Accents
My friend Terry
Saturday, Oct. 22, was the last day of the Agri-Fair 2005 at Robinsons and my sisters Lolita and Bebita went the rounds of the booths of the Western Visayas provinces, selecting potted plants, preserved foods, and delicacies here and there.
'Come, I’ll introduce you to a friend,' I told my sisters, bringing them to the Guimaras booth. Teresita Ganila was tending the Guimaras booth where a day earlier, I bought toasted cashew nuts and calamansi concentrate with honey.
'This is my friend Terry. Terry, meet my sisters.' Terry broke into a big smile that prominently showed a nice set of teeth against the backdrop of her deeply swarthy skin. I knew then that no perm by a plushy saloon could match the kinkiness beauty of her hair, or of any other ati’s hair for that matter.
Terry and I first met at the Museo Iloilo where the National Commission on Indigenous Peoples (NCIP) was holding an exhibit of Ati culture. It was propitious that in the meeting of ILAC (Iloilo Legal Assistance Center) that I attended, Sol Gamosa, staunch ILAC lawyer and NCIP Hearing Officer, asked if I would want to write something about the atis. Sure, why not? And so forthwith, the hubby and I proceeded to the Museo and was met with a canvas mounted up high and writ large with 'INDIGENOUS PEOPLES DEVELOP A NATION' KATUTUBO: NOON at NGAYON, Oktubre 17-21.
Of the few atis we chanced in the Museo, Teresita Ganila was the most amiable, smiling proudly as she pointed out her relatives in the photo exhibit, a panorama of the different facets of ati life. The picture of Lucia, her mother, won a consolation prize; that of his Lola Loreta won third place. She talked tidbits of ati living, and thus started a friendship that went beyond culture. Certainly beyond the color of one’s skin which actually is no barrier, come to think of it.
Terry hails from Sitio Kati-Kati, a cultural community of some sixty families in Brgy. San Miguel, Jordan, Guimaras. Their means of livelihood are farming, weaving, and wood-carving. There was a display of intricate gewgaws made from forest products, what you would call pasalubong delights. Medicinal concoctions line up a table, one of the herbals being the kind that will ward off 'the evil one.'
Terry said she’s married to 'Bisaya' Rolly Ganila, a 'lead man' (to quote her) at the Esorad construction. They have two girls: Rollyn (so named, she said, by adding n to Rolly) and Kimberly. And you thought you would hear names like Anini-y, Kamagong, or Kanunay. Rollyn is in first year high school while Kimberly is in Grade IV.
Kins are in the mainstream of Filipino life. Her aunt Josephine, their 'Chieftain' (Terry’s term), is a public school teacher. Her aunt Lucia is a midwife in the NCIP medical office. She said both are married to a 'Bisaya.'
'But we are all Bisaya. You and I, we are both from Western Visayas,' I corrected Terry’s deplorable idea of segregation.
'No,' Terry said.
'Yes,' I insisted. What Terry meant was that she, Josephine, Lucia, they are not of the same color as this writer’s skin which is typical of the kayumangging kaligatan. Regardless, we are all Filipinos under the Philippine sun, a fact the atis must understand.
A cousin of Terry’s parents is Perla Zaragoza-Moreno whose daughter Naia is first year in Food Technology in the WVCST Guimaras branch. Perla doubts how Naia can ever finish college considering how 'poor' they are. She is hoping for sponsors that would enable Naia to finish her course, so does Terry who has been aspiring to be a midwife since she graduated from high school. You kind-hearted souls out there, please take note. And take action. On a more personal note, how could I or many of us lend assistance when we could hardly meet the crying need right in our own backyard? Talk of the spirit is willing, but the purse is shallow.
It was a hope-springs-eternal parting for Terry and me. I said I might be going back to the States to be a 'd-h' at my daughter’s house to which we both laughed at the pejorative meaning the term has absorbed. We promised to write each other. She wrote down her name and address in my booklet, even asked for her barangay’s zip code from a fellow Guimarasnon. 'They know me in Brgy. San Miguel,' she said assuring that my letter will reach her.
Of course, I will write Terry, among many things, to ask for her thoughts on several questions: How far have the indigenous peoples risen from the adversities enumerated in the exhibit at the Museo: poverty, poor health, lack of education, loss of ancestral lands, and destruction of their environment? How far has the NCIP accomplished toward solving these problems? Do prejudices, superstitions, distortions, inequalities continue to intrude in the lives of indigenous peoples or have they melted away? Civilization and morality demand answers.
(Comments to lagoc@hargray,com)