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SANDI TANGONAN'S LETTER TO DIONISIO TANGONAN

I

f there is something that tickles my interest, it is no other than perusing through one's deep thoughts and knowledge that found its way into paper - a special trait that revered the Tangonan's by their equals.

In candor, I am immensely flattered by your request to contribute to your noble cause, of pursuing to establish our family origin(s) however difficult it may seem, as you have repeatedly stressed in your letter. And I agree.

To begin with, I am proud to be a part of the Tangonan clan, as you knowingly put it. Now that you mention it, I am moved and couldn't believe it at first, that there's someone who actually cares about it.

As you well know it, each of us (adult members) has our share of obligations and responsibilities to our families and our works. Not to add our social function at times (but that could be set aside in a more convenient manner and time) in which more often than not, serves as a hindrance whenever such an unexpected activity as big as this project materialized; as it will somehow, break a pattern in the maze of our daily routine. This extraordinary task requires a great deal of effort and time, so it is only right for you to seek help anywhere you could find it.

My job for instance, entails frequent travels. For this reason, I think I couldn't be of much help to you in terms of legwork making a house-to-house call as part of the research team. However, I may be able to contribute to your coffers to give it a good drive.

A glimpse into my past is more on reflection than curiosity for its ordinariness. A brief episode anyone who trudged the same path I did could remember it with ease. The incubus that doesn't want to go away, like a pilot fish that clings to a shark until it feels like it's a natural part of its body, as if it was born to it.

There was a time when I questioned the inequality of the kind of life that has befallen us, to a point of sheer despair and surrender and almost accepted it as my destiny. I have asked myself a thousand times why Tatay Milio gave up on us, when there was still the slightest chance for all of us to make it through the hardship and the near impossible situation we were in at the time.

What young man at the callow age of sixteen years could possibly have known how a father of a big family was supposed to respond to such a helpless condition, much less understand it? My father was (what I knew about him) a highly educated man. A basically kind and loving person when he was not in his usual inebriation. What pushed him to hit the bottle was one thing. What caused him to decide that his family was not worth fighting for was another and shall forever remain unanswered. Was it cowardice to face the inevitable? Or fear of the unknown to venture outside of his normal milieu, or both? I guess I would never find out.

Instead of wading in self-pity, I was outraged and angry! Angry in the sense that it was like I was thrown in a fighting arena, hardly out of my bibs, to face a raging bull with only my bare hands and the will to survive the fight. At the same time, I was scared; so scared that the initial terror was followed by the realization that we may all die made it all the worse. The enormity of it all was beyond my comprehension. Tatay was out of work and out of condition to do anything while Nanay was barely holding out and on the verge of breaking down. The rice bin was down to its last few cups. Even the cruet was empty. It was - horrifying! How we were able to survive the first few days and the ensuing weeks...God only knows.

To our added chagrin, our impecunious state has quickly spread like wild fire. The three sari-sari stores around the place we lived were equally quick to cut our credit line having found out our inability to pay for anything from their stores. And yet, not all was lost. There was still the five of us, who were old enough to carry the torch of hope, except for the three youngest ones.

The fecundity of Manila bay and Pasig River (its pristine beauty and richness was at its peak, unlike its present state of contamination today) was what saved us from starvation. Mainly, our source of food came from collecting variety of sea-shells (mussels & clams) and crabs, locally known as tahong, halaan, alimasag and talangka. We also learned the way of line fishing if the weather permitted it.

In those frantic efforts to live, I've had had a close call with death. I was nearly drowned, on two different occasions from chipping mussels at the seawalls of Dewey Boulevard (now called Roxas Blvd.) during rainy season when one of those big waves rolled ashore like an on-rushing giant roller coaster - which gobbled me up, and for a brief moment I thought I was a goner. The next thing I knew I was thrown back in a flash to the same place where I was perched somewhat like a minute ago chipping mussels like a wasted rug - bruised and lacerated and shocked, but thanking God I was alive.

The second incident was a cramp attack. I was diving for clams and swimming with the aid of an inflated car wheel rubber interior tied up around my waist and a makeshift basket sat in the loop for my catch to a deeper part far from shoreline where clams thrived best. Just my luck we were a group when it happened. At first, they thought I was goofing around. Both my legs were paralyzed and I was gulping water in large amount that weighed me down and pulled me under in no time until I fainted.

