My paternal last name was formerly spelled with the following letters: V, E and I, respectively. At first glance, it looks Spanish (or Greek with the last two letters) but it’s really Filipino. I learned that from dark-eyed ‘Chilled’ via our paternal grandfather long time ago. I know our relatives are hiding many things because ‘Paw’ doesn’t tell us much stories from his past, except chopping down all the tall banana trees of his paternal grandparents, who ‘enslaved’ the boy due the inability of his own parents to care and provide the love and attention most growing boys desire and need.
His anger and frustrations towards his primary caretaker were justified as the boy cried every night to go home to his parents. His food was mostly steamed white rice and soy sauce for flavoring with black coffee to wash down the meager rationing. He worked the farm of sugar canes and helped raise fighting cocks for gambling and Arabian horses, which he rode one day and fell off, hitting his head against the cold steel of the rail road tracks. For fun, he and his next younger brother ‘Gigolo’ would poop underneath the house where chickens made their nest for laying eggs, which were gathered for eating as one source of food stuff.
The food was barely enough to feed the family in the province of Tuy, Batangas, Philippines. The place was very unsanitary as ‘Paw’ recalls drinking well water of brown color and worms coming out of his itchy behind. He walked bare feet along the unpaved and mostly muddy streets because he didn’t have shoes while growing up. His only pair of shoes had been worn down to a few holes at the bottom due to walking the many kilos by foot instead of taking the bus in order to save money for his food and schooling. ‘Paw’ had worked hard to support his siblings as an elder brother and to get himself out of poverty and vowed to leave behind the legacy of his proud father, whose training by his paternal grandmother mother was to give the ‘in-laws’ no rights whatsoever.
The suppression of my paternal grandmother by both her husband and her equally strict mother-in-law left ‘Lola’ very unhappy and frustrated. She was ‘enslaved’ to cook, clean and serve her husband and children while standing off the side of the table. As a silent cry for help, she coated her mouth with the red colored tincture for cleansing the wounds. People thought she drank it but she was too smart and strong willed herself to go that far. Although quiet and without the fighting spirit defend herself, she was treated well enough to fine clothing and good living with her new family.
Unlike her more territorial and very jealous new family, whose mistreatment of other people from the old town probably prompted the former spelling of my current last name to be changed long ago but primarily as reasoned by ‘Lolo’ to be placed towards the top alphabetically, ‘Lola’ is a ‘L-A-I-N-E-Z’, who are well known by Filipino strangers to be generous and kind people (as y’all should know well by now). This selfless behavior cannot be traced that far back beyond our great, grandparents unfortunately.
Although I do not know where I came from well, my ancestors exists somehow through the passion to share my personal experiences with the philosophical bents about life, also. I’ve discovered this ability to write well enough for public viewing may have been inherited by the side of my paternal grandmother. From a rare long-distance phone call of two and one-half hours made by my parental units yesterday, I’ve learned about another ‘L-A-I-N-E-Z’, ‘Min’, a teacher who has a master’s degree in philosophy. She was a columnist in the school and conversed with high intelligence. She writes poetry, too.
Her background in psychology and counseling further helped ‘Maw’ overcome the energy-draining grief caused by the uncontrollable and ungrateful siblings of ‘Paw’. The wise words from this teacher ranged from recognizing how they will never change their bragging rights to outdo each other in every way (as per letters written to ‘July’ about having bigger and better parties than the other, for example) and forgetting about being sincerely nice to the same relatives whose upbringing didn’t include enough discipline to respect other people, young and old, by ‘Lola’.
Despite some inherited shortcomings, I still see myself mostly through my paternal side though, looking like my bigheaded ‘Paw’ with his strong jaw line and broad facial features. (I think this is typical of the eldest child to take up after the father’s side, whatever!) Our stubbornness is like his Taurus, bull munching away on grass and without any care in the world if people are troubled or distressed. ‘Paw’ does hide his rage well and never used foul-language in his life, ever. And unlike his non-interactive and quiet demeanor of mostly monologue, I happen to be quick-tempered, using hurtful words of bluntness, like his sisters. But ‘Paw’ is different from his brothers and the male definitions of macho, a non-drinker (no alcohol, beverage or coffee) and non-smoker, someone who doesn’t gamble, hoard or squander money away.
Anyway, this doesn’t mean there is not a bit of addiction to anything, including financial matters, always looking for the best ways to get ahead. It’s in my blood. I can’t help to see myself as one of my kin folks. I am not ashamed to admit that I too have some sentiments of being too forthright about my personal life and other’s business, which brings to mind why I keep mentioning in my previous blog entries how I am ‘business-minded’, get it?
But with the more understanding and compassionate gene from my material side of ‘S-I-E-R-R-A’, I have learned to temper my emotional-like rant (unlike ‘Maw’) with calm regard during times of upheaval in relationships. Like ‘Lola, I find that time out is best served by closing the door behind us and going to sleep, not putting up a fight and preserving the peace by letting the air of discord wane on its own. When not interested we look away (sometimes rolling our eyes) and start whistling softly, not ignoring anyone intentionally but it’s another way to handle stressful situations.
Whatever I may come to define who I am, I know that somewhere deep down inside me therein lies more than meets the eyes beyond than the mere spelling of one’s surname. I am still learning how our attention span is limited and our foggy memory has been on the increase and why we blow steam unnecessarily once in a while. I see that with other kin folks who struggle with their demons and laugh off anything considered harm done to others as their problems and not ours. I know this won’t be the last time to find more truth about why my kin folks have come a long way to a new land, where our old ways is not always best ways to live and survive with other people unlike ourselves.
Copyright © 2008 by Fluffy von der Flynn. All rights reserved.
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