WHEN MY FATHER AND MY

MOTHER
FORSAKE ME

Crossroads to the Cross

by Florencia C. Miller and Henry T. Miller, Jr.

 WHEN MY FATHER AND MY MOTHER
FORSAKE ME

Cross Roads To The Cross

Copyright 1997 by Florencia C. Miller and Henry T. Miller, Jr.

All rights reserved.

No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any

form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including
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or retrieval system, except as may be expressly permitted by the
1976 Copyright Act or in writing from the publisher. Requests for
permission should be addressed to ELDRA Publishing, P.O. Box
199, Webster, NY 14580-0 199

Printing by CDS
Rochester, NY
Binding by Olde Ridge Book Bindery
250 Goodman Street
Rochester, NY 14607
 Author’s Statement

Our purpose in writing this book is first to honor and glorify the
name of Jesus Christ by identifying how He worked sovereignly in one
person’s life to show his grand power. We desire to leave a message
that shows a driving force in our lives that make us as we are and that
He is supremely worthy of our love and allegiance.
Where we depict sin, it is not to be glorified. God’s grace is to be
seen against that backdrop. Truly we do carry this treasure in earthen
vessels. Where we mention people in sin and distress, our intention is to
be compassionate rather than condemning, without lessening the
seriousness of sin.
The chronicles in this book are built around a factual skeleton as best
we are certain or can imagine, knowing that the actual facts are dimmed
by years of memory or of the telling by people that are now long dead.
When I was beginning my Christian walk with vague, undefined
ambitions to be creative and do something of renown, I tried to define
my purpose in life. My pastor at the time, Rev. Floyd G. Ellis, Sr. said,
“Henry, maybe your sole purpose in life is to be Florencia’s husband.” I
suppose he meant in a true sense to husband, keep, care, and nurture her
as my prime objective in life.
That assessment never did satisfy my desires to accomplish
something great and to make a name for myself. As I began in earnest
to work on this story, the more submissive I became to the Lord about
the idea Pastor Ellis suggested many years before.
Now that I am confident of this my purpose and as I have
surrendered myself to Him for this purpose, he has granted me a peace
of heart and mind that I never enjoyed before. Truly, now I can say,
Jesus satisfies my soul.

Henry T. Miller, Jr.

 When my father and my mother forsake me,

then the Lord will take me up.

Psalm 27:10

Dedication

King David prayed, (Psa 71:18 KJV), “Now also when I am old and
greyheaded, O God, forsake me not; until I have showed thy strength
unto this generation, and thy power to every one that is to come.”
David’s prayer has become my prayer, and this book is God’s answer, in
part, to my request.
We dedicate this book first to the King of Kings, Jesus Christ, to
whom we owe everything, and to His honor and glory. Then we
dedicate it to this generation: Our children, Evangalene Hunter, Linda
Conroy, Davis Miller, Rosalina Boehm, Alisa Zavala, and their spouses;
then to our grandchildren: Kimberly Roles, Jon Hunter, Renee McKane,
Michele Heaster, Matthew McKane, Leslie Miller, Davis Miller, Jr.,
Aaron Miller, Angela Miller, Daniel Finch, Madeline Boehm, two
unnamed Zavala children we earnestly look forward to meeting in
heaven; our great-grandchildren, that which is to come: Bobbie Roles,
Britney Roles. Our hope is that they will construct their lives to reflect
their spiritual heritage as well as their direct heritage.
This book is also dedicated to all those to whom we owe our spiritual
heritage: our parents, our relatives and the spiritual leaders whom God
has used to guide us in our development.
Then we dedicate this to each one who reads it in the deep desire
that you will find the King of Kings both your guide in life and the
anchor of your soul in this life and that, which is to come.
 Table of Contents

Chapter Title Page

Prologue
1 Florencio 001
2 Judgment Day 005
3 Foundling 008
4 I’ll Be Good 014
5 Walking, Walking 019
6 Nice Lady 026
7 Acquainting 029
8 Adoption Papers 036
9 Visitor 042
10 The Good Years 049
11 The Japanese Come 056
12 Evacuation 064
13 On The Trail 070
14 Desolation At Santa Maria 079
15 Hungry Road Back 092
16 End Of The Road 105
17 Nowhere To Go 116
18 Shred Of Hope 127
19 A Promise Kept 137
20 The City 144
21 New Experiences 155
22 What To Do With Felix Tomao 169
23 The Accident 184
24 Extreme Avenues 201
25 Man From My Dream 215
26 Dream’s Reality 228
27 My News 238
28 Thy People Shall Be My People 253
29 Journey Into The Unknown 266
30 Waiting And Reunion 275
31 College And Family 281
32 Traveling Mercies 285
33 Settling Down 294
34 Into My Father’s Arms 303
Closing Word
Final Verse
Glossary
 List of Figures
Figure Caption

1 ‘Encia’s six month journey

2 Roadside farm house
3 ‘Encia approaches the big hut
4 Farmers watering their carabao
5 ‘Encia’s geneology
6 Florencia’s journey on the run
7 Florencia at age 18 after the accident
8 Florencia and girls at the American compound
9 Florencia at age 19 first dating Henry
10 Mrs. C.C. Sadler in her living room
11 Henry at Clark Field
12 Florencia waiting to be married
13 Florencia celebrates at Luneta after the wedding
14 Florencia greets Henry at Kaligtasan
15 Florencia waiting to board the SS General Gordon
16 Mama and Daddy Miller in 1950
17 Florencia and Evangalene waiting for Henry to come home
18 Florencia and Henry proudly holding Linda
19 Florencia and Henry on graduation day
20 Burruss Hall, VPI, on graduation day
21 Florencia and Davis, our third child
22 Our little family at Rush Avenue, Binghamton, NY
23 Visiting Grandpa and Grandma Miller
24 The back trail on the way to Baguio, PI
 Prologue

“I won’t be meeting you any more.”

Guellerma pulled him close by his barong tagalog bunched tightly in
her hands. She pressed her lips to Florencio’s. “Don’t be ridiculous, I
know what you like--what you need.”
“No,” he murmured and closed his eyes while inhaling the heady
scent of the coconut oil in her black hair.
She giggled, and loose petals floated to their feet once she crushed
him against the bamboo trees. In the distance the laughter of children
could be faintly heard on the still evening air.
“Stop! There’s no easy way to tell you.” Florencio tensed. “I’m in
love with Lydia Corpus.”
Color drained from her cheeks. “What about the times you
whispered my name in the banana grove? You couldn’t have loved her,
too.”
He reached out when her arms dropped to her sides. “Lydia was just
a friend then.”
She pushed his hand away. “You traveled nearly fifty miles to her --
all the while I waited, hoping you’d come to me.”
“Guellerma, I never meant to hurt you.” He looked down. “Are you
quite sure you’re pregnant?”
She touched the subtle swell of her abdomen. “Three months, I
think, but what do you care? You plan on leaving me.”
“I want you to understand that you won’t face this alone even after
I’ve married Lydia.”
She clenched her fists. “What I understand is that her inheritance
will make you the most prominent man in her village.”
“Money and property have nothing to do with it; we love each
other.”
Guellerma’s lower lip quivered. “I know how the other boys look at
me; you could learn to love me instead.”
“It’s no use--” His gaze lowered to her flimsy sarong. “--if you
hadn’t kept after me, this might not have happened.”
“I’ll help you to forget Lydia once we’re together as a family.”
He frowned. “It’s too late.”
With fiery eyes, Guellerma kicked the dirt. “We’ll see about that!”
She shoved him hard and stormed past. “You can’t use me and
humiliate me, too.”
He caught the bamboo knuckle that slid from her hair when she fled.
“Mark my words, Florencio Cacayan, you’ll suffer!”
 “I already do,” he whispered.
The slender girl ran through the moist grass until she dropped
amongst entwined pepper vines. She coughed and retched as was
becoming frequent now with her condition. “He has to be persuaded; I
can’t go through this alone.” Guellerma lay longing to escape her barrio
in Cagayan Valley with its nearby mountains of Luzon, Philippines.
Florencio might have run away with me to some exciting port, perhaps
to Aparri to the north. There aboard a coastal ferry we could have put
the island of Luzon behind if it weren‘t for Lydia. I want a better life,
she decided, I want to see what the large cities might have to offer.
It was difficult not to envy the hearty villagers comprising Lydia’s
barrio. “That old twenty-six-year-old and her plantation--she’ll never
sharecrop like people here in Balatunang.” She considered Lydia’s
green thumb and abundant harvests. “I don’t doubt her cattle, pigs, and
chickens are all fattened. The only pets we seem to have are rats
scratching underneath the hut each night.” Gorio called into the night.
“I’m coming, Brother,” she muttered and immediately remembered
Grandmother’s chicken. It was best she hang it in its basket beneath the
elevated thatch-roofed hut that was their home. It would be safe there
from the teeth of foraging rodents. She rose and shook damp sprigs
from her skirt. “Virgin Maria, help me to find the words to tell Gorio
about the baby.”
 1
Florencio

The dwindling rainy season brought September, 1928, to a close.

With it, a visit from three familiar men came unexpectedly. “Florencio
Cacayan! Come down.”
The young man rubbed his eyes and rose from the abaca mat.
Although he attempted to tiptoe quietly to the hut’s small thatched
verandah, his grandparents stirred.
Florencio fumbled with his threadbare cotton shirt before leaping to
the cool earth. “Good morning, Godfather.”
Bartolomeo nodded.
“What may I do for you?”
Antonio followed down the bamboo ladder to ensure that his twenty-
one-year-old son would help to work his hectare of beans.
Bartolomeo appeared serious. “Florencio, Felix wants to speak with
you.”
“The head elder wants to see me?”
“Guellerma went to him last night.”
Florencio swallowed hard. “What about?”
“She claims that she’s pregnant--” He lowered his voice. “--that you
forced her.”
Grandmother Chrysynthia gasped from one lofty window.
“Godfather, you’ve known me since birth--” He blinked repeatedly.
“--I couldn’t do such a thing.”
“Her story is that she was ashamed to come forward when it
happened.” Bartolomeo pursed his lips. “Everyone’s well aware that
you two often wandered unchaperoned. If you’ve fathered a child, then
take up your responsibility as a man.”
Moises and Juan agreed.
Florencio looked to the accompanying men. He pondered their
words and worried that Felix might take the distorted tale to Mr.
Castilio, the mayor.
Moises grasped his arm. “Come with us now.”
The young man’s pulse quickened. “Father! Do something.”
Bartolomeo turned to Antonio. “Let him go, Brother.”
Antonio stood silently then nodded. “Son, be brave and go with
them. I believe you’ll straighten this out.”
Florencio obeyed. He was not prepared to disappoint his mother,
Florentina, after glimpsing her figure across the rice field.

