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Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul   1
Dedication
                                         In memory of my father
                                       Ignacio Jumadiao-Camilon

                       a Leyteño with a Villahanon heart,
        who taught me to believe in the potential of Villareal for progress
                and in the innate gift of every Villahanon to work
                         together for a common cause

                             and to my fellow Villahanons
                   who have kept the hope and selflessly paid forward.




2   Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul
Table of Contents

  Prologue p.5

  Ano It Villa Ha Akon pp.6-7
  Simplicio Solis

  I Love Villa! pp.9-10
  Pureza E. Amatosa

  Villareal: The Land of My Birth pp.12-13
  (A Tribute) Quintina Gelera-Cabuenos

  Public Service, the Villahanon Way pp.15-17
  City Prosecutor Ruperto Bardaje Golong

  Golden Memories of My School pp.18-19
  Gertrudes Seludo Llarenas-Ragub

  The Villa In My Mind pp.20-21
  Maricon Gelera Latoja

  Villahanons in the Land of the Midnight Sun pp.22-26
  Ruben Gerardo

  Villa-Half a Century and More of Remembrances pp.27-41
  Cesar Torres

  Villareal, Forever My Home pp.44-45
  Terry S. Wickstrom




                                                           Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul   3
Villahanons in Canada: Meeting the Challenges in Their Adopted Country pp.46-49
            Dr. Quirino Agote Ragub

            A Glimpse of My Hometown pp.50-53
            Marlon Clint Solis-Camilon

            Dream Catching in Villareal pp.54-57
            Marivel Camilon-Sacendoncillo

            Acknowledgement




4   Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul
Prologue

                                  A Window to the Villahanon’s Soul is a tribute to Villareal, a town in Samar I, and many others,
                                  call home. It also celebrates the spirit and values of those who trace their roots to Villa and
                                  with pride refer to themselves as Villahanons.

                                  This collection of poetry, prose and essays gives us an insight into the heart and mind of a
                                  diaspora of Villahanons, presenting a palette of their stories, reflections and experiences. It
                                  speaks of their love for their hometown and the values that are common to them- love for
                                  family, value for education, affinity with nature, a deep sense of community and an openness
                                  to share with each other.

                                  A Window to the Villahanon’s Soul also tells of heartwarming stories of the Villahanons’
                                  capacity to seize opportunities for a common good, to endure and emerge victorious from
                                  difficult times and to revel in life’s blessings. It gives us a perspective of how the legacy of our
                                  ancestors provides us the motivation to embrace life and make the most of what it brings.

I saw the first rays of the sun in Tunga, Leyte and not in         “ The greatest glory in living lies not in never
Villareal. Yet Villa, as we fondly call our hometown, is           failing but rising every time we fall.”
home to me. It was here where I grew up and was                                                         Nelson Mandela
nurtured by people who loved me beyond words. My heart
is a Villahanon in every way. After a long and at times
arduous journey, I find myself longing for the rest and
comfort that only Villa can give, a longing for the very
place and the people I call my own.


Here are stories that testify to the steadfast, generous, vibrant and resilient spirit that
is unmistakably Villahanon. May the lives shared in this book inspire every Villahanon
and countless others to trace your own roots and take pride in where you come
from.



                                       Marivel Gelera Camilon- Sacendoncillo


                                                                                                 Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul    5
ANO IT VILLA HA AKON
Simplicio Solis




May gin mamahal ko nga usa nga bungto                  May ada mga bus para Catbalogan Tacloban
Bungto Villareal nga natawhan ko                       May dako nga motorboat para kadagatan
Katundan han Samar an iya hinmotangan                  May ada ha Manila mga pansarakyan
“Real village” ha English, matahum nga ngaran          Kanan taga Villa gintatag-iyahan.

Igin paparayaw ko it Villa ha iyo                      Para ha Manila di kana magkokori
May naturalisa nga kinaiya hine nga ak bungto          Kay kada semana it ira biyahe
May ada panayoran higluag nga taramnan                 Lunes ug Huybes, Miyerkoles ug Sabado
Hiluag nga kadagatan hora hin kaisdaan.                Di ka na magkokori, barato pa it pasahi.

May ada kahagnaan nga it Villa ginpalibutan            Hingangandayan ko naman parte pag aradman
May mga hagna ha timogan ug dapit sinirangan           May gobierno ug pribado, High School nga kakadtuan
May ada ha amihanan sugad man ha katundan              May Barangay High Schools kumpleto hin kagamitan
Taramnan hiya hin mga homay kanan parag-uma kahuraan   Waray nagud iiliwon hit mga nag aaram.

Ako naglalaum it Villa ma asenso                       May mga produkto hin mga liburan
Dire mapaorhi hit iba nga bungto                       Mga professionals nga mga bantugan
Kay hi Mayor boy Latorre buhatan maduruto              Mga ahensiya han gobierno, pribado ginpangaptan
Buotan ug tangkud hit iya serbisyo.                    Higtaas nga posisyon, hira gintaporan.



 6          Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul
Idinadasig ko ine nga ak bungto
                                            Kay nagkakaurosa mga taghimongto
                                            Waray mga krimen pagperde hin tawo
                                            Kay an panuyo gudla bungto umasenso.

                                            Yana nga panahon it Villa tikadto
                                            Pag-gios, paguswag hin ka progresibo
                                            Hi Mayor Latorre may ada proyekto
                                            Bayanihan nga kalsada hiya’n nagmangulo.

                                            Ine nga kalsada tikadto ha Kasang-an
                                            Gin ngaranan ine “Kalsada Bayanihan”
                                            Mga taghimunghto pati baryo
                                            Gin buburubligan ine para la mahimo.

                                            Mga Villahanon ha iba nga nasyon
                                            Dagko nga kantidad an ira donasyon
                                            Kay ira panuyo kalsada humanon
                                            Para masayon na it at transportasyon.

                                            Bungto Villareal hi ikaw palaran
                                            An mga anak mo di ka ginpabay-an
                                            Ha mga kasakit pati kakurian
                                            Ngatanan burublig imo katalwasan.

                                            An naturalisa ug kinaiya han bungto hit Villa
                                            Puros ginpulsan in nga mga grasya
                                            Hatag han Makagarahum pati ni Santa Rosa
                                            Hiya man an amon Patrona ha Villa

                                            Kami nagdadayaw an mga Villahanon
                                            Kan Santa Rosa gugma ug bulig ha amon
                                            Kadam-an nga grasya amon nakarawat
                                            Salamat, Santa Rosa, Salamat! Salamat!

The Author is a retired Head Teacher of the Bureau of Public Schools (now Department of
Education) after 40 years of government service. After retirement, he ran for public office and
won a seat in the Municipal Council, Villareal, Samar for three (3) consecutive terms (1992-
2001). He is also a 4th Degree member of the Knights of columbus, Villareal Council 5847.



                                                    Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul              7
8   Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul
I Love Villa!
                             Pureza E. Amatosa

I love Villa, the title of the favorite song of the Villareal II Central Teachers’ Choir of
which I am a member. Yes, I love Villa. Not only because it’s my hometown but
because it’s where I spent the most precious moments of my life- my grade and high
school days, my colorful married life and my successful career as a teacher.

Villa has a unique geographical formation. It is divided into two parts; the higher level
which we call Tayud and the lower level which is known as Hawud. There are four long
concrete stairways as means of access going to the church and residential houses
of Villahanons who chose to settle there. Thanks to our ancestors who made climbing
up an easy task.

We have no beautiful beaches like those in Palawan and Boracay but our townsfolk
content themselves in having picnics in the wharf, Puro or Dukdukon just to have a
cool and refreshing dive especially when tides are very high during summer.

Villa stands out from the many places I had been to. Its people are very religious and
peace-loving. It is also free from danger unlike in other places. Villa is a place where
people have good hearts. They don’t harbor ill feelings except for a few who find it hard
to forgive their political enemies. To Christians, there are no permanent enemies, only
forgiveness after any conflict. Our most popular business is chika-chika (story telling)
and tsismis (gossip) but nothing to worry because it does not do any harm.


Life is not hard here in Villa as our place is rich in natural resources especially the
seas. One time a foreigner came to our place and was surprised to see on our table
big laid shrimps, crabs, lobsters, mud crab weighing more than a kilo, seashells,
squid and a big fish cooked with sauce. He exclaimed, “This is a rich person’s diet!”

As I reminisce the past, I could still feel the joy when my friends and I would go to the
seashore to gather seashells. Our seas abound with seaweeds like lato and dahunan.
During those times especially during low tides (masyado hin kahalapad han hubas)
we have to wade a few meters away from the poblacion. When we arrived home there
were already boiled potatoes, cassava or bananas waiting on the table to be eaten
with the seashells. To us, this was already a satisfying meal with almost no expense
at all.


                                                                                              Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul   9
In the past, our shores would teem with people young and old alike. At present, most of the young people
don’t bother to go to the shores anymore.

One admirable trait of the Villahanons is the value we give to education. Parents work hard to be able to
send their children to school. Even families who have less in life try their best to send their children to college
to earn a degree. Villareal is one of the towns that has the most number of professionals including priests.
Seldom can you find a home without a teacher or a degree holder. Parents of Villahanon families believe that
children are their stronghold when they grow old. Part of our tradition is for the eldest child to finish school and
once she or he lands in a job, she/he sends a sibling to college, and the next child is expected to do the
same. There is a succession of responsibility down to the youngest child. Most often unmarried children also
send their nephews and nieces to school. Even grandparents help support the education of their grandchildren
especially when their parents have more kids that they are incapable of sending to school.

Villahanons love to celebrate birthdays, weddings, death anniversaries, and the feast of saints. I have nothing
against our fondness for celebrations, lest I be misunderstood. But to us who are average income earners, it
is wise to consider how we can refrain from lavish spending. Usually our savings for a number of days are
spent just in one setting. Do you notice that our table is full of foods rich in cholesterol and carbohydrates like
suman, iraid, puto, kutsinta, latik and other delicacies like torta, decana, curioso etc. Due to the abundance
of seafood, and all kinds of carbohydrates, it’s not surprising why our people, young and old alike are sick
with hypertension, arthritis and diabetes. .

Hospitality is a beautiful trait which we should cultivate, cherish and be proud of. We Villahanons are known
to be hospitable which makes us different from our neighboring towns. A cordial welcome, a simple meal and
a warm bed are enough to make a visitor who has nowhere to go feel at home.

Villahanons celebrate family reunions as well as rekindling friendships and fellowship. In these occasions
lechon is the main menu. Whatever is the mode of the celebration, this serves as a catalyst of unity and
harmony within the family and among Villahanons as well. For these, I love Villa and all it stands for.



             The Author is a retired elementary teacher who devoted the best part of her life in molding the youth of Villareal. Her
             zeal for touching lives has continued by way of showing the path to a good spiritual life through catholism. She is
             married to Bonifacio Amatosa, a retired employee of the Municipal Trial Court.




10           Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul
Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul   11
Villareal: The Land of My Birth
                                        (A Tribute)
                                        Quintina Gelera-Cabuenos


                                           For its rolling hills and verdant plains
                                           All through the years our food it sustains
                                           For its beautiful islands, rivers, beaches and streams
                                           Teeming with fishes, crabs, shells and shrimps.
                                           We also have lato and dahunan
                                           Seaweeds eaten best with rootcrops from the farm
                                           It abounds around the islands, beaches and palms.

                                           Best of all it can be told
                                           Villa has people with hearts of gold
                                           Hospitable, kind and respectful
                                           Extending helping hands to all who are in need
                                           To ease the sorrows and pains as much as they can give.

                                           Thank you Lord for your concern
                                           We praise You Lord, Holy be Your Name!

                                           Those who tasted failures and frustrations
                                           Behind them stand strong people of the town
                                           Holding hand to support them and share
                                           Troubles and sorrows because they care.

                                           If not for Villa, life wont be the same
                                           I wouldn’t surely reach the apex of my dreams
                                           And life today wouldn’t be free of troubles
                                           But because of Villa its contentment and leisure.




12   Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul
In my twilight years if you will ask me
                                Where I will spend the rest of my days,
                                No way, it’s still Villa I will prefer
                                Sans riches and affluence it can claim
                                But Villa has more to give than fame
                                It offers an atmosphere of security
                                Emotional stability and harmony with the Lord
                                So I can proudly shout to say
                                Villa is my home, a home sweet home,
                                For here my heart is at rest.




The author is a retired District Supervisor of Villareal and served as the First Lady of Villareal
for 20 years. She is an epitome of genuine service to people. She is married to Former Mayor
Augusto Cabueños, the longest serving Mayor of Villareal.




                                                                                                     Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul   13
14   Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul
Public Service, the Villahanon Way
                      City Prosecutor Ruperto Bardaje Golong


“Twenty years from now, you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do,
than by the ones you did do. So throw away the bowlines, Sail away from the safe harbors,
Catch the trade winds in your sails, Explore, dream, discover-”

                                                                           Mark Twain

These immortal lines from Mark Twain present a vivid picture of my life and ushered me to
where I am now. After graduating at the top of our class at the Leyte Normal School, now the
Leyte Normal University, with the degree of Bachelor of Science in Elementary Education
(BSEED) in March 1971, I was invited to teach at the Sacred Heart School (English
Department) and stayed thereat for three (3) years. The following year I taught at the Villareal
Elementary School, particularly at Brgy. Lam-awan.

After a year and a half of teaching in a barrio school, I reassessed my priorities and decided
on a new career-path. I moved back to Tacloban City and joined the Commission on Population
Regional Office VIII under the leadership of Leo Rama, Regional Director, as Supply Officer
IV . While working at POPCOM, I decided to fulfill my childhood dream of becoming a lawyer.
In June 1977, I enrolled at the Leyte Colleges, College of Law and completed a law degree,
cum laude in March 1981. While studying to be a lawyer, I moved from POPCOM to the
Ministry of Human Settlements as Project Officer II. After four years, I moved to the Regional
Command 8, to take up a civilian employment as a Research Analyst. In November 1981, the
same year I graduated from the College of Law, I took the Bar Exam and fortunately passed
it. Immediately after I took my oath as a lawyer, I opened a law office in Tacloban City with the
Dean Jose Cusi, Dean of the Leyte Colleges, College of Law as my partner. Law practice
was not that lucrative at the start so I accepted a teaching job at the Leyte Colleges, College
of Law where I was designated as Asst. Dean, College of Law.

After the EDSA Revolution in 1986 the career service opened a lot of opportunities for lawyers
in the country. Judges, Prosecutors and heads of government offices were asked to tender
their courtesy resignations to pave the way for new appointees of the Aquino administration.
I was among the first appointee as City Prosecutor of Ormoc City, an appointment made
possible through the efforts of Cirilo “Roy” Montejo, then Civil Service Commissioner and
later Congressman of the 1st District of Leyte. In September 1991, when the position of City
Prosecutor of Tacloban was vacated with the promotion of City Prosecutor Francisco Aurillo

                                                        Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul      15
Jr. as Regional State Prosecutor, I was appointed City Prosecutor of
Tacloban City, a position I hold up to the present.

To prepare myself for other job opportunities both in government and
the private sector, I obtained a Master Degree in Public Management
at the University of the Philippines, Tacloban College and a Ph. D. in
Management at the International Academy of Management and
Economics (IAME) in Makati City.

My modest accomplishment in government service is a product of Divine
intervention, persistence, hard work, good public relations and a lot of
inspiration from my parents MR. & MRS. RUPERTO GOLONG, SR.,
my ever loving wife MRS. Daniela Kempis Golong, my children, Carl
Jeffrey, Joanne (General Manager, SOMERSET Makati, an international
chain of hotels) and Jason, my brother and sisters, my teachers,
classmates at the Villareal Elementary School batch 1963 and at the
Holy Name Academy High School batch 1967. Among my classmates
who did very well are Susan Latorre Belez, Tito N. Geli, Jose B.
Romano and Carol Conise Mendiola- all successful entrepreneurs based
in Manila, Ramon Castillano, a trading mogul based at Villareal, Samar,
Teddy Varela, a Senior Officer at GSIS, Manila, Oscar Mendoza a
State Auditor assigned at the Post Office, Manila, Oscar Ricalde, a
Mall Supervisor based in Guam, Milagros Isaac, a businesswoman
based in the USA,Belen Enverzo Nagpacan, Corazon Fabilane
Gilbuena, Ofelia Geli de los Reyes, Letecia Golong Araza, all Master
Teachers of the Departmentof Education.

I believe that whatever we have in this world are but fleeting fancies.
But a good name will always stand the test of times. Allow me to share
one of the guideposts in my life, the words of the famous poet Horacio
Alger:




16           Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul
If I Would Have My Name Endure,
                            I’ll Write It In The Hearts of Men

           By Horacio Alger


     I write my name upon the sand,
    And trusted it would stand for age;
     But soon, alas, the refluent sea,
    Had washed my feeble lines away.

    I carved my name upon the wood
      And after years returned again,
     I missed the shadow of the tree,
   That stretched of old upon the plain.

      To solid marble next my name,
         I gave as perpetual trust;
     An earthquake sent it to its base,
     And now it lies overlaid with dust.

             All these have failed-
  In wiser mood I turn and ask myself,
What then, if I would have my name endure,
      I’ll write it in the hearts of men.




           The author is Atty. Ruperto B. Golong, Jr., City Prosecutor of Tacloban City, a law professor, a management consultant
           and guest lecturer at the University of the Philippines-Tacloban College and Leyte Normal University.



                                                                                                                  Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul   17
It was my home away from home, my
initiation to formal education. A nostalgic trip    Golden Memories of My School
down memory lane, of wistful images of great
years gone by – this is what it’s like to
                                                    By Gertrudes Seludo Llarenas-Ragub
remember my days at Villareal Elementary
School.