I found out later that my friends dragged me to the beach (blessed their hearts) and gave me a tummy-press (a poor version of Nelson's method, first-aid application) to help me throw up the water I swallowed. There and then, I regained consciousness. For a while I gasped noisily for breath, shaking so badly that even a two-hand grip on both my wrists couldn't keep it from jigging up and down. For a long time to come, I’d never uttered a word about my frightening ordeal lest it would add to what was already the family's worsening situation. For a few lousy mussels and clams for us to eat, I almost lost the only precious possession I own...my life.

On the other hand, we worked the streets, too: peddling newspapers and magazines (local ones), selling balut (half-hatched duck eggs) at night, shoe-shining in the vicinity of Baclaran church and bus terminals, hauling pails of water from artesian wells, cleaning other houses, baby-sitting, running errands, washing other laundry -all for a meager fee. You name it, we've done it all... a perfect simulation of the proverbial ant family at work.

Nothing ever came easy for us. Nevertheless, it was infinitely better than waking up in the wee hours of the morning with a grumbling stomach and not knowing what and when we were going to eat again.

As loathsome and appalling it was for both our parents, they'd resignedly accepted it in silence. They even opted giving us for adoption but we were just too many it was a heartbreaking feat for all of us to be separated from each other like when I was sent away to Romblon to stay with your family for a year. Either we stick together and die or not at all, I said.

Embarking on these odd jobs, if you could call it that, was nothing more than to bring food to fill our stomachs, never mind the clothes and medicines. I guess, instinctively, to keep our physical state in working condition and our sanity intact. If sickness struck one of us, we resorted to herbal medicine which practically cost nothing.

In between those grueling works, we still managed to attend school. Public school then was only giving half day of classes. High school was knocking off at three, in the afternoon. Sometimes, we have to skive classes to put up with running errands for people who were willing to shell out a few cents of their precious money. We scraped and scrimped, if only to see the next day.

If I may ask, who in their right minds (prospective employer) would hire, let alone pay what was then the normal pittance to a bunch of frail kids who doesn't even know their rear-ends from their elbows? Most, if not all, took advantage of us. Even I, a third year high school student then, wouldn't merit a second glance from them, much less bother to delve into my qualifications where I have none.

We grew up virtually in the streets as obscene and unthinkable if you come to think of it as normal kids should be growing especially in our case, when both our parents were not illiterates. Out of utter desperation perhaps? The streets and its squalid surroundings became our refuge and means of sustenance for quite a long time - the saddest moments of our lives.

Both Nanay and Tatay did their share of helping me and all the help I could muster from my younger siblings. Like rubbing salt to what was already a sore wound, I was not able to attend our high school graduation rites for one simple reason; I was working then not to mention I had nothing to wear to present myself and received my diploma. Another sad affair to what was seemingly an endless chain of indignities. No, it was an inadequate description of it. Rather, it was more like a horror story.

Shortly after I graduated high school, I implored Tatay to use whatever was left of his influence among his old friends at the Manila Hotel whom he had worked with during his term as bookkeeper. To my delight, I was hired as a banquet busboy on casual basis - cleaning and setting tables. A backbreaking job. Yet, decent enough to be proud of.

The first day I commenced for work, I was overwhelmed by the smell pervading the atmosphere from the abundance of food assortments turning the whole place like paradise! Never in my wildest dreams I've ever seen so much food that I went ape and gone bananas and ate like mad I did after every party (banquet function) as if I have never eaten for years.

After a few months, I started showing tiny muscles and new blood began to flow in my weak veins. What I considered a newly found food haven gave me an idea for which a portion of my tips went to the cook's pockets in exchange for leftovers I could wrap-up to take home.

In retrospect, it seemed so funny now whenever I remember the first time I was issued the required uniform a busboy must wear. A pair of black trousers with a cummerbund donned with a white shirt and graced by a maroon tuxedo with sleeves half the size longer than my arm. Had to find a way to shorten it by tucking it inward and clipped it with a stapler to hold it and make it look like it actually fitted my size. But it was not. I looked more like a clown than a waiter assistant.