1
 Florentina came humming from the flooded stream. It may be a dry
day after all, she reckoned. She grunted and shifted the bamboo rod
resting heavily across her shoulders. Water spilt from clay jugs
suspended by thongs from the bamboo rod. She rested her load once she
spotted her son. I wonder where Flor is off to. She shrugged and tipped
her straw hat to wipe her brow. Yes, it won’t be long, dear, before
you’re married to Lydia. Your father has kept you working our fields
long enough. She envisioned her people gathering near Lydia’s home to
witness the young couple’s wedding vows. We’ll eat traditional lechon
and dance until dawn.
A blossomed marigold caught her eye, so she plucked its stem.
“Mother loves these.”
“Mother loves these,” repeated a macaw.
Florentina shook her finger at the flaming red parrot perched in one
mango tree. “Careful, or you’ll become Flor’s wedding gift.”
It flitted to another branch as though comprehending.
“That’s a fine idea; red is his favorite color.” She grinned and
positioned her jugs to move on.

>
Felix gorged on an array of fruits when the men arrived at his
shanty. His breathing labored with every bite. “Come in.” He motioned
to them but remained seated. “Young man, you were wise to come. I’ll
get to the point.” He clicked his tobacco-stained teeth and bit the end
off a stale cigar. “You know that your family is respected among our
people, correct?”
Florencio nodded to the paunch elder.
“Guellerma and her grandmother want you to set things right--”
“--what she told you isn’t true!”
“This village has eyes.” Felix rolled the cigar between thumb and
forefinger. “They’ve seen how cozy you two were at several provincial
fiestas.”
Florencio sighed.
“The girl’s pregnant and claims that it’s your seed she carries--that
you forced her.”
“Sir, I would never force her. If any thing, she pressured me to meet
her alone many times.”
“Ha! tell that to her grandmother. We’re peacekeeping men--not
the kind to violate our women, and you know the laws for all
surrounding barrios. She’s young but is willing for you to marry her.”
“I can’t--”

2
 “--Personally. I don’t care what you decide to do.” Felix shrugged
and eyed the remaining papaya slice. He licked his lips. “Listen, your
own Ilocano people will side with her once word spreads.” His eyes
narrowed. “Go on, marry her, and father her child, then all can be
forgotten.”
Florencio shook his head.
“This situation could become ugly if the mayor handles it. Is that
what you prefer?”
“I can’t spend my life with a woman I don’t love.”
The teak wood table swayed with a bump from Felix’ muddied boot.
“Do as you must.” He snorted and resumed eating.
Bartolomeo released Florencio to return home until he received
further word on the matter.
Once he stepped from the shanty, the young man fled in the opposite
direction. He ran eight miles almost nonstop to the first crossing point
of the Magat River.
Jose’s legs dangled in the water when his cousin arrived. “Good!
You’re here to help me. Flor, the catfish are cowards today, and my
children will starve at the rate I’m going.” He tossed his length of twine
into the fresh water for the umpteenth time.
Florencio dropped next to him on the bamboo flat. “Whew!”
Jose shook his head. “Don’t tell me you ran the whole way here.”
He wiped his face on his shirtsleeve. “Uh-huh. Would you take me to
the other side?”
“You didn’t come to fish then. Is your love waiting for you today?”
Florencio nudged him. “Come on, it’s important--I’m in trouble.”
Jose winked. “For you, it’s always important. If it weren’t for me
and the netted crabs I trade for beef, Lydia wouldn’t know you exist at
all.”
“I’m sure you’ll remind me for the rest of my life.” He patted Jose’s
shoulder. “Now, what do you say?”
Jose squashed a mosquito and added it to his worthless mound of
bait. “Why don’t you ask Simon?” He looked about, but the river-
man’s canoe was nowhere in sight. “Okay, I’ll take you. I’m going to
miss the big one though.”
Florencio rolled his eyes. “Cousin, tomorrow I’ll bring corn bits and
show you how to properly empty this river.
They laughed and rowed together across the smooth current.
On the opposite bank, Florencio greatly reduced the forty-mile trek
to Lydia’s hacienda by leaving the main road. He set out along the
usual shortcuts with one question turning again and again in his mind.
How do I break my predicament to her?

3
 He ran for some time and wriggled up a tilted tree. Near the top, a
coconut dropped. It crashed and drizzled milk down a rock when he fell
with a thud. “Oosh!” His elbow was skinned and pants torn. Then he
cupped the cracked shell to his mouth. It came up empty. “This is not
my day.”
One day I’ll own sandals as city folk, he determined and kicked the
coconut up the path. Considering the distance remaining to go, he
concentrated on Lydia instead of his sore feet.

>
“Goodnight, Gloria, no one makes adobo more delicious than
yours.” The shadows darkened when Lydia parted with her employed
friend outside the cooking house. She crossed the adjoining bridge to the
main house and whistled for her dog. “Mr. English, where are you?”
She whistled again before he barked along the village road.
He was leaping up and down in front of Tuto’s wagon.
“Come, Mr. English!” she called.
The dog continued barking at another figure on board.
Lydia squinted hard. “Florencio!” She breathed deeply and ran full
speed to greet him. “What a surprise!”
Florencio leapt down and swung her into the air. “I’ve missed you.”
Lydia blushed. “Tuto, you can unload the lemons tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Miss Lydia. Goodnight.”
She led Florencio up to the house. “You’ve come far; you must be
hungry.”
“Truthfully, Tuto split his fish dinner with me. I’m lucky I caught
him before he left the orchard.” He took her hand. “I still get lost miles
away without you by my side.”
She chuckled. “Be patient, love, it won’t be long before you roam
Santa Cruz as if you’d always lived here.”

4
 2
Judgment Day

Tucked in the Cagayan Valley of the Isabela province, the remote

village of Balatunang would never be the same. Now that Felix had
hastened to Mr. Castilio, the villagers brought Florencio by the river to
the small town square.
‘I’ll never abandon you,” promised Lydia. She stood beside him
when the affectionate local villagers had finished gathering themselves
to witness the simple trial arranged for him.
In less than an hour, the mayor weighed Guellerma de Ia Cruz’
detailed testimony. “Florencio Cacayan, on the grounds that you have
contributed to the moral degradation of a minor, I find you guilty of
statutory rape as charged. You will be hanged this day as a public
example.”
“Not my only child!” cried Florentina. She fell to her knees,
sobbing, while Antonio clutched his chest.
“Florencio, please save yourself.” Lydia’s eyes pleaded.
He raised his chin. “You’re the only woman I love; I won’t marry
her. If I can’t live with you, Lydia, I won’t live without you.”
“I hate you both,” hissed Guellerma.
Moises and Juan seized Florencio and dragged him closer to the
nearby Magat River. They tossed a heavy hemp rope over one limb of a
tamarind tree and bound his hands. With that done, they lifted him onto
a sturdy bamboo crate.
The rope’s noose swung in the breeze while the crowd slowly lined
the water’s bank.
Gorio appeared and touched his best friend. “I’m sorry, Flor, the
mayor insists that I honor my sister.”
Florencio glimpsed Guellerma’s grandmother with her grave stare.
How could I let this happen? Guellerma’s only fifteen-years-old and
carrying my child. He looked to the vivid blue clouds after the mango
tree-covered hills imprinted his mind. What will become of the baby?
Guellerma peeked through a distant Sampanguita bush, and he
shifted from one blistered foot to the other. Those flowers and the sweet
cloying smell of their night-blooms are why I’m standing here today. It
took all the courage he could muster to resist flinging off the rope and
making a run for it.
Gorio squeezed his shoulder. “This is it, Flor. Won’t you do what
the people want? Change your mind now--maybe they’ll be forgiving
and yet let you live.”

5
 Hardship enveloped life in this exotic river valley, but Florencio was
bred from hard-working industrious people who seldom complained.
Their Oriental-Spanish ancestry strengthened the Ilocano community’s
survival rate though centuries of wars and disputes. No matter the
circumstance, they strove for harmony and loyalty.
Florencio wept. I've disappointed everyone.
Felix moved beside the mayor and signaled sharply with his hand.
Gorio formed the sign of the cross before his chest and hugged
Florencio tightly. “I’m sorry; God be with you.” With trembling hands,
he slipped the noose about his friend’s neck.
Mr. Castilio had stressed to him, minutes earlier, that the knot be
precisely placed. This would ensure that Florencio’s neck would break
cleanly. Any mislocation of the knot would only prolong his agony.
Guellerma’s heart ached. She still crouched behind the bush.
Florencio, I never meant for you to come this far. Please, believe in my
love, and give up now.
Florencio's mouth went dry when he looked to his family.
They huddled about Lydia in horror.
On the mayor’s cue, Moises and Juan clasped the extended rope and
pulled with all their might.
Groans resonated though the crowd when Florencio jerked into the
air.
He gasped with pain.
“Stop!” shrieked Guellerma. She lunged forward, and Lydia clasped
her temples when Florencio twisted and choked.
Gorio covered his face. “The knot isn’t tight enough.”
Florencio's mouth widened when red and white streamers exploded
before his eyes. The sturdy branch creaked strangely while he oscillated
between life and the hereafter. “Lydia,” he croaked before darkness
shrouded his mind, and his rigid form relaxed in surrender.
When the villagers were positive that Florencio was gone, they
dispersed to their huts to mourn.
Lydia wiped her tears. “Felix, would you please cut him down?”
Guellerma dropped to the grass and wailed while others lowered
Florencio’s remains.
“Come back! don’t leave me.” She rocked back and forth at the
corpse’ feet.
Gorio touched her shoulder only to have her shake him off.
“You’ve done enough, Child,” said Chrysynthia, “step aside. We’re
taking my grandson home.”
Her husband, Domingo, nodded.
Guellerma cursed Lydia who appeared a tower of strength. “This is
your fault! I have nothing now. I hate you and Florencio, too.”

6
 Lydia looked to her with great sympathetic eyes.
“Don’t hate,” required Gorio, “let his spirit go in peace from this
place.” He lifted his sister to his bosom when Lydia requested a cotton
sheet be brought from her belongings.
She whispered her offer to Florentina. “Your family can wrap the
body and use my cart to carry him home.”
Guellerma abruptly turned. “Get away! he’s not your
responsibility.”
“I don’t wish to upset you, but we should act quickly.”
Gorio agreed and pulled Guellerma, kicking and crying, in the
direction of their home.
Lydia’s brow creased. This will never end for the poor girl. She
crossed herself and earnestly prayed that the future would bring her an
opportunity to raise Florencio's child.

