard and that I must open it. I did so.
A dusty uniform fell out, crumpling like a puppet. The uniform was
not quite empty of its occupant. The back of the faded wool jacket had a
long slash where the lungs would have been.
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I looked at the knife in my hand.
"Open the door! Are you in there? Open the door!"
I woke to blinding white. Where am I? Something's rocking. It's the
car. I am in my car. A heavy glove was brushing off the snow. I sat up,
found my keys, pressed the unlock button. It was morning. Outside was
the guard from the train and a woman who announced herself as
Mrs Wormwood.
"Fine mess you've made here," she said.
We went into the kitchen. I was shivering so much that Mrs Wormwood relented and began to make coffee.
"Alfie fetched me," she said, "after he spoke to your friends."
"There's a body," I said. "In the walled garden."
"Is that where it is?" said Mrs Wormwood.
At Christmas 1914, Joseph Lock had gone to war. Before he left for
Flanders, he had made a nativity scene for his little girl. When he came
back in 1916, he had been gassed. They heard him, climbing the stairs,
gasping for breath through froth-corrupted lungs.
His mind had gone, they said. At night in the attic where he slept
with his wife and child, he leaned vacantly against the wall, rolling
the child's marbles up and down, down and up, pacing, pacing, pacing.
One night, just before Christmas, he strangled his wife and daughter. He
left them for dead in the bed and went out. But his wife was not dead.
She followed him. In the morning, they found her sitting by the
nativity, her dress dark with blood, his fingermarks livid at her
throat. She was singing a lullaby and pushing the point of the knife
into the back of the wooden figure. Joseph was never found.
"Are you going to call the police?" I said.
"What for?" said Mrs Wormwood. "Let the dead bury the dead."
Alfie the guard went out to see to my car. It started first time, the
exhaust blue in the white air. I left them clearing up and was about
to set off when I remembered I had left my radio in the kitchen. I went
back inside. The kitchen was empty. I could hear the two of them up in
the attic. I picked up the radio. The nativity was on the table as I had
left it.
But it wasn't as I had left it.
Joseph was there and the animals and the shepherds and the worn-out
star. And in the centre was the crib. Next to the crib were the wooden
figures of a mother and child.
Six (6) months ago, we welcomed the latest addition to the family – Harry Benjin, a most awaited grandson to perpetuate the Leonin surname. Daddy would have loved to meet his “apo-sa-tuhod”, someone who was lucky enough not to carry a version of his rather “stinky”-sounding name “Teofilo”, unlike Manong Butch aka “Teofilo, Jr.”, or Tudoy, whose real name is “Theodore”.
But before Harry Potpot, there was baby Mateo, Dra. Katkat and Dr. Marvin’s firstborn, who closely followed Marianne, twin Michael’s third kid, and Mikhail, Dra. Angel and Dr. Glenn’s baby boy. A few years prior, there was Yanna, Hani and Tudoy’s first child, Maggie and Miggy, Marianne’s older siblings, and Athena, Dra. Che’s, daughter born in London. Their parents, who were the delight of “Lolo Pilo” as kids decades before, are now married and starting families of their own.
Since Abbie, Gayle’s only daughter, asked me about some family stories a few months ago, I realized that this new generation must know about their own family’s history. I feel it is incumbent upon me to be the one to share these things since I am the one who seems to cultivate these memories and is fortunate enough to have some “updates.”
So to Harry Potpot, Mateo, Mikmik, Marianne, etc. and even my own daughter, Venice, who may have missed out on Lolo Pilo’s story-telling days, here are some interesting facts about the Leonin family:
1. We are GIs - We are genuine Ilocanos; our home provinces being located in Region 1. Our patriarch, Lolo Tiburcio hailed from Villasis, Pangasinan while Lola Felisa was from a Spanish lineage based in San Juan, La Union. Nowadays, when I go to lecture to the senior citizens of region 1, oldtimers come up to me speculating I am related to “Manong Teofing” who went to local dances with them and served as a guerilla as a young man during the Japanese Occupation. Seniors of Villasis, Pangasinan say that Leonins are now related to the local Ordonez, De Guzmans, and Minas there. Meanwhile, Lola Piling’s mestiza clan are the Aquinos of San Juan, related to the Borjas and Gaerlans of La Union. I met distant cousins from the Borja side while in UP Los Banos and I lectured to senior citizens/OSCA Heads of San Juan who happen to be Gaerlans. On occasion, the strong jawline and big teeth reminiscent of our Castillian heritage found expression amongst various cousins; but until now I can’t explain where we got the chinky eyes which later surfaced when only the most recent generations married into Chinese families after all.