Considered the primary university of Villareal,
it has produced many notable and
successful Villahanons. Its portals hold
precious and unforgettable memories that
remain in the hearts of its alumni. For the
young Villahanons today who never had the
privilege of witnessing the glory days of
Villareal Elementary School, allow me to
share some fond recollections.

The School’s physical structure was different
back then, for there were not a lot of buildings.
There was the Azanza Building where most
intermediate grades were located, the
Gabaldon (concrete) Building, the Home
Economics Building that housed a busy
playground at recess time, the Shop
Building, the old building near the acacia tree
and a makeshift PTA building. I still recall
that some classes were held in rented
private homes within the community to make          mobilized to bring sand and gravel everyday when we come to school. There were even some
up for the lack of classrooms.                      afternoons when, instead of cutting the grass in our assigned section in the wide school
                                                    plaza, our entire school population was mobilized to gather sand and gravel. A minimum
The School’s main entrance was made of              number of three trips to gather sand and gravel was required and trips beyond that quota were
concrete and covered with climbing vines of         rewarded with lavish praises or candy treats from our teachers.
garlic-scented violet flowers. The pathway
from the main entrance to the Azanza                Our favorite spot for getting sand and gravel was the seashore just across the old Holy Name
building was unpaved, and most of the               Academy. There was a time when Apoy Ninay Nunez, the old lady guarding that part of the
teachers were reluctant to wear their high-         seashore, would drive us away. In fear, we would all scamper in various directions, sometimes
heeled shoes for fear it might get stuck in         even leaving behind our baskets full of sand and gravel. There was no pantalan(wharf) that
the mud. To ease this problem, a pathway-           time, and the only house closest to the seashore was the that of ‘Tay Benok Castillano. That
cementing project was undertaken. We were           part of the seashore then was the nearest beach resort of Villa. During high tide months,


18            Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul
to gather some firewood for roasting the pig. We knew that after the guests
                                                                   had eaten, ‘Nay Meming will surely spot us. True enough, she would almost
                                                                   always see us and invite us to have some of the leftovers.

                                                                   Villareal Elementary School had a wide plaza, which was usually used to
                                                                   host municipal and regional athletic meets. Preparations for hosting these
                                                                   meets would involve the whole school as well as the entire Villa community.
                                                                   In charge of the ground preparation was my father (Ponciano Dalwatan
                                                                   Llarenas) and ‘Tiyo Tonying (Antonino Varela, Sr.). Pupils were made to
                                                                   bring woven lara (coconut leaves) and bamboos to be made into temporary
                                                                   kitchens and bathrooms. Teachers were made to bring beds and beddings
                                                                   for the visiting delegations. Villahanons eagerly awaited these athletic events
                                                                   as delegations from Marabut, Basey 1, Basey 2, Sta. Rita and the host
                                                                   delegations from Villa compete in what was usually a weeklong sports
                                                                   extravaganza. The event would open with a grand parade followed by a
                                                                   welcome dance in the evening for the teachers and heads of delegation. The
                                                                   event was meant not only to showcase the athletic prowess of the competing
especially in May, young and old Villahanons would take a dip      delegations, but also to feature their academic and artistic talents during
in the water to cool themselves off from the hot summer days.      the Literary Musical Night.

Announcement of early dismissals by the school principal never     School operettas were held annually. Preparations start as early as January
ceased to make us jump with joy! For the more adventurous          and the directors and choreographers, ‘Nay Corazon (Corazon Dasmarinas-
pupils, this spare time was used to pick some guavas in nearby     Seludo and Mana Tados (Teodosia Geli-Figueroa), selected lead casts and
Kalubi-an, just behind the Azanza building; others would walk to   all other participants. Some of these unforgettable operettas were Cinderella,
Arado until they reach Manggarit, where there were more guavas     Sleeping Beauty, and Beauty and the Beast. The operettas were usually
to harvest. The pupils who stayed behind, on the other hand,       staged at the end of the school year and had become such a treat to
would either play in the plaza or play jack stone using a marble   Villahanons.
ball in the shiny, cemented hallway of the concrete building.
                                                                   This was the Villareal Elementary School of my childhood years. So much
Whenever the school has guests, food preparations were done        has changed since and many years have passed, yet the fond and golden
at the Home Economics Building by ‘Nay Meming (Clemencia           memories linger, forever etched in my Villahanon heart and mind.
Geli-Ricalde) and Tiya Choling (Melchora Dasmarinas-Realino).
They would usually ask the help of some students, and the four
inseparables-Zabeth Gelera, Elma Garcia, Eve Garcia and
myself- were always hoping that Tiya Choling would choose to
call on us for help. Sadly, she always selected other pupils.      The author is the daughter of the late Ponciano Dalwatan Llarenas and
Disappointed but determined to help, the four of us would linger   Socorro Dasmarinas Seludo-Llarenas. She was a former teacher at the
                                                                   Villareal Elementary School. She is married to a fellow Villahanon, Dr.
around the Home Economics Building. It was during these times      Quirino Agote Ragub and they are now happily settled in Ottawa,
that Mano Cadio (Leocadio Figueroa) would see us and send us       Canada with their two sons, Bap and GR.



                                                                                                              Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul   19
The Villa In My Mind
By Maricon Gelera Latoja


Mention Villa and this image unfailingly comes to mind: the
concrete steps leading to the uphill area where the Church is
located. At the age of three (3), those steps were my “stairway
to heaven.” Climbing those steps was long, tiring and precarious,
hence caution was necessary. A wrong slip and one could end
up with a broken ankle or dislocated hip, worse, a head injury.
So climb we did carefully. Little did I know then that those steps
would make for a great metaphor: climbing it is similar to
overcoming the challenges that accompany the desire for a
successful life in the city, and the concrete of which it is made
of is akin to the sense of attachment I will always have for Villa.

I come from a generation of Villahanons who grew up for the
most part in Manila – I breathed city air, fed on urban values and
paid the price to ride the vehicle of modern dreams. Like most
of my contemporaries, I carried the torch of hope my parents
passed on to me. I was raised on the conviction that education
is a passport to the good life, and that perseverance and honest
work could actually lead you to a life far greater than what Villa
could ever offer. I went to private schools that cost far too much
than what my parents were making in terms of income. But my
Nanay was adamant - to her, a good education was the only gift
she could give me to ensure my future. The pressure to do well
academically became a measure of the potential to succeed,
so my school age years revolved only around two areas: home
and school. Social interaction was limited to playing with friends,
cousins and relatives who come over from Villa to spend a week
or two in our house.

Life in the metropolis is probably too seductive to resist that
very few bother to think about the costs involved – the dislocation,
the adjustments, and all the expenses that go with trying to
have a life within the city’s modern standards. Manila life was

20           Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul
very fast paced, but our family adjusted to the urban sense of time. And in the process of imbibing urban values, some things that were
particular to being a Villahanon began to erode. In my case, these were language and family ties. Because our family is Manila-based, the first
thing to slowly cave in was my facility with the Waray dialect. I grew up speaking mostly Tagalog at home, and English at school and at work.
When I was young, Waray was spoken only by adults and was reserved for serious conversations. Although I can still perfectly understand
Waray, I cannot write in it and my grasp of Waray words has diminished significantly through the years. I can still speak it (mostly just to my
Nanay) but not with the same level of comfort and confidence as I had when I was a kid. Now, I can only stare in wonder while Lola Eca (my
grandmother) and Ate Baby (my cousin) talk animatedly in Waray, complete with hand gestures, about the recent and juiciest topics involving
our Villa-based relatives. It’s like a movie that I could only watch but no longer be a part of.

The other major change exacted by city living was the ties with close family members and relatives, which got looser as most of them were
herded to foreign lands. Economic and practical reasons had taken precedence over the need for proximity and family togetherness. Hence,
my father chose New Jersey, Rodney chose Saudi Arabia, Regina chose United Arab Emirates, and other relatives chose either Norway,
Canada or different parts of the United States. The irregular flow of emails, the infrequent rain of text messages, the once-in-a-blue-moon phone
calls and the ten-minute Internet-based chats have now replaced birthdays and other special occasions celebrated in their company.

Despite these changes, my affinity with Villa stays strong. Like those concrete steps, it remains intact even if it may have been weathered by
time. I have been to a number of great places yet there are memories, texture and tastes, which are distinctly Villa. And I connect them all to
persons close to my heart. I can tell from a plateful of samples which de caña, torta or moron is made by my Lola Eca. And there is
absolutely no one who can rival the way I cherish the memory of my Lolo Ladis – my maternal grandfather, my first teacher, my Superman.

Like other Villahanons, I dream of a prosperous Villa. I dream of a Villareal that can show the rest of the Philippines so much more than the
concrete steps leading to the Church area – a place whose provincial road doesn’t turn into a swamp during the rainy months, a sensibly and
efficiently governed municipality with rising household incomes, where trade is active and local industry activities are flourishing, a hometown
with infrastructures in place to make it a worthy tourist destination.

I am a Villahanon. Like my contemporaries, I am part of the giant answer to the challenge of developing my hometown, of adding to the number
of concrete steps that will eventually and proudly put Villa on the Philippine map. I am a Villahanon and I will do my share in making Villa a place
that will proudly be ready for the next generation.




               The author is the eldest daughter of Francisco Bermejo Latoja and Elizabeth Brillante Gelera. She is an assistant professorial lecturer at De
               La Salle Unviersity Manila, and a research writer-editor at DLSU Angelo King Institute. She is the favorite grandchild of (the late) Ladislao Gelera
               and is set to inherit all the recipes of her grandmother, Veronica Gelera.




                                                                                                                        Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul              21
Villahanons in the Land
of the Midnight Sun
By Ruben Gerardo


We would never have left our hometown had it not been for the sake of pursuing
our education. The search for greener pastures led us to a far away place. We
left behind our loved ones, use up all our meager savings in the hope that a new
country will give us something more – better lives than what the country we
came from can offer.

And so goodbyes were said, tears shed, promises made, including the promise to never, never forget
our beloved hometown of Villa.

But the Promised Land was not to be. We had to deal with a different language, culture, environment
and ways strange to the one we love and know by heart. We struggled hard to fit into a new culture,
understand its nuances, and grow accustomed to the norms of its people.

We searched for new friends and tried to win their respect. We struggled to establish ourselves and build new lives. As we adapted to the norms
of our new country, we found ourselves in situations where we have to put our Filipino values aside.

We charted our lives’ new directions. We got married and raised our children. The family responsibilities became our priority, and soon after, the
promises we kept to ourselves are but a memory away.

For us who ended up in the land of the Vikings, in the land of the midnight sun, life has been more comfortable, treated as we were to the Social
Democratic way of life that offers an equal distribution of wealth among its constituents. Migrants have equal rights to education and health
care. Working condition is in accordance with the existing labour law. And hunger caused by poverty is unheard of.

Scandinavia, particularly Norway, is a beautiful country. It boasts of spectacular fauna and flora, especially during summertime when trees are
green and flowers are in full bloom. This is also where you could experience the midnight sun and the northern light (aurora borealis). Travelling
up to the north of Norway is amazing with its splendid mountains and landscapes. The Norwegian coast with its famous pink salmon also offers
memorable summertime adventures. Autumn reflects the beauty of gold (autumn leaves), and winter makes this country a perfect area for
skiing.


22           Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul
It is not simple to acquire a management position in a Norwegian company. First, you must be fluent in the Norwegian language, both written
and spoken. Secondly, a University degree acquired in Asia is not recognized in Norway. One needs one or two years at the Norwegian
University to validate the acceptance of one’s education. It requires a lot of will and perseverance to attend night classes to learn the Norwegian
language amidst holding a daytime job.

In the early 1970s, there were only a handful of Filipinos in Norway. They were Pampaguenos, Ilocanos, Tagalogs and the Visayans, represented
mostly by the Villahanons. Most of the Filipinos worked as seafarers and nurses. The population, however, increased in the later years when the
families of early immigrants decided to move to Norway. By then, a Filipino association called Filipino Community in Norway was organised,
funded by the Norwegian government to protect the rights and look after the welfare of Filipinos in Norway.

Within a few years of existence of the Filipino Community in Norway, I was convinced to run for president of the organization. In spite being
considered a dark horse from the line-up, I won by a landslide. I was blessed to have been President for three consecutive terms. When I was
first elected, it was the time when issues of racial discrimination and mail-order-brides landed on the pages of Norwegian newspapers. In
response to these issues, we ratified the Constitution of the Filipino Community in Norway, authored by the late Romulo Gerardo. At present,
I am actively engaged in defending human rights through the Filipino Resource Center in Oslo, Norway.

A fellow Villahanon in Scandinavia who made his mark in Denmark is Jorge Abainza who became the President of the Filipino Association in
Denmark. His sisters Luz and Amelia were active in PUGAD, (People Uniting and Generating Aid for Development); a Danish (NGO) non-
governmental organization focused on helping third world countries.

                                                                                                          Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul      23
Filipinos in Scandinavia hold a good reputation as managers, entrepreneurs and workers. Some are employed managers and department
heads of Norwegian firms while others were elected leaders of local labour union.

     •   Mr. Tobias Varela Sr., a Villahanon, served as the Treasurer of The Filipino Community in Norway.

     •   The late Romulo Gerardo, a Villahanon, was the founder of the first Filipino radio in Europe, the Radio Pinoy in Norway, partly funded
         by the local labour union.

     •   Mrs. Juliana Uy Pedersen, a Villahanon, served a term as the President of the Filipino Adopted Sons and Daughters of Norway. She
         established the first Filipino Youth ClubHouse in Oslo, financed by the Norwegian local government.

     •   Mr. Gerardo Ma. ‘Kin’ Gerardo (son of the late Romulo Gerardo) manages the Cosmopolite Jazz Club in Norway.

     •   Mr. Roseller Gerardo and Mr. Ramses Gerardo are managing their own Automotive Tire business with Filipino employees.




24           Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul
•     Mr. Paul Romano is assigned to Africa
                                                                                                         at the Norwegian Consular Office.

                                                                                                   •     Mrs. Consuelo A. Gerardo is a
                                                                                                         Department Head at Rødtvet
                                                                                                         Sykehjem (Hospital for the Aged) in
                                                                                                         Oslo.Mrs. Ellie P. Gerardo is a
                                                                                                         Corporate Accountant at the
                                                                                                         Scandinavian Airlines Systems,
                                                                                                         Accounting Services Norway.

                                                                                               Among the second generation with Villahanon
                                                                                               roots, Ms. Meena Gerardo Vij (daughter of
                                                                                               Rosalia Gerardo Vij) is serving as a Senior
                                                                                               Project Manager at British Telecom in
                                                                                               England.

                                                                                                   •     Ms. Meera Gerardo Vij (also a
                                                                                                         daughter of Rosalia) is a British
                                                                                                         Barrister (Lawyer), worked at the main
                                                                                                         office of the European Union in
                                                                                                         Brussels and is now back in London
                                                                                                         working in a British Law Office.


    •   Mr. John Lester Gerardo recently acquired his Masters Degree in Information Technology at the University in Oslo and was offered an
        employment at a Norwegian IT company as Project Supervisor.

    •   Miss Miriam Catherine Gerardo earned her Bachelors Degree in Business Administration at the Oslo School of Management last year
        and decided to travel to South America (including Peru, Lima) before seeking employment.

We have also senior citizens in Norway and among the Villahanons, Mr. & Mrs. Tobias Varela were the first to enjoy these rights.




                                                                                                       Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul     25
The Villahanon population in Norway is increasing with one hundred and fifty individuals with roots from Villareal. Most of them are the grand
children and the great grand children of the late Regulo Gerardo and Mrs. Rosario Gerardo. Other families adding up to the increasing population
of Villahanons in Norway are the Varela’s, Pedersen’s, Abrigo’s, Geli’s and Aringay’s. In Denmark, the Abainza’s, Gerardo’s, Abrigo-Toustrup,
and Gutierrez are the growing population among the Villahanons while Sweden has the Amistoso’s, Sacendoncillo’s , Abainza’s and Dasmarinas.

Far from our hometown, we also celebrate our Fiesta Villahanon in Norway every last Saturday of August. Our venue is usually the beautiful
Norwegian Woods, which reminds us of Manggarit or Losong where we would prepare our local lechon and dance the Curaccha throughout the
day. This celebration is a testament of the love of Villahanons in Norway for our hometown and for our patron Saint St. Rosa of Lima.

But behind these celebrations lurk our sadness, our longing and our dream to be in Villa once again and be a part of the struggle of the
Villahanons’ for a better society. There is an ache in our hearts to give back and be of value to a community we will always belong to, in
spite the distance. Our heart bleeds when lives of innocent people in Villa are put to waste, when their rights are thwarted, and when there
seems to be no hope for a better future for the generation.

                                                                       We feel sad to hear the agony of the farmers, fisher folks and
                                                                       schoolteachers in their difficulty to send their children to school. We are
                                                                       angered when the governmental infrastructure projects, which can
                                                                       contribute to the economic stability of our town and people, are purposely
                                                                       neglected.

                                                                       Yet we are hopeful. And as we, Villahanons from the Land of the Midnight
                                                                       Sun, return one day, we shall know and say that indeed we have come
                                                                       home and there is no other place better.

                                                                       Even if we fear that our great grandchildren, the new generation of
                                                                       Villahanon Vikings, might not have a connection with Villareal, we will
                                                                       always keep Villa in our hearts. We shall keep the promise we made.




                 The author is one of the pioneers of the Coca-Cola Bottlers in Norway. He started as a Business Operations Analyst at Coca-Cola Beverages
                 and moved on to being its Account Manager for Logistics at Coca-Cola Drikker A/S. He was later appointed Business Analyst for the Coca-Cola
                 Nordic Beverages covering Denmark, Sweden, Norway, Finland, Iceland and the Baltic Countries. He now heads the Logistics Resource Corp.
                 in Norway as its CEO.




