History of My Life - Part J: Life in Bayombong, N.V.

As a third year student in the New Nueva Vizcaya Vocational H.S., with a new name and new classmates, I felt embarrassed when, during the first day roll call, I failed to respond when my new name was called until our teacher included my second name, Sibayan.  I blushed as everyone turned towards me not realizing the fact that I was, for the first time in 14 years being called Jose instead of Patrocinio.

My beautiful and very cute cousin, Eufemia “Mamin” Bravo, who was my classmate, explained to her friends my new name and told them that my nickname is “Siniong.”  And so my new acquaintances called me Siniong instead of Jose or “Peping.” 

Aside from the regular H.S. general subjects, I was enrolled in Poultry and Swine, as a vocational courses.  In that class I fell in love with Miguela (Ilay) Faralan who responded to my special attentions by slipping to me the answers to our daily Biology exams as I slipped to her the answers to our Algebra daily exams as we met each other in the exchange of classrooms.  Nobody noticed this secret understandin of ours.  She was the daughter of an Asst. Protestant Pastor and the sister-in-law of our vocational school teacher, Mr. Rimozin.  Ilay and I continued our friendship up to Manila when we were enrolled in college there after our graduation from H.S.

Although my classmates and other H.S. students looked at me with envy for being a bicycle owner and a relative of my rich cousin, riding a P.C. calesa, driven by a soldier on rainy days, they didn’t know the dark side of my life.  They didn’t know why I was limping after I got wet during a rain, riding my bike from school.  Because I only had one pair of shoes, I tried to dry them inside an oven.  When I got them they had shrunk.  I could hardly get my feet inside them.  When my uncle asked me why I was limping, I explained to him my problem.  He told me to get a pair of rubber shoes from a friend’s store.  At that time, men did not wear socks.  And so I wore first one pair of rubber shoes from June to the end of the school year without much chance of washing them.  The stink of those shoes and my feet served as anti-colds medicine.  As I ran my finger between my toes and smelled it, the cold germs got killed instantly with the bad odor!

They didn’t know that I had to wake up at 5 AM daily to go to town, bike on the stony road for more than two miles, to buy fresh bread from the bakery and then polish the floor with coconut husk before I took a bath.  They didn’t know that I had to pump water by hand every morning for bathing purposes.

They didn’t know that I had to wash the dishes after our meals and ran errands for my auntie and cousins with my bike.  They didn’t know that during our Senior Junior’s Prom I had to wear my oversized uncle’s shoes and coat and tie because I didn’t have any at all.  They didn’t know how much I wanted to give a Christmas gift or card to Ilay, my girlfriend, but I did not even have a centavo in my pocket.

They didn’t know how my self-pity brought tears to my eyes when I saw my uncle and his family going to a dance in the barracks across the street and they left me to take care of their young children.  And I sang the orphan’s song to myself.

But I got very much higher grades than my cousins and my uncle asked why.  My cousin’s close friends became my friends too and so I had Ilay, Olive, Edity and Jonnie closer to me than other H.S. students.  I had a chance to ride Edith on the bar of my bike one moonlit night around the town, but I had no nerve to make love with her for fear of breaking our friendship.  I continued my friendship with these ladies when they were taking nursing courses in Manila.  I was then a law student and working at the same time.

In Bayombong my uncle brought home from his expeditions in the jungles of the Sierra Madre Mountains a wild Ilongot boy and a naked black girl called “negrita”, the supposed aborigines of the Philippines.  They were wild like animals in the forest, but were tamed very easily.  We called the negrita Pogot and the Ilongot Tiadang.  At night they slept without blankets or mosquito nets, although it was very cold with plenty of mosquitoes.  They slept too soundly that we had to douse them with cold water to wake them up!