2. Going into Law? Public Service? - Lolo Burcio is related to the late legal icon, Atty. Sedfrey Ordonez and as a lawyer himself, served as the Director of the Bureau of Lands (the post-WWII predecessor of the Land Registration Authority (LRA) and the DENR’s Land Management Bureau.) So yes, Marben and Troy, we do have a tradition of going into the legal profession. Moreover, Manong Butch (DOST-Phil Nuclear Research Institute), Ate Annette or myself (in DSWD) were not the first ones to choose to work in government. We merely followed Lolo Burcio’s steps to become public servants.
Two years ago, I lectured to some retirees of the LMB about the Senior Citizens Law and a little, old lady said that on her first job as a secretary/clerk, her immediate boss was Atty. Tiburcio Leonin. She remembered him as a fair-skinned, quiet and hard-working man, quite “straight” with government transactions and who refused many “crooked” offers from land-grabbers that abounded after WWII. This story lends credence to the frustration Lola Piling often expressed that our family could have owned large tracks of land by now had Lolo Burcio agreed to be corrupted. He, in turn, would reply that he didn’t want to lose all his teeth (read: burn his soul while still alive), to which Lola would retort, “you could always get gold teeth as replacements if we had enough money!”
3. Big, Happy Family – We ‘ve always been a large family. We often joked that this was also because Daddy and his brothers almost all had “part 2 or 3” families because they remarried as soon as they got widowed. This was also the reason why the age range of cousins spread out so far and wide.
Lolo Pilo was the eldest of eleven (11) children which included two sets of fraternal twins, namely Uncle Pering and Uncle Pepito, and Tita Norma and Uncle Boy. So yes, that’s another unique thing about our family – having twins is in our genes. We also dispelled the myth that usually the appearance of twins skips a generation; but in our case, there is a set of twins for three consecutive generations. We have our cousins, sisters Maritess and Marivel, Uncle Arthur’s twin daughters, then Ate Marichu’s boys – Michael and Mark. We are still waiting for it to appear in this latest generation though.
4. UP Maroon or Ateneo Blue? – If you must know, five of us out of seven siblings went to the State University – Manong Butch, Manong Snokum, myself, Tita Giselle, and Mommy Gayle. While we are extremely proud to have made it to UP, our choice of a public school for university then was more out necessity since it was expensive sending a kid through college. Previously, only 3 of Daddy’s siblings were able to go to UP – Tita Nena, Uncle Ceci, and Uncle Arturo. Of late, it was Tudoy and Angel who attended UP in Diliman and Manila respectively, where they also met their future spouses, Hani and Glenn. On the other hand, while Roy, Troy, and Tristan chose to go to Ateneo, they weren’t the first Blue Eagles in the family. Lola Edine took her Masters in Psychology in Ateneo while teaching at Stella Maris, just as Ate Annette took her diploma in Human Resources Management a few years later while serving as an NGO Executive Director.
5. Graduate School, anyone? - Note too that many of us also took graduate studies, with Manong Butch having advance units in Statistics besides his specialized training in nuclear energy safety standards abroad, Manong Snokum having Urban Planning units, Ate Marichu also taking Masters in Psychology, and myself taking an MA in Creative Writing after a Bachelor of Laws. Thus, some of us have double or triple degrees, from pre-law and pre-med courses such as Public Health and Medical Technology for Angel, and nursing for Katkat. Presently, I hear Miya is enrolled in UP Open University for advanced computer studies. A love for learning, perhaps, but I think it’s an inherent desire to improve and develop ourselves further that is also evident in our family.
6. More than Looks and Brains – Yup, we are known for our intellect and unique looks. But something else runs in our blood – hereditary diseases. We have common allergies which manifested in our youth – asthma and allergic rhinitis. In addition, Tita G, Mommy Gayle and myself got from Lola Edine an allergy for alcoholic beverages. As such, most of us don’t smoke cigarettes or drink alcohol much, although Lolo Pilo smoked and drank. But before losing yourself to these lifestyle trappings, know that our ancestors suffered from diabetes or high blood sugar, high cholesterol and hypertension, heart disease and stroke. Unfortunately, the women in our family also had breast cysts and reproductive system problems. It also cannot be denied that cancer seems to appear in our family as well. While 2 of our aunts died from it, our family seemed to also have some resistance to cancer with remissions occurring for decades, and one cousin, Manong Keith, having survived it after a leg amputation. He’s now teaching in California and just published a book.