For a while, I was the laughing-stock in the eyes of my fellow workers. But I didn't mind it at all. I've had enough troubles to last me a lifetime than to react to such cheap bantering. I was numbed to criticism - the fact I eat insults for breakfast, so to speak.

Like a cub, playing dumb and complacent was safer when you're among the wolves - a little lesson I learned from the streets. Smart talks and clever ways could easily mark you a threat to the seniors and that's a sure way out of work. This way, I quickly earned their respect.

Whatever I did then, there's one and only one thing ingrained in my mind - family first, at all cost. It always was and always will be. I could have fared better than what I am now had I chosen otherwise and left them behind to pursue my own dreams. Too common a feeling that inside many of us was a voluntary yearning to escape; unwanted responsibilities, frustrations and all, if it could be helped. Wasn't it so? I was tempted though. But I have not the courage to bite it. I wouldn't dare think myself altruistic, but I do care for them. I always did.

For what it's worth, I'd given priority to let my two sisters finished college instead. That way, they won't end up as helpless as our mother had been who could only braced herself to whatever the fates would have thrown her way. All those college education my father had just went down the drain - wasted. To my mind, education is a very important tool if one could find a use for it. One cannot eat a diploma and lived happily ever after, don't you think? Besides, there's more to life than drinking and proliferation.

Because of our constant encounters with difficulties, I was acutely aware of the machinations of fates. And that awareness is liberating as strange as it can be. I do not know about many things. I only speak from experience and what I've been through. I'm also aware of my limitations. I do not wish to pretend to be someone I am not. All the studies I had taken were vocational and crash-courses. Nothing-fancy that I couldn't afford. The rest was through self-erudition. If you're interested to know, I'd once craved to study law or journalism as my second choice. But that's water under the bridge now. To borrow a phrase, "life is what happens when you had other plans".

In this portrayal of so bitter and sad experiences, also came a fleeting moments of joy - what became of us when the heavens open up its belly once more and poured its blessings upon us.

I've wormed my way through and finished my scholarship in hotel and restaurant services, in 1972, given by the Phil. Institute of Hotel Administration in line with the government program when the hotel industry boomed during the early seventies. Now abolished when Ex-Pres, Cory Aquino took over as she abolished most, if not all, what Ex-Pres. F. Marcos stood for,

It was when and where I began to hone my skills in the field of gastronomy and catering trade. Not a glittering profession as you may see it. But it has its advantages and good points. It certainly served as my ticket to freedom from the bondage of poverty and near oblivion.

You will notice that I have omitted to mention the year and the time you welcomed me into your home and had given me a temporary shelter and food and to be able to continue my studies in second year of high school. I was saving it in good time. I have never forgotten your generosity and benevolence. I may have been callous and heartless in your eyes for not having acknowledged it verbatim, but in my heart of hearts, I shall be eternally grateful to all of you for all the things you have done for me.

The year I spent with your family have taught me a lot mainly, the true meaning of hard work. I embraced it like an antidote to my frustrations and loneliness while looking for answers that ground endlessly in my mind as to why was it all happening. Why I was there with you? Instead, of being in the arms and care of my own family. And the truth dawned on me - we were kaput!

I regret to say my cousin Erwin and I have never reached the point of being close to each other. Perhaps, I spent so much time licking my wounds then. Young as we both were, he respected my privacy and left me alone in my own ways and never bothered me as if he could read what was going on in my mind. I was so envious of him, not in material way, but the hiatus between us, which made him different from me.

To be poor is to shame oneself- makes you feel guilty of something beyond your wit's end. People tend to shy away from you as if you're an outcast - the trash of society. The so-called neighbors only lived up to the word when the trash dies. Suddenly, all of them wanted to pour their hearts out while putting on a parody of sadness and pity, with monetary contributions or its equivalent to offer the departed. Things he could have put to better use when he was still alive. Not when he's cold and stiff.

To be fair, the vast majority of people are understanding and kind. A poisonous minority, however, are rumormongers who believe anything they hear - and who embellish all gossips with righteousness. And those taking pleasure from the pains of others.

Should we reproach them? No. sir. Experience tells us that nobody has all the answers by himself alone. One cannot solve all the problems and cruelties of this world. To question God why He allows such pain and suffering to thrive in our midst is like asking Mother Nature why typhoon struck just when farmers were about to harvest their grains. After all the hard work, time and money they'd invested on it - months of blood, sweat and tears gone only in minutes. Such were the intricacies of life, however absurd, we're all compelled to accept.