Tiadang can fire an arrow from his bow into the thick tall weeds of a forest and still be able to retrieve it back.  Pogot can climb up a tree as nimble as a monkey.  They were both very healthy, full of muscles, without excess fat on their bodies.  Their strength was unbelievable.  No amount of convincing them can make them take a bath.  They prefer to rub ashes on their bodies.  No doubt flies or mosquitoes avoid them!  They preferred to eat fruit and raw vegetables.

The elder sister of Mg. Maming, Bicensoceso (Susing) Bravo was crowned as Mrs. Philippines Veterans in 1933, as a candidate of the Constabulary of Nueva Vizcaya.  I almost got killed at a wooden bridge in Soleno, N.V. when I was holding to the side of a truck converted into a float riding my bike as the truck speeded homeward bound.  It’s good I was able to let go of the truck to avoid being pinned to the railings of the bridge.  It is also a wonder how I managed to balance myself at a great speed on the stony road without falling from my bike.  I guess my guardian angel saved me.  I did not notice I wet my pants until I arrived home.

After our school closed for summer vacation my uncle and auntie decided to send me back home with my bike to Bangued.  They took my younger brother in my place so that he can continue his studies in H.S.

Nanay - Part 3

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III.
The following days were blank ones for me. I even became lax in my studies as all sorts of things came into my mind. First it was Vestre then Siniong. And added to this was our very serious financial condition. I contemplated to tell my mother about Siniong’s revelation of his love but I was also afraid. I didn’t know why. The following Sunday he came again and stayed for lunch. My mother must have noticed something because I could not act natural. The moment I saw him coming, something simply went thump-thump-thump in my chest and my hands and feet went cold. He did better, though. He simply said, “Hello, Pat.” and went to my mother. They went into a pow-wow until it was time for lunch and she had to invite him to dine with us.

Later that afternoon he invited my mother to go to the Luneta. He knew very well that she wanted so much to go there for a breath of sea air as our apartment was rather stuffy and hot. Then he matter-of-factly asked me if I wanted to go along. At first I intended to stay but then I realized that if I refused, my mother might make conclusions. So I went. I noticed Vestre’s envious eyes as we left the house. I knew he was at the window looking at us but I didn’t want to look up, because one of the reasons why I went with Siniong and mother ws that I didn’t want to be left alone in the house since my sister and her husband had gone out earlier.

It was around that time that my mother had to dismiss two boarders because they hadn’t paid for three months. We again looked for a smaller place and a cheaper one, too. We found one at Calle Gastambide which had only one advantage and it is its nearness to my school.

It was in this place that my bro-in-law left my sister for good. He said he was going for a vacation and also to visit his mother. My sister never thought that he would not come back anymore. One week after he left, my sister gave birth to a baby boy, October 22, 1939 to be exact, at the Mary Chiles Hospital. I wrote by brother-in-law about it and we expected him to come running home to his child. Weeks passed but he didn’t show up. Finally at the end of her rope, my sister bundled her son up and went to her husband’s home town. What took place there we never knew, but when she came back a week later, she was in tears and showed us a written agreement entered into by herself and her husband whose contents were to the effect that they were separated with mutual consent. My mother was sorry for the child but we were thankful because we got rid of an ingrate at last.

My birthday was approaching and as it neared I was getting restless because I promised Siniong he would have my answer on my birthday. I told him so when we went to an excursion in Montalban and he tagged along. I’ll never forget the trip. We were having that excursion in connection with our lessons in Biology so that we could gather specimens where there were plenty. We had our class organization sponsor it so we could hold a dance also. Siniong knew about it when my mother and I were discussing what I was to bring along and he arrived at home. He suggested that since we were holding the excursion on a Sunday, he could come along and he said he would take care of the “baon.” We shopped together that afternoon in Quiapo market for some pork chops, eggs and bread. I was glad that my mother didn’t suspect anything yet otherwise she would not have consented to our going together.