26          Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul
Villa ~ Half a Century
                             and More of Remembrances
                                                         By Cesar Torres*

                The expression: “Everyone needs a hometown to love or to hate…” seems to apply to the
                Villahanons. I am not really sure where I got this. Perhaps, it was an original idea by
                Samar’s Poet Laureate, Aniceto Llaneta, a classmate in Samar High. When the late Postal
                Regional Director Andres Cabueños was Editor-in-Chief of “An Lamrag” and Secretary of
                the Province of Samar, Aniceto and some of our classmates would cut classes to listen to
                him as a convocation speaker in Catbalogan schools. Those were simple days when we
                were innocent. We love the written word and admire brainy people.

                          Perhaps, Aniceto got the expression from somewhere else. But to me, the important
                thing is that this expression somehow captures the sentiments of the Villahanons with respect to
                their hometown, Villareal, Samar, the only town in the Philippines which has an endearing nickname,
                Villa.

                         In some Villahanon souvenir publication honoring the Peruvian Saint, the Santa Rosa de
                Lima, I recall writing about the “dualism” inherent in that expression.”’To love or to hate…’ This is
                the moral dilemma of mankind. It symbolizes the synthesis of opposites. The dualism immanent
                in the universe – of beauty and ugliness, of purity and corruption, of heaven and earth.’

                         We love Villa! We hate Villa! We love Villa… It is like a mantra of the Hindu mystics.

           The emotional force of this contradiction seems to enchain us to Villa. The bond is stronger than steel.
After all, it is forged with every drop of our blood, every beat of our hearts. Thus, even if we are in Singapore, Tokyo,
Hongkong, Canada, Norway, or someplace in Europe, in America, in the Middle East, in Australia, Brunei, and
other parts of the world, or sailing the high seas as lonely mariners, our thoughts are never far from our hometown.

       For some of us who are away from the homeland and whose lives seem to be trailing the sinking sun
beyond the western shores of Maqueda Bay, frequent are the times when our minds wonder to those bygone
days. Detailed clarity might be blurring but the general outlines are still lingering in our failing memories.

       A hometown is where the heart is. It is not necessarily the place where one first saw the light of day, like
me. I was born in Silanga, Catbalogan, Samar, a rich fishing ground many, many years ago. But it is in Villa
where my memories are rooted more intensely.

                                                                               Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul       27
What are some of these memories?

                                                                           Having been born in the Second World War, as a child, I saw Japanese
                                                                  soldiers in Sigad in full uniform carrying guns with their helmets adorned with
                                                                  twigs that had still green leaves on them. They appeared to be crouching,
                                                                  crawling, then lying flat on the grass with their guns pointed at something. I
                                                                  think there were three of them. Nadulhog kami from our farm in Lam-awan to
                                                                  the bongto, the poblacion, at that time.

                                                                           During the war and the Japanese occupation of the Philippines, I think
                                                                  we stayed mostly in our farm in Lam-awan. But even there, I have vague
                                                                  memories of my grandfather, Apoy Amboy (Pablo Ranera), and my aunts and
                                                                  uncles, the entire family, climbing the hills breathing hard, almost gasping.
                                                                  They were escaping from something or someone. One time, we hurriedly
                                                                  went to a shelter hidden in a bamboo grove, mga kawayan, which were growing
                                                                  on both sides of the stream. No one would suspect that there was a shelter
deep in the heart of the kawayan grove. Of course, I did not know why those things were happening to us. But I remember, we would do this
every time we would hear the frantic banging of the “talutang”, that bamboo instrument used to warn people that danger is imminent.

         It must have been “Liberation”. I remember there were so many people harvesting rice in our “hagna”. Suddenly the skies were filled
with airplanes, wave after wave after wave. Nobody told me why there were so many airplanes. We just looked up. I did not asked why there
were so many airplanes either. After that, in the early evenings we would sit on our individual “banko”, and face Southeast, and turn our gaze
beyond the mountains of Lam-awan. We could see lights streaming in the distant skies beyond the mountains. I learned later that they were
tracer bullets. This was during the Battle of Leyte Gulf when the Americans had returned to the Philippines.

        I have vague memories after that. But I think we went to Tacloban aboard some boats. I remember passing by “Bangon”, and sucking
on raw eggs. And in San Juanico Straits nearing Tacloban, there were warships, where I could see naked white men taking showers on the
decks.

       I did not see an American soldier in Villa. But I remember all those delicious carne norte in long cans, courtesy of the American people.
And the woolen blankets. Up to the time when I was in Samar High, we would still use those woolen American blankets, remnants of the
American return to Samar.

My first day in Grade One, at least, the first early morning, is still clear in my mind. I think together with my aunts and uncles who were going
to school also, we hiked from Lama-awan to the poblacion. It was still dark when we arrived in the elementary school. We were made to
assemble below that famous acacia tree where enkantados have been rumored to be in residence. There was community singing. I do not
remember the song. My teacher in Grade One was probably the late Mana Anggay.




28           Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul
Thereafter, life was a blur. We constructed a house in Tayod. But we still maintained our house in the “Uma”, the farm in Lam-awan.
The poblacion was a sleepy town where you can hear the chirping of the crickets, ngiya-ngiya, even at noontime, and the romantic singing of
the Villahanons especially in the early evenings when they were drinking tuba, men and women. When you walk the grassy streets, you might
step on dog poo and pig’s leavings – the most “kadiri” to me especially when it happens to you when the ground was wet after a rain – and when
you go to the laguertas which were green with guava plants, you cannot miss the colorful and rotting waste of many Villahanons. I don’t know
how many had toilets at that time. There were some of us from Tayod who would go down to Hawod to relieve ourselves. Doing this between
two big stones while gazing at the beauty of the starry night and conscious of the gentle swishing of the wavelets around you was almost a
mystical experience. Unsanitary? Oh yes! But we were one with nature, a process of recycling especially when the fish would gobble them up
which we then would catch and broil. Aaaarrrrgh!!!

         We were already in Tayod when I first heard the sound of a motor vehicle in Villa. It must have been stuck in that Bayanihan road. I don’t
know if it arrived intact in the town. I recall also that we pupils in the elementary school had to bring one stone every day to the school, stones
which we then deposited on the Bayanihan Road.

          We would go to the farm to plant rice, corn, camote or bilanghoy or gaway or harvest them. We would go to the farm to get firewood.
We would roam the hills and the meadows stupidly trying to kill the defenseless birds with our slingshots. During summer when there was no
drinking water, a group of us, boys and girls and our elders with long coconut tubes on our shoulders, we called them “salod”, would parade on
the trails via the Sigad, to get drinking water. We would have been a sight during moonlight nights, six, ten boys and girls with long bamboo
tubes on their shoulders, marching on the trails one after the other

My family had no money. But I did see American coins, leftovers of the American occupation. So if we had no viand, and we are sick and tired
of the salty hipon or shrimp paste of salted bahong, of kayod, and kisiyo, of bulad, we would troop to the seashore at low tide, during humbas,
para mamangti, looking for seashells – sangpiyad, bukawel, karang karang, tikod hin daraga or just plain dahonan and lato. We would eat
sangpiyad raw, we would get two of them, knock them on each other, and scoop out the sangpiyad flesh. One time, I stumbled on a binga. It
was a happy day for my brother, Lope, and me and my family. Since many Villahanons were “cashless”, the adults would use their nets,
sudsod, to catch fish, shrimps, crabs, crustaceans, and other




                                                                                                          Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul      29
products of our sea. Having a tinola of sinudsuran is more delicious than the French
“bouillabaisse”.

         For us youngsters, fishing, swimming, beachcombing, doing errands, going to church,
to school, getting firewood, playing were integral parts of our lives. Our toys were were
organic such as orokay which we used as tires when we were crafting cars and trucks.
Except for the plastic heel of worn out shoes which we treasured for our games, our toys
were all biodegradable. We played sato. We would go around the town from Tayod to Rawis
to Kan Pia Otot (Barangay Villarosa), hitting that small stick with a long one, while our
opponents would try to catch the short stick; and then running while holding our breaths.
There was tatse, barobanyakay where we kicked bundled multicolored rubber bands,
nirotigbasay during moonlight nights, rurumba (racing against each other whether in the
school plaza or in the town streets in the afternoons, Virgilio Latorre was unbeatable), tago-
tago-ay (hide and seek, I like it very much when the girls would join us especially during dark
nights or even during moonlight nights provided there were dark nooks and hiding places).

          I think every Villahanon was a Roman Catholic at that time. So all Villahanons went
to the Church of the Santa Rosa de Lima religiously. We listened patiently to masses said
in Latin, which was of course weird because they were incomprehensible to us, even the
“Ora Pronobis and the Pater Noster”. We confessed our sins and took communion. Then we
sinned again, whatever they were. We studied cathecism in summer, especially in May. I
was very good pupil. I even got a Pals Pomade as my reward. In May, we loved watching the
girls in their white uniforms with flower garlands around their dainty heads and their blue
sashes around their slim waists. We vowed to marry the pretty ones by eloping with them
while riding on a white horse to Paradise.

         At 6:00 o’clock in the evening, the towering kampanaryo would chime with the bells.
The kampanaryo which was probably constructed out of the slave labor of the Villahanons,
the towering kampanaryo which had a panoramic view of Maqueda Bay to safeguard Catholic
Villa from the onslaughts of the Warriors who believe in Mohammed and the Sultanates of
Sulu and Maguindanao. It was Angelus time. If we were on the streets, we would stop, make
the sign of the cross, and hurry up to home. At home, after our simple supper, we would
wash the dishes. And then we would gather around the living room, perhaps the sala for the
likes of Mila Figueroa and Virgilio Latorre who were rich and had big houses. Since there
were no radios, no TVs, no computers, we would listen to our elders tell stories to us, part of
our oral tradition. Usually, the stories were about engkantos and aswangs. And then to
provide more drama and legitimacy to the aswang stories, something would fly overhead
making the sound of “Wak, wak, wak, wak.” So we had no doubt whatsoever that indeed
there were Aswangs or Wakwaks.


30           Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul
During summer the cycle was the farm, the sea, picnics, marking the nests of the birds,
playing with our kites, fetching drinking water with our salod, getting firewood from the farms sometimes
from the mangroves in Pangpang, rising early and going to bed early too.

          During Christmas, there were panarits, Christmas Carols, and lantern contests. Even in the
farms, there were groups who would walk from one hill to another hill singing the panarits all night long.
And on Christmas Day in the poblacion, the Child Jesus would be paraded around the town. A kiss and
a ting-a-ling of the bells of the Sacristans would earn the Church P0.01. One centavo at that time could
still buy you a butterball candy.

        There was some kind of a physical, cultural, economic, and political divide between Tayod and
Hawod. There were “warfares”, “invasions” among the young warriors of Tayod and Hawod. The weapons
were organic. Just bamboo guns with bullets carved from the roots of a tuber. There were haringas,
water guns. Nobody died of course, like what is happening now between the soldiers and the NPAs and
the MILF and the MNLF and the Abu Sayyaff. The world has become more civilized and more advanced.

          Since there was no radio, no TV, no movies, and many could not afford to go to Catbalogan to
watch a movie, entertainment for special occasions such as the fiesta in August, was through a
“Komedya”. The rehearsals were done on a site near the building of the Holy Name Academy. The
usual theme was the classic confrontation between systems of belief represented by the Mujaheddins
of Saladin and the Knights of Richard the III and the Crusaders (perhaps the mysterious Knights
Templar), a confrontation that goes back to Granada in 1492 and which continues to unfold today and
could sound the death knell of mankind. It seems this Villahanon Komedya was known far and wide.
Visitors from the neighboring towns and as far away as Carigara in Leyte, would come in boatloads to
watch the Villahanon Komedya, sell their wares, partake of humba and other delicious Villahanon
preparations for the fiesta, imbibed on tuba and whisper sweet nothings to Villahanon lasses. And the
Villahanon swains would do the same to lovely lasses from such neighboring towns as Zumarraga. The
late Villahanon educator and icon, Ninang Maring Romano, told me that there would be hundreds of
boats anchored from end to end on the Villa waterfont. The late Eduardo “Dadoy” Hilbano was a towering
figure in this art form.

While there was scarcity – having scrambled eggs seasoned with the fragrant sibuyen or having fried
chicken were abnormal occurrences – there was also abundance. In August, the rice harvested in the
previous planting season could not last the whole year through. So families had to make do with duma,
root crops, and corn, which seems to be the favorite of the Cebuanos. However, cooking corn grits with
coconut milk with a buraw barol embedded in the daba and then partaking of the combination is beyond
description. We would close our eyes with the delicious preparation. And as a test how delicious the
combination was of corn, cooked in coconut milk and barol nga buraw, we had to gulp water from a
coconut shell because we were thirsty (hinihibol).


                                                                 Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul      31
There was abundance of camote, bilanghoy, saging, all sorts of saging you would not
                                        believe the variety of saging at that time, silot, pako, fresh air, tubo, bokawel, tuba, bulad, sisi,
                                        fruits, sweet, luscious fruits, pasayan, and fresh fish. Tabangongo was and still is a delicacy.
                                        Having tabangongo with bihud or mother bangus, bangrus, which were so fat and so cheap and
                                        hanananaw, a sting ray with white liver which was the main ingredient of binakhaw, can make
                                        you forget everything else, even your girl friends or boy friends, including your numerous “Good
                                        Fors” from Mana Sabel and Mana Leling. Crabs, oh boy. One time, there were so many crabs
                                        that you don’t need to use a net to capture them. They would swim to the surface of the sea,
                                        almost begging you to scoop them to your containers. Crabs, crabs, crabs, fat, tasty crabs with
                                        aligue. And there was sarad, and bahong. Lope, to earn some money, had become a proficient
                                        sarad diver. One time when I visited Villa from Catbalogan, I saw him selling sarad by the
                                        bucket. And surprise! His hair had become blonde, bleached by the interaction of the sea, the
                                        sun, the air, and the salt. Years later, when I had gone to Tawi Tawi, the Badjaos there would
                                        remind me of Lope. And here in America, the green-eyed, blonde, lily-skinned Caucasians
                                        would remind me of Lope and sarad. Indeed, Maqueda Bay and the Bay of Villa were so rich with
                                        the bounties of God and Nature. And the Villahanons, young or old did not flinch from hard work.

                                                 The rainforest of Villa and Samar were majestic in their splendor. Almost pristine, primeval,
                                        untouched. You cast your gaze to the mountains, and the trees would be towering in the distance.
                                        Lope and I went to the jungles of Sibahay one time. There I climbed a fully grown Kamagong
                                        tree, a tree whose wood is ebony black, and now so rare. They say the Kamagong wood is
                                        harder than steel and is more precious than gold.

                                        And because the “web that sustains life” was perhaps still in perfect balance, in the late afternoons
                                        and the early evening, there were thousands and thousands of birds of all shapes, sizes, and
                                        colors flying from the hinterlands of Villa and Samar to roost in the islands off Villa such as Puro.
                                        One time, Pepito Varela, admittedly the most popular crooner of his generation, the late Jose
                                        Negado, and I borrowed a boat. We were on our way to Banquil, to serenade my classmate with
                                        whom the musician Jose Negado was “eyeing”. With a full moon lighting the entire Bay of Villa,
                                        we rowed towards Banquil. When we reached the sandbars separating Puro and Pacao, we had
                                        to get off from the boat and drag it over the sandbar. It was low tide. We rested after our
                                        exertions. And then Padé Joe took out his trumpet, blew on it, trying to accompany Pepito who
                                        was beginning to croon his Mario Lanza favorite of “Overhead the Moon is Beaming” inspired by
                                        the magic of the moonlight. It woke up all the birds resting in the trees of Puro. There was a
                                        cacophony of sound. We made the sign of the cross and stopped. Subdued and silent, we
                                        continued with our rowing to Banquil and came back to the bongto at 2 o’clock in the morning.
                                        I think the Protectors of the Birds punished us for disturbing their rest. Sablay (Padé Joe) did
                                        not marry the object of our harana in Banquil. Mana Petra was his destiny.



32   Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul
One summer, Lope and I were assigned by our uncle, Tay Dadoy Ranera, to take
care of a corn plantation in Tingara. For several weeks while the corn was growing, Lope and
I, as soon as we would wake up in the morning, would put on our buri hats, strap the
sundang to our waists, and hike as fast as we could to Tingara from our house in Tayod. We
had to be there early to shoo away the birds who would feast on the sweet corn. One time,
we arrived very early. While Lope was roasting corn ears, I climbed a nearby tree which was
laden with fruits. I was there, leaning on the tree trunk when green and white parrots, picoy
and abucay alighted on the tree where I was hidden by the foliage. I think the birds must
have noticed me. But they were not bothered by my presence. They just went on eating the
fruits of the tree. Those were halcyon days for us Our breakfast was roasted corn. Our
lunch was roasted corn and broiled fungus. Sometimes we had roasted wild bird, tikling.
And we roamed the hills and the meadows and hobnobbed with the wildlife.

        I finished up to Grade Five in the Villareal Elementary School. Our poverty was not
a hindrance to “the life of the mind”. The library was bursting with books. I would borrow one
and bring it to Lama-awan. There, I would read the colored books by the light of the kerosene
lamp.

        Children will always play and dream. Dr. Jesus Reyes, “Esong”, and I were seatmates
in Grade Two . During recess we would discuss how Superman might go to Korea, fight the
enemies of the American and the Filipino soldiers. The late Benedicto “Ubaw” Rapanan was
a very good friend too. We would go under the Gabaldon Building and try to catch those
insects burrowing on the sand and play with them. As a teacher, we believed the late Tay
Antonino Varela was a universal genius. He would teach us social studies, then music, and
was in charge of our plots which were planted with pichay. Of course, every Saturday, we
would visit our pichay plantation. One time, a classmate, Bernardita Gabrinao who only
spoke the language of the Imperialistang Taga-ilog was on her way to their farm nearby. We
were teasing Virigilio Latorre to Bernardita. In a fit of anger, Bernardita stepped on the
pichay plot of Virgilio. To replant his pichay plantation, Virgilio had to borrow some seedlings
from the rest of us without our permission.