The brighter side of it is, God has given us the capability and mind to conquer our fears and weaknesses and guide us to find our way to better ourselves, if ever we succeed, it is because we worked hard to earn our keeps. And for that you have nobody to thank for but yourself. The same goes when you bungled up - you have no one to blame but yourself.

My deep cravings for a change made me restless. Hopping from one job to another finally paid off. For one, my job experiences accumulated and along the way I never tired looking for work openings, local or overseas. Eventually, the chance I was waiting for materialized. The next thing I knew I was packing my bag to join my very first vessel that would change my whole life...the rest is history.

You are probably wondering, what kind of life a seafarer leads? The first three things that comes to mind are: seeing places (the highlight of this career), a tedious and lonely life bordering on madness (what bonehead coined the phrase, "absence makes the heart grow fonder"? Or, was it playing with semantics? As a pragmatist, it's more on going over-the-edge than merely pondering. A price one has to pay being away from your loved ones. So, sea-life is not a bed-of-roses, as many thought it would be. Can't have everything, can we?) And compensation, which surely won't get you to the millionaire's list, but will give you a fair chance for improvements and a lot of room for a breather. That is, if you set your priorities right, which is first-thing- first basis of putting things in perspective.

On the second year of my sea-career, I was incapacitated due to ruptured appendectomy but subsequently required three more surgeries caused by complications (intestinal adhesion), which took a year of recuperation. Again, we hit rock bottom... another storm... another struggle.

When I was strong enough to work, I didn't even have to look around for a job. The opportunity presented itself through a former classmate (P.I.H.A.) who, at the time was a bar-supervisor at the Ret Int'l. Hotel and was scouting for a senior-barman who thought I was considerably suited for the slot. I couldn't believe my luck! But it was there when I needed it.

There, I met this beautiful and vivacious young lady from lloilo, a nutritionist, in the person of Ma. Remy [***deleted for privacy], who later would became my wife to the disagreement of everyone in the family. I couldn't blame them. The family was still in shambles then, but I just couldn't help myself. She may not be everything a woman can be to a man's eye, but I was not exactly the guy of her dream either. It's the chemistry between us that clinched it, plain and simple. To quote an aphorism, "Of all human lamentations, without doubt the most common is, if only I had known. But we can't know, and so days of death and fire so often begin no differently from those of love and warmth."

Being in love, one doesn't go dilly-dallying. The mystery of the moth attracted to a flame - only in my case, it's the flame of love. What can a man of twenty-six do? I thought everyone went through the same process, one way or the other, unless indecision took command over it. And I wouldn't miss it for the world - come hell or high water.

Let me indulge a little more on this. Here was a young lady who hailed from a conservative and respectable family. A good education and an ideal, if not impeccable upbringing and all the chance in the world to have everything she cared for - a better future, a better life than what I could offer other than my honest intention which wasn't much. If it was not love, I don't know what is.

For the first time in my life, I was very happy. To this day, our married life had been blissful, twenty-three years of undiluted happiness. Of course, we've had our share of ups and downs along the way - the normal scheme of things, in a way, it spiced up our appetite for each other more than ever. We strove hard to make it work. And we did.

We were also blessed with a child who's fast growing to be a man. We christened him, Jeeves Raymund. Born on [**deleted for privacy], he stands at 5' 10 and presently studying at the De La Salle University, taking up hotel and restaurant and institutional management in his second year now.

The long and short of it could only speak for itself. As one ancient cot went, "success is the result of series of failures. The worst failure a man can ever make in his life is the failure for not trying". This, I always kept close in my heart, for it hardened my resolve into steel. Never again I shall ever go hungry let alone my own family, my wife and my son, shall experience the same harrowing details of my past, for as long as God would allow me. And deep inside me, I know that one day I will close my eyes with peace in my heart and a smile on my lips. knowing that my son is in a better place and position to hurdle every obstacle and trial that may cross his way.

Despite his faults, I have always loved my father. We all did. He gave me life and his name and a part of his wits, for which I was able to reclaim his loss. And when he breathed his last, he was brave enough to face his fate, uttering his last words to Nanay, that he loved us all. And that, he was proud of me for looking after my brothers and sisters and for all the things I did.