I was seeing Montalban for the first time. Seven Meralco buses brought us there and everyone was in high spirits. About noontime, we had gathered all the specimens we needed and the dancing began. The N.U. Band furnished the music. Siniong suggested that we have our lunch first since it was already almost twelve o’clock before we went to the dance hall. We selected a nice slab of white stone near the water’s edge for a table. I was getting nervous because the moment I dreaded most was nearing. I could have objected to our eating alone and could have suggested going with the others but I somehow didn’t. It seemed as though he had me in tow and whatever he suggested I readily agreed. I was wondering, too, because where I had been tom-boyish with other admirers; I was completely tame and coy with him. It may be because I trusted him so much and that I was quite sure, even then, that he would not do anything disagreeable to me. My chest was in a constant thump-thumping and I was grateful that he started only to press his question when we were almost through. It was then that I promised him that he would have my answer on my birthday, which was just a few days away.

The following morning when I went to school, I was surprised to see that the fortnightly issue of “The National” was already out. Most of the students in the lobby were all reading their copies. Then before I knew what happened, I was besieged by classmates and friends and they started pumping my hand in congratulations. I didn’t know what it was all about until someone showed a copy of the brand new “Junior National” (for the High School department) before my eyes. The headline read, “Junior Wins Editorship.” Then smaller letters, “Petite Patricia Enrile wins Essay Contest. She’s First Editor-In-Chief.”

I could not believe my eyes. I was so glad I almost cried. Then there was a sea of faces before me, Seniors mostly and Collegiates. They all shook my hand and congratulated me. The bell rang then, the crowd dispersed and, as I was about to go to my room, I saw Mr. Ty approaching. When he saw me he signaled me to wait for him. “Congratulations.” and he shook my hand. “Prepare a nice photo of yours for the next issue.” He instructed when we parted.

My first subject was English and as I entered the room I was met with a loud cheer by everyone. I stopped in my tracks and could not help the tears that came, tears of joy, at my achievement. Mrs. Ferrer, my English instructor led me to her table and she said, “We are proud of you, Patricia, very proud indeed. Keep up your good work, you’ll be somebody someday.”

I could not wait for the noon hour to strike so I could go home to bring my mother the good news. When it finally came, I hurriedly went inside the “National” offices, took several copies of the paper and hurried home. My mother shed tears when I told her. The boarders were very glad, too, and insisted that the occasion called for a celebration. In the afternoon, Siniong came. I knew he was very glad when he heard about it and he, too, offered his congratulations.
The following week was a happy one for me. Letters came from friends, Miss Inoncentes for one, knew about it through the Exchange column of their school organ “The La Union Tab.” Senia also wrote, and my classmates in Bayombong. Mr. Ferdan, instructor in the N.V.H.S. and also librarian wrote that he clipped the page of our paper and had it posted prominently in the library. In this same hectic week also came my birthday. All of a sudden I felt weak. I remembered my promise to Siniong and I still didn’t have my answer. But I had to keep my word so I wrote him a letter. I just told him about my doubts, my misgivings. I didn’t spare myself, I told him how inexperienced I was in love-affairs. On my birthday he came, but we didn’t have a chance to be alone. So I felt a little relieved because I was sure I would go to pieces if he pressed his question further.

Nanay - Part 1

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“Nanay”
By Patricia Enrile Sibayan

“Of all the music that reached farthest into Heaven,
It is the beating of a loving heart.”
- Jose B. Sibayan

Pat, my lovely darling, sublimated her personal ambitions into the caring of her family. She sacrificed her life for the love of her children and her husband. “Nanay” is truly a saint!
- Jose B. Sibayan

This story of my life was written by Nanay – Patricia Enrile Sibayan by hand. I just typed what she wrote with no corrections, word for word. This book is being sent to Tatay, Jose B. Sibayan Sr. and to all my brothers and sisters with lots of love in memory of our loving and dearest Nanay.
- Jojo Sibayan Lontok, December 10, 1985

I have just given birth to my sixth child, a bouncing baby boy at the “Clinica Lopez” and the urge to write the story of my life is so strong that I had to begin doing just that. My husband and I have named the new baby “Roberto” which was suggested by our oldest son, Tony, and we have nicknamed him “Bobby.”