7
 3
Foundling

Guellerma tossed and turned in her tangled sheet. It clung to her

sweat-drenched body while she strained to breathe the humid air. One
hand brushed her parched lips. “Florencio!” She bolted upright,
propelled back to consciousness by the sound of his name. It was just
another bad dream of the man for whom she still longed.
She believed her time had come and whimpered from the cramps in
her belly. With clenched teeth, she eased from the damp woven mat to
crawl past her grandmother.
The contractions intensified as streams of dawn’s light seeped
through the hut.
As Gorio’s rooster crowed, she clutched her lower back. It continued
sounding from his family’s hut while she wound her long, coal-colored
hair into a knot.
Grandmother slept on even when bamboo slats cracked while she
inched carefully across the floor. She paused to rest, but with another
pang, she lurched on to the veranda. Guellerma popped her head outside
and maneuvered onto the hut’s bamboo ladder. “Ay, ay, ay.” Sweat
beaded her brow as she stepped upon each rung to the ground below.
The sight of the stream appearing bare of early village risers made her
sigh. “The coast is clear.”
Guellerma decided on Gorio’s cornfield as the best available shield.
She knew his harvesting routine and was relieved to stumble through the
stalks alone. It was there she felt sure to be unnoticed even with the
rising sun’s broadening rays.
At length, she dropped in a clearing to rest and wait. The pain was
sharply intense now, so she tossed several stones aside to ease onto her
back.
A distant dove cried, and the faint smell of carabao dung wafted in
the breeze.
Guellerma wrinkled her nose and tried to relax when the baby kicked
harder. “Mamma, Marie, I need you now. Grandmother is old and
doesn’t understand me.” She squeezed her lower muscles and tried
vainly to remember her parents who had passed away from an unknown
disease shortly after her own birth.
Her teeth gritted with steady contractions, so she thought about
Ernesto instead. He was sixteen-years-old, too, and often offered to
father her baby. She sneered. He is just a silly boy--unlike Florencio
who proved his manhood to our entire village by his mature behavior.

8
 The pain quickly became unbearable, and she fought the urge to
scream. She pawed the dirt for a stray twig and shoved it between her
teeth. When she bit down, her moans deepened.
“Guellerma, when the time comes, breathe steadily and deeply, in
sync with the rhythm of your tribulation.” That instruction from the
village shaman sounded simple enough several months ago but lacked
sense now with each racked breath.
“Saint Christopher, spare me!” she hissed. Her heart beat wildly
while she coughed and retched. “Why?” she cried and pounded her
fists. The soil caked her cheeks when she writhed from side to side. It
were as if some superhuman strength pulled her in two.
When the small form finally burst forth onto the dry sod, she lay
weeping and exhausted. By the time Gorio finds it, he’ll believe it was
stillborn. I won’t look at the thing, she decided and tore herself loose to
crawl away.

>
The March sun now baked another of God’s blessings. It squirmed
with feeble cries from among the corn stalks.
Meanwhile, Gorio whistled while turning another row. He
concentrated on preparing ground to plant additional rice when his
carabao came to a halt. “What is it, Brute?”
The beast snorted at a rock blocking his path.
Gorio dropped the reins and leapt over his simple plow to remove
the mound. He pushed and pulled before brusquely tossing it over his
head. “Aahh!!“ In an instant his feet slipped out which caused him to
land hard on his buttocks. He sighed. “Don’t make a sound, Brute.”
When the carabao looked away, sleepy-eyed, he chuckled.
Brute cocked his massive horned head when a painted pigeon echoed
a not-so-distant cry.
Gorio strained to hear. There it is again, he thought and ran across
the garden. He followed the cries straight to the cornfield. After
minutes of beating through the stalks, he reached the clearing. “Ay!” he
gushed. At the sight of a curious field mouse scuttling away from the
small being the man stopped short.
Beetles and ants crawled everywhere.
With infant in arms, Gorio rushed to the stream and plunged it into
the cool, shallow water. The hungry blanket unleashed, and he wiped
its nose and mouth of excess mucus. “Who do you come from, little
one?” His eyes combed the bamboo trees but found no one in sight.
The baby began trembling.

9
 “Okay,” whispered Gorio. He pulled his shirt off and gently patted
it warm and dry. When he peered into its tiny swollen face, he couldn’t
help but weep. It was as if his beloved lost friend were reincarnated into
his very arms. Gorio looked to the skies. “Flor, if you can hear me, you
have a beautiful baby girl.”
He held the tender bundle to his chest and set off for home. “Tarong
will know what to do,” he said aloud. Ugly thoughts filled his mind.
How could Guellerma abandon an innocent baby this way? He circled
the familiar shortcut to his nipa hut. I suppose I should have expected
this much from her.
Tarong was tossing clumps of kangkong into a bowl when her
husband broke through the trees. She stopped humming as Gorio
whisked the child up the ladder to her side.
“Tarong, I need your help.”
Her jaw dropped when he unwrapped his shirt. “Where did you find
her?”
Gorio nodded to the east. “She was crying in the cornfield.”
Tarong shook her head and touched the infant’s swollen, pink welts.
Together, they pushed the bowl of swamp cabbage aside and made
room for the newborn on the worn worktable.
Tarong drew her breath. “Precious little one, what happened?” She
formed the sign of the cross and kissed her fingertips before touching
them to the baby’s wrinkled forehead. Fresh water soothed as she
applied some to the infant’s insect bite-dotted limbs.
The baby whimpered with each gentle stroke.
Meanwhile, Gorio sterilized a sharp knife over one lit candle. He
managed to trim and tie the umbilical cord that Guellerma had bitten in
savage haste.
Tarong waited for him to finish before applying a pungent salve all
over the soft form. The healing balm was a gift from the village
shaman, which all the mothers treasured.
Gorio’s brow creased. “Is this all right to use?”
“Yes.” She kissed his cheek. “It’s been diluted for the children.”
He shuddered and prayed that the massive bites wouldn’t backlash
into a fever. The outcome could be fatal. “I don’t know how long she
was out there,” he said, “but by her condition, thanks to The Father, it
may have only been a short time.”
Tarong also thanked God above. “Virgin Maria, too,” she added.
Gorio leaned close. She surely has Flor’s features, he mused when
she struggled to open her glazed chestnut eyes. “We’ll name her
Florencia,” he stated after recalling the tragic day his best friend died.
“And we’ll have her baptized properly, too.”

10
 “Of course,” agreed Tarong. She nuzzled the baby with a smile.
“There will be no more swimming in the stream for you until you’re
much older.”
Gorio went to the verandah and drew his spare shirt from the twine
clothesline. “I’m sorry to leave, but for now I need to return to my
work. I’ll speak with Guellerma tonight.”
Tarong nodded. “We’ll need milk.”
“Okay, is there anything else I can do before I leave?”
Tarong looked to their two small boys napping in one corner. “No,
sweetheart, everything here is under control.”
Gorio looked out across his leased land. “I wonder where old Brute
has wandered off to this time. He’s probably soaking in some mudhole.”
She grinned. “He’s probably torn up the plow again, dragging it
around.”
Gorio spotted the beast and slid down the ladder.
Tarong watched him go as she cuddled the baby tightly. She
wondered whether this year’s harvests would satisfy their landlord’s
greed. It was always difficult to ask others for bits of food whenever
they came up short. Although the villagers would never refuse to help,
she resolved to pray harder.
Gorio called to the carabao waiting in the shade. “What have you
gotten yourself into?” He squinted at the toppled plow. “I suppose
there’s not much damage this time.” He straightened the crude
equipment to resume work and tried to make sense of Guellerma. Had
she strategically planned for me to happen upon the foundling?
“She’s been strong-willed since birth,” he muttered. Through the
years he’d grown weary of his young sister’s rebellion. “Tarong is a
good mother, so I’m sure we can find a way to provide for one more
child.”
By late afternoon, he drew past the cornfield and considered
Guellerma’s sin. What would she have to say for herself?

>
“Why didn’t you just leave it?!” cried Guellerma.
Gorio paced his grandmother’s darkened verandah. “Sister, she
would have died out there--”
“--she, she--don’t tell me.” Guellerma cupped her hands over her
ears. “I don’t want to know.”
He yanked her hands down. “You don’t even know that you bore a
little girl? How could you leave her like that? Grandmother, say
something to her.”

11
 The woman shook her head and sat to catch her breath. “Child,
you’ve done a terrible thing. That baby is your responsibility.”
Guellerma shook one fist. “Gorio, don’t even think of bringing it
here. To me, it doesn’t exist.” She flounced down on her mat.
Gorio breathed deep. “All right, I’ll keep her. It’s probably the best
thing I could ever do for little Florencia since you’ll never be fit to raise
her.”
Guellerma glared up at him. “Florencia?! Why did you go and
name her that? You could have named her after Mamma.”
He rubbed his head. “You know that baby is not to blame for your
problems. If I were you, I’d come to my senses and be grateful that
she’s still alive after all.”
Grandmother raised one hand. “Stop squabbling, both of you.
Guellerma, pour fresh water and clean yourself up, and Gorio, you go
home to rest now. What’s done is done.” She looked sternly at the girl.
“We’ll let God be the judge of things to come.”
The months followed with Gorio slowly distancing himself from his
sister. He still brought beans and husked corn to supplement his
grandmother’s garden produce but vowed never to tell Florencia the
truth. It would only be a source of pain and confusion.
“I’ve been straining rice milk for little ‘Encia to drink,” Tarong
stated one morning. She was far past breast-feeding now that their sons,
Lordrigo was nearly two, and Sator was three-years-old.
Gorio watched her carefully squeeze soup droplets into the infant’s
mouth from a rolled banana leaf.
She said, “This will have to do. Canned milk is hard to get even if
we could afford it.”
“As long as ‘Encia’s able to grow,” he returned.
Before many months passed, the couple brought the baby to the
priest at a local mission. Gorio’s grandmother was the only other
witness to Florencia’s water baptism.
As orphanages were virtually non-existent in the Isabela province,
the couple committed themselves to the child as her godparents.
“We promise to raise her as our own,” vowed Gorio.
The priest approved by crossing the infant with his blessing and
praying that her guardian angel would ensure her safety and survival.
Thereafter, the family of five continued their days in simple fashion.
Florencia grew strong, and by the time she reached the age of five,
she matched the height of her older cousin, Lordrigo.
“Mamma, I’m hungry,” came daily pleas from each sprouting child.
Between meals, Tarong pacified them with bits of coconut or
ripened fruit. She had many chores with the energetic brood often

12
underfoot. “Be gentle with ‘Encia,” she’d remind the boys, “she’s still a
little girl.”
Florencia was shy but fearlessly entered each day’s endless stream of
fun and games with both cousins.