The political bad blood among families in Villa was unavoidable even among us youngsters.
This was apparent between the Latorres et al and the Gelis et al. I forget now what was the
immediate cause. But suddenly, here was the late Potenciano Geli and Virgilio Latorre
fighting it out in that Gabaldon building. To even the odds, I think Poten got a piece of
bamboo, a gamon. I believe Virgilio’s eyebrow was cut. I remember blood was spurting from
his face. Somehow, we must have been able to pacify the protagonists. I think years later
when the two had become wiser, they would remember that incident as some sort of a rite of
passage to manhood.


                                                       Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul      33
My Grade Five schooling was a watershed in my studies. Who was the most brilliant among us? Not Lydia Varela who was Salutatorian
later. Not Esong Reyes. Not Virgilio Latorre who became Valedictorian one year later. Not Poten Geli. Not Cesar Torres. If you ask us to vote,
I think we would vote for Aring (Agripina) Varela. (She left Villa when we were young. But I saw Aring once in Tongao, Butuan when I was roaming
Pilipinas in the company of “lovely friends”. When Justice Eddie Nachura was just USEC of Education, I was always thinking of asking him to
look up the address of Aring. It never happened. But I have always this fond memories of a dear, brilliant, always cheerful classmate.)

         As I said, I continued my studies in Catbalogan in Grade Six. In my first year in Samar High in 1953, I was surprised to see Virgilio
Latorre in our class. Madé Doding Conise (Gertrudes Conise-Ocaña) was another Villahanon in our class.

        We had become orphans. So Lope and I stayed with an uncle in Manila, Tay Beboy Ranera. While in Manila, we sold newspapers,
magazines, and comics. We knew the Santa Ana, Paco, San Andres, Pandacan districts, including the shanty areas, like the palm of our
hands. After making the rounds, we would take our breakfast – a P0.05 bottle of Sarsaparilla, and I think two pieces of pan de coco worth P0.05.
Elsa stayed with our Apoy Nanang (Juana Teves Hermida) in Villa.

          After months of trying to survive with dignity in Manila, our fortunes changed. My uncle, Bienvenido Torres was looking for me. Because
our father was a soldier in World War II and was listed as missing in action we were finally given some compensation for his services and his
life. I went back to Catbalogan. I was still able to enroll in Samar High for the second year, but I was late by two periodical periods. But through
the intercession of a kind woman, a science teacher in Samar High, Mrs. Engracia Garcia, I was admitted during the Third Departmental period.
She is a mentor whose memory is deeply etched in my heart. Lope in the meantime, enrolled in Quezon City as Freshman. One time he had
no money for jeep fare. So he walked from his school to Pandacan where he was staying. A nice two-hour hike.

In the Samar High, Lydia had joined us. With Virgilio, it became a reunion of sorts. In Samar High, I believe we Villahanons were blazing trails
also. For instance, there was never any doubt that Virgilio would someday become Governor or Congressman of Samar. He was our student
politician par excellence. In fact, when we were just Third Year, he would have beaten Eddie Nachura for President of the Student Council if I
was not Eddie’s candidate for Vice President. His charisma and self-confidence was undeniable. Well, God works in mysterious ways. Virgilio
was destined for other things such as being a top brass in the regional administrative system but with the risk of his pants being burned. With
her brief stay with us in Samar High, the beautiful Lydia was a member of the high school social elite.

         I was in Samar High when I had my first real job, supposedly with a wage. It was a government job. Ever the kindest person that he has
always been (one time in Tacloban, when Mano Alding Oreo and I were going to Villa to campaign for a congressional candidate, he gave me
his last P0.10 centavos), Virgilio gave me three days of the five days he was allotted in the road work by his uncle Mayor Fidencio Latorre —
cleaning and maintaining that now famous Bayanihan Road of shrubs and debris that were littering the road. For three days in summer, I would
wake up early in the morning. Bring bahaw and fried usu-os as my balon. strap the scabbard of the sundang to my waist, put on a buri hat, walk
to a place somewhere beyond Igot and do our work. I forgot now who were my fellow laborers. But I really worked hard because even at that
time I believe that it was the people of the Philippines who were paying us for our work. And I did not want to cheat on them.

          I waited and waited for my wage of my three days of hard work. I never got it. Not even Virgilio could tell me what happened to my wage
or if he got it in his name or someone got the money and pocketed it. This was my first official encounter with my Government.



34           Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul
During summers in high school, I would go to Villa. We had our barkada. We would meet periodically in the imburnals especially
during moonlight nights. We would debate, trying to impress each other with our facility of English, serenade the girls, engaged in the
occasional irignom and picnics on weekends. Since we were teenagers valiantly trying to impress the girls, we would wear bakya, wooden
clogs, all over the town. The Japanese had not yet discovered the manufacturing of those rubber sandals which pollute the environment.

        We graduated from high school in 1957. There were no graduation parties and rejoicing. Ramon Magsaysay, the CIA-backed President
of the Philippines, had died in a plane crash in Cebu. After our commencement rites, I went to Villa, as an onlooker of the graduation in West
Coast Academy. While there, we were looking towards Catbalogan which was burning to the ground right at that very moment. Surprisingly, I
was not worried; perhaps because I had few personal belongings in Catbalogan. Sometimes, it is nice to be poor.

I ended in the University of the Philippines. While in Manila, we Villahanon students obviously gravitated to each other — Budick Yu, Vincent
and Nonong Figueroa, Ubaw Rapanan, Ising Endrina, Nanding Hilbano, Lydia and Raul Varela, Edith Latoja, the lovely Evelyn Latoja, Liit and
Bing Tizon, Gingging Dasmariñas who was our junior, the Seludos (Maruja, Douglas and their siblings) Gironedes “Neding” Gelera, later on
Andrew Varela, then Pacit Varela, Felisa Tandinco, Baby Godo Gelera who was not a drunkard like us, Titing Gelera Latorre who was more of
a Guiuananon than a Villahanon, and some others, and of course Lope. We became the core of the “Villareal Youth Club of Manila”, VYCM. I
was its President. I think we helped in celebrating the fiesta in Manila. But we did have some meetings. I remember quarreling with Caridad
Paco over some inconsequential issue.




                                                                                                       Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul    35
But our VYCM was nothing compared to the trailblazing achievements of the Villahanon Association of Metro Manila. They have shown
the way. I just hope they do not get waylaid by the wayside, groping in the dark recesses of pride and lack of humility.

         When I would drop out from the U.P. I would end up in Villa bothering Mikolo “Kalig”.Miguel Presnilla. He was already a teacher at that
time. And of course, he was a very popular and sought after teacher. Very romantic, great with his fingers, especially when he was strumming
the guitar and using those slender fingers for all activities. God, created him that way. So I would go with him to Bangon, to Plaridel. There I
would help in the Pintakasi, repairing a school building among others. I would go with the Ugdok (eel) catchers. One time, Batá Pepe Morabor
who motored to Bangon to sell some fish, labas, wanted to take me back to Villa, worried that the tagnok would eat me out. Then from Plaridel,
we would walk the mountain trails to San Andres and visit Araceli Abainza, Gloria Latoja, and the other lady teachers in San Andres. From San
Andres, we would hike to San Roque. We even went to Bino-ongan and Santa Rosa and gobbled up Libook. We had no money to buy
cigarettes. So we roasted tobacco, crumpled the tobacco leaves and rolled them in paper to make a tigol.

                                                                                             I would go back to Manila after a stint of serenading
                                                                                   the Villahanon teachers in the barrios and picking up, sagol,
                                                                                   choice fishes for kinilaw from the tables of Mana Payang
                                                                                   and scribbling all those innumerable “Good Fors” some of
                                                                                   which are still probably outstanding. And with the inspiration
                                                                                   and prodding of Lydia who had come back from America, I
                                                                                   had to finish my studies, especially when Mara and Alexander
                                                                                   were already around. But our house in Project 2 in Quezon
                                                                                   City and Sampaloc were still veritable half-way houses for
                                                                                   Villahanons who had no place to stay in Manila. To finish my
                                                                                   studies, there were times when I would not go home once I
                                                                                   knew that there was drinking going on in the house. After all
                                                                                   Lope and Nanding Hilbano, Nanding who was the best
                                                                                   curacha dancer I have ever seen in Manila, were still the
                                                                                   drinking buddies of most Villahanons, including the new
                                                                                   members of the Lepanto Boys, Mano Ramon Hilvano, the
                                                                                   late Padé Prudy Geli who entrusted to me her daughter Dada,
                                                                                   and the late Tiboy Latorre, who was so hard to control when
                                                                                   he was drunk. Sometimes we would hold him by his hands,
                                                                                   and his feet and dump him on a taxi and bring him home.

                                                                                   In the Villareal community in Metro Manila, we would still
                                                                                   see each other especially during the celebration of the Feast
                                                                                   of the Santa Rosa de Lima.




36          Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul
Compared to other Samarnon groups in Metro Manila who would celebrate their fiestas in elegant surroundings such as the Manila
Hotel, where only the elite and those with money could savor the grace and ambiance of a Catholic and Christian tradition devoted to God and
His Saints, in contrast, the Villahanons, at least when I was still there, would reach out to everyone. Nobody would be turned away, even those
who were definitely gatecrashers and freeloaders. Precisely, as a response to our Catholicism and graciousness, celebrating the Feast of the
Santa Rosa in Metro Manila was characterized by popular and grassroots responsibility. From a single hermano or hermana during its early
years, now there are so many of them and they all come from all over the world especially from Norway, whose trailblazer was Rosalia Gerardo.
I think she was the first Filipina and Villahanon in Norway and Europe.

         After saying “No” to the beckoning of America in 1983, with a heavy heart, uncertain what the future would bring, I decided to try my
luck in this land of milk and honey, the former colonial master of our people, the most powerful and richest country in the world.

        With $10 that I borrowed from Fe in my pocket I boarded the Northwest Jumbo Jet to San Francisco in November 1985. Except for ex-
DAP Executive Vice President, Dr. Segundo Romero, Jr. I did not tell anyone in the UP that I was leaving. When I told my staff in Ayala that I
was leaving in the afternoon on that very day, there was lamentation. Mara and Alexander followed, arriving in the University Town of Berkeley
on December 24, 1985.

        It was a very humbling and frustrating experience in San Francisco during the early months of our arrival. Only Lydia was working.
Despite my qualifications, I could not find a job. We were helped by very kind Calbiganons, Ester Ocenada-Benigno and her cousins, and a
Basaynon whose name we have forgotten but whose kindness is forever engraved in our hearts. Finally, when we had the time and the
resources, we gravitated to our kind. First to the Calbiganons, because Lydia is half-Calbiganon. Theirs was the first fiesta we attended in
America. Then the Catbaloganons, after all I was born in Silanga. Then the Villahanons whose leaders and concentration were in Los Angeles.
But several years would pass before we could go to Los Angeles. As a symbol of our solidarity and unity with all Villahanons all over the world,
we never succumbed to the siren song of forming our own Villahanon association in San Francisco, especially if the only purpose was just to
celebrate the fiesta. We thought we should organize a pilgrimage to Lima, Peru and devote whatever resources we could spare to helping our
hometown, instead of focusing so much on our fiesta celebration here in America.

          For us, therefore, there was only one community of Villahanons all over the world. We referred to ourselves as “The Villahanons
International” which include Esdras, Inday, and Ponso Romano in Northern California, Ruben Gerardo and other Villahanons in Norway,
Quirino Ragub and his beloved Tunding who has a penchant for burning pants of his beloved cousin, Nora Colles-Chawla, Ada Quijano-Reyes,
Soledad Agote in Canada, Nora and other Royandoyans, the Hilvanos (the late Godfather of the Villahanons, Mano Sotero Hilvano, sons Victor
and wife, Doctor Mansueta and Angelito), Gery Hilvano in Las Vegas, and their cousins, who spell their names differently, the Hilbanos, in
Southern California and Las Vegas, (Mano Joe, Belen), Mana Bangbang and Ate Grace Arcallana, the Ricaldes (Mana Oswalda and the late Fr.
Nick), the admirable couple, Dina Seludo and Frank Bunuan, Clarito and Mana Mila Seludo, Mana Juling Gabompa who has a lovely house on
top of a hill in Northern California, the Seludos-Tabungars, Caridad Paco, Mana Cordying Daluraya, Suki, Tening, and Zenaida Ygat in California,
the Varelas in the Midwest, Lotlot Fallorina, Mana Nina Latorre-Ras and lovely daughter, Bingbing, Dave Yu, the finance whizz who waited 8
hours to be picked up at the San Francisco Airport, Aida Geli, Rufino and Jimmy Obregon, Ralph Brillante who has severed his relationship with
Villahanons in California, Mana Lily Fabilane and brother, Isidro, and Mana Ruthie Dougherty whom we visited regular and now we do not see
anymore, Gina Cabueños and Dennis Blanco, Joanna Aboga and her gracious American husband, Bob Foster, our ever reliable, classmate
Minda Geli, Godofredo “Baby” Gelera, one of the pioneer Villahanons in California, Padre Pepe Garcia in Canada, and the family of Judith


                                                                                                        Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul     37
Presnilla in Sacramento, and many others more. There are now so many of us, Villahanons in Diaspora, we need a huge database. For those
I cannot remember, please forgive me. The next Villahanon historians will rectify our lapses.

         In America, we tried to combine our religious piety with civic works for our hometown, little things for our church, the schools (books and
scholars for the Holy Name Academy), innovative arrangements such as “The Paolo Lean Torres Pimentel Partners in Learning”, a collaboration
with the Cambaguio and the Central Elementary Schools), the community, such as the Stairway to Heaven of The Clan led by Vincent Figueroa,
supporting the publication of the pioneering “Budyong Han Villa”, which was staffed by Villahanon writers and poets and printed by using a
mimeograph machine, and organizing the Omawas Foundation which unhappily resulted in the unnecessary and tragic death of two beloved
community leaders, Mano Joe and Mana Nitnit Dalwatan and Elma Figueroa’s suffering. But for the courage and bravery of Mila Figueroa, one
of the most respected leaders of our community who chose to stay in Villa to serve our people, instead of staying in America as a highly paid
Florence Nigtingale, many more would have lost their lives. All for nothing. We need to honor Mano Joe and Mana Nitnit, mga Baraan nga
Susgaran han Bongto.

         We remember with fondness the late Epifanio Nuñez. Together with his wife, Flor Marasigan, they mobilized the Villahanons in
California on helping our church. We have that aborted Kamorayaw Cemetery Project of the Villahanons International, of course. The souls of
the dead Villahanons are wailing in the nether world because of a promise that remains unfulfilled. But the dream is there. Kun diri kita, iton
sunod nga henerasyon. Kun diri yana, iton sunod nga panahon.

        There were profound changes among Villahanons too. For once a Villahanon Parish Priest, Fr. Jun Cinco, could hobnob with his flock
in America, not just in Villa and Metro Manila. Through the very illustrious and eminent Archbishop Jose Palma, Villahanon priests could visit
us in San Francisco and other parts of America.

        As fate would have it, a Villahanon, Marivel Sacendoncillo, could exercise some authority and influence to send local government
executives, such as Mayor Renato “Boy” Latorre, (and sister Calbiga Mayor, Luzviminda “Bebot” Latorre) to train in Canada. Before this, our
mayors could only travel to Lamingao, to Catbaloganon, to Tacloban and to Manila on official business with some relaxation in some night
spots. After all, it was so tiring and tedious following up official business in the bureaucratic bowels of the Philippine Administrative System,
especially if one has a hangover.

         The singular importance of our democratic social structure and its concomitant egalitarianism — we do not distinguish ourselves from
each other whether tuminongnong or a timawa or whether Manila-born or fresh from San Francisco, New York, Canada, or Norway or from
Inasudlan, San Andres or Himyangan — separates us from other groups. There is also that oneness with everyone which somehow culminates
in the hermandad and celebration of the fiesta in Metro Manila where one is deemed not to have fully complied with the unwritten initiation of
being a Villahanon if one has not yet become a sponsor of the Santa Rosa fiesta. Finally, there is our characteristic as thinkers, visionaries, and
dreamers. Sometimes, like the eloquent Fr. Rudy Romano or the Calubids, and others, we pay with our lives. All these and other factors provide
us with a dynamic community of Villahahons linked to each other all over the world.




38           Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul
With the advent of the Internet, many diasporic Villahanons have become closer to each other. We communicate in the World Wide
Web with a flick of a “computer mouse”. Aside from long distance calls, there is cell phone texting, Yahoo Messenger, Web Cameras, and the
most popular of all, electronic mail. Our brilliant municipal consultant and local government planner, Armando “Boy” Ridao transmits huge
computer files from the municipio to me in California, files which contain the comprehensive development plan of the town under the leadership
of Mayor Reynato “Boy” Latorre and his fellow municipal officials. I chat on real time with Jim Gabree, the Amerian husband of Marjorie Hilvano
in Guintarcan, through a computer which is connected to the Internet through “satellite broadband”which does not need land-based telephone
connections. I used to chat with my godchild, Jeanette Presnilla, in Tacloban while I was in San Francisco. Indeed, our familiarity with the
Internet makes us tower above many other groups all over the Philippines. As of last count, for instance, we have three websites and electronic
discussion groups.




                                                                                                        Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul    39
The foregoing, together with other factors, combined to develop a synergy, a confluence of events and circumstances, making us a
model all over the Philippines and the Third World. When we took on this mind-boggling collaborative project to repair and cement this 8-km
public road through Tiklos or Bayanihan, a project that has never been done voluntarily in the history of the Philippines, a project that involves
massive use of the Internet, a project where even our school children are helping, we showed the world that poor as we are, we can hold our
heads high with dignity. The corrupt and the nincompoops do not dangle us by their dirty little fingers anymore.