Six children: Antonio 10, Liberty 8, Arsenia 6, Josefina 4, Ernesto 2, and Bobby, the new arrival. Watching our children has been instrumental in inspiring whatever dormant writing ability has been left in me and forced me to look back through the years to see myself just a child again and as carefree as any other child in the neighborhood.

I was born in the small town of Bangued, province of Abra, in northern Luzon. About my birth, I could not say much except that I came into this world, the youngest, among three love-children. I never knew the loving care of a father because he left us just a little after I was born, to marry another woman. I was too young then but relatives tell me how heart-broken my mother was and how she almost died. What made it most painful for her was maybe because our father didn’t bother to go to another town but married a neighbor who was supposed to be rich, and stayed right there in Bangued where my mother could meet them often times. It must have been terrible for my mother, but she had a stout heart and after a year or so, she began to forget him. Our oldest, a boy, died before I was born, that left two girls for my mother to take care of. My sister was four years my senior.

After what I call my mother’s tragedy, she became sickly and, added to her poor health; she still had to earn money for our upkeep. She was a seamstress and catered to the more solidly founded families of the locality. During months when her sewing was not so lucrative, she went from one barrio another, selling all sorts of household necessities. When I was about a year old an aunt of mine, the oldest, took me in tow because she took pity on my mother who was over burdened by the heavy responsibility of earning a living and raising two daughters. Good for me, it proved to be because my aunt did not have children, although she had been married for quite a time then.

My childhood days were just like any other girl’s. The only difference was my lack of some things that other children had because, although my aunt and uncle gave me all they could, they could not seem to give me enough, because they too were poor. Even my uncle tried to give me a father’s loving care and for that I am forever thankful. The only shadow that blighted my childhood days in their care was the fact that theirs was not a happy marriage. Individually, they were very good to me, but lucky was a day that would pass without a quarrel between them. There were nights when I would lie whimpering in our bamboo “papag” where I slept while I listened to their quarrels. Sometimes they would become so violent in their language that I would wish to run away and hide myself somewhere. One such time, I really did run away, to sit under our big guava tree which was quite a distance from the house. It was raining cats and dogs that night and very windy too. I was just preparing to go to sleep when all of a sudden I sensed that my uncle and aunt were quarreling. They were in the porch of the house. As the rain grew stronger so their voices rose higher until they were so furious with one another. When I could bear it no longer, I silently crept out of the house and proceeded to the back of our spacious backyard and sat under the guava tree.

I must have fallen asleep because I was roughly awakened by someone shaking my shoulder. When I opened my eyes I saw my aunt with a lantern in her hand. I stiffly got up and didn’t say a word. Neither did she, but I saw that she had been crying. The next morning I was down with a very high fever which lasted for four days. Most of the time I didn’t know what was happening around me and I had all sorts of dreadful dreams. When I got better, I was very thankful that my uncle and aunt seemed to be at peace with each other and no one could imagine how much I prayed to God that their peace would last.

I was thirteen years old when I finished the seventh grade as “First Honorable Mention.” I had been a candidate for valedictorian but I got sick for more than a month before the final exams and that proved to my disadvantage. My rating was 89%; the valedictorian and salutatorian rated 91% and 90% respectively. At the opening of the next school year my aunt refused to let me enter high school. I was disappointed beyond words. I convinced her in my own childish ways, but she would not give in. My mother heard about it and she approached my aunt about it and even promised that she would pay all my expenses. My aunt did not consent either and they quarreled. The only reason my aunt didn’t want me to go to high school was because she didn’t want me to have a chance to be followed by boys. To her way of thinking, I was just at the age when things like love-affairs were most dangerous. And she opined that going to high school was a means of making boys and girls meet and fall in love. I was dumb-founded, then, by her opinion, at that time I didn’t even know yet that such a thing as love existed between strangers. But no amount of persuasion would budge her.