We wept like we never did before over his passing for days on end until we found ourselves again that life must go on. Sadder still, none of us were around when he died, even during the funeral wake until he was taken to his final rest. May God bless his soul.

As for our educational background, I could only give you a vague description of each of us. As follows:

Rubilinda - Adamson University. Bachelor Science in Economics Note: Have done a brief stint teaching the same course at the Paranaque Community High School, early Retirement, now a housewife. Residence: Malolos, Bulacan. Married with three children. Her eldest son is graduating in Computer Engineering or Science, this year. I'm not so sure which is which.

Lucinda - Dr. Fabella Medical Institute, Midwifery Note: Served for 13 years as midwife at the same institution. Married with four children. Her eldest daughter is taking up Nursing in Dagupan City and going on her second year this coming school opening. Residence: Puzzorubio, Pangasinan.

Hipolito - Adamson University, Bachelor Science in Commerce Note: [***deleted for privacy] Residence: Pildira, Pasay City. Married with 4 children.

The rest of the boys like Eric, Elmer, Abelardo and Ronnie took up a cue from me and decided to study the trade of culinary arts from various schools in Manila for which I have not the exact details.

Eric also studied foreign languages (Arabic and Japanese) which he spoke and write with remarkable fluency. He's working at the National Police Academy and living in Abu Dhabi with his family, (second) with 5 children. He's got one child from his first family, who is now a grown up young man and a computer science graduate.

Elmer is currently employed with [***deleted for privacy], as an asst. executive chef. Married with one daughter (also married) and a son. Residence: Zapote, Bacoor Cavite.

Abelardo - a chief cook in Riyadh, KSA, employed by a foreign national company. Married with 2 boys. The eldest, Andrew, is graduating at UP, Los Banos, in Applied Physics, this year. The younger one is still in elementary level. Residence: Siniloan, Laguna.

Ronnie-The last I heard of him, he was an asst. maitre d' hotel on board an overseas cruise liner. Married with one daughter. Residence: Tarlac, Tarlac.

Wow! This is really taxing. It's too difficult to remember every personal detail in one sitting. Besides, none of them are very keen at writing letters. I Just have to find out about things for myself whenever they happened to visit us at home.

For our part are the following:

Jeeves Raymund - St. Elizabeth Day Care Center, Tambo, Paranaque City. Kindergarten, Don Bosco Technical Institute, Makati City. Prep. Elementary and High School. De La Salle University, Taft Avenue, Manila. Course - Hotel & Restaurant & Institutional Management, 2nd year. Member - Phil. Aikido Association - brown -belt holder in traditional & combat aikido. Computer Enthusiast, Piano lessons - private tutoring

Remy - born on [***deleted for privacy]. Calinog Elementary School, Calinog,lloilo Mary Immaculate Academy(High School), Calinog, lloilo University of San Aguslin, lloilo City, Bachelor Science in Food and Nutrition. Former employment: Ret Int'l. Hotel of Manila and Silahis Int'l., Hotel - Nutritionist, early retirement.

Sandi -born on [***deleted for privacy]. Philippine Institute of Hotel Administration, Manila. Course - Hotel & Restaurant Services Maya Culinary Arts Center (O.W.W.A. sponsored program). Makati City. Course - Culinary Arts Norwegian Slipping School A, Training Center. Taguig, M.M.. Course - Catering Management Technical Educational & Skill Development Authority (T.E.S.D.A.), Taguig, M.M., Chief Stewarding Course. International Development & Environmental Shipping School, Subic Bay, Olongapo City. Courses: Safety Of Life At Sea (S.O.L.A.S.) - Human Relations, Medical First Aid, Fire-fighting, Survival, Craft handling. Computer Based TrainingBasic Chemistry & Chemical Handling eral Tanker Familiarization/Off-Shore Base Fire-Fighting

Except for my P.I.H.A. & O.W.W.A. courses which were government sponsored education programs; the rest of the courses I have taken was paid for by our company. Halfdan Ditlev - Simonsen. A/S. Norway (ranging from US$ 450.00 to 850.00 per course) including food and accommodations plus free- transport and daily allowances - a package no man worth Ins mettle could ever refuse. To think, some thirty years ago I was even hard-pressed for a few cents of fare going to school and back. not counting the monthly school tuition fee often pesos. Tins time it was offered to in a silver-platter complete with amenities, for free. How ironic, isn't it?