13
 4
I’ll Be Good

Tarong set one of three shallow baskets of mongol beans into Gorio's
cart. “You should try to persuade Guellerma to help. Life won’t be this
easy for her once we leave for Father’s barrio.”
Gorio wiped his dirty hands down his shirt. “I know it.”
“My father’s going to need all our help; he’s still not well. It’s
enough to feed three children, but if Guellerma comes with us, she’ll
add another bowl to his table.”
He silently tightened Brute’s strap before trudging across the field to
see his sister.
As he approached, Guellerma placed her chicken in its basket.
“Gorio, what do you want now?”
“Sister, I spoke with Jose again. He and his family finally agreed to
sublease the land--we’ll be able to leave Balatunang soon.”
She fished in her apron’s pocket.
“You might get used to helping with chores around here before we
all go.”
She lit rolled tobacco from her cooking fire then inhaled.
He wasn’t pleased when she blew smoke in his face and giggled.
“I haven’t decided whether I’m going with you after all.”
Gorio pulled the cigarette from her lips. “If you’re old enough to
smoke, you’re old enough to pitch in.”
“Ay! What are you doing?”
“Listen, Guellerma, you’re my responsibility. Since Grandmother’s
no longer alive, you ought to come with us. ‘Encia is growing fast, so
it’s time you behaved as her real mother.”
“I did fine without our mother.” She tipped her chin while patting
his shoulder. “I’m twenty-one now. You don’t have to look after me.”
“That’s not the point. You’ve lived next door long enough to see for
yourself that ‘Encia poses no threat to you. With time, you could learn
to love her.”
She crossed her arms with raised eyebrows.
“Don’t look at me that way. Besides, we need the help, and you owe
that to my wife.”
“How many times did I tell you that you should have left the girl
where you found her? Look at her face. I can’t live with a constant
reminder of Florencio.” She snatched the cigarette back from him. “I
may ask Jose if I can stay on.” She coughed after deeply inhaling

14
smoke. “Who knows? I might even take Ramon up on his offer to go
with him to Baguio.”
Gorio shook his head. “I didn’t realize he was back again. You
know, he may be charming, but believe me, yours won’t be the only
heart he breaks.”
She bit her lip and looked away.
“You never change.” He turned on his heel and strode off.
All three children ran for Gorio’s cart when he returned.
He immediately secured the small load to distribute amongst several
other villagers. “It’s not much but the least we can do since they’ve
helped us when we needed it.”
Tarong agreed. “Yes--out of the way, children.” She drew each
youngster aside as Gorio smacked Brute’s rear.
He peered back over one shoulder. “By the way, Guellerma still
hasn’t made up her mind what she’ll do.”
Tarong turned away from the children and wept after her husband
left. Gorio and I have cared for ‘Encia since she was born, she
thought, so why can’t Guellerma be more helpful? Her daughter’s no
longer a baby. If things had turned out differently, she may have
married and been able to help provide more food there never seems to
be enough to go around.
She sniffled and gathered scattered pea pods into the drape of her
skirt.
When several fell out, the dancing children unknowingly trampled
them to bits.
“Go play elsewhere!” She wiped her brow with the back of her hand.
“Aunt ‘Rong, are you mad?”
The woman glared at Florencia. “I’m tired, and those were supposed
to be for supper. I’ll have to search for oboe roots now to boil since
there’s no rice left from breakfast.”
“Let’s play plow instead,” suggested Sator. He led the other two to
where Gorio’s device rested in the adjacent field.
The children pushed and pulled the contraption but were unable to
budge it.
Lordrigo discovered a large stick instead and poked it around in the
dirt.
“You’re not doing it right,” came Sator. He took the stick and
dragged it along the potato row. “This is how we plow.” He hunched
over and grunted. “Look, I’m Brute.”
Lordrigo lifted the opposite end and followed. “I’m Papa.” He shook
the stick. “Go fast! Brute.”

15
 Florencia came to join in. “Now I’m Uncle Gorio,” she said,
smiling. She reached for her turn, but Lordrigo refused her.
“Not yet, it’s mine.”
The two pushed and pulled, wrangling over the stick, while Sator
hobbled along.
When he came to a halt, the dried wood rammed Lordrigo’s
stomach.
“Aahh!” The boy ran off crying.
“Wait! ‘Rigo,” Florencia called after him. “You can have the stick
back.” She and Sator charged behind him to the hut.
When they reached Tarong, she examined Lordrigo’s cut and
grabbed Florencia. “I’m tired of reminding you children not to argue!”
She spanked the child and flung her onto her sleeping mat. “Your own
mother doesn’t even want you, so you have to behave! You should be
grateful we even bother to take care of you!”
Florencia’s eyes widened. Aunt ‘Rong had never used words such as
these before.
“Mamma, it was an accident,” said Sator.
“Stay put, ‘Encia, until your uncle returns!” The angry woman led
the boys out for chores until nightfall.
Florencia cried and hugged herself tightly. “I didn’t do anything,
but I’ll be good, and Aunt’ Rong will still love me.”
Before long, her sobs turned to a bout of hiccups, and she giggled
with each jerk of her shoulders.
It wasn’t until after dark that the family returned with Tarong’s
voice growing louder as she moved up the ladder. “It’s time you set the
children’s rules around here.”
Florencia stopped humming to listen.
The woman slammed coconut bowls down onto the table. “She’s
getting stronger than Lordrigo and growing even faster. Once we’re
with Father, I won’t tolerate the children misbehaving.”
Gorio touched her shoulder. “They’re only children. I’m sure that
what happened to Lordrigo was an accident.”
“Do something--do it now.” Tarong handed him his leather belt that
hung by the window.
Gorio swallowed hard. “I thought you took care of this earlier.”
“Yes, but she won’t learn her lesson unless you enforce it. She
listens to you.”
Gorio held the belt with two hands. “I know it’s been difficult,
Tarong, but we shouldn’t have to resort to this. Things will get better. I
promise.”
She broke into tears. “You say that every year, but we couldn’t be
much worse. Look at us. We’re forever in debt--whether it’s with our

16
landlord or Fathers, and Guellerma stays over there silently turning the
knife in my back.”
“I’m going to speak with her again.”
“It’s not good enough. Look, forget about disciplining ‘Encia. Just
find someone else to take her, or I’m going to Father’s without you.
This is too much for me now.’’
“Please don’t leave us,” he whispered, “I’ll do what you want.” He
reluctantly wound half the belt around his palm. “Come for your
punishment, ‘Encia.”
Florencia stared at her aunt and uncle. Never before had they
displayed unkindness toward her. She crawled from her corner. “I’m
sorry, Uncle Gorio, I’ll be good.”
“It’s too late for that.”
“Papa--”
“--quiet, Sator, or you’ll be next.”
Sator shrank back when Gorio began whipping Florencia.
Just as she cried out, she ducked too soon to wriggle from his grip.
The leather snapped out of his control.
“Ouch!” Florencia dashed to the verandah after the belt’s buckle bit
the side of her head, cutting deeply over the bone behind her left ear.
The boys wailed when she tripped.
“Look what you brought on yourself now!” Tarong immediately
dragged her back to her mat.
Florencia could barely hear the boys whispering something about her
blood-smudged ear when they ran to her side.
“Let her sleep now; she’ll be fine tomorrow.” Tarong urged the
family to sit down to dinner while Florencia lay whimpering.
That night, the room spun. She wanted to throw up. She moaned
and covered her eyes through the long hours, unable to sleep.
At daybreak, the child rose for the meager morning meal. The room
blurred when she pressed the pulsating lump behind her ear. “Aunt
Rong,” she whispered. Gorio and the boys had apparently eaten earlier
and left, so she crept to the table.
Tarong placed a bowl in front of her. “Are we doing better, today,
Encia?”
She sat on her stool and nodded. After picking at the cooled potato,
she was unable to swallow any. Bits rolled off her tongue back into the
bowl. “I’m not hungry; I don’t feel good.”
Tarong knocked the bowl off the table and pushed her against one
wall. “I told Gorio you were ungrateful! Now, go outside!”
Florencia went to the verandah. I won’t stay where I’m not wanted,
she decided before crawling down the ladder. Outside, everything
appeared hazy. As she turned about slowly, Uncle Gorios occasional

17
reminder came to mind. You are never to go to that hut over there past
the cornfield. It was forever off limits.
She sighed and unsteadily headed for the village road where the sun
quickly baked her head. The urge to vomit returned, and she frowned.
‘I’ll just go somewhere to die by myself.

18
 5
Walking, Walking

The narrow road was unfamiliar, but the tender five-year-old felt
unafraid.
Up ahead, a woman carried fruits and vegetables in the direction of
the next village. For this was Market Day in Murong.
The child’s head still ached while she followed close behind the
woman and several other strangers. They walked and walked for some
time before the gravel-strewn road grew slightly wider.
It was at this point that more people appeared from various paths.
They drove carabao- drawn carts along the same course but drew close
to the road’s edge when large trucks lumbered by.
Florencia stared curiously after those strange trucks. To her they
were odd-looking carts with roofs. They bumped past more noisily, and
she wondered how their carabao had pulled loose. Looking about, there
were no stray animals to be seen.
She smiled and thought draft animals must have run to hide in the
forest. The distance those roofed carts were able to roll was amazing,
but she felt the farmers should jump off in case their carts were to crash
into a tree.
She shrugged the idea off when a horse-drawn cart passed. It too
was loaded with people and their goods to sell.
By the time Florencia reached Murong, she resolved that it must not
be time for her to die. She did long to rest though after spotting a girl
her height by a vegetable cart. Her spirits lifted, so she immediately
went to the other girl. “I’m ‘Encia, do you want to play?”
The girl nodded. “I’m Nina.” She broke her rice cake in two to
share with her new friend.
The girls played together all day while Nina’s mother sold
vegetables from her cart.
When the time came for the market to close, Nina and her mother
prepared to leave. They steered their two-wheeled cart for home with
Florencia following behind on foot.
“Mamma, Mamma!” cried Nina, “Let ‘Encia get in the cart with
me.”
The woman slowed her carabao to look back. “Where is your
mother, little girl?”
Florencia came and looked up with winsome gaze. “I don’t have a
mother.”
The woman’s expression softened, and without another word, she
took Florencia to their barrio.