I had to give up school that year and the next. I was morose and sad, especially when my former classmates would drop in to say hello. My heart was broken, I wanted to go to high school so much that after the second year of my non-schooling, I again began to convince my aunt to let me go back to school. Like the previous years, she refused. Then I made my own plans. I consulted mother and she suggested that since they were not in good terms with my aunt, we better move to another province. She planned to sell our house and all belongings then move to Bayombong, N. Vizcaya where a younger sister and her family were residing. I wrote to that aunt of mine and did not spare any details. I told her that I wanted very much to go to school and that I intended to leave my older aunt because she didn’t want us to go to their place and live with them and they even assured me that they’ll help mother see me through high school. My morale rose to a new high but was marred only by the thought of leaving my aunt. She was short-minded and old-fashioned in a lot of things, but I loved her too, like a mother.

So it came to pass that on August 1936, after spending a restless and tearful day, I sneaked from my aunt’s house and hid in a relative’s house to wait for the morning so I could take the first bus out of Bangued. My mother and sister were supposed to be on the bus and we would then proceed to Bayombong. Our plans were carried out smoothly but I could not sleep that night and was always thinking of my aunt. Several people came to the house where I was hiding and told the owners how I disappeared and how furious my aunt was. She also asked the help of the municipal police to locate me, but a cousin of mine, who was a member of the police force, knew of my plans. Instead of helping them locate me, he led them off to another section of town. I am not going to elaborate on my escape from the place of my birth because I don’t want to open old wounds. Suffice it to say that my mother, sister and I made it with not so much trouble and as the truck rumbled through the dusty roads to Bayombong, I was thanking my lucky stars for giving me a chance once more to go back to school.

I spent two years (first and second years) in the Nueva Vizcaya High School. My cousin-in-law, Dr. Sotero Torralba, was the one who enrolled me and with no difficulty. Right from the start, I seemed to strike a neat friendship with both my teachers and class mates. In no time, I was already a student leader. I grew to like my English 1 teacher (Miss Remedious Vergara) so much and after a while we were good friends. Our intimacy was such that she trusted me so much that she even made me correct themes (formal and informal) of her Second year students and left the grading of same at my discretion. I participated in all kinds of extra-curricular activities and was president of our class and also class representative to the Student Council. I took the Home Economics course and I made our department popular in the campus by my obtaining the highest ratings in departmental tests. That year I was also voted the sponsor of Company C of the NVHS Cadet Corps.

Summer vacation of that year, my mother took my sister and me for a sojourn to Manila. My sister had finished high school the previous year and had an eye on entering the Philippine Normal School. She made good, too, in the entrance exams, but through some twist of fate, she was not able to enter said school. That summer she intended to take up a secretarial course. We stayed in the house of Prof. Procopio Borromeo and his mother, who was my mother’s cousin, but later on we moved to Nana Sayon’s on Zobel Street. She was also a cousin of my mother’s and her husbnd, Tata Dolfo, was then a 1st Lt. in the Army.

That summer vacation was sort of memorable to me because it was during that time that I danced for the first time. It happened this way. Not far from Zobel Street was a boarding house which was managed by a childhood friend of my mother’s. All her boarders were male students and it happened that a friend of ours from Bayombong, (Asterio Saquing) was one of them. We were surprised when one afternoon, he visited us and brought along (Manong) Siniong (I called him that then.) He was the son of my mother’s best friend and second cousin in Bangued and my mother was so overjoyed at seeing him. When he left Bangued I was still a small tot and when I came out, he didn’t recognize me. We asked them to come again, which they did quite often, and on Siniong’s birthday (May 8th) he invited my sister and me to join him to a pilgrimage to Antipolo. To make a foursome, he asked Asterio to come along. It was there in Antipolo that I danced for the first time – with Asterio as instructor.