7. Teofilo’s Tribe is the original Von Trapp family – While the movie musical “Sound of Music” was making waves in the 60s, Lolo Pilo was also a new widower with 4 young kids. With all the out-of-town trips he does with his court hearings, he needed to find a new wife to help care for his kids. Their wedding then was reminiscent of Maria’s and Capt. Von Trapp’s when Stella Maris College nuns insisted on having a photo-op with Mama and Daddy at the SMC chapel. We became a “blended” family much like the Brady Bunch after we were born. But where Capt. Von Trapp had a whistle to call his kids, we had a dinner bell to call us for meals, and you could hear all of us running to the dining room because Daddy had strict rules about making food wait for you. Much like his rule on eating what is served before you, being choosy has no place in is dining table, lest you want your food thrown out to the dogs and you starve.
8. The Family that Eats Together, Stays Together – We love our food, and yes, we love to eat! Come to think of it, that practice somehow instilled in us the virtue of “family meals” or making it a point to eat together and catch up on each other’s business, a debriefing of sorts over good food. So it goes, the legend of our narra wooden dining table where everyone who sits there gets to eat a lot. Nope, it doesn’t have a Lazy Susan, we have a “Crazy Susan” because it gets turned like a casino roulette. As we advise first-timers eating with the family, make sure you immediately get the fare that stops in front of you because it passes by you so quickly, you might need to wait for the second serving instead. Don’t worry, our maids are well-trained to re-load and re-stock viands like professionals in restaurants. You’ll soon get the hang of it.
9. Gremlins Part 2 or Twilight Saga? – Don’t be surprised if you meet distant relatives who may be of a varying age groups. Our generation of cousins actually had three batches stemming from first marriages, widowhood, divorces/separations or otherwise. Manong Butch will always be the eldest grandson for his generation, but Tudoy is the same age as some of his uncles who comprise the 3rd batch. Tristan might even be around the same age as one of his distant uncles – a belatedly born son of Uncle Junior. Understand too, that maybe one day, someone approaches and introduces himself as a cousin by one of your uncles although you don’t recognize his mother as an aunt – those things happen, after all. Be mature, be graceful about it.
10. Lolo Pilo’s Legacy – So what is Lolo Pilo’s legacy? It’s family-orientedness and the love for parents and siblings. During the WWII, everyone evacuated out of Manila and Lolo Burcio took the family up North. Lolo Pilo joined the guerillas and was missing for some time that Lola Piling thought he was killed. But he showed up one day in San Juan’s barrios, having located his family somehow. He brought with him Spam canned goods and chocolate bars since there was nothing to eat and people were starving. After the war, as a veteran he used his PVAO benefit to study law, but as soon as he passed the Bar and started working, he supported his siblings who were still studying. Even the story of the K-J property controversy was one borne out of love against better legal judgment; it was a decision to bail out a GSIS property mortgage and find a place for ageing parents whose government pension was used by some to go abroad and start a new life. But fortunately, even in isolation, Teofilo’s Tribe not only increased, but thrived!
So remember, even when you meet the Love of your Life and get married and start your own families, don’t forget where you came from. “Family trees” give you roots as a strong foundation that keeps you grounded, and branches like “arms of love” that lift you up to reach for your dreams.
Six (6) months ago, we welcomed the latest addition to the family – Harry Benjin, a most awaited grandson to perpetuate the Leonin surname. Daddy would have loved to meet his “apo-sa-tuhod”, someone who was lucky enough not to carry a version of his rather “stinky”-sounding name “Teofilo”, unlike Manong Butch aka “Teofilo, Jr.”, or Tudoy, whose real name is “Theodore”.
But before Harry Potpot, there was baby Mateo, Dra. Katkat and Dr. Marvin’s firstborn, who closely followed Marianne, twin Michael’s third kid, and Mikhail, Dra. Angel and Dr. Glenn’s baby boy. A few years prior, there was Yanna, Hani and Tudoy’s first child, Maggie and Miggy, Marianne’s older siblings, and Athena, Dra. Che’s, daughter born in London. Their parents, who were the delight of “Lolo Pilo” as kids decades before, are now married and starting families of their own.
Since Abbie, Gayle’s only daughter, asked me about some family stories a few months ago, I realized that this new generation must know about their own family’s history. I feel it is incumbent upon me to be the one to share these things since I am the one who seems to cultivate these memories and is fortunate enough to have some “updates.”