19
 There, Florencia ate, slept, and played with Nina several more days.
When the family left the village to visit their grandmother, Florencia
was left behind.
She was happy to swim about in the local stream and play freely
around the neighborhood. It was easy for her to understand that there
were other children, like herself, without parents. They were often fed
rice and sheltered by strangers. Since these strangers were kind enough,
she reasoned it best to stay with the main road in search of a welcoming
new home.
Oddly enough, other than Gorio and Tarong, Balatunang villagers
were unaware of the child’s disappearance. Therefore, no one bothered
to send out a search party. It is unknown how Gorio and Tarong
accounted for Encia’s absence as the months passed.
Along the little girl’s journey, one woman fed Florencia rice and
vegetables and noted her injury. “Child, you’re burning up with fever.”
She then cleansed the cut above Florencia’s ear to bandage it. “You
sleep here tonight, and tomorrow we’ll find out where you live.”
Florencia curled up with the woman’s daughters at sundown but
crept away at first light. I don’t want to go back to Aunt ‘Rong, she
decided, she doesn’t want me. Despite her sporadic dizziness, she kept
venturing northeast. This route provided plenty of houses, shanties, and
huts to stop to play at.
When the dusty road grew to the width of two lanes, farmers passed
by in even greater numbers.
Florencia noticed as many horses as carabao being used to pull the
vehicles. The familiar clop of hooves didn’t frighten the child. It was
when a monstrous, long, shiny thing zoomed toward her that she ran
down to the ditch. It rolled much faster than the carriages, and once she
peeked to watch it roar past, she saw people’s faces filling its many
windows.
She marveled. Maybe there’s a faster horse running underneath; I
can’t see past all the wheels. From that point on, whenever the long,
noisy thing came rushing, she’d cover her ears and run to the security of
the ditch.
Much time passed with the shifting winds being the most significant
change in the weather. The direction of the road determined where she
went, but one evening she met a fork in the road.
There were dozens of carts rolling by with farm-surplus dried
coconut, wine, candies, and candles to be sold for a coming fiesta. “It’s
almost Christmas!” were people’s cries.
Florencia clapped her hands. She was happy that they were happy.
“Where are you going?” she inquired of a woman passing alone.
“Close to the river--to Cabatuen. Will your family be coming?”

20
 Florencia’s lips parted to answer as a flock of children ran past
shouting and laughing.
The woman waited while Florencia wondered what to do.
“There’s good fishing along the Magat River,” one man commented
after catching up with another. “We’ll attend Mass in Cabatuen, too.”
“Will you watch the fights?” asked his companion. He tapped his
bamboo cage confining a gamecock.
“Of course.”
The woman left Florencia’s side to take to the left trail that led
northwest.
The child turned to face the right branch where the road was wider.
Maybe I should go that way, she thought. It was deserted and looked
uninviting, so she turned back to where the others grew smaller in the
distance.
The sky was now quite dark with its stars glistening.
She felt the strongest urging to follow the people. I'm tired and
hungry, she thought, and the man did say there would be good fishing in
Cabatuen. The other man said there would be fights there, too, though.
Images of Uncle Gorio with his stinging belt came to mind. I don’t
want to see anyone fighting.
One large star flickered when she peered up, and she turned back to
the right branch. “Go with them, child,” she thought she heard.
Indecisively she hesitated. “Go with them, child,” the unknown voice
repeated, so she dashed to the left to catch up with the others

>
The Christmas fiesta lasted nine whole days in Cabatuen. People
from different barrios reunited there with relatives and friends. Those
who came only to enjoy the festivities but had no housing rolled out
their mats to rest under each night sky.
The days were filled with Mass gatherings and feasting and
merriment. It all was as nothing Florencia ever experienced before.
Here, no one worried for tomorrow but enjoyed the tradition of
celebrating Jesus Christ’s birth. He was the saint of the season with
young and old singing songs and playing guitars. Candles also flickered
into the early hours of each morning.
At the start of the tenth day, Florencia woke under one mango tree.
The party was now over with women rousing their husbands who’d
been drunk from wine. “Wake up,” they said, “it’s time to attend the
final gathering.”
There, the priest offered all to partake in the sacrament of the Holy
Communion table. Prayers were recited, and more wine was passed

21
about with thin rice wafers referred to as ghosts”. Afterwards, the
crowd waited out a nonseasonal rainstorm before departing for home.
Florencia watched them go and then went to play around in the mud
with local children.
It wasn’t until the sun began to set that the youngsters went to splash
clean in the river.
The brilliant horizon’s smear of yellows and pinks was a sight to
Florencia before her attention was drawn to one family.
The four stepped into a dugout canoe, which served as a ferry, and
she cocked her head. I wonder where they ‘re going. Maybe there ‘s
another party at the next village.
As she moved closer, Simon, the river-man was speaking. “Yes, this
is my last exchange point for the day. In the morning, I’ll travel all the
way back down river to Murong.”
Florencia silently crawled in beside the group to cross to the opposite
bank.
The air felt cool as it kissed her hot forehead, and the swishing of
water against the oars was comforting.
When she leaned over the edge of the dugout, she saw the water
swelling beneath.
Simon glanced over, too, and his expression turned serious.
“Everyone hold tight! The current is getting choppy.” He gripped his
oar as the family’s father whispered something about not being able to
swim.
The children whimpered and leaned into their mother’s embrace.
“We should have waited until morning.” Simon rowed hard while
struggling to maintain course. “I didn’t think the river was this
flooded.”
Water lapped the canoe’s sides and splashed them all whereupon
Florencia crouched low in the middle. She closed her eyes and wished
for the rocking to stop.
Simon sighed when his canoe finally bumped muddied rocks. “All
ashore now!” He leapt out first and held the craft steady.
A gentle breeze swayed tamarind trees while Florencia followed the
family out to the main road. She stayed close behind until they turned
down a deserted path. It was strange that they had not spoken to her, so
she wondered if she ought to go along.
Soon they vanished from sight, and she continued on alone.
Florencia cringed when dense trees on either side of the road spoke
with strange night sounds. She looked to the moon with wide eyes.
Several stars glistened, and she believed they winked especially to her.
God is watching up there, she hunched, and will take care of me.

22
 The child continued her journey, and now and again, a village
turned out to be larger than the last. Florencia felt happy and carefree
with her wound nearly healed.
Each day brought new friends who willingly swam the streams
together or taught her fresh, simple games.
It was one particular day when she started out from Aurora that the
wide main road narrowed to a common two-lane route. Leaving this
village seemed quite similar to the day she left Uncle Gorio’s. She saw
the bamboo groves were now thinning out and noted many people were
driving their goods along the rocky road. Unknown to her, it led to the
next larger town of Callang.
The region’s market was ten miles ahead and was said to be already
astir.
When Florencia grew weary with keeping pace, a kind family invited
her to join them in their cart.
“Thank you,” she murmured and rode with them the final stretch.
The girl was surprised to discover Callang’s market to be much larger
than the one at Murong. It was much busier, too, so she immediately set
off to roam the organized rows of openly displayed merchandise. Some
merchants had set up pavilions for protection from the sun or rain.
Merchants were already bartering with shouts as they sold standard
rice, fruits, and vegetables. Crates, baskets, and other sacked items were
also stacked for trade throughout the day.
Florencia noted how the men here clustered to smoke dark, strange
smelling sticks. They spoke together while their women gathered their
purchased essentials in heavily woven baskets.
The displays of bright blues, oranges, yellows, and greens appearing
at every turn fascinated the girl. Even bunches of dried red pepper pods
were attractive where they hung from overhead bamboo rods.
A jolly woman reached to snip one down and crumbled it over
simmering chicken and fish. “Sample these, and you’re sure to be
pleased!”
Cooking scents filled the air with their delicious smells, and
Florencia’s mouth watered at the obvious satisfaction of patrons tasting
fried morsels. Many were easily enticed to buy the woman’s various
seasoning powders.
When the girl took off after other children, they stopped to watch a
woodcarver expertly whittle toys.
Florencia had never seen toys and longed to touch miniature dolls
and animal statues. When another youngster invited her to one end of
the market, she gladly went to share sweet and delicious rice candy.

23
 The girls mother sold her treats, wrapped securely in banana leaves,
out of her wagon until sundown. She was friendly and didn’t protest
when Florencia climbed into the cart with them to return home to their
village.
After eight miles and four hours of bumping, once again, Florencia
spent another night in a foreign place with a gracious family. She
would have easily stayed on several days had she not wandered off the
following afternoon.
While the others worked their daily chores, she went down to the
stream alone. There in the cool water she splashed along the
embankment toward a fertile pasture. Beyond a weathered fence, herds
of brown-spotted cattle interested her. She studied how they differed
from the carabao she usually witnessed towing carts or pulling plows.
Florencia stepped out across the dry grass closer to where the
animals freely grazed unattended.
She moved in intending to pet them but left soon after to pick up a
broken tree branch. She dragged it over uneven thickets while chanting
aloud as Lordrigo had often done in the past. “One, two, five.” Across
the field she hopped. “Four, five, eight.” Skip. “One, two, nine--
ouch!” She plopped down to yank a splinter from her toe.
An endless barbed-wire fence separated her and the cows from what
lay beyond. She stared past the fence to a grassy hill with a village
spread out at its base. It was especially green, not brown and green like
most of the smaller villages. Halfway up that small hill stood a strange,
enormous hut.
It's much bigger than Uncle Gorio’s, she thought, with lots of wood.
The entire thing seemed to be covered with thick, wooden planks. She
pondered why there weren’t bamboo poles or stones as most huts had.
Also being unfamiliar with tin, to her eyes the roof appeared odd, too. It
was shiny in parts with no palms leafs to be seen.
Unusual red, orange, yellow, and green fruits speckled trees far
beyond the hut. Scattered all about this village were smaller wood plank
huts but with grass roofs instead.
She stood viewing more unfamiliar foliage and crop fields that
stretched out to the foot of some mountains.
In the opposite direction, many boys and girls played past the hill.
They ran laughing along a lengthy white field and plucked white balls
from bushes to fill their pockets.
Florencia hung over the strands and watched them play for some
time. She yearned to understand their game and share their joy.
Unaware that she’d traveled walking, walking, nearly fifty miles in six
months time, she considered ending her journey. “I would like to live

24
there; it’s nice.” With her mind made up, she carefully slipped between
the wires of the fence and scurried off, up to the strange hut.

25
 6

Nice Lady

Florencia arrived near the hut as the children dispersed.

They, unaware of her presence, disappeared into the smaller huts.
She looked about her. ‘Who will play with me now?”
Field after field spread far and wide with men and women working
various crops.
She sighed when their faint calls were directed to one another
instead of her. Those people smile while they work, she realized, not like
Aunt ‘Rong and Uncle Gorio who only did so once they were finished.
Florencia studied thick wooden pillars that held this enormous hut
higher in the sky than Uncle Gorio’s. I think more than one family lives
here. It certainly was large enough to house many. After seeing the
many people outside, she decided there must be someone indoors to play
with.
She eyed box after box, joined together, leading from the ground
high up to the front door. She looked about and chose to climb up and
knock. Once she approached the boxed steps, a large cinnamon-colored
German shepherd, a white blaze on its chest, sprang from behind one of
the wooden supports.
He snarled and sniffed her, and she froze when his teeth bared.
Lydia Corpus shut her chicken-house gate in time to hear Mr.
English’ growl intensify.
He moved closer to Florencia.
The woman rushed across the yard to where the two stood fixed.
“What is it, Mr. English--what’s wrong?”
The dog sniffed the child again then lay at Lydia’s dusty, bare feet.
“Good dog.” The woman rubbed his neck. “Are you lost, little
girl?”
Florencia looked up with great chocolate-colored eyes. “No--I don’t
know.”
“Where is your home?”
“I don’t have a home.”
Lydia squatted before her and continued to speak gently. “Why
don’t you start by telling me your name?”
“‘Encia.”
The woman was moved by the young one’s warmth and reached to
stroke her hair. It’s strange, she thought, this child looks familiar. She
touched the girl’s soft cheek. “Can you tell me where you’re from?”
Florencia leaned against Lydia’s bent knee. “Uncle Gorio.”