In summation, the outcome outweighed the odds tremendously in our favor - not so bad for a bunch of frail kids who started from scratch', wouldn't you agree? Everyone of us (eight brothers and sisters) have a family of our own; with roofs over our heads, a nicer prospect to educate our children, decent food on the table and the normal comforts of life... the little things, you know.

All the things we are enjoying now are the culmination of everything we'd worked for, nothing else. We are far cry from being rich. But perhaps richer in our hearts and minds knowing God is always with us. And when God is there to guide you, you can still go wrong. Yet, you'll always find the right answer. I know...because I've been there.

In all those confusion and turmoil, our mother was hit the hardest. Her fortitude and patience among other things about her were unfathomable, if not beyond human tolerance. She stood up with the grit of a fighter. She took the brunt of our father's wanton ire, immature whims and worst, the physical abuse she had taken whenever Tatay was on one of his drunken binge - beaten her senseless almost to a pulp. She was for some years a certified battered wife until the time I was old enough to tell him to put an end to it. A lifetime of punishment she doesn't even remotely deserve. And not a soul outside of our own knew anything about it.

A small, taciturn and unselfish woman, wife and mother with the biggest heart of them all. Her only shortcoming was to love a man whom she thought would love and care for her in return. She was hell-bent to stick her neck out for all of us- so that none of her children would stray away. She prayed and worked with fervor in a timeless manner day after day. Our miserable way of life, the total privation, the paucity of help both physical and emotional was not reason enough for her to leave and saved herself from her never-ending nightmares. The mere thought of it would make anyone puke with vengeance etched in your heart. The final revelation, however it hurts must be told. To what end, I do not know.

He may have been our father. Yes. We loved him more than anyone else and shared all the goodness we could ever repay him for giving us our lives-but what kind of life? The poverty issue I could accept...not the physical cruelties without a fight. He was also the biggest son-of-a gun I've ever known in my whole 48 years of life. There, I've said it all. I mean no disrespect. But I have this deep-seated urge to cleanse and relieve myself, my mother, my brothers and sisters of all the pain and suffering we had endured and still lingers in us up to this moment. Like black ink spattered on a fine white silk no amount of rinsing would rid of it.

Now, please ask yourself, have you ever really known everything about our beloved father?

In essence, I'd be very pleased to dispel any disturbing thoughts you may have, if at all, about our mother. For one, she wouldn't want to impose on you or anyone the burden of Tatay's hospitalization because it was a bit late for that anyway when we found out about the big lump below-his sternum, (above the stomach) which was more serious than what it appeared to be. She might have sounded hurt and a little too harsh expressing herself- a natural reaction. Who doesn't when you're in such a tight fix, so tight it chokes the air out of you? Hence, the outburst. More often than not, anger clouds one's better judgement. And your offer to help rubbed her sensitivity the other way - not what you'd expected. Under normal circumstances, she could have responded in a different manner.

However, rest assured she never meant to scoff at you. It's just one of those times in one's life when you're at your lowest point feeling so helpless you cannot see reason when it confronts you face to face. You just want to hurl back at anyone or anything you're past caring whatever the consequences the future holds for you. And it so happened your letter was conveniently accommodating and that's when all hell broke loose.

The fact that she's had had enough she can take in one lifetime, I think it is high time she earns her reward of love and support from all of us who knew her for which she'd been longing for quite a long time. I know you would understand.

In parting, I am glad you came up with the idea of compiling this special book. Somehow, it has given me a sense of comfort... a form of release, like the lancing of the great boil; of something I've been keeping in my chest for ages and inspired me to write this seemingly very long letter.

Hopefully, you won't find it a total bore. More so, an offensive one as my only wish is to impart to you and to all those who knew us, a straightforward account of what our family went through. Also, if it would help, to bridge the gap that may have existed between us after all this time... all because of too many unknown facts which more likely, confuses reason to hearsay as a result of the absence of communication.

Very well then, I am certain you have more urgent matters that requires your attention and I wouldn't want to keep you any more than what I already did. Thank you for your time and patience.

Godspeed...