Man of our Community

My five-year old self, jumps to see the man in the coffin. It was put as high as my forehead and I saw him in white, wrinkled, gentle, little to no left white hairs and he’s sleeping in a peaceful dream. I recede as my mama carry me on her lean shoulder while she wipes away those crystals falling from her eyes. The wails and crying grew louder from the room. The room is filled with my lolas (Grandmothers) talking to other people with their loosened, red eyes and puffy faces. We mixed with the crowd in the room, mostly in their brightly colored silk blouses and black slacks, with well-shined sandals. The five-year-old me, looks at them neatly and differently while I look outside towards the many villagers on their trite T-shirts, thin slippers and hanging old pants.

That was the only vivid memory, I had of him. Or should I include how a leaf of dried tobacco, the differently shaped boxed biscuits and a cup of coffee are always on top of his puncheon and we chase and climbs through his puncheon’s roof on recess time below the Elementary building.

On November 1^st and 2^nd, we scare ourselves, as we pass through the old hospital during the martial law. The tomb marks reflect as the orange candle lit and it reveals his name Ricardo Cusipag, and his wife Felisa Quines Cusipag. My lolas lead the prayers while holding their glowing rosaries, touching beads per beads as we recite the “Ave Maria.” It had always been a family tradition that had worn out when each of us has now our own death to mourn.

               We live in the sitio of Maswa in the remote area of Basao where the dialect is Finahao, but we speak in Ilocano, which also shows the fair skin, robust figures, and the blouse and slacks clothing styles of my lolas, but this figure was left of us. We grew up unaware of the past, neither does our village have records of how our community begun and evolve, it’s only then that this writing enfolds a journey of a literal hundred miles.

We sat across facing our sixty-eight-years-old lola as she mixes the strong aroma of rice cake from the big metal pot on his left hand, and the other lifts the firewood as she bends to blow. The smoke scattered through the small dirty kitchen, when the fire got bigger, she looks at us.

               “Where are we? Oh! Okay. So Tatang (father), He came from Cagayan during the Common Wealth in 1930s, he told us that they want him to join the military. However, he refuses and chose to be a missionary, He walked through Tabuk, Lubuagan, and Tinglayan…”

               “What! He walked from Cagayan until here?” I asked. My lola beamed.

               “Yes! there are no vehicles back then, and tatang was young back then.” She took the long ladle and hummed while mixing the sticky rice cake. Her veins and skin hang loosely as she performs the stirring.

               “I think this is cooked, Junior can you bring this down to the floor.” She called out and uncle Junior came with Abel and they lifted the big pot while I put a carton on the floor so it won’t stain from the black thick charcoal from the pot’s bottom. She opened the pot and we all sniffed the delicious aroma of a coconut latik lingering around. She brought out a well-cut half-paper sizes banana leaves, my siblings and cousins came and we all took a spoon and banana leaves. I folded my banana leaves to create a cone, then I scoop a spoon in the rice flower and put them on the cone, afterwards I fold it to seal. Lola are looking at us while we do it.

               “Tatang reached Basao and this is where he decided to stop by. Americans have occupied most of Mountain Province, and some churches have already been built and education has already been introduced. But there are no improvements yet in Basao, they practice tribal wars, head hunting, and revenge over revenge, clans over clans. However, he was welcomed warmly by the community, as this thin, tall and dark man who isn’t an American or a Spaniards.” We were intently listening to her that she stopped.

               “Jamby, you are doing it loosely, you should make a strong fold and put the rice cake solidly so it won’t break later when it is cooked.” She said while she demonstrates folding of the banana leaves. Maria on the other hand keeps on pinching some rice cake to her mouth. She sat and continued it afterwards.     

               “He was the first teacher and the first to introduce Christianity in Basao, and this is where she met Nanang (mother), Nanang came from Tagudin, Ilocos, and they came here because our lolo Juan, their father, are working as the foreman for the initiated road construction. They married and together they educated the people. They were very good to the people and befriended everyone, treating them as their own…” She was interrupted as we all looked as the door burst to open.