26
 “All right--” Lydia’s eyes widened. “--Gorio?”
“Uh-huh.”
She pushed a strand of hair from the girl’s eye. Could it be? “Can
you tell me your uncle’s formal name--I mean, his last name?”
Florencia breathed deeply. “Uncle Gorio--” She looked up for the
answer. “--de la Coooz.”
It’s true! Lydia ached to shout. She looks exactly like her father,
Florencio. She cupped the child’s face. “De la Cruz,” she whispered
back.
“Uh-huh. Uncle Gorio and Aunt `Rong.”
“Yes, ‘Encia--I know who your aunt and uncle are.”
“You do? Are you my mamma?”
Tears slipped from the woman’s eyes. “No, but you’ll be okay. My
name is Lydia, and I’ll take care of everything.”
Florencia stiffened. “Are you going to make me go back?”
Lydia smiled and hugged the child tight. “Don’t worry, sweetheart.
I’ll take care of everything. I’m so glad. .
She‘s a nice lady, Florencia thought while curling her arms about
the woman’s neck.
Lydia carried her up the steps of her house and the pair proceeded to
move through the expansive house. They passed over bright red and
yellow floor mats and around numerous tables and chairs.
On top of many stools, Florencia noticed creme-colored cushions.
To her they were additional mats that had somehow been sewn and
stuffed.
When they passed down a long hall and entered Lydia’s sleeping
room, to Florencia the bed also seemed to be two massive sewn and
stuffed cloth mats. The puffed pad didn’t look flat and rough like her
abaca mat back home. This one was even laid on top of a low table with
several folded sheets placed at one end.
Lydia opened the door to a smaller room filled with clothing and
more sheets and set Florencia down.
The child watched the woman sort through a stack of folded blouses
before selecting a sleeveless smock.
“This one should do.” Lydia peered down. “I don’t doubt you’re
hungry, ‘Encia, but first I’ll bathe you because we like to do that before
sitting down to a meal.” She then led her by the hand down to the hall’s
opposite end.
All along, Florencia noticed more rooms with beds or furniture and
wondered why some sat empty.
The two continued out of the main house and crossed a flat bridge,
with a bamboo floor and hand rails, to the nearby cooking house.

27
 Lydia slowed her pace for Florencia to carefully advance over each
gap in the decking.
Once inside the open-air cooking house, Lydia removed Florencia’s
tattered clothes and set her in a shallow tub. Her brow creased when she
peeled away the worn bloodstained bandage from the youngster’s
wound. “How did this happen to you?”
Florencia remained quiet until she was sponged clean from head to
toe. Then, she felt confident enough to pour out her story of how she
was injured. She also spoke of many people she’d met along her
journey’s path.
Lydia absorbed each detail. “It’s good to hear that they were kind
and generous with you. You’re also a brave girl, ‘Encia. I’m glad to
finally know you.”
Florencia gripped the nice lady’s shoulder while she dried and
dressed the child.
The smock hung long and loose, so Lydia pinned it in various places
to fit the child’s delicate form. She then fed her fish stew with
vegetables and led her back over the bridge. “Now I know there is a
little girl that’s quite tired, so I value your going to bed.”
The two went back inside the house past several sleeping rooms
before choosing the one adjacent to Lydia’s for the girl to sleep in.
Florencia was set on her own stuffed sleeping mat that felt
comfortably cool and soft when she pushed her legs between its clean
sheets.
Lydia immediately tied the child’s shoulder-length hair with a pink
string and laid her head back.
After a few moments, Florencia peered over the edge of the futon
bed. She wondered why this woman would have her sleep off the floor
on a low table. Visions of her disturbing ride across the Magat River in
Simon’s rocking dugout ferry popped into her mind. Maybe the rains
were heavier here and even poured into the house and across the floor.
She sighed. “I don’t want to get wet at night.”
Lydia sat beside her and rubbed her back. “You’ll be fine. If you
need to go in the night, you use that over there.” She pointed to a
portable potty in the hallway outside the bedroom door.
Florencia nodded. She felt uncertain of the metal container with its
lid. What’s in that bucket at night? she wondered. What if I sleep until
morning and never find out?
“You’ll be okay,” Lydia was saying.
Florencia closed her eyes and wondered if any of the other families
would arrive home soon to this grand hut.
“You’re all right--I’m right here.” Lydia continued massaging
Florencia until she dropped off to sleep.

28
 7
Acquainting

Lydia stroked Florencia’s hair while she slept. “It’s a miracle that
she came to me alone.” She was overwhelmed as she envisioned the girl
walking on the main road from Balatunang to Santa Cruz. Florencia
would have traveled nearly fifty miles along that route. The girl’s quite
young, she marveled it’s only by God’s hand that she ended up here
instead of somewhere far to the north or to the east.
She kissed one small hand and studied each delicate finger. When
the sun completely set, Lydia slipped from the room. She strode to the
open front door and whistled once.
The dog immediately charged up the steps to her side.
“Come with me, Mr. English.”
He padded with tail wagging down the hall behind his master.
When Lydia stopped at Florencia’s room, she snapped her fingers
and pointed.
Mr. English obeyed by lying on the mahogany floor in the open
doorway.
“It’s your job to watch over Florencia,” she instructed.
The dog looked to where she signaled to the sleeping child.
“That’s right, she’ll be staying with us now.”
Mr. English crossed his paws and perked his ears straight up.
“That’s a good dog.” She touched his nose and left him guarding
the child.
Outdoors, Lydia returned to the cooking house to gather a kerosene
lamp and carried it down the sloping hill past her lengthy flower garden.
She felt content while making her way to the plantation’s weaving
house.
Clear skies and a slight cool breeze made for a pleasant evening in
February for the villagers to enjoy before the coming rainy season. Yet,
Lydia was simply happy to work after the set of the hot tropical sun.
After the short walk from the main house, Lydia entered the nearby
weaving house. Fresh woven sheeting drew her attention to the back of
her loom, so she cut two yards of the natural gauze and stenciled on it a
dress pattern of her design. The dress would be simply cut with a plain
hem that would reach to the girl’s ankles. All the while, she formulated
a proposition for Gorio. I’ll have to visit him soon. She rubbed her
forehead. It wasn’t a task she relished but was grateful for the
opportunity.
It grew quite late before Lydia finished sewing a small dress for
Florencia. She examined the article and decided to embellish it with

29
knotted pink rosettes about the neckline. “I hope `Encia likes this,” she
said aloud while holding it up to the light.
The next morning, Lydia woke heavy-eyed but excited. She dressed
and peeked in on her young guest before rushing to the spring to draw
enough water to carry back to the cooking house. Once she prepared the
morning fire, she fried rice, eggs, and pork strips for breakfast. Her best
friend, Gloria, was the first to arrive as she gathered the foods on a
bamboo tray.
Gloria snickered. “We’re awful hungry this morning, eh?”
Lydia grinned. “This isn’t all for me. Listen, I have something to
share with you, but you must keep it to yourself for a while. All right?”
Gloria nodded.
“Do you remember my telling you once about Florencio's baby girl?”
“Sure.” Gloria scooped several cups of black-eyed peas from a
basket.
“She’s here--little `Encia is here now.”
“What do you mean she’s here?”
Lydia nodded and poured the last quart of water into a bowl.
Gloria took the empty jug from her. “Tell me what you mean?”
“She simply walked up to the house yesterday. I asked her where
she was from and learned that she’d run away from her uncle’s home.
She and Mr. English didn’t know what to make of each other, I suppose-
-you know he’s becoming quite obedient with each new command I
teach him.”
Gloria shook her head as she washed vegetables. “How can a child
that young appear out of nowhere? Didn’t the family look for her?”
Lydia shrugged as she continued arranging the child’s food on the
tray. “I don’t know the whole story, but I’m planning to go to
Balatunang in a few days to find out.”
“Promise me you won’t go there alone.” Gloria immediately began
chopping vegetables. Enough food had to be prepared for the midday
meal to feed the eight village families’ working the plantation. She
assured Lydia that one of the other women would be able to help her.
“You go on and tend to that little girl of yours.”
Lydia smiled. “If only she really were mine.” She picked up the
loaded tray. “We’ll talk more later.”
She arrived back inside the house, laid the food on the kitchen table,
and headed straight for Florencia’s room. “I didn’t forget you, Mr.
English, but there are no boiled eggs for you today either.” She patted
his head and tossed him a fried pork chop. “Go outside now. Maybe
you can catch us a deer from the woods for dinner.”

30
 The child woke to the sound of dog nails tapping quickly down the
hail and out of the house.
“Good morning, sweetheart.” Lydia lifted the girl from her bed.
“Did you have a good sleep last night?”
“Uh-huh.” Florencia rubbed her eyes and pulled at her hair’s string.
The woman unfastened it as she carried her to the kitchen. “We’ll
bathe for breakfast and then spend time outside together.”
Without replying Florencia peered about. The room was bright and
airy with white flowers resting in a bowl on the table. She studied the
pretty yellow cloth strips outlining each window while Lydia undressed
her. Maybe the other families living in this hut had already come and
gone while she slept. She listened for others possibly stirring while the
woman rinsed her with water.
Lydia dried Florencia and slipped the newly made white dress over
her head.
The young girl touched its soft pleats and smiled.
“It suits you fine.” Lydia poured the bath water out one window and
set her in a chair at the table. “Let’s eat, and I’ll show you around the
plantation.”
Florencia nodded and bit into a pork strip. “It’s good.”
"Tell me more about your journey. Where did you sleep at night?”
Lydia prompted the child, and after their meal began rinsing their plates
in a bucket on her worktable.
“Where they liked me.” Then, Florencia came up behind her. “Can
I help, too?”
Lydia’s eyes brightened, and she immediately stood the girl on a
chair in front of the washtub. “I would love for you to help me.” She
placed a bar of soap and a dish scrubber made of a coconut husk in
Florencia’s hands and showed her how to scrub the dishes clean.
When their job was complete, they stepped from the house together
and crossed the small bridge arching the stream that irrigated Lydia’s
garden.
Florencia murmured something in a low tone as she glanced back.
“What are you saying, ‘Encia?”
Florencia repeated her question. “Where is your family?”
Lydia took her hand. “I live alone, sweetheart. My mother and
father are no longer alive. They were ill and died. Do you understand?”
She frowned. “I think my mamma and papa were sick and died,
too.”
Florencia’s black hair shone in the sunlight while Lydia stroked it.
“We’ll be all right. There are many good people here on the plantation
who work with us and will keep us company.

