Hibiscus is Katueanga and Ylang-ylang is Daeanghilang

Behold, the Katueanga!

"Tay, sueanga ako makaron", my daughter requested me. What she meant to say is that I send her off and in my tongue, it should be put, "Tay, hatdan ako hu." The other day, she inquired when I asked her to cook rice, "Hay sin-o ma-obra it kaeayo?" Her mind is constructing the question in English and literally translated it, unaware of the idioms, "Who will make fire?"

It is sad to note that the younger generation is becoming alienated from our native tongue. It is sadder to discover that their minds work and construct images in weltanschauung far different from our own. Even then, I got some opportunity especially when there are power interruptions and the kids are forced to huddle together on my lap asking for stories or some old folk songs to sing. From my point of view, brownouts are blessings in disguise, freeing us from our dependence of electronic gadgets that otherwise steal us our attention. For instance, the other night, we celebrated the blackness with a song I heard sung by my lola several decades ago. I improvised though to keep the kids interested:

"Si AV nga maitom-itom, angay gid sa baeay nga butong. Tumindog, yumuhom-yuhom matsa bueak it Katsubong. 

"Si Vida nga maputi-puti, angay gid sa baeay nga tapi. Tumindog, kumiri-kiri, matsa bueak it Kamantigue.

"Si Vita nga mapuea-puea, angay gid sa baeay nga tabla. Tumindog, humiya-hiya, matsa bueak it Katueanga." 

And sure enough, there were series of questions raised by the curious girls. "Anu, Tay, do Katueanga?"  Of course, most of us Aklanon seldom heard of that word for we've gotten used to call that flower, "Gumamela" or Hibiscus. In olden times, Katueanga is almost synonymous with red for there was no other varieties then. Today, one could feast on the many colors of hibiscus.

A seafood pakbit with Anaea-taea herb

In my interactions with older people in the Ilaya (the mountainous region of Balete) I've managed to document some words we seldom used today. Let me list down some of them here:

• Anaea-taea - n., refers to a seasonal herb that thrives along moistened ground; tastes like mint and smells like anise
• Daeanghilan - n., Ylang-ylang
• Deawidaw - n., a variety of humming bird (Antuyamis) thriving in upper and cooler region. With prominent royal blue feather on its chest. Sighted in Agtawagon.
• Oeangkas - n., a minuscule mountain crab boring on moistened ground; most attractive for its bright red pigmentation; There are a lot of it along the trail to Benitinan. 
• Sum-ean - n., a dry wood with an ember in it and kept in every house's hearth in mountainous region
• Taeagbasan - n., a tin can where clean rice is kept; rice canister   
• Tagwatihot - n., another variety of humming bird in mountainous region. Often seen near abaca plantation; Notable for its red crested feathers and a very acrobatic flights. 

By the River Jal-o Damulot Wept Over a Wet Blanket

A historic high, however one might take it, is what the inundation of the Jal-o River yesterday morning is all about (by Balete's standard). Here are some of the factors to consider this assertion:

   a. No storm was forecasted by the PAG-ASA; a night before, only an inter-tropical convergence zone was reported to have been spotted off the Surigao provinces;

   b. A sustained downpour for the entire morning of November 15 and sporadic rains in the afternoon;

   c. Flashflood soaked the low lying portions of the Poblacion and the floodplains of the contiguous barangays along the Jal-o in a matter of time;

   d. Fatal landslides took place in several barangays, notably in Barangay Feliciano (God bless the soul of Herminia Cuales);

   e. The raging waters washed out several houses abutting the banks of the Jal-o, forcing more than a hundred souls to seek refuge at the Uphill, my friend Lagumbay and his entire household included;

   f. Hundreds of motorists (and perhaps, a thousand commuters or more) were stranded on both sides of the winding Jal-o and its tribuaries, causing historic monstrous traffic from midday until nighttime--in Feliciano, Calizo, Morales, Poblacion and Aranas;

   g. My neighbor, Benjie, reported to have cooked several layers of eggs and sold them out with hot coffees to hungry stranded motorists. Other enterprising souls found myriad of ways helping out the commuters;

  h. The Sangguniang Bayan in a special session today declared based on the recommendation of the Municipal Disaster Risk Reduction Development Council the entire municipality under a state of calamity.

      As I surveyed my neighborhood yesterday, a weary farmer named Damulot approached me pleading, "You gotta take a photograph of my submerged house. You ought to have proof to show to Mayor that I'm a victim of this calamity." "Ok," I assured him, "I'll take a photo of it". After having attended to his request, I moved about to inspect other areas but he followed me up and went about lamenting. "Oh, my clothings and blankets are all wet. Where shall I rest my head and that of my family tonight? Alas, my TV is soaked with flood water. I've seen to it that the water won't reached it. I was busy attending to other chores and I did'nt notice that the water level rose so fast.  Also, see, my chickens are all dead. They were a stubborn lot. I've already helped them find some branches to rest, but they opted for the barn. Now, they join innumerable lots floating lifeless down the Jal-o."

Hayra, Damulot, ro ing baeay. Sa Facebook eot a. Hambae ni Engr kaina pagkatapos na it ocular inspection hay sangkiri man land a damage. Ag hambae pa gid ku ing unga hay sambilog man lang kuno ing manok nga alaga. Pero bisan pa, may bulig man gihapon kimong ma-abot. (Here is your house, Damulot. It is already posted in Facebook. The municipal engineer in his ocular inspection noted that it is not totally damaged. Also, your son revealed that you only have one hen, no more no less. Even then, the local government will help you out recover from your sad plight.) 

Balete 8. de Mayo de 1893

      Besides me today are some photocopied manuscripts culled from a bundle called "Elecciones de Gobernadorcillos de Capiz". With it is my handy magnifying glass and a newly sharpened Mongol. I've just read the whole bulk of it and now am appreciating their relevance.

    When I discovered their existence at the National Archives, I just can't believe my eyes. But the truth of the matter is, in my hands are the official ballots of the May 8, 1893 elections of gobernadorcillo. I read and I quote one:

"D. Ambrocio Aranas, gobernadorcillo actual de este pueblo, propone para succederle on el bienio de 1893 al 95. a.

D. Toribio Oquendo

D. Eulalio Feliciano

      Balete 8. de Mayo de 1893

     (the signature of the voter)" 

   In my possession are some 15 ballots duly signed by the voters--all officials of the pueblo in their capacities as either "cabeza actuales" (there were 11 barangays in 1893) or "capitan pasado".  Don Ambrocio Aranas, happened to be the outgoing gobernadorcillo and as his ballot shows, he opted to name Toribio Oquendo as his first choice and Eulalio Feliciano as his second. I am still deciphering who won the election that day.

   Maybe one day, when we have exhausted all the relevant manuscripts at the National Archives...we shall know. But what for. Ah, to paraphrase Beowulf, "Make a memory of me. Not as a king or a hero, but as a man--fallible and flawed."

Requescat in Pace

Right after the priest gave the final blessing, the throng of faithful rushed into the street that leads to the public cemetery. It was already nine o’ clock in the morning of November 1, 2000 and the crowded graveyard was, as it has always been on All Saints’ Day, venue to the festive mood.

The juxtaposition of women lighting candles as they murmured verses of prayers for their dearly departed relatives and the carousing of Tanduay by men were common scenes on this time of the year.  But what was unusual on that fateful Wednesday morning was Ray, armed with a .45 automatic, half-naked, shouting to the top of his voice: “INAWAY!”

The tradition of drinking intoxicating liquor in the cemetery every All Saints’ Day is not unique of Balete alone. Almost everywhere throughout the country, All Saints’ Day celebration has been observed to include unrestrained drinking. The Sanggunian Bayan of the Municipality of Balete, Aklan, notwithstanding its respect for the tradition of celebrating the feast of all the saints, deemed it proper to come up with something to make such an event wholesome and fitting of a Christian celebration. Hence, seven days after the incidence, the local council deliberated on the possibility of enacting an ordinance that would eventually prohibit the drinking of liquor in public places.

The prohibition of drinking liquor in public places would not necessarily eliminate the commission of violence. What the Municipal Officials have in mind was that its thorough and consistent implementation would contribute to the awareness that unrestrained consumption of intoxicating liquor often leads to violence—domestic or otherwise. Besides, the imposition of such ordinance, says Councilor Villanueva would “further instill in the mind of our people a sense of decency and respect for the sensitivity of others” while in public places.

Members of the Catholic Women’s League noted that many mothers were appreciative of the moved made by the Councilors. “That’s also good for the policemen. It would keep them busy moving around,” they quipped with knowing grins.

For a number of reasons, deliberation on the proposed ordinance dragged on for several months. Eventually, it was enacted on May 31, 2001 by a unanimous vote. The Mayor affixed his signature on it the day after thus sealing its immediate implementation a week before the opening of classes.

On August 30, 2002, the Sangguniang Bayan invited various civil society organizations in the municipality to an evaluation meeting. It was particularly called to monitor and solicit feedbacks regarding the impact of the imposition of the ordinance prohibiting the consumption of liquor in public places.  Their sentiment was undivided. Imposition of the ordinance should be continued to give birth to a culture that is respectful of the sensitivity of others and uphold a sense of decency among our people.

Ray was shot to death on April of 2001.  It turned out that the incident involving him on November 1, 2000 at the Public Cemetery was his farewell party. With the strict imposition of Ordinance No. 2001-01, he and the rest of the faithful departed in Balete can now rest in peace.