               “Manang (big sister) Talin… that rice cake seems so delicious. Good job kids!” revealing our lola Marina. She wore a bright green T-shirt with a peach below knee-length slacks and a sandal, plus an eyeglass on her red-colored hair. We felt excited for some Chicago chocolates and cookies. Lola Talin, got up and happily hug her.

               “I just came to say my Hello, I am with my kids and grandkids, they went directly to manang Titay’s. I am looking forward to taste your patupat, how I have missed Patupat.” She said.

               “Have some coffee, Marina. Yes, hopefully we’d finished them early. We are actually talking about our Tatang.” They both smiled looking at us. Afterwards Auntie Marina left ahead.

               “Where are we again? Oh okay, so she met nanang. And we the eleven of us were born in Basao. There were no other people visiting the Barangay, it was only Nanang and Tatang. The people treated Tatang as someone who knew everything so they went to him in their health problems, education and many more, so he ended up as everything to them. They adopted so many kids and fed so many people. Nanang and Tatang are very generous and loving people and they were well-respected by the people in the community. Tatang even pulled out teeth even though he wasn’t a dentist, he helped a lot of sick children because of dire necessity as no one was there to help.

               He was also a Catholic missionary, a Catechist, he taught the people about God, baptized dying kids and adults and build a school in the community as well as taught the people to record their sons and daughter’s birthday, how to count, read and to speak English. Actually, if you ask most of the elders right now, they knew your lolo Cusipag and he had been their teacher.” She paused. There was silence among us.

               “Tatang had been everything to the people, when Tatang and Nanang decided that we move back to Maswa, the people were saddened, but Tatang and Nanang’ service to the community didn’t stop. He always goes up to Basao and even to the nearby villages such as Tulgao, Tinglayan, Butbut and many more. When our last child your lolo Bong, was born, afterwards our Nanang died. It had been tough for us and for Tatang, so I had to take care of Bong because I don’t like going to school, and my older sisters went to school. Tatang had always been a good father to us but his attention is always divided by his service to other people and the community. He is always ready to assist anyone who needs help, and he had instilled service, love, helping hand, and devotion to God among us his children and even his grandchildren.” We weren’t aware that we have already finished making patupat. We took another big pot and we put the patupat and lola set it on fire.

               “Your lolo, is very respected and loved by the people. On his death, a lot of people came to attend, it would have been great if he had lived more. After his long service, he decided to retire at Tinglayan, we were already all married by then, we even have grandchildren too. We encouraged her to travel to America where two of my siblings Marina and Lourdes are working, he went there for three years and he came back again missing home. He loves moving and going around that in January 8, 2006, he went to the field and he fell. He died hours afterward at the age of 96.”

               We fixed afterwards, and we brought our cooked Patupat to lola Titay’s house. There are so many people, look a like people. There is uncle Jojo, uncle Tinong, aunties and cousins. And there stood upon the entrance, a banner with a collage background of lolo Cusipag and Lola Felisa and it says welcome to the Quines-Cusipag reunion. We all stood solemnly looking at the random pictures of him before we went inside and happily met our cousins. We heard a stabilizing speaker and lola Titay walked slowly to the mic

               “It’s so nice to be together again, as we commemorate the 6^th anniversary of our Tatang as well as to have our grand reunion. It’s astonishing to see young faces, new faces, and faces of our siblings, nieces, nephews and grandkids. This year is more special because we are blessed with another certification and blessings from the pope for our Cusipag Family and for our Cusipag association. Let’s all strive more to grow the legacy of our Tatang.” Everybody applauded, even the younger kids clapped energetically. We bowed solemnly as the priest bless the golden frame with a picture of pope Francis and a certification for Cusipag family.

               I snapped back to the reality, as we watched the news of UK variants in the Philippines and the screen is dated January 08, 2021. No cousins have arrived and what had always been a special day for us became a normal one.

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Patupat- is a Filipino delicacy for rice cake, where the rice cakes are wrapped through banana leaves

Lolo/lola- Filipino term for Grandfather and Grandmother

Tatang/Nanang- Ilocano term for Father and Mother

Manang- big sister