So to Harry Potpot, Mateo, Mikmik, Marianne, etc. and even my own daughter, Venice, who may have missed out on Lolo Pilo’s story-telling days, here are some interesting facts about the Leonin family:
1. We are GIs - We are genuine Ilocanos; our home provinces being located in Region 1. Our patriarch, Lolo Tiburcio hailed from Villasis, Pangasinan while Lola Felisa was from a Spanish lineage based in San Juan, La Union. Nowadays, when I go to lecture to the senior citizens of region 1, oldtimers come up to me speculating I am related to “Manong Teofing” who went to local dances with them and served as a guerilla as a young man during the Japanese Occupation. Seniors of Villasis, Pangasinan say that Leonins are now related to the local Ordonez, De Guzmans, and Minas there. Meanwhile, Lola Piling’s mestiza clan are the Aquinos of San Juan, related to the Borjas and Gaerlans of La Union. I met distant cousins from the Borja side while in UP Los Banos and I lectured to senior citizens/OSCA Heads of San Juan who happen to be Gaerlans. On occasion, the strong jawline and big teeth reminiscent of our Castillian heritage found expression amongst various cousins; but until now I can’t explain where we got the chinky eyes which later surfaced when only the most recent generations married into Chinese families after all.
2. Going into Law? Public Service? - Lolo Burcio is related to the late legal icon, Atty. Sedfrey Ordonez and as a lawyer himself, served as the Director of the Bureau of Lands (the post-WWII predecessor of the Land Registration Authority (LRA) and the DENR’s Land Management Bureau.) So yes, Marben and Troy, we do have a tradition of going into the legal profession. Moreover, Manong Butch (DOST-Phil Nuclear Research Institute), Ate Annette or myself (in DSWD) were not the first ones to choose to work in government. We merely followed Lolo Burcio’s steps to become public servants.
Two years ago, I lectured to some retirees of the LMB about the Senior Citizens Law and a little, old lady said that on her first job as a secretary/clerk, her immediate boss was Atty. Tiburcio Leonin. She remembered him as a fair-skinned, quiet and hard-working man, quite “straight” with government transactions and who refused many “crooked” offers from land-grabbers that abounded after WWII. This story lends credence to the frustration Lola Piling often expressed that our family could have owned large tracks of land by now had Lolo Burcio agreed to be corrupted. He, in turn, would reply that he didn’t want to lose all his teeth (read: burn his soul while still alive), to which Lola would retort, “you could always get gold teeth as replacements if we had enough money!”
3. Big, Happy Family – We ‘ve always been a large family. We often joked that this was also because Daddy and his brothers almost all had “part 2 or 3” families because they remarried as soon as they got widowed. This was also the reason why the age range of cousins spread out so far and wide.
Lolo Pilo was the eldest of eleven (11) children which included two sets of fraternal twins, namely Uncle Pering and Uncle Pepito, and Tita Norma and Uncle Boy. So yes, that’s another unique thing about our family – having twins is in our genes. We also dispelled the myth that usually the appearance of twins skips a generation; but in our case, there is a set of twins for three consecutive generations. We have our cousins, sisters Maritess and Marivel, Uncle Arthur’s twin daughters, then Ate Marichu’s boys – Michael and Mark. We are still waiting for it to appear in this latest generation though.
4. UP Maroon or Ateneo Blue? – If you must know, five of us out of seven siblings went to the State University – Manong Butch, Manong Snokum, myself, Tita Giselle, and Mommy Gayle. While we are extremely proud to have made it to UP, our choice of a public school for university then was more out necessity since it was expensive sending a kid through college. Previously, only 3 of Daddy’s siblings were able to go to UP – Tita Nena, Uncle Ceci, and Uncle Arturo. Of late, it was Tudoy and Angel who attended UP in Diliman and Manila respectively, where they also met their future spouses, Hani and Glenn. On the other hand, while Roy, Troy, and Tristan chose to go to Ateneo, they weren’t the first Blue Eagles in the family. Lola Edine took her Masters in Psychology in Ateneo while teaching at Stella Maris, just as Ate Annette took her diploma in Human Resources Management a few years later while serving as an NGO Executive Director.