31
 They crossed a tobacco field to reach the spring that each family
drew from daily. Water gushed from the ground and ran in rivulets out
across the land to naturally water its crops.
“I’ll have one of the men take fresh water up to the house so we
won’t have to do that today,” said Lydia.
They both sipped some from their hands before moving on to the
flower garden.
“This is my patch of roses.” Lydia stepped to one bed and spent a
few moments cutting wilted red and pink flowers from several bushes.
“The white ones over here are my gardenias.” After trimming one shrub
of its browned blossoms, she cut dead limbs from a vermilion plant.
The child smiled as Lydia tucked a yellow rosebud in her hair.
The two then walked the mile back to the spacious, shaded area
beneath the main house.
Florencia peered at hand-spun pottery pieces and clumped clay
lining a lengthy shelf.
“I’ll show you how to make a small vase,” whispered Lydia, and she
began by demonstrating her craft at a small round table. She sat down
at the table and pointed to the foot treadle underneath. “I turn the table
by working this treadle with my foot, like a sewing machine.”
Florencia’s eyes widened when Lydia’s feet moved quickly to spin
the table. Lydia explained, “We bring special clay from the mountains.
Then we dry it, pound it, and screen it fine. Then we mix it with water
till it is just right to shape into bowls and things that we can use or sell
at the market.” When the woman drew her feet back, the table still
turned while her fingers formed the moistened clay into the shape of a
delicate, flower-bud vase about the height of Lydia’s hand, narrow in the
middle and larger at its base. “We’ll let it dry before we bake it, and
then you can keep it, ‘Encia.”
The next stop was across the yard at a hollowed-out tree trunk. This
was where Lydia and other women pounded threshed rice once a week.
Then they went on to the weaving house where clothing and linens were
sewn. It also contained an area within for cottons to be cleaned, beaten,
and bundled for threads.
“This is where I came last night to make your dress.” Lydia showed
her a pile of cotton scraps.
Florencia was amazed when the woman took a wad of cotton to a
machine with a large wheel and spun it into a long, thin string before
her eyes.
After some time, they moved on to the framed chicken-house with its
birds nesting or scratching all about the ground within.
The youngster remained close to Lydia when one came pecking near
her.

32
 Lydia reached into one nest to withdraw a large egg and placed it in
the girl’s hands. “You can hold this one, but remember that if you drop
it, it will crack and be sticky.”
Florencia nodded and carried that egg to the barn to see hay and
grain that were stored out of rain’s way.
They both stepped beyond a heavy door at one end of the building
that led to some pigpens.
Piglets were scurrying about, and the child giggled while they
chased after their mother. “They’re pretty,” she whispered.
Lydia grinned and tucked Florencia’s egg in her own skirt pocket.
“I’ll show you our pineapples, bananas, papayas, mangoes, all the fruit
trees and things like that. There are grapefruits, oranges, sugarcane,
vegetables--you name it.”
Papayas that grew to the size of watermelons fascinated Florencia.
She rolled one over that lay on the ground but was unable to lift it.
Two carabao were nearby and harnessed to walk circles about the
plantation’s sugarcane machine. It was their powerful strength that
turned the wooden press to squeeze the sugary sticks of their juices.
Lydia chuckled when Florencia asked if the animals might become
dizzy.
Several workers were now boiling the sweet liquid that dripped from
the spout into a massive wok. It bubbled to a syrup, and a portion was
poured into split coconut molds. Cooled half-shell panutza would later
be wrapped in banana leaves and stored in baskets. These brown sugar
forms would be one of many products sold at the market at Callang.
Lydia explained to Florencia that the remaining liquid would be
preserved in barrels to ferment. The wine would be removed at a later
date, and the remaining thick residue at the barrels’ bottoms would be
cooked to a whiskey. Some of the beverages would be stored here on the
farm for consumption, and the rest would be taken to Market.
Lydia ended the morning tour on top of one hill where the two easily
surveyed her many herds of Hereford cows from there. “See them
grazing in the valley?”
Florencia looked to the specks beyond.
“They’re all mine, ‘Encia.” She stretched out one sun-darkened arm
and pointed. “I received it all after my father passed away. You see, he
was Spanish and my mother was Portuguese. They arrived here to the
Philippine Islands before I was even born. I imagine they met and
married in Spain.” She shrugged. “That’s something I never thought to
ask about.
Anyway, Father was rewarded his choice of land after fighting in the
Spanish-American War. His people considered him a traitor for

33
fighting alongside Americans, but he supported his own firm beliefs. He
was even awarded a Medal of Honor for carrying many soldiers to safety
in the thick of battle.”
Florencia reached for the woman’s hand.
Lydia smiled and held tight. “I can only imagine the great honor he
must have felt.” She picked the child up and set her on the weathered
fence. “To me, my father was strong and stem but diligent. He and my
mother worked this plantation from the ground up. They taught me
much since I was your age.”
Let me tell you, the ground is fertile enough for the cattle to eat even
during the dry season. Beyond these pastures you can see my tobacco,
cotton, and cornfields. I love looking to the mountains. Aren’t they
beautiful?”
Florencia nodded.
“You might not understand all I’ve said, but I’d be privileged to
teach you everything I know about this place.” She squatted before the
girl and looked deep into her eyes. “I’ve decided to speak with your
uncle, ‘Encia.”
Florencia tensed.
Lydia held her close. “Don’t worry. I’ll fix everything.” She kissed
the girl’s cheek then led their way back to the house.
Together, they bathed their dust away and shared lunch in the main
house. Then, Florencia was laid down for a nap.
Lydia was impressed to see Mr. English immediately appear at his
post to stand guard. This spare time allowed her to sew another simpler
dress and a nightgown for the child.
That afternoon, the woman spun more pottery at the potter’s wheel
while Florencia sat forming balls of clay into different shapes. “Usually
we eat breakfast in the house,” Lydia told her. “Our lunch and supper is
at the cooking house with most of the others, or we take meals to those
working in the fields. Of course, once in a while guests come from other
villages, so we share a formal meal in my dining room.”
She handed the child several miniature pots to carry to the shelf to
dry. In time you’ll come to know the families that live here, too.
There’s Antonio and my close friend, Gloria. They have two children.
There’s also Thomas and Cecilia with three children; Tuto and Carmen
who pray to have children of their own.
Marcos and Mary with four youngsters; Quinto and Anita with one
baby; Tulito and Margarite with five little ones. None of theirs are old
enough to attend the school. Antonio and Sarah have six, and Thomas
and Angeline have three of their own. I’m also close to a special couple
in the next village. That’s Maria and Pablo Ramirez. They have three
daughters you’d enjoy and one youngest son.”

34
 At dusk, Florencia was fed and tucked back into bed. Lydia read the
child a story of a young girl that went to pick mangoes from a tree.
“It’s time to turn in, sweetheart,” she concluded. She also pointed to
remind her of the portable potty in the hallway.
Florencia snuggled close and shut her eyes. There must be
something good about that bucket. Maybe there’s sugarcane syrup
inside if we get hungry at night.

35
 8

Adoption Papers

Lydia rose as usual at four-thirty a.m. to cut past the barn and hitch a
carabao to her flat wooden sled. With its runners in line and two empty
jugs secured, she rode to the spring. There, she used an empty bucket to
scoop water into the containers while planning the day’s events.
After returning to cook breakfast, she left the beast at the back of the
house. “It’s nice having you stay with me,” she said to Florencia as she
wakened her. She lifted the child into her arms. “Would you like to be
my little girl?’ Florencia’s nod made her smile. “I love you, you
know.”
The small girl was bashful and laid her head against the woman’s
shoulder. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Lydia bathed and fed her young companion with care. “We’re going
to do something fun together before I leave the village today.” She took
Florencia outside to the water buffalo and set her on top. Once she
climbed behind, they rode for some time across the fields and down to
the pasture.
They stopped by the fence to see the red cattle up close.
Florencia watched while one calf galloped over to suckle from its
mother. “I like that one.”
Lydia agreed. “She’s strong one and will bear good stock once she’s
older. Would you like to have her for your very own?”
Florencia nodded and Lydia nudged the carabao on to where Gloria’s
husband, Antonio, repaired a fence.
The man promptly carried out his employer’s instructions, which
pleased the child. “Your little cow is special,” Antonio told Florencia
and branded it with her initials.
She smiled at the friendly man before Lydia took her and the carabao
back near the barn.
“It’s mid-morning,” Lydia mentioned when they climbed down to
the ground, “nearly ten o’clock.” She touched her head and taught
Florencia how to tell time by the sun’s light. “When our shadow lines
up with our body, then it is noon. That means it’s lunch time.”
Florencia mimicked the woman’s movements before they went to
prepare to eat.
That afternoon, when Lydia placed the girl in Maria Ramirez’ care,
she assured her she’d return after speaking with Gorio.
Florencia understood and watched her caretaker leave for
Balatunang.

36
 Antonio accompanied Lydia in the wagon and spoke mostly of
plantation business throughout the ride. He drove the usual shortcuts
around other farmers’ rice fields only to arrive and discover Gorio’s
family gone.
“They moved toward Callang months ago,” stated Jose, “they’re much
closer to your home now.” He embraced Lydia. “I can’t believe you’re
here in the flesh; it’s good to see you.
“Yes, it’s been too long.”
“Mother misses your visits. You haven’t been here since.
“It’s okay, Jose. It doesn’t bother me to speak about Florencio.” She
handed him a small burlap sack. “No one caught fish as big as you two
did, remember?” She chuckled. “You both were mischievous together
though.”
“Me?”
“Yes, remember the time you two hunted deer in the woods? You
sprained your wrist tripping over a log and said it was because you’d
wrestled a buck.”
“It could have happened--” Jose blushed. “--if the thing hadn’t gotten
away.”
“Everyone laughed for weeks because we all knew the truth.” She
touched his shoulder. “Seriously though, how are you and the family
holding up?”
He shrugged. “We get along. You know the system. We sharecrop
to owe the landlord until we die, then our children do the same--some
legacy, huh?”
Her brow creased.
“I try not to complain. I have my health, right?”
“Yes, you do.” She looked about the small garden where he raked the
dry dirt. “It will get better when the rains come.” She hugged him
again before climbing back into her carretilla. “That sack contains
vegetable seeds. Plant them as soon as possible, okay?” She turned
from her friend’s grateful emotion to proceed north again.
After several stops and various directions, Antonio succeeded in
guiding their wagon to Gorios home.
It was well past dark when the man came from the rice paddy. He
whispered something to Tarong and led Lydia to his father-in-law’s hut.
“We can speak privately here.”
She silently followed within the cramped quarters where the only
visible contents were rolled sleeping mats in one corner.
“Please sit,” Gorio insisted and offered a stool at the lone table. “You
ought to know we’re grateful for how generous you were with the
children on the other side of the province. They missed your treats
when you stopped visiting Florencio’s family.”