         Of course, we Villahanons are not angels. I once stumbled on Ruben Gerardo’s “Villahanon Forum”, a discussion medium in the
Internet. I could not believe at the lack of principles, the cowardice, the unkindness, and the quality of the exchanges. I could not discern any
graciousness and humility. People would just fling accusations left and right without any evidence. They hide under aliases. It is disheartening
to realize that the kind and noble intentions of Ruben’s Villahanon Forum has been hijacked and mutilated by unprincipled individuals. It is
practically reeking with unimaginable evil.

      We will self-destruct if we don’t wake up from our psychosis. Hurling accusations while hiding under aliases and fictitious names are
symptomatic of a sick society, a society of political, cultural, and civic misfits. We have to wrench ourselves from the old ways of doing things.
We cannot continue to be hating each other without letup. We will explode with our unflinching hatred at our fellow Villahanons.


        It is critical that we transcend our myopic and tongao-like perceptions of our roles in our municipality, in how we confront the challenges
facing Villa, the entire Philippine society, and the world. Our almost deliberate inability to do this is what makes unlovable.

        Even then, we continue with our mantra: “We love Villa! We hate Villa! We love Villa….” And if we are believers in the Peruvian Saint,
Santa Rosa de Lima, and all the other saints whose sainthoods are being celebrated by all Villahanons in our 38 barangays and by their
associations in Metro Manila, there is no doubt that love will triumph, that good will vanquish evil and hatred.

        I end this labor of love with some lines from the Ecclesiastes:

        “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
        A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak,
        A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.”

        And from Desiderata:

        “Do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
        Many fears are borne of fatigue and loneliness.
        With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.”

Editor’s Note: When I requested Mano Cesar to contribute an article, I was thinking that busy as he is, he would only come out with a one-page
or two-page piece that he can finish in one setting. When he called me and asked how long his article might be, I told him that it should be 5
to 6 pages. I was wondering what was taking him so long. It turned out that he has decided to write about the Villahanons covering a period


40           Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul
Villahanon coffee table book
Villahanon coffee table book
Villahanon coffee table book
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Villahanon coffee table book
Villahanon coffee table book
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Villahanon coffee table book
Villahanon coffee table book
Villahanon coffee table book
Villahanon coffee table book
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Villahanon coffee table book

  • 1. Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul 1
  • 2. Dedication In memory of my father Ignacio Jumadiao-Camilon a Leyteño with a Villahanon heart, who taught me to believe in the potential of Villareal for progress and in the innate gift of every Villahanon to work together for a common cause and to my fellow Villahanons who have kept the hope and selflessly paid forward. 2 Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul
  • 3. Table of Contents Prologue p.5 Ano It Villa Ha Akon pp.6-7 Simplicio Solis I Love Villa! pp.9-10 Pureza E. Amatosa Villareal: The Land of My Birth pp.12-13 (A Tribute) Quintina Gelera-Cabuenos Public Service, the Villahanon Way pp.15-17 City Prosecutor Ruperto Bardaje Golong Golden Memories of My School pp.18-19 Gertrudes Seludo Llarenas-Ragub The Villa In My Mind pp.20-21 Maricon Gelera Latoja Villahanons in the Land of the Midnight Sun pp.22-26 Ruben Gerardo Villa-Half a Century and More of Remembrances pp.27-41 Cesar Torres Villareal, Forever My Home pp.44-45 Terry S. Wickstrom Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul 3
  • 4. Villahanons in Canada: Meeting the Challenges in Their Adopted Country pp.46-49 Dr. Quirino Agote Ragub A Glimpse of My Hometown pp.50-53 Marlon Clint Solis-Camilon Dream Catching in Villareal pp.54-57 Marivel Camilon-Sacendoncillo Acknowledgement 4 Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul
  • 5. Prologue A Window to the Villahanon’s Soul is a tribute to Villareal, a town in Samar I, and many others, call home. It also celebrates the spirit and values of those who trace their roots to Villa and with pride refer to themselves as Villahanons. This collection of poetry, prose and essays gives us an insight into the heart and mind of a diaspora of Villahanons, presenting a palette of their stories, reflections and experiences. It speaks of their love for their hometown and the values that are common to them- love for family, value for education, affinity with nature, a deep sense of community and an openness to share with each other. A Window to the Villahanon’s Soul also tells of heartwarming stories of the Villahanons’ capacity to seize opportunities for a common good, to endure and emerge victorious from difficult times and to revel in life’s blessings. It gives us a perspective of how the legacy of our ancestors provides us the motivation to embrace life and make the most of what it brings. I saw the first rays of the sun in Tunga, Leyte and not in “ The greatest glory in living lies not in never Villareal. Yet Villa, as we fondly call our hometown, is failing but rising every time we fall.” home to me. It was here where I grew up and was Nelson Mandela nurtured by people who loved me beyond words. My heart is a Villahanon in every way. After a long and at times arduous journey, I find myself longing for the rest and comfort that only Villa can give, a longing for the very place and the people I call my own. Here are stories that testify to the steadfast, generous, vibrant and resilient spirit that is unmistakably Villahanon. May the lives shared in this book inspire every Villahanon and countless others to trace your own roots and take pride in where you come from. Marivel Gelera Camilon- Sacendoncillo Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul 5
  • 6. ANO IT VILLA HA AKON Simplicio Solis May gin mamahal ko nga usa nga bungto May ada mga bus para Catbalogan Tacloban Bungto Villareal nga natawhan ko May dako nga motorboat para kadagatan Katundan han Samar an iya hinmotangan May ada ha Manila mga pansarakyan “Real village” ha English, matahum nga ngaran Kanan taga Villa gintatag-iyahan. Igin paparayaw ko it Villa ha iyo Para ha Manila di kana magkokori May naturalisa nga kinaiya hine nga ak bungto Kay kada semana it ira biyahe May ada panayoran higluag nga taramnan Lunes ug Huybes, Miyerkoles ug Sabado Hiluag nga kadagatan hora hin kaisdaan. Di ka na magkokori, barato pa it pasahi. May ada kahagnaan nga it Villa ginpalibutan Hingangandayan ko naman parte pag aradman May mga hagna ha timogan ug dapit sinirangan May gobierno ug pribado, High School nga kakadtuan May ada ha amihanan sugad man ha katundan May Barangay High Schools kumpleto hin kagamitan Taramnan hiya hin mga homay kanan parag-uma kahuraan Waray nagud iiliwon hit mga nag aaram. Ako naglalaum it Villa ma asenso May mga produkto hin mga liburan Dire mapaorhi hit iba nga bungto Mga professionals nga mga bantugan Kay hi Mayor boy Latorre buhatan maduruto Mga ahensiya han gobierno, pribado ginpangaptan Buotan ug tangkud hit iya serbisyo. Higtaas nga posisyon, hira gintaporan. 6 Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul
  • 7. Idinadasig ko ine nga ak bungto Kay nagkakaurosa mga taghimongto Waray mga krimen pagperde hin tawo Kay an panuyo gudla bungto umasenso. Yana nga panahon it Villa tikadto Pag-gios, paguswag hin ka progresibo Hi Mayor Latorre may ada proyekto Bayanihan nga kalsada hiya’n nagmangulo. Ine nga kalsada tikadto ha Kasang-an Gin ngaranan ine “Kalsada Bayanihan” Mga taghimunghto pati baryo Gin buburubligan ine para la mahimo. Mga Villahanon ha iba nga nasyon Dagko nga kantidad an ira donasyon Kay ira panuyo kalsada humanon Para masayon na it at transportasyon. Bungto Villareal hi ikaw palaran An mga anak mo di ka ginpabay-an Ha mga kasakit pati kakurian Ngatanan burublig imo katalwasan. An naturalisa ug kinaiya han bungto hit Villa Puros ginpulsan in nga mga grasya Hatag han Makagarahum pati ni Santa Rosa Hiya man an amon Patrona ha Villa Kami nagdadayaw an mga Villahanon Kan Santa Rosa gugma ug bulig ha amon Kadam-an nga grasya amon nakarawat Salamat, Santa Rosa, Salamat! Salamat! The Author is a retired Head Teacher of the Bureau of Public Schools (now Department of Education) after 40 years of government service. After retirement, he ran for public office and won a seat in the Municipal Council, Villareal, Samar for three (3) consecutive terms (1992- 2001). He is also a 4th Degree member of the Knights of columbus, Villareal Council 5847. Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul 7
  • 8. 8 Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul
  • 9. I Love Villa! Pureza E. Amatosa I love Villa, the title of the favorite song of the Villareal II Central Teachers’ Choir of which I am a member. Yes, I love Villa. Not only because it’s my hometown but because it’s where I spent the most precious moments of my life- my grade and high school days, my colorful married life and my successful career as a teacher. Villa has a unique geographical formation. It is divided into two parts; the higher level which we call Tayud and the lower level which is known as Hawud. There are four long concrete stairways as means of access going to the church and residential houses of Villahanons who chose to settle there. Thanks to our ancestors who made climbing up an easy task. We have no beautiful beaches like those in Palawan and Boracay but our townsfolk content themselves in having picnics in the wharf, Puro or Dukdukon just to have a cool and refreshing dive especially when tides are very high during summer. Villa stands out from the many places I had been to. Its people are very religious and peace-loving. It is also free from danger unlike in other places. Villa is a place where people have good hearts. They don’t harbor ill feelings except for a few who find it hard to forgive their political enemies. To Christians, there are no permanent enemies, only forgiveness after any conflict. Our most popular business is chika-chika (story telling) and tsismis (gossip) but nothing to worry because it does not do any harm. Life is not hard here in Villa as our place is rich in natural resources especially the seas. One time a foreigner came to our place and was surprised to see on our table big laid shrimps, crabs, lobsters, mud crab weighing more than a kilo, seashells, squid and a big fish cooked with sauce. He exclaimed, “This is a rich person’s diet!” As I reminisce the past, I could still feel the joy when my friends and I would go to the seashore to gather seashells. Our seas abound with seaweeds like lato and dahunan. During those times especially during low tides (masyado hin kahalapad han hubas) we have to wade a few meters away from the poblacion. When we arrived home there were already boiled potatoes, cassava or bananas waiting on the table to be eaten with the seashells. To us, this was already a satisfying meal with almost no expense at all. Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul 9
  • 10. In the past, our shores would teem with people young and old alike. At present, most of the young people don’t bother to go to the shores anymore. One admirable trait of the Villahanons is the value we give to education. Parents work hard to be able to send their children to school. Even families who have less in life try their best to send their children to college to earn a degree. Villareal is one of the towns that has the most number of professionals including priests. Seldom can you find a home without a teacher or a degree holder. Parents of Villahanon families believe that children are their stronghold when they grow old. Part of our tradition is for the eldest child to finish school and once she or he lands in a job, she/he sends a sibling to college, and the next child is expected to do the same. There is a succession of responsibility down to the youngest child. Most often unmarried children also send their nephews and nieces to school. Even grandparents help support the education of their grandchildren especially when their parents have more kids that they are incapable of sending to school. Villahanons love to celebrate birthdays, weddings, death anniversaries, and the feast of saints. I have nothing against our fondness for celebrations, lest I be misunderstood. But to us who are average income earners, it is wise to consider how we can refrain from lavish spending. Usually our savings for a number of days are spent just in one setting. Do you notice that our table is full of foods rich in cholesterol and carbohydrates like suman, iraid, puto, kutsinta, latik and other delicacies like torta, decana, curioso etc. Due to the abundance of seafood, and all kinds of carbohydrates, it’s not surprising why our people, young and old alike are sick with hypertension, arthritis and diabetes. . Hospitality is a beautiful trait which we should cultivate, cherish and be proud of. We Villahanons are known to be hospitable which makes us different from our neighboring towns. A cordial welcome, a simple meal and a warm bed are enough to make a visitor who has nowhere to go feel at home. Villahanons celebrate family reunions as well as rekindling friendships and fellowship. In these occasions lechon is the main menu. Whatever is the mode of the celebration, this serves as a catalyst of unity and harmony within the family and among Villahanons as well. For these, I love Villa and all it stands for. The Author is a retired elementary teacher who devoted the best part of her life in molding the youth of Villareal. Her zeal for touching lives has continued by way of showing the path to a good spiritual life through catholism. She is married to Bonifacio Amatosa, a retired employee of the Municipal Trial Court. 10 Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul
  • 11. Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul 11
  • 12. Villareal: The Land of My Birth (A Tribute) Quintina Gelera-Cabuenos For its rolling hills and verdant plains All through the years our food it sustains For its beautiful islands, rivers, beaches and streams Teeming with fishes, crabs, shells and shrimps. We also have lato and dahunan Seaweeds eaten best with rootcrops from the farm It abounds around the islands, beaches and palms. Best of all it can be told Villa has people with hearts of gold Hospitable, kind and respectful Extending helping hands to all who are in need To ease the sorrows and pains as much as they can give. Thank you Lord for your concern We praise You Lord, Holy be Your Name! Those who tasted failures and frustrations Behind them stand strong people of the town Holding hand to support them and share Troubles and sorrows because they care. If not for Villa, life wont be the same I wouldn’t surely reach the apex of my dreams And life today wouldn’t be free of troubles But because of Villa its contentment and leisure. 12 Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul
  • 13. In my twilight years if you will ask me Where I will spend the rest of my days, No way, it’s still Villa I will prefer Sans riches and affluence it can claim But Villa has more to give than fame It offers an atmosphere of security Emotional stability and harmony with the Lord So I can proudly shout to say Villa is my home, a home sweet home, For here my heart is at rest. The author is a retired District Supervisor of Villareal and served as the First Lady of Villareal for 20 years. She is an epitome of genuine service to people. She is married to Former Mayor Augusto Cabueños, the longest serving Mayor of Villareal. Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul 13
  • 14. 14 Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul
  • 15. Public Service, the Villahanon Way City Prosecutor Ruperto Bardaje Golong “Twenty years from now, you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do, than by the ones you did do. So throw away the bowlines, Sail away from the safe harbors, Catch the trade winds in your sails, Explore, dream, discover-” Mark Twain These immortal lines from Mark Twain present a vivid picture of my life and ushered me to where I am now. After graduating at the top of our class at the Leyte Normal School, now the Leyte Normal University, with the degree of Bachelor of Science in Elementary Education (BSEED) in March 1971, I was invited to teach at the Sacred Heart School (English Department) and stayed thereat for three (3) years. The following year I taught at the Villareal Elementary School, particularly at Brgy. Lam-awan. After a year and a half of teaching in a barrio school, I reassessed my priorities and decided on a new career-path. I moved back to Tacloban City and joined the Commission on Population Regional Office VIII under the leadership of Leo Rama, Regional Director, as Supply Officer IV . While working at POPCOM, I decided to fulfill my childhood dream of becoming a lawyer. In June 1977, I enrolled at the Leyte Colleges, College of Law and completed a law degree, cum laude in March 1981. While studying to be a lawyer, I moved from POPCOM to the Ministry of Human Settlements as Project Officer II. After four years, I moved to the Regional Command 8, to take up a civilian employment as a Research Analyst. In November 1981, the same year I graduated from the College of Law, I took the Bar Exam and fortunately passed it. Immediately after I took my oath as a lawyer, I opened a law office in Tacloban City with the Dean Jose Cusi, Dean of the Leyte Colleges, College of Law as my partner. Law practice was not that lucrative at the start so I accepted a teaching job at the Leyte Colleges, College of Law where I was designated as Asst. Dean, College of Law. After the EDSA Revolution in 1986 the career service opened a lot of opportunities for lawyers in the country. Judges, Prosecutors and heads of government offices were asked to tender their courtesy resignations to pave the way for new appointees of the Aquino administration. I was among the first appointee as City Prosecutor of Ormoc City, an appointment made possible through the efforts of Cirilo “Roy” Montejo, then Civil Service Commissioner and later Congressman of the 1st District of Leyte. In September 1991, when the position of City Prosecutor of Tacloban was vacated with the promotion of City Prosecutor Francisco Aurillo Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul 15
  • 16. Jr. as Regional State Prosecutor, I was appointed City Prosecutor of Tacloban City, a position I hold up to the present. To prepare myself for other job opportunities both in government and the private sector, I obtained a Master Degree in Public Management at the University of the Philippines, Tacloban College and a Ph. D. in Management at the International Academy of Management and Economics (IAME) in Makati City. My modest accomplishment in government service is a product of Divine intervention, persistence, hard work, good public relations and a lot of inspiration from my parents MR. & MRS. RUPERTO GOLONG, SR., my ever loving wife MRS. Daniela Kempis Golong, my children, Carl Jeffrey, Joanne (General Manager, SOMERSET Makati, an international chain of hotels) and Jason, my brother and sisters, my teachers, classmates at the Villareal Elementary School batch 1963 and at the Holy Name Academy High School batch 1967. Among my classmates who did very well are Susan Latorre Belez, Tito N. Geli, Jose B. Romano and Carol Conise Mendiola- all successful entrepreneurs based in Manila, Ramon Castillano, a trading mogul based at Villareal, Samar, Teddy Varela, a Senior Officer at GSIS, Manila, Oscar Mendoza a State Auditor assigned at the Post Office, Manila, Oscar Ricalde, a Mall Supervisor based in Guam, Milagros Isaac, a businesswoman based in the USA,Belen Enverzo Nagpacan, Corazon Fabilane Gilbuena, Ofelia Geli de los Reyes, Letecia Golong Araza, all Master Teachers of the Departmentof Education. I believe that whatever we have in this world are but fleeting fancies. But a good name will always stand the test of times. Allow me to share one of the guideposts in my life, the words of the famous poet Horacio Alger: 16 Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul
  • 17. If I Would Have My Name Endure, I’ll Write It In The Hearts of Men By Horacio Alger I write my name upon the sand, And trusted it would stand for age; But soon, alas, the refluent sea, Had washed my feeble lines away. I carved my name upon the wood And after years returned again, I missed the shadow of the tree, That stretched of old upon the plain. To solid marble next my name, I gave as perpetual trust; An earthquake sent it to its base, And now it lies overlaid with dust. All these have failed- In wiser mood I turn and ask myself, What then, if I would have my name endure, I’ll write it in the hearts of men. The author is Atty. Ruperto B. Golong, Jr., City Prosecutor of Tacloban City, a law professor, a management consultant and guest lecturer at the University of the Philippines-Tacloban College and Leyte Normal University. Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul 17
  • 18. It was my home away from home, my initiation to formal education. A nostalgic trip Golden Memories of My School down memory lane, of wistful images of great years gone by – this is what it’s like to By Gertrudes Seludo Llarenas-Ragub remember my days at Villareal Elementary School. Considered the primary university of Villareal, it has produced many notable and successful Villahanons. Its portals hold precious and unforgettable memories that remain in the hearts of its alumni. For the young Villahanons today who never had the privilege of witnessing the glory days of Villareal Elementary School, allow me to share some fond recollections. The School’s physical structure was different back then, for there were not a lot of buildings. There was the Azanza Building where most intermediate grades were located, the Gabaldon (concrete) Building, the Home Economics Building that housed a busy playground at recess time, the Shop Building, the old building near the acacia tree and a makeshift PTA building. I still recall that some classes were held in rented private homes within the community to make mobilized to bring sand and gravel everyday when we come to school. There were even some up for the lack of classrooms. afternoons when, instead of cutting the grass in our assigned section in the wide school plaza, our entire school population was mobilized to gather sand and gravel. A minimum The School’s main entrance was made of number of three trips to gather sand and gravel was required and trips beyond that quota were concrete and covered with climbing vines of rewarded with lavish praises or candy treats from our teachers. garlic-scented violet flowers. The pathway from the main entrance to the Azanza Our favorite spot for getting sand and gravel was the seashore just across the old Holy Name building was unpaved, and most of the Academy. There was a time when Apoy Ninay Nunez, the old lady guarding that part of the teachers were reluctant to wear their high- seashore, would drive us away. In fear, we would all scamper in various directions, sometimes heeled shoes for fear it might get stuck in even leaving behind our baskets full of sand and gravel. There was no pantalan(wharf) that the mud. To ease this problem, a pathway- time, and the only house closest to the seashore was the that of ‘Tay Benok Castillano. That cementing project was undertaken. We were part of the seashore then was the nearest beach resort of Villa. During high tide months, 18 Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul
  • 19. to gather some firewood for roasting the pig. We knew that after the guests had eaten, ‘Nay Meming will surely spot us. True enough, she would almost always see us and invite us to have some of the leftovers. Villareal Elementary School had a wide plaza, which was usually used to host municipal and regional athletic meets. Preparations for hosting these meets would involve the whole school as well as the entire Villa community. In charge of the ground preparation was my father (Ponciano Dalwatan Llarenas) and ‘Tiyo Tonying (Antonino Varela, Sr.). Pupils were made to bring woven lara (coconut leaves) and bamboos to be made into temporary kitchens and bathrooms. Teachers were made to bring beds and beddings for the visiting delegations. Villahanons eagerly awaited these athletic events as delegations from Marabut, Basey 1, Basey 2, Sta. Rita and the host delegations from Villa compete in what was usually a weeklong sports extravaganza. The event would open with a grand parade followed by a welcome dance in the evening for the teachers and heads of delegation. The event was meant not only to showcase the athletic prowess of the competing especially in May, young and old Villahanons would take a dip delegations, but also to feature their academic and artistic talents during in the water to cool themselves off from the hot summer days. the Literary Musical Night. Announcement of early dismissals by the school principal never School operettas were held annually. Preparations start as early as January ceased to make us jump with joy! For the more adventurous and the directors and choreographers, ‘Nay Corazon (Corazon Dasmarinas- pupils, this spare time was used to pick some guavas in nearby Seludo and Mana Tados (Teodosia Geli-Figueroa), selected lead casts and Kalubi-an, just behind the Azanza building; others would walk to all other participants. Some of these unforgettable operettas were Cinderella, Arado until they reach Manggarit, where there were more guavas Sleeping Beauty, and Beauty and the Beast. The operettas were usually to harvest. The pupils who stayed behind, on the other hand, staged at the end of the school year and had become such a treat to would either play in the plaza or play jack stone using a marble Villahanons. ball in the shiny, cemented hallway of the concrete building. This was the Villareal Elementary School of my childhood years. So much Whenever the school has guests, food preparations were done has changed since and many years have passed, yet the fond and golden at the Home Economics Building by ‘Nay Meming (Clemencia memories linger, forever etched in my Villahanon heart and mind. Geli-Ricalde) and Tiya Choling (Melchora Dasmarinas-Realino). They would usually ask the help of some students, and the four inseparables-Zabeth Gelera, Elma Garcia, Eve Garcia and myself- were always hoping that Tiya Choling would choose to call on us for help. Sadly, she always selected other pupils. The author is the daughter of the late Ponciano Dalwatan Llarenas and Disappointed but determined to help, the four of us would linger Socorro Dasmarinas Seludo-Llarenas. She was a former teacher at the Villareal Elementary School. She is married to a fellow Villahanon, Dr. around the Home Economics Building. It was during these times Quirino Agote Ragub and they are now happily settled in Ottawa, that Mano Cadio (Leocadio Figueroa) would see us and send us Canada with their two sons, Bap and GR. Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul 19
  • 20. The Villa In My Mind By Maricon Gelera Latoja Mention Villa and this image unfailingly comes to mind: the concrete steps leading to the uphill area where the Church is located. At the age of three (3), those steps were my “stairway to heaven.” Climbing those steps was long, tiring and precarious, hence caution was necessary. A wrong slip and one could end up with a broken ankle or dislocated hip, worse, a head injury. So climb we did carefully. Little did I know then that those steps would make for a great metaphor: climbing it is similar to overcoming the challenges that accompany the desire for a successful life in the city, and the concrete of which it is made of is akin to the sense of attachment I will always have for Villa. I come from a generation of Villahanons who grew up for the most part in Manila – I breathed city air, fed on urban values and paid the price to ride the vehicle of modern dreams. Like most of my contemporaries, I carried the torch of hope my parents passed on to me. I was raised on the conviction that education is a passport to the good life, and that perseverance and honest work could actually lead you to a life far greater than what Villa could ever offer. I went to private schools that cost far too much than what my parents were making in terms of income. But my Nanay was adamant - to her, a good education was the only gift she could give me to ensure my future. The pressure to do well academically became a measure of the potential to succeed, so my school age years revolved only around two areas: home and school. Social interaction was limited to playing with friends, cousins and relatives who come over from Villa to spend a week or two in our house. Life in the metropolis is probably too seductive to resist that very few bother to think about the costs involved – the dislocation, the adjustments, and all the expenses that go with trying to have a life within the city’s modern standards. Manila life was 20 Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul
  • 21. very fast paced, but our family adjusted to the urban sense of time. And in the process of imbibing urban values, some things that were particular to being a Villahanon began to erode. In my case, these were language and family ties. Because our family is Manila-based, the first thing to slowly cave in was my facility with the Waray dialect. I grew up speaking mostly Tagalog at home, and English at school and at work. When I was young, Waray was spoken only by adults and was reserved for serious conversations. Although I can still perfectly understand Waray, I cannot write in it and my grasp of Waray words has diminished significantly through the years. I can still speak it (mostly just to my Nanay) but not with the same level of comfort and confidence as I had when I was a kid. Now, I can only stare in wonder while Lola Eca (my grandmother) and Ate Baby (my cousin) talk animatedly in Waray, complete with hand gestures, about the recent and juiciest topics involving our Villa-based relatives. It’s like a movie that I could only watch but no longer be a part of. The other major change exacted by city living was the ties with close family members and relatives, which got looser as most of them were herded to foreign lands. Economic and practical reasons had taken precedence over the need for proximity and family togetherness. Hence, my father chose New Jersey, Rodney chose Saudi Arabia, Regina chose United Arab Emirates, and other relatives chose either Norway, Canada or different parts of the United States. The irregular flow of emails, the infrequent rain of text messages, the once-in-a-blue-moon phone calls and the ten-minute Internet-based chats have now replaced birthdays and other special occasions celebrated in their company. Despite these changes, my affinity with Villa stays strong. Like those concrete steps, it remains intact even if it may have been weathered by time. I have been to a number of great places yet there are memories, texture and tastes, which are distinctly Villa. And I connect them all to persons close to my heart. I can tell from a plateful of samples which de caña, torta or moron is made by my Lola Eca. And there is absolutely no one who can rival the way I cherish the memory of my Lolo Ladis – my maternal grandfather, my first teacher, my Superman. Like other Villahanons, I dream of a prosperous Villa. I dream of a Villareal that can show the rest of the Philippines so much more than the concrete steps leading to the Church area – a place whose provincial road doesn’t turn into a swamp during the rainy months, a sensibly and efficiently governed municipality with rising household incomes, where trade is active and local industry activities are flourishing, a hometown with infrastructures in place to make it a worthy tourist destination. I am a Villahanon. Like my contemporaries, I am part of the giant answer to the challenge of developing my hometown, of adding to the number of concrete steps that will eventually and proudly put Villa on the Philippine map. I am a Villahanon and I will do my share in making Villa a place that will proudly be ready for the next generation. The author is the eldest daughter of Francisco Bermejo Latoja and Elizabeth Brillante Gelera. She is an assistant professorial lecturer at De La Salle Unviersity Manila, and a research writer-editor at DLSU Angelo King Institute. She is the favorite grandchild of (the late) Ladislao Gelera and is set to inherit all the recipes of her grandmother, Veronica Gelera. Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul 21
  • 22. Villahanons in the Land of the Midnight Sun By Ruben Gerardo We would never have left our hometown had it not been for the sake of pursuing our education. The search for greener pastures led us to a far away place. We left behind our loved ones, use up all our meager savings in the hope that a new country will give us something more – better lives than what the country we came from can offer. And so goodbyes were said, tears shed, promises made, including the promise to never, never forget our beloved hometown of Villa. But the Promised Land was not to be. We had to deal with a different language, culture, environment and ways strange to the one we love and know by heart. We struggled hard to fit into a new culture, understand its nuances, and grow accustomed to the norms of its people. We searched for new friends and tried to win their respect. We struggled to establish ourselves and build new lives. As we adapted to the norms of our new country, we found ourselves in situations where we have to put our Filipino values aside. We charted our lives’ new directions. We got married and raised our children. The family responsibilities became our priority, and soon after, the promises we kept to ourselves are but a memory away. For us who ended up in the land of the Vikings, in the land of the midnight sun, life has been more comfortable, treated as we were to the Social Democratic way of life that offers an equal distribution of wealth among its constituents. Migrants have equal rights to education and health care. Working condition is in accordance with the existing labour law. And hunger caused by poverty is unheard of. Scandinavia, particularly Norway, is a beautiful country. It boasts of spectacular fauna and flora, especially during summertime when trees are green and flowers are in full bloom. This is also where you could experience the midnight sun and the northern light (aurora borealis). Travelling up to the north of Norway is amazing with its splendid mountains and landscapes. The Norwegian coast with its famous pink salmon also offers memorable summertime adventures. Autumn reflects the beauty of gold (autumn leaves), and winter makes this country a perfect area for skiing. 22 Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul
  • 23. It is not simple to acquire a management position in a Norwegian company. First, you must be fluent in the Norwegian language, both written and spoken. Secondly, a University degree acquired in Asia is not recognized in Norway. One needs one or two years at the Norwegian University to validate the acceptance of one’s education. It requires a lot of will and perseverance to attend night classes to learn the Norwegian language amidst holding a daytime job. In the early 1970s, there were only a handful of Filipinos in Norway. They were Pampaguenos, Ilocanos, Tagalogs and the Visayans, represented mostly by the Villahanons. Most of the Filipinos worked as seafarers and nurses. The population, however, increased in the later years when the families of early immigrants decided to move to Norway. By then, a Filipino association called Filipino Community in Norway was organised, funded by the Norwegian government to protect the rights and look after the welfare of Filipinos in Norway. Within a few years of existence of the Filipino Community in Norway, I was convinced to run for president of the organization. In spite being considered a dark horse from the line-up, I won by a landslide. I was blessed to have been President for three consecutive terms. When I was first elected, it was the time when issues of racial discrimination and mail-order-brides landed on the pages of Norwegian newspapers. In response to these issues, we ratified the Constitution of the Filipino Community in Norway, authored by the late Romulo Gerardo. At present, I am actively engaged in defending human rights through the Filipino Resource Center in Oslo, Norway. A fellow Villahanon in Scandinavia who made his mark in Denmark is Jorge Abainza who became the President of the Filipino Association in Denmark. His sisters Luz and Amelia were active in PUGAD, (People Uniting and Generating Aid for Development); a Danish (NGO) non- governmental organization focused on helping third world countries. Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul 23
  • 24. Filipinos in Scandinavia hold a good reputation as managers, entrepreneurs and workers. Some are employed managers and department heads of Norwegian firms while others were elected leaders of local labour union. • Mr. Tobias Varela Sr., a Villahanon, served as the Treasurer of The Filipino Community in Norway. • The late Romulo Gerardo, a Villahanon, was the founder of the first Filipino radio in Europe, the Radio Pinoy in Norway, partly funded by the local labour union. • Mrs. Juliana Uy Pedersen, a Villahanon, served a term as the President of the Filipino Adopted Sons and Daughters of Norway. She established the first Filipino Youth ClubHouse in Oslo, financed by the Norwegian local government. • Mr. Gerardo Ma. ‘Kin’ Gerardo (son of the late Romulo Gerardo) manages the Cosmopolite Jazz Club in Norway. • Mr. Roseller Gerardo and Mr. Ramses Gerardo are managing their own Automotive Tire business with Filipino employees. 24 Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul
  • 25. Mr. Paul Romano is assigned to Africa at the Norwegian Consular Office. • Mrs. Consuelo A. Gerardo is a Department Head at Rødtvet Sykehjem (Hospital for the Aged) in Oslo.Mrs. Ellie P. Gerardo is a Corporate Accountant at the Scandinavian Airlines Systems, Accounting Services Norway. Among the second generation with Villahanon roots, Ms. Meena Gerardo Vij (daughter of Rosalia Gerardo Vij) is serving as a Senior Project Manager at British Telecom in England. • Ms. Meera Gerardo Vij (also a daughter of Rosalia) is a British Barrister (Lawyer), worked at the main office of the European Union in Brussels and is now back in London working in a British Law Office. • Mr. John Lester Gerardo recently acquired his Masters Degree in Information Technology at the University in Oslo and was offered an employment at a Norwegian IT company as Project Supervisor. • Miss Miriam Catherine Gerardo earned her Bachelors Degree in Business Administration at the Oslo School of Management last year and decided to travel to South America (including Peru, Lima) before seeking employment. We have also senior citizens in Norway and among the Villahanons, Mr. & Mrs. Tobias Varela were the first to enjoy these rights. Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul 25
  • 26. The Villahanon population in Norway is increasing with one hundred and fifty individuals with roots from Villareal. Most of them are the grand children and the great grand children of the late Regulo Gerardo and Mrs. Rosario Gerardo. Other families adding up to the increasing population of Villahanons in Norway are the Varela’s, Pedersen’s, Abrigo’s, Geli’s and Aringay’s. In Denmark, the Abainza’s, Gerardo’s, Abrigo-Toustrup, and Gutierrez are the growing population among the Villahanons while Sweden has the Amistoso’s, Sacendoncillo’s , Abainza’s and Dasmarinas. Far from our hometown, we also celebrate our Fiesta Villahanon in Norway every last Saturday of August. Our venue is usually the beautiful Norwegian Woods, which reminds us of Manggarit or Losong where we would prepare our local lechon and dance the Curaccha throughout the day. This celebration is a testament of the love of Villahanons in Norway for our hometown and for our patron Saint St. Rosa of Lima. But behind these celebrations lurk our sadness, our longing and our dream to be in Villa once again and be a part of the struggle of the Villahanons’ for a better society. There is an ache in our hearts to give back and be of value to a community we will always belong to, in spite the distance. Our heart bleeds when lives of innocent people in Villa are put to waste, when their rights are thwarted, and when there seems to be no hope for a better future for the generation. We feel sad to hear the agony of the farmers, fisher folks and schoolteachers in their difficulty to send their children to school. We are angered when the governmental infrastructure projects, which can contribute to the economic stability of our town and people, are purposely neglected. Yet we are hopeful. And as we, Villahanons from the Land of the Midnight Sun, return one day, we shall know and say that indeed we have come home and there is no other place better. Even if we fear that our great grandchildren, the new generation of Villahanon Vikings, might not have a connection with Villareal, we will always keep Villa in our hearts. We shall keep the promise we made. The author is one of the pioneers of the Coca-Cola Bottlers in Norway. He started as a Business Operations Analyst at Coca-Cola Beverages and moved on to being its Account Manager for Logistics at Coca-Cola Drikker A/S. He was later appointed Business Analyst for the Coca-Cola Nordic Beverages covering Denmark, Sweden, Norway, Finland, Iceland and the Baltic Countries. He now heads the Logistics Resource Corp. in Norway as its CEO. 26 Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul
  • 27. Villa ~ Half a Century and More of Remembrances By Cesar Torres* The expression: “Everyone needs a hometown to love or to hate…” seems to apply to the Villahanons. I am not really sure where I got this. Perhaps, it was an original idea by Samar’s Poet Laureate, Aniceto Llaneta, a classmate in Samar High. When the late Postal Regional Director Andres Cabueños was Editor-in-Chief of “An Lamrag” and Secretary of the Province of Samar, Aniceto and some of our classmates would cut classes to listen to him as a convocation speaker in Catbalogan schools. Those were simple days when we were innocent. We love the written word and admire brainy people. Perhaps, Aniceto got the expression from somewhere else. But to me, the important thing is that this expression somehow captures the sentiments of the Villahanons with respect to their hometown, Villareal, Samar, the only town in the Philippines which has an endearing nickname, Villa. In some Villahanon souvenir publication honoring the Peruvian Saint, the Santa Rosa de Lima, I recall writing about the “dualism” inherent in that expression.”’To love or to hate…’ This is the moral dilemma of mankind. It symbolizes the synthesis of opposites. The dualism immanent in the universe – of beauty and ugliness, of purity and corruption, of heaven and earth.’ We love Villa! We hate Villa! We love Villa… It is like a mantra of the Hindu mystics. The emotional force of this contradiction seems to enchain us to Villa. The bond is stronger than steel. After all, it is forged with every drop of our blood, every beat of our hearts. Thus, even if we are in Singapore, Tokyo, Hongkong, Canada, Norway, or someplace in Europe, in America, in the Middle East, in Australia, Brunei, and other parts of the world, or sailing the high seas as lonely mariners, our thoughts are never far from our hometown. For some of us who are away from the homeland and whose lives seem to be trailing the sinking sun beyond the western shores of Maqueda Bay, frequent are the times when our minds wonder to those bygone days. Detailed clarity might be blurring but the general outlines are still lingering in our failing memories. A hometown is where the heart is. It is not necessarily the place where one first saw the light of day, like me. I was born in Silanga, Catbalogan, Samar, a rich fishing ground many, many years ago. But it is in Villa where my memories are rooted more intensely. Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul 27
  • 28. What are some of these memories? Having been born in the Second World War, as a child, I saw Japanese soldiers in Sigad in full uniform carrying guns with their helmets adorned with twigs that had still green leaves on them. They appeared to be crouching, crawling, then lying flat on the grass with their guns pointed at something. I think there were three of them. Nadulhog kami from our farm in Lam-awan to the bongto, the poblacion, at that time. During the war and the Japanese occupation of the Philippines, I think we stayed mostly in our farm in Lam-awan. But even there, I have vague memories of my grandfather, Apoy Amboy (Pablo Ranera), and my aunts and uncles, the entire family, climbing the hills breathing hard, almost gasping. They were escaping from something or someone. One time, we hurriedly went to a shelter hidden in a bamboo grove, mga kawayan, which were growing on both sides of the stream. No one would suspect that there was a shelter deep in the heart of the kawayan grove. Of course, I did not know why those things were happening to us. But I remember, we would do this every time we would hear the frantic banging of the “talutang”, that bamboo instrument used to warn people that danger is imminent. It must have been “Liberation”. I remember there were so many people harvesting rice in our “hagna”. Suddenly the skies were filled with airplanes, wave after wave after wave. Nobody told me why there were so many airplanes. We just looked up. I did not asked why there were so many airplanes either. After that, in the early evenings we would sit on our individual “banko”, and face Southeast, and turn our gaze beyond the mountains of Lam-awan. We could see lights streaming in the distant skies beyond the mountains. I learned later that they were tracer bullets. This was during the Battle of Leyte Gulf when the Americans had returned to the Philippines. I have vague memories after that. But I think we went to Tacloban aboard some boats. I remember passing by “Bangon”, and sucking on raw eggs. And in San Juanico Straits nearing Tacloban, there were warships, where I could see naked white men taking showers on the decks. I did not see an American soldier in Villa. But I remember all those delicious carne norte in long cans, courtesy of the American people. And the woolen blankets. Up to the time when I was in Samar High, we would still use those woolen American blankets, remnants of the American return to Samar. My first day in Grade One, at least, the first early morning, is still clear in my mind. I think together with my aunts and uncles who were going to school also, we hiked from Lama-awan to the poblacion. It was still dark when we arrived in the elementary school. We were made to assemble below that famous acacia tree where enkantados have been rumored to be in residence. There was community singing. I do not remember the song. My teacher in Grade One was probably the late Mana Anggay. 28 Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul
  • 29. Thereafter, life was a blur. We constructed a house in Tayod. But we still maintained our house in the “Uma”, the farm in Lam-awan. The poblacion was a sleepy town where you can hear the chirping of the crickets, ngiya-ngiya, even at noontime, and the romantic singing of the Villahanons especially in the early evenings when they were drinking tuba, men and women. When you walk the grassy streets, you might step on dog poo and pig’s leavings – the most “kadiri” to me especially when it happens to you when the ground was wet after a rain – and when you go to the laguertas which were green with guava plants, you cannot miss the colorful and rotting waste of many Villahanons. I don’t know how many had toilets at that time. There were some of us from Tayod who would go down to Hawod to relieve ourselves. Doing this between two big stones while gazing at the beauty of the starry night and conscious of the gentle swishing of the wavelets around you was almost a mystical experience. Unsanitary? Oh yes! But we were one with nature, a process of recycling especially when the fish would gobble them up which we then would catch and broil. Aaaarrrrgh!!! We were already in Tayod when I first heard the sound of a motor vehicle in Villa. It must have been stuck in that Bayanihan road. I don’t know if it arrived intact in the town. I recall also that we pupils in the elementary school had to bring one stone every day to the school, stones which we then deposited on the Bayanihan Road. We would go to the farm to plant rice, corn, camote or bilanghoy or gaway or harvest them. We would go to the farm to get firewood. We would roam the hills and the meadows stupidly trying to kill the defenseless birds with our slingshots. During summer when there was no drinking water, a group of us, boys and girls and our elders with long coconut tubes on our shoulders, we called them “salod”, would parade on the trails via the Sigad, to get drinking water. We would have been a sight during moonlight nights, six, ten boys and girls with long bamboo tubes on their shoulders, marching on the trails one after the other My family had no money. But I did see American coins, leftovers of the American occupation. So if we had no viand, and we are sick and tired of the salty hipon or shrimp paste of salted bahong, of kayod, and kisiyo, of bulad, we would troop to the seashore at low tide, during humbas, para mamangti, looking for seashells – sangpiyad, bukawel, karang karang, tikod hin daraga or just plain dahonan and lato. We would eat sangpiyad raw, we would get two of them, knock them on each other, and scoop out the sangpiyad flesh. One time, I stumbled on a binga. It was a happy day for my brother, Lope, and me and my family. Since many Villahanons were “cashless”, the adults would use their nets, sudsod, to catch fish, shrimps, crabs, crustaceans, and other Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul 29
  • 30. products of our sea. Having a tinola of sinudsuran is more delicious than the French “bouillabaisse”. For us youngsters, fishing, swimming, beachcombing, doing errands, going to church, to school, getting firewood, playing were integral parts of our lives. Our toys were were organic such as orokay which we used as tires when we were crafting cars and trucks. Except for the plastic heel of worn out shoes which we treasured for our games, our toys were all biodegradable. We played sato. We would go around the town from Tayod to Rawis to Kan Pia Otot (Barangay Villarosa), hitting that small stick with a long one, while our opponents would try to catch the short stick; and then running while holding our breaths. There was tatse, barobanyakay where we kicked bundled multicolored rubber bands, nirotigbasay during moonlight nights, rurumba (racing against each other whether in the school plaza or in the town streets in the afternoons, Virgilio Latorre was unbeatable), tago- tago-ay (hide and seek, I like it very much when the girls would join us especially during dark nights or even during moonlight nights provided there were dark nooks and hiding places). I think every Villahanon was a Roman Catholic at that time. So all Villahanons went to the Church of the Santa Rosa de Lima religiously. We listened patiently to masses said in Latin, which was of course weird because they were incomprehensible to us, even the “Ora Pronobis and the Pater Noster”. We confessed our sins and took communion. Then we sinned again, whatever they were. We studied cathecism in summer, especially in May. I was very good pupil. I even got a Pals Pomade as my reward. In May, we loved watching the girls in their white uniforms with flower garlands around their dainty heads and their blue sashes around their slim waists. We vowed to marry the pretty ones by eloping with them while riding on a white horse to Paradise. At 6:00 o’clock in the evening, the towering kampanaryo would chime with the bells. The kampanaryo which was probably constructed out of the slave labor of the Villahanons, the towering kampanaryo which had a panoramic view of Maqueda Bay to safeguard Catholic Villa from the onslaughts of the Warriors who believe in Mohammed and the Sultanates of Sulu and Maguindanao. It was Angelus time. If we were on the streets, we would stop, make the sign of the cross, and hurry up to home. At home, after our simple supper, we would wash the dishes. And then we would gather around the living room, perhaps the sala for the likes of Mila Figueroa and Virgilio Latorre who were rich and had big houses. Since there were no radios, no TVs, no computers, we would listen to our elders tell stories to us, part of our oral tradition. Usually, the stories were about engkantos and aswangs. And then to provide more drama and legitimacy to the aswang stories, something would fly overhead making the sound of “Wak, wak, wak, wak.” So we had no doubt whatsoever that indeed there were Aswangs or Wakwaks. 30 Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul
  • 31. During summer the cycle was the farm, the sea, picnics, marking the nests of the birds, playing with our kites, fetching drinking water with our salod, getting firewood from the farms sometimes from the mangroves in Pangpang, rising early and going to bed early too. During Christmas, there were panarits, Christmas Carols, and lantern contests. Even in the farms, there were groups who would walk from one hill to another hill singing the panarits all night long. And on Christmas Day in the poblacion, the Child Jesus would be paraded around the town. A kiss and a ting-a-ling of the bells of the Sacristans would earn the Church P0.01. One centavo at that time could still buy you a butterball candy. There was some kind of a physical, cultural, economic, and political divide between Tayod and Hawod. There were “warfares”, “invasions” among the young warriors of Tayod and Hawod. The weapons were organic. Just bamboo guns with bullets carved from the roots of a tuber. There were haringas, water guns. Nobody died of course, like what is happening now between the soldiers and the NPAs and the MILF and the MNLF and the Abu Sayyaff. The world has become more civilized and more advanced. Since there was no radio, no TV, no movies, and many could not afford to go to Catbalogan to watch a movie, entertainment for special occasions such as the fiesta in August, was through a “Komedya”. The rehearsals were done on a site near the building of the Holy Name Academy. The usual theme was the classic confrontation between systems of belief represented by the Mujaheddins of Saladin and the Knights of Richard the III and the Crusaders (perhaps the mysterious Knights Templar), a confrontation that goes back to Granada in 1492 and which continues to unfold today and could sound the death knell of mankind. It seems this Villahanon Komedya was known far and wide. Visitors from the neighboring towns and as far away as Carigara in Leyte, would come in boatloads to watch the Villahanon Komedya, sell their wares, partake of humba and other delicious Villahanon preparations for the fiesta, imbibed on tuba and whisper sweet nothings to Villahanon lasses. And the Villahanon swains would do the same to lovely lasses from such neighboring towns as Zumarraga. The late Villahanon educator and icon, Ninang Maring Romano, told me that there would be hundreds of boats anchored from end to end on the Villa waterfont. The late Eduardo “Dadoy” Hilbano was a towering figure in this art form. While there was scarcity – having scrambled eggs seasoned with the fragrant sibuyen or having fried chicken were abnormal occurrences – there was also abundance. In August, the rice harvested in the previous planting season could not last the whole year through. So families had to make do with duma, root crops, and corn, which seems to be the favorite of the Cebuanos. However, cooking corn grits with coconut milk with a buraw barol embedded in the daba and then partaking of the combination is beyond description. We would close our eyes with the delicious preparation. And as a test how delicious the combination was of corn, cooked in coconut milk and barol nga buraw, we had to gulp water from a coconut shell because we were thirsty (hinihibol). Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul 31
  • 32. There was abundance of camote, bilanghoy, saging, all sorts of saging you would not believe the variety of saging at that time, silot, pako, fresh air, tubo, bokawel, tuba, bulad, sisi, fruits, sweet, luscious fruits, pasayan, and fresh fish. Tabangongo was and still is a delicacy. Having tabangongo with bihud or mother bangus, bangrus, which were so fat and so cheap and hanananaw, a sting ray with white liver which was the main ingredient of binakhaw, can make you forget everything else, even your girl friends or boy friends, including your numerous “Good Fors” from Mana Sabel and Mana Leling. Crabs, oh boy. One time, there were so many crabs that you don’t need to use a net to capture them. They would swim to the surface of the sea, almost begging you to scoop them to your containers. Crabs, crabs, crabs, fat, tasty crabs with aligue. And there was sarad, and bahong. Lope, to earn some money, had become a proficient sarad diver. One time when I visited Villa from Catbalogan, I saw him selling sarad by the bucket. And surprise! His hair had become blonde, bleached by the interaction of the sea, the sun, the air, and the salt. Years later, when I had gone to Tawi Tawi, the Badjaos there would remind me of Lope. And here in America, the green-eyed, blonde, lily-skinned Caucasians would remind me of Lope and sarad. Indeed, Maqueda Bay and the Bay of Villa were so rich with the bounties of God and Nature. And the Villahanons, young or old did not flinch from hard work. The rainforest of Villa and Samar were majestic in their splendor. Almost pristine, primeval, untouched. You cast your gaze to the mountains, and the trees would be towering in the distance. Lope and I went to the jungles of Sibahay one time. There I climbed a fully grown Kamagong tree, a tree whose wood is ebony black, and now so rare. They say the Kamagong wood is harder than steel and is more precious than gold. And because the “web that sustains life” was perhaps still in perfect balance, in the late afternoons and the early evening, there were thousands and thousands of birds of all shapes, sizes, and colors flying from the hinterlands of Villa and Samar to roost in the islands off Villa such as Puro. One time, Pepito Varela, admittedly the most popular crooner of his generation, the late Jose Negado, and I borrowed a boat. We were on our way to Banquil, to serenade my classmate with whom the musician Jose Negado was “eyeing”. With a full moon lighting the entire Bay of Villa, we rowed towards Banquil. When we reached the sandbars separating Puro and Pacao, we had to get off from the boat and drag it over the sandbar. It was low tide. We rested after our exertions. And then Padé Joe took out his trumpet, blew on it, trying to accompany Pepito who was beginning to croon his Mario Lanza favorite of “Overhead the Moon is Beaming” inspired by the magic of the moonlight. It woke up all the birds resting in the trees of Puro. There was a cacophony of sound. We made the sign of the cross and stopped. Subdued and silent, we continued with our rowing to Banquil and came back to the bongto at 2 o’clock in the morning. I think the Protectors of the Birds punished us for disturbing their rest. Sablay (Padé Joe) did not marry the object of our harana in Banquil. Mana Petra was his destiny. 32 Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul
  • 33. One summer, Lope and I were assigned by our uncle, Tay Dadoy Ranera, to take care of a corn plantation in Tingara. For several weeks while the corn was growing, Lope and I, as soon as we would wake up in the morning, would put on our buri hats, strap the sundang to our waists, and hike as fast as we could to Tingara from our house in Tayod. We had to be there early to shoo away the birds who would feast on the sweet corn. One time, we arrived very early. While Lope was roasting corn ears, I climbed a nearby tree which was laden with fruits. I was there, leaning on the tree trunk when green and white parrots, picoy and abucay alighted on the tree where I was hidden by the foliage. I think the birds must have noticed me. But they were not bothered by my presence. They just went on eating the fruits of the tree. Those were halcyon days for us Our breakfast was roasted corn. Our lunch was roasted corn and broiled fungus. Sometimes we had roasted wild bird, tikling. And we roamed the hills and the meadows and hobnobbed with the wildlife. I finished up to Grade Five in the Villareal Elementary School. Our poverty was not a hindrance to “the life of the mind”. The library was bursting with books. I would borrow one and bring it to Lama-awan. There, I would read the colored books by the light of the kerosene lamp. Children will always play and dream. Dr. Jesus Reyes, “Esong”, and I were seatmates in Grade Two . During recess we would discuss how Superman might go to Korea, fight the enemies of the American and the Filipino soldiers. The late Benedicto “Ubaw” Rapanan was a very good friend too. We would go under the Gabaldon Building and try to catch those insects burrowing on the sand and play with them. As a teacher, we believed the late Tay Antonino Varela was a universal genius. He would teach us social studies, then music, and was in charge of our plots which were planted with pichay. Of course, every Saturday, we would visit our pichay plantation. One time, a classmate, Bernardita Gabrinao who only spoke the language of the Imperialistang Taga-ilog was on her way to their farm nearby. We were teasing Virigilio Latorre to Bernardita. In a fit of anger, Bernardita stepped on the pichay plot of Virgilio. To replant his pichay plantation, Virgilio had to borrow some seedlings from the rest of us without our permission. The political bad blood among families in Villa was unavoidable even among us youngsters. This was apparent between the Latorres et al and the Gelis et al. I forget now what was the immediate cause. But suddenly, here was the late Potenciano Geli and Virgilio Latorre fighting it out in that Gabaldon building. To even the odds, I think Poten got a piece of bamboo, a gamon. I believe Virgilio’s eyebrow was cut. I remember blood was spurting from his face. Somehow, we must have been able to pacify the protagonists. I think years later when the two had become wiser, they would remember that incident as some sort of a rite of passage to manhood. Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul 33
  • 34. My Grade Five schooling was a watershed in my studies. Who was the most brilliant among us? Not Lydia Varela who was Salutatorian later. Not Esong Reyes. Not Virgilio Latorre who became Valedictorian one year later. Not Poten Geli. Not Cesar Torres. If you ask us to vote, I think we would vote for Aring (Agripina) Varela. (She left Villa when we were young. But I saw Aring once in Tongao, Butuan when I was roaming Pilipinas in the company of “lovely friends”. When Justice Eddie Nachura was just USEC of Education, I was always thinking of asking him to look up the address of Aring. It never happened. But I have always this fond memories of a dear, brilliant, always cheerful classmate.) As I said, I continued my studies in Catbalogan in Grade Six. In my first year in Samar High in 1953, I was surprised to see Virgilio Latorre in our class. Madé Doding Conise (Gertrudes Conise-Ocaña) was another Villahanon in our class. We had become orphans. So Lope and I stayed with an uncle in Manila, Tay Beboy Ranera. While in Manila, we sold newspapers, magazines, and comics. We knew the Santa Ana, Paco, San Andres, Pandacan districts, including the shanty areas, like the palm of our hands. After making the rounds, we would take our breakfast – a P0.05 bottle of Sarsaparilla, and I think two pieces of pan de coco worth P0.05. Elsa stayed with our Apoy Nanang (Juana Teves Hermida) in Villa. After months of trying to survive with dignity in Manila, our fortunes changed. My uncle, Bienvenido Torres was looking for me. Because our father was a soldier in World War II and was listed as missing in action we were finally given some compensation for his services and his life. I went back to Catbalogan. I was still able to enroll in Samar High for the second year, but I was late by two periodical periods. But through the intercession of a kind woman, a science teacher in Samar High, Mrs. Engracia Garcia, I was admitted during the Third Departmental period. She is a mentor whose memory is deeply etched in my heart. Lope in the meantime, enrolled in Quezon City as Freshman. One time he had no money for jeep fare. So he walked from his school to Pandacan where he was staying. A nice two-hour hike. In the Samar High, Lydia had joined us. With Virgilio, it became a reunion of sorts. In Samar High, I believe we Villahanons were blazing trails also. For instance, there was never any doubt that Virgilio would someday become Governor or Congressman of Samar. He was our student politician par excellence. In fact, when we were just Third Year, he would have beaten Eddie Nachura for President of the Student Council if I was not Eddie’s candidate for Vice President. His charisma and self-confidence was undeniable. Well, God works in mysterious ways. Virgilio was destined for other things such as being a top brass in the regional administrative system but with the risk of his pants being burned. With her brief stay with us in Samar High, the beautiful Lydia was a member of the high school social elite. I was in Samar High when I had my first real job, supposedly with a wage. It was a government job. Ever the kindest person that he has always been (one time in Tacloban, when Mano Alding Oreo and I were going to Villa to campaign for a congressional candidate, he gave me his last P0.10 centavos), Virgilio gave me three days of the five days he was allotted in the road work by his uncle Mayor Fidencio Latorre — cleaning and maintaining that now famous Bayanihan Road of shrubs and debris that were littering the road. For three days in summer, I would wake up early in the morning. Bring bahaw and fried usu-os as my balon. strap the scabbard of the sundang to my waist, put on a buri hat, walk to a place somewhere beyond Igot and do our work. I forgot now who were my fellow laborers. But I really worked hard because even at that time I believe that it was the people of the Philippines who were paying us for our work. And I did not want to cheat on them. I waited and waited for my wage of my three days of hard work. I never got it. Not even Virgilio could tell me what happened to my wage or if he got it in his name or someone got the money and pocketed it. This was my first official encounter with my Government. 34 Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul
  • 35. During summers in high school, I would go to Villa. We had our barkada. We would meet periodically in the imburnals especially during moonlight nights. We would debate, trying to impress each other with our facility of English, serenade the girls, engaged in the occasional irignom and picnics on weekends. Since we were teenagers valiantly trying to impress the girls, we would wear bakya, wooden clogs, all over the town. The Japanese had not yet discovered the manufacturing of those rubber sandals which pollute the environment. We graduated from high school in 1957. There were no graduation parties and rejoicing. Ramon Magsaysay, the CIA-backed President of the Philippines, had died in a plane crash in Cebu. After our commencement rites, I went to Villa, as an onlooker of the graduation in West Coast Academy. While there, we were looking towards Catbalogan which was burning to the ground right at that very moment. Surprisingly, I was not worried; perhaps because I had few personal belongings in Catbalogan. Sometimes, it is nice to be poor. I ended in the University of the Philippines. While in Manila, we Villahanon students obviously gravitated to each other — Budick Yu, Vincent and Nonong Figueroa, Ubaw Rapanan, Ising Endrina, Nanding Hilbano, Lydia and Raul Varela, Edith Latoja, the lovely Evelyn Latoja, Liit and Bing Tizon, Gingging Dasmariñas who was our junior, the Seludos (Maruja, Douglas and their siblings) Gironedes “Neding” Gelera, later on Andrew Varela, then Pacit Varela, Felisa Tandinco, Baby Godo Gelera who was not a drunkard like us, Titing Gelera Latorre who was more of a Guiuananon than a Villahanon, and some others, and of course Lope. We became the core of the “Villareal Youth Club of Manila”, VYCM. I was its President. I think we helped in celebrating the fiesta in Manila. But we did have some meetings. I remember quarreling with Caridad Paco over some inconsequential issue. Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul 35
  • 36. But our VYCM was nothing compared to the trailblazing achievements of the Villahanon Association of Metro Manila. They have shown the way. I just hope they do not get waylaid by the wayside, groping in the dark recesses of pride and lack of humility. When I would drop out from the U.P. I would end up in Villa bothering Mikolo “Kalig”.Miguel Presnilla. He was already a teacher at that time. And of course, he was a very popular and sought after teacher. Very romantic, great with his fingers, especially when he was strumming the guitar and using those slender fingers for all activities. God, created him that way. So I would go with him to Bangon, to Plaridel. There I would help in the Pintakasi, repairing a school building among others. I would go with the Ugdok (eel) catchers. One time, Batá Pepe Morabor who motored to Bangon to sell some fish, labas, wanted to take me back to Villa, worried that the tagnok would eat me out. Then from Plaridel, we would walk the mountain trails to San Andres and visit Araceli Abainza, Gloria Latoja, and the other lady teachers in San Andres. From San Andres, we would hike to San Roque. We even went to Bino-ongan and Santa Rosa and gobbled up Libook. We had no money to buy cigarettes. So we roasted tobacco, crumpled the tobacco leaves and rolled them in paper to make a tigol. I would go back to Manila after a stint of serenading the Villahanon teachers in the barrios and picking up, sagol, choice fishes for kinilaw from the tables of Mana Payang and scribbling all those innumerable “Good Fors” some of which are still probably outstanding. And with the inspiration and prodding of Lydia who had come back from America, I had to finish my studies, especially when Mara and Alexander were already around. But our house in Project 2 in Quezon City and Sampaloc were still veritable half-way houses for Villahanons who had no place to stay in Manila. To finish my studies, there were times when I would not go home once I knew that there was drinking going on in the house. After all Lope and Nanding Hilbano, Nanding who was the best curacha dancer I have ever seen in Manila, were still the drinking buddies of most Villahanons, including the new members of the Lepanto Boys, Mano Ramon Hilvano, the late Padé Prudy Geli who entrusted to me her daughter Dada, and the late Tiboy Latorre, who was so hard to control when he was drunk. Sometimes we would hold him by his hands, and his feet and dump him on a taxi and bring him home. In the Villareal community in Metro Manila, we would still see each other especially during the celebration of the Feast of the Santa Rosa de Lima. 36 Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul
  • 37. Compared to other Samarnon groups in Metro Manila who would celebrate their fiestas in elegant surroundings such as the Manila Hotel, where only the elite and those with money could savor the grace and ambiance of a Catholic and Christian tradition devoted to God and His Saints, in contrast, the Villahanons, at least when I was still there, would reach out to everyone. Nobody would be turned away, even those who were definitely gatecrashers and freeloaders. Precisely, as a response to our Catholicism and graciousness, celebrating the Feast of the Santa Rosa in Metro Manila was characterized by popular and grassroots responsibility. From a single hermano or hermana during its early years, now there are so many of them and they all come from all over the world especially from Norway, whose trailblazer was Rosalia Gerardo. I think she was the first Filipina and Villahanon in Norway and Europe. After saying “No” to the beckoning of America in 1983, with a heavy heart, uncertain what the future would bring, I decided to try my luck in this land of milk and honey, the former colonial master of our people, the most powerful and richest country in the world. With $10 that I borrowed from Fe in my pocket I boarded the Northwest Jumbo Jet to San Francisco in November 1985. Except for ex- DAP Executive Vice President, Dr. Segundo Romero, Jr. I did not tell anyone in the UP that I was leaving. When I told my staff in Ayala that I was leaving in the afternoon on that very day, there was lamentation. Mara and Alexander followed, arriving in the University Town of Berkeley on December 24, 1985. It was a very humbling and frustrating experience in San Francisco during the early months of our arrival. Only Lydia was working. Despite my qualifications, I could not find a job. We were helped by very kind Calbiganons, Ester Ocenada-Benigno and her cousins, and a Basaynon whose name we have forgotten but whose kindness is forever engraved in our hearts. Finally, when we had the time and the resources, we gravitated to our kind. First to the Calbiganons, because Lydia is half-Calbiganon. Theirs was the first fiesta we attended in America. Then the Catbaloganons, after all I was born in Silanga. Then the Villahanons whose leaders and concentration were in Los Angeles. But several years would pass before we could go to Los Angeles. As a symbol of our solidarity and unity with all Villahanons all over the world, we never succumbed to the siren song of forming our own Villahanon association in San Francisco, especially if the only purpose was just to celebrate the fiesta. We thought we should organize a pilgrimage to Lima, Peru and devote whatever resources we could spare to helping our hometown, instead of focusing so much on our fiesta celebration here in America. For us, therefore, there was only one community of Villahanons all over the world. We referred to ourselves as “The Villahanons International” which include Esdras, Inday, and Ponso Romano in Northern California, Ruben Gerardo and other Villahanons in Norway, Quirino Ragub and his beloved Tunding who has a penchant for burning pants of his beloved cousin, Nora Colles-Chawla, Ada Quijano-Reyes, Soledad Agote in Canada, Nora and other Royandoyans, the Hilvanos (the late Godfather of the Villahanons, Mano Sotero Hilvano, sons Victor and wife, Doctor Mansueta and Angelito), Gery Hilvano in Las Vegas, and their cousins, who spell their names differently, the Hilbanos, in Southern California and Las Vegas, (Mano Joe, Belen), Mana Bangbang and Ate Grace Arcallana, the Ricaldes (Mana Oswalda and the late Fr. Nick), the admirable couple, Dina Seludo and Frank Bunuan, Clarito and Mana Mila Seludo, Mana Juling Gabompa who has a lovely house on top of a hill in Northern California, the Seludos-Tabungars, Caridad Paco, Mana Cordying Daluraya, Suki, Tening, and Zenaida Ygat in California, the Varelas in the Midwest, Lotlot Fallorina, Mana Nina Latorre-Ras and lovely daughter, Bingbing, Dave Yu, the finance whizz who waited 8 hours to be picked up at the San Francisco Airport, Aida Geli, Rufino and Jimmy Obregon, Ralph Brillante who has severed his relationship with Villahanons in California, Mana Lily Fabilane and brother, Isidro, and Mana Ruthie Dougherty whom we visited regular and now we do not see anymore, Gina Cabueños and Dennis Blanco, Joanna Aboga and her gracious American husband, Bob Foster, our ever reliable, classmate Minda Geli, Godofredo “Baby” Gelera, one of the pioneer Villahanons in California, Padre Pepe Garcia in Canada, and the family of Judith Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul 37
  • 38. Presnilla in Sacramento, and many others more. There are now so many of us, Villahanons in Diaspora, we need a huge database. For those I cannot remember, please forgive me. The next Villahanon historians will rectify our lapses. In America, we tried to combine our religious piety with civic works for our hometown, little things for our church, the schools (books and scholars for the Holy Name Academy), innovative arrangements such as “The Paolo Lean Torres Pimentel Partners in Learning”, a collaboration with the Cambaguio and the Central Elementary Schools), the community, such as the Stairway to Heaven of The Clan led by Vincent Figueroa, supporting the publication of the pioneering “Budyong Han Villa”, which was staffed by Villahanon writers and poets and printed by using a mimeograph machine, and organizing the Omawas Foundation which unhappily resulted in the unnecessary and tragic death of two beloved community leaders, Mano Joe and Mana Nitnit Dalwatan and Elma Figueroa’s suffering. But for the courage and bravery of Mila Figueroa, one of the most respected leaders of our community who chose to stay in Villa to serve our people, instead of staying in America as a highly paid Florence Nigtingale, many more would have lost their lives. All for nothing. We need to honor Mano Joe and Mana Nitnit, mga Baraan nga Susgaran han Bongto. We remember with fondness the late Epifanio Nuñez. Together with his wife, Flor Marasigan, they mobilized the Villahanons in California on helping our church. We have that aborted Kamorayaw Cemetery Project of the Villahanons International, of course. The souls of the dead Villahanons are wailing in the nether world because of a promise that remains unfulfilled. But the dream is there. Kun diri kita, iton sunod nga henerasyon. Kun diri yana, iton sunod nga panahon. There were profound changes among Villahanons too. For once a Villahanon Parish Priest, Fr. Jun Cinco, could hobnob with his flock in America, not just in Villa and Metro Manila. Through the very illustrious and eminent Archbishop Jose Palma, Villahanon priests could visit us in San Francisco and other parts of America. As fate would have it, a Villahanon, Marivel Sacendoncillo, could exercise some authority and influence to send local government executives, such as Mayor Renato “Boy” Latorre, (and sister Calbiga Mayor, Luzviminda “Bebot” Latorre) to train in Canada. Before this, our mayors could only travel to Lamingao, to Catbaloganon, to Tacloban and to Manila on official business with some relaxation in some night spots. After all, it was so tiring and tedious following up official business in the bureaucratic bowels of the Philippine Administrative System, especially if one has a hangover. The singular importance of our democratic social structure and its concomitant egalitarianism — we do not distinguish ourselves from each other whether tuminongnong or a timawa or whether Manila-born or fresh from San Francisco, New York, Canada, or Norway or from Inasudlan, San Andres or Himyangan — separates us from other groups. There is also that oneness with everyone which somehow culminates in the hermandad and celebration of the fiesta in Metro Manila where one is deemed not to have fully complied with the unwritten initiation of being a Villahanon if one has not yet become a sponsor of the Santa Rosa fiesta. Finally, there is our characteristic as thinkers, visionaries, and dreamers. Sometimes, like the eloquent Fr. Rudy Romano or the Calubids, and others, we pay with our lives. All these and other factors provide us with a dynamic community of Villahahons linked to each other all over the world. 38 Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul
  • 39. With the advent of the Internet, many diasporic Villahanons have become closer to each other. We communicate in the World Wide Web with a flick of a “computer mouse”. Aside from long distance calls, there is cell phone texting, Yahoo Messenger, Web Cameras, and the most popular of all, electronic mail. Our brilliant municipal consultant and local government planner, Armando “Boy” Ridao transmits huge computer files from the municipio to me in California, files which contain the comprehensive development plan of the town under the leadership of Mayor Reynato “Boy” Latorre and his fellow municipal officials. I chat on real time with Jim Gabree, the Amerian husband of Marjorie Hilvano in Guintarcan, through a computer which is connected to the Internet through “satellite broadband”which does not need land-based telephone connections. I used to chat with my godchild, Jeanette Presnilla, in Tacloban while I was in San Francisco. Indeed, our familiarity with the Internet makes us tower above many other groups all over the Philippines. As of last count, for instance, we have three websites and electronic discussion groups. Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul 39
  • 40. The foregoing, together with other factors, combined to develop a synergy, a confluence of events and circumstances, making us a model all over the Philippines and the Third World. When we took on this mind-boggling collaborative project to repair and cement this 8-km public road through Tiklos or Bayanihan, a project that has never been done voluntarily in the history of the Philippines, a project that involves massive use of the Internet, a project where even our school children are helping, we showed the world that poor as we are, we can hold our heads high with dignity. The corrupt and the nincompoops do not dangle us by their dirty little fingers anymore. Of course, we Villahanons are not angels. I once stumbled on Ruben Gerardo’s “Villahanon Forum”, a discussion medium in the Internet. I could not believe at the lack of principles, the cowardice, the unkindness, and the quality of the exchanges. I could not discern any graciousness and humility. People would just fling accusations left and right without any evidence. They hide under aliases. It is disheartening to realize that the kind and noble intentions of Ruben’s Villahanon Forum has been hijacked and mutilated by unprincipled individuals. It is practically reeking with unimaginable evil. We will self-destruct if we don’t wake up from our psychosis. Hurling accusations while hiding under aliases and fictitious names are symptomatic of a sick society, a society of political, cultural, and civic misfits. We have to wrench ourselves from the old ways of doing things. We cannot continue to be hating each other without letup. We will explode with our unflinching hatred at our fellow Villahanons. It is critical that we transcend our myopic and tongao-like perceptions of our roles in our municipality, in how we confront the challenges facing Villa, the entire Philippine society, and the world. Our almost deliberate inability to do this is what makes unlovable. Even then, we continue with our mantra: “We love Villa! We hate Villa! We love Villa….” And if we are believers in the Peruvian Saint, Santa Rosa de Lima, and all the other saints whose sainthoods are being celebrated by all Villahanons in our 38 barangays and by their associations in Metro Manila, there is no doubt that love will triumph, that good will vanquish evil and hatred. I end this labor of love with some lines from the Ecclesiastes: “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak, A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.” And from Desiderata: “Do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are borne of fatigue and loneliness. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.” Editor’s Note: When I requested Mano Cesar to contribute an article, I was thinking that busy as he is, he would only come out with a one-page or two-page piece that he can finish in one setting. When he called me and asked how long his article might be, I told him that it should be 5 to 6 pages. I was wondering what was taking him so long. It turned out that he has decided to write about the Villahanons covering a period 40 Windows to the Villahanon’s Soul