5. Graduate School, anyone? - Note too that many of us also took graduate studies, with Manong Butch having advance units in Statistics besides his specialized training in nuclear energy safety standards abroad, Manong Snokum having Urban Planning units, Ate Marichu also taking Masters in Psychology, and myself taking an MA in Creative Writing after a Bachelor of Laws. Thus, some of us have double or triple degrees, from pre-law and pre-med courses such as Public Health and Medical Technology for Angel, and nursing for Katkat. Presently, I hear Miya is enrolled in UP Open University for advanced computer studies. A love for learning, perhaps, but I think it’s an inherent desire to improve and develop ourselves further that is also evident in our family.
6. More than Looks and Brains – Yup, we are known for our intellect and unique looks. But something else runs in our blood – hereditary diseases. We have common allergies which manifested in our youth – asthma and allergic rhinitis. In addition, Tita G, Mommy Gayle and myself got from Lola Edine an allergy for alcoholic beverages. As such, most of us don’t smoke cigarettes or drink alcohol much, although Lolo Pilo smoked and drank. But before losing yourself to these lifestyle trappings, know that our ancestors suffered from diabetes or high blood sugar, high cholesterol and hypertension, heart disease and stroke. Unfortunately, the women in our family also had breast cysts and reproductive system problems. It also cannot be denied that cancer seems to appear in our family as well. While 2 of our aunts died from it, our family seemed to also have some resistance to cancer with remissions occurring for decades, and one cousin, Manong Keith, having survived it after a leg amputation. He’s now teaching in California and just published a book.
7. Teofilo’s Tribe is the original Von Trapp family – While the movie musical “Sound of Music” was making waves in the 60s, Lolo Pilo was also a new widower with 4 young kids. With all the out-of-town trips he does with his court hearings, he needed to find a new wife to help care for his kids. Their wedding then was reminiscent of Maria’s and Capt. Von Trapp’s when Stella Maris College nuns insisted on having a photo-op with Mama and Daddy at the SMC chapel. We became a “blended” family much like the Brady Bunch after we were born. But where Capt. Von Trapp had a whistle to call his kids, we had a dinner bell to call us for meals, and you could hear all of us running to the dining room because Daddy had strict rules about making food wait for you. Much like his rule on eating what is served before you, being choosy has no place in is dining table, lest you want your food thrown out to the dogs and you starve.
8. The Family that Eats Together, Stays Together – We love our food, and yes, we love to eat! Come to think of it, that practice somehow instilled in us the virtue of “family meals” or making it a point to eat together and catch up on each other’s business, a debriefing of sorts over good food. So it goes, the legend of our narra wooden dining table where everyone who sits there gets to eat a lot. Nope, it doesn’t have a Lazy Susan, we have a “Crazy Susan” because it gets turned like a casino roulette. As we advise first-timers eating with the family, make sure you immediately get the fare that stops in front of you because it passes by you so quickly, you might need to wait for the second serving instead. Don’t worry, our maids are well-trained to re-load and re-stock viands like professionals in restaurants. You’ll get the hang of it.
9. Gremlins Part 2 or Twilight Saga? – Don’t be surprised if you meet distant relatives who may be of a varying age groups. Our generation of cousins actually had three batches stemming from first marriages, widowhood, divorces/separations or otherwise. Manong Butch will always be the eldest grandson for his generation, but Tudoy is the same age as some of his uncles who comprise the 3rd batch. Tristan might even be around the same age as one of his distant uncles – a belatedly born son of Uncle Junior. Understand too, that maybe one day, someone approaches and introduces himself as a cousin by one of your uncles although you don’t recognize his mother as an aunt – those things happen, after all. Be mature, be graceful about it.
10. Lolo Pilo’s Legacy – So what is Lolo Pilo’s legacy – family-orientedness and the love for parents and siblings. During the WWII, everyone evacuated out of Manila and Lolo Burcio took the family up North. Lolo Pilo joined the guerillas and was missing for some time that Lola Piling thought he was killed. But he showed up one day in San Juan’s barrios, having located his family somehow. He brought with him Spam canned goods and chocolate bars since there was nothing to eat and people were starving. After the war, as a veteran he used his PVAO benefit to study law, but as soon as he passed the Bar and started working, he supported his siblings who were still studying. Even the story of the K-J property controversy was one borne out of love against better legal judgment; it was a decision to bail out a GSIS property mortgage and find a place for ageing parents whose government pension was used by some to go abroad and start a new life. But fortunately, even in isolation, Teofilo’s Tribe not only increased, but thrived!
So remember, even when you meet the Love of your Life and get married and start your own families, don’t forget where you came from. “Family trees” give you roots as a strong foundation that keeps you grounded, and branches that lift you up to reach for your dreams.