37
 “I often miss the children, too, but there’s much work to do on the
farm, and Florencio's situation took its toll on everybody. It was also
clear that we all needed to move on with our lives.” She paused.
“Speaking of children...
Gorio clasped his forehead after Lydia informed him of Florencia’s
whereabouts. “She made it all the way to Santa Cruz? Lydia, that was
close to six months ago.”
“Six months?” Her shoulders tensed. “You seem like a
compassionate man. Why would you let her run away--especially after
being injured?” She frowned when he lowered his eyes. “Did you
realize she most likely had a concussion?”
“I didn’t pay proper attention.” He swallowed hard. “What we did
was wrong, but times were difficult for Tarong and me. I lay awake
many nights hoping that ‘Encia would be safe.” He wrung his hands.
“Lydia, I don’t expect your sympathy, but I couldn’t let my wife leave
me. You have much to offer my niece--more than I could ever hope to
give.”
She nodded. “When Florencio was put to death, I prayed that I’d be
allowed to care for his child one day; he meant much to me.”
Gorio swallowed hard. “If I were able, I’d take Encia back, but I
doubt Tarong would after all this time. Guellerma still makes her angry
to this day and often brings us heartache.”
“I didn’t know your sister, but her hardhearted stubbornness was
evident the day she let Florencio die.”
He agreed. “She travels to and from Baguio whenever she’s had a
disagreement with her lover.” He sighed. “I wish she’d settle down--
find a good man to take care of her. She lost what little joy she ever had
after Flor was put to death. I’m sorry for her bitter state.”
Lydia rose to stand by the window. “I can understand some of her
bitterness although it doesn’t make it right; Florencio told me
everything. I was confused and felt betrayed at first, but when it all came
down, I saw Guellerma broken and pregnant.” She faced Gorio. “I
couldn’t help but pity her more than myself.”
“Why would you feel sorry after what she did to you?”
“I suppose it was because I could thank God that I’m blessed. I have
a good life with good people tending my plantation. I even wondered if
Guellerma may have known Florencio longer than I had. She was
young and alone, and I only enjoyed his company a short time--” She
crossed her arms. “--enough of that now. I wonder what she’ll say about
my visit with you.”
“If you want ‘Encia, keep her. No one has to know about it. She
belongs in a good home.”
Lydia sat again. “I don’t want her illegally--I want to adopt her.”

38
 Gorios eyes widened.
“It would make me happy to raise Florencio's daughter as my own.”
“When Guellerma comes back again, I’ll speak to her about this.”
“Thank you, Gorio. That’s all I ask of you.” She shook his hand.
“In the meantime, I’ll go to Manila to draw up the necessary
paperwork.”
Lydia returned home to prepare for departure and left Florencia once
again with Maria and her husband, Pablo. Then, she arranged to meet
her lady traveling companion in Callang.
Rosita Valdez was trustworthy and promptly boarded a cramped,
early bus with her for Manila. The bumpy ride south would last well
into the following morning with its overload of peddlers’ trunks and
chicken crates strapped to the vehicle’s roof
Lydia disregarded any inconvenience despite her social stature.
In the city, the two women lodged with Rosita’s relatives, and the
following morning, Lydia rode to the Manila suburb of Paranaque by
city bus. Her close friend, Manuel Rojas, was the attorney she’d come to
see. Since he managed the plantation’s tax and legal affairs, she
requested he draw up adoption papers.
“This could take months, even years, to get through the court system,”
he informed her. “Did you bring the standard form of identification--an
infant’s bible with priest’s signature of baptism?”
She shook her head.
“Do you have the mother’s consent?”
“I’m working on it.”
Manuel’s eyebrows raised. “We need proof of birth.”
“Is there anything else we can use?”
“If Guellerma signs the permission form, she can validate the child’s
date of birth.” He sat her down. “It’s not legal, but the woman may
expect a sum of money. I can know nothing about it if you resort to
that.”
Lydia shook her head. “I want to do this right. Somehow I’ll
convince her to relinquish rights and sign on the dotted line.”
“Good.” Manuel embraced her. “You’ll come to dinner at my house
before you go back, won’t you?”
“Of course, I miss visiting with you.”
He patted her hand. “We could always be together if you’d just agree
to marry me. As I’ve said before, you could move here permanently if
you employed a supervisor over the property. Many owners are doing
that now.”
She sighed. “What then? Do I throw parties each week to entertain
your coworkers and clients?”

39
 He laughed. “It wouldn’t be like that. You’d do whatever makes you
happy. I just want to take care of you--of us.”
“I appreciate your patience, Manuel. The timing just isn’t right now.
You understand, don’t you?”
He smiled. “I understand, but you can be a stubborn woman.”
“My parents worked hard for what I have. I’m not comfortable
leaving it in anyone else’s hands.”
“Living with your people has kept you soft. You’re much too kind.”
He rubbed his chin. “Most tenants are lucky to receive about a fourth of
net gain from their landlords, and that’s before expenses are deducted.
You, on the other hand, sacrifice fifty percent along with providing
clothing and extras for your people.”
Her brow creased. “It makes me happy to do what I can. Besides, my
father taught me to keep the business prosperous by satisfying the
people.”
“I suppose you’re right, Lydia. Your people are loyal. They would
probably die for you if necessary.” He scribbled a note to himself to
review Lydia’s legal estate. The formal adoption could very well
convince her to change the status of her mansion, built to resemble the
Governor General’s Palace in San Miguel. The attractively large
structure’s first floor rose to a height of sixteen feet above any
conceivable flood waters that, along with more than two-hundred acres,
livestock, and other assets would need reassessing.
He then escorted her from his office to the main thoroughfare. “Tell
me you’ll reconsider a move. My practice thrives in the city.”
She shook her head. “I have much responsibility, as you do, too.”
He sighed. “Just know I’ll always respect your decision. You can
also count on me to visit the countryside whenever possible.” When he
watched her depart, he called after. “One day I’ll convince you to
change your mind!”
She grinned without turning around and continued on.

>
Maria introduced Florencia to the other village children, and the child
immediately drew to another girl her age, named Carmen Mendoza.
The two became comrades from the start and swapped chicks and piglets
that they’d chased and successfully caught.
Mornings were spent playing under Carmen’s hut, and several
afternoons, Pablo took the girls to ride the carabao as they pulled the
plows.
By week’s end, Lydia returned. “I’m home, ‘Encia!” She thanked
Maria with a sheer embroidered scarf from the city and withdrew

40
wrapped wax from her cart. (She drove the cart to where she could
catch the bus.) “We can make candles.”
Florencia came running with open arms. “I learned to fan rice
today.”
Maria winked and nodded to the small heap of grain in the child’s
shallow basket. “The first time she tossed it to the breeze, she almost
got a face full of hay.”
Lydia chuckled. “Rice was winnowed by hand in the old days. It’s a
good thing we have machines to come and do that part of the work for
us, but I’m proud of you, ‘Encia. You can help me prepare it for
dinner.”
Maria took her aside. “Lydia, we discovered another hog missing
yesterday. The men are saying that someone from a nearby village stole
it to give to one of the local missionaries.”
“I’m a firm believer in giving and sharing, but it’s sad to see people
misinterpret the need and resort to stealing to do so.” Lydia
immediately drew a Chinese war-dog manual from her purchases. “We
probably won’t ever find out where the hog went, but I plan to study this
to train Mr. English to protect the entire farm.”
“We’ll stop the thieves one day.”
Lydia agreed and led Florencia to the outhouse closest to their home.
Inside, the child spotted the portable potty setting upside down over
one wood hole.
Lydia lifted it by the handle. “We don’t want to forget this.”
“So that’s what it’s for.” Florencia giggled when they carried it
back to the hallway in the house.

41
 9
Visitor

It had been months after Lydia’s initial request before Gorio

returned word. Guellerma was in agreement.
To date, she still waited patiently nearly three more years for signed
paperwork before beginning one morning satisfied. “I want to speak
with you about something, ‘Encia.”
The eight-year-old arrived back from the spring with their two ten-
gallon jugs filled with fresh water. “I can almost do this without
looking,” she boasted, “want to see?” She closed her eyes and
confidently felt her way to unharness the carabao.
"I believe you,” returned Lydia. She chuckled and removed the clay
containers from the sled.
“Mamma, my cooker cracked yesterday. May we bake a new one?”
Lydia followed her beneath the house to inspect the collection of
small toy pots. “We’ll remember to do that this afternoon, but first,
come and sit.” They went to a bench where she held Florencia’s hands.
“Do you remember when you first came to me, and I told you I knew
your parents?”
Florencia rolled her eyes. “I think so.”
“It’s important I tell you that your mother’s still alive. She’ll be
coming here soon.’’
“Where is she?”
“She used to live far away, but now she’s only half a day’s walk
from here. She’s agreed to come and sign papers that will allow me to
legally adopt you as my own daughter.”
Florencia was eagerly curious. “My mother, alive?”
“Did your uncle ever speak about your parents, ‘Encia?”
“No. I thought they were dead.”
Lydia slowly explained to her what she knew of Guellerma’s and
Florencio’s growing up in the same village of Balatunang. She
cautiously introduced a few details of Florencio's tragic death but
assured her of the man’s goodness. “He would have loved you and me
very much if he were alive today. You see, we were planning to be
married before all that happened.”
She went on to speak of Florencia’s relatives from her home village
and how the girl’s grandfather, Antonio Cacayan, passed away last year.
Her grandmother, Florentina, followed months after. “I’ve asked some
people to help me write down your family tree. It could help you to be
proud of whom you come from, so I thought I’d teach you to memorize
it.”

42
 Florencia sat up straight. “Why didn’t my mother ever come to get
me?”
Lydia swallowed hard. “Guellerma was quite young when you came
into this world. I believe she was confused and needed help. That’s
why your aunt and uncle took care of you.”
“Uncle Gorio didn’t want me though.”
Lydia held her close. “I want you, ‘Encia. Some day when you’re a
grown woman, you’ll understand all of this and what’s meant for your
life.”
Florencia sat quietly for some time. “Okay. May I play at Carmen’s
now?”
“That’s fine. I won’t be taking you to Maria’s today, so you can find
me in the tobacco fields.”
Florencia nodded. She was long accustomed to being placed in
Maria’s secure care while Lydia often confirmed crop sales with local
market vendors. Otherwise, she was free to roam the grounds while the
woman worked chores.
“The tobacco worms just keep coming, and I want to help the
women remove them. Would you care to join us later?”
Florencia wrinkled her nose. “Yuck!” The workers’ method of
plucking insatiable worms from tobacco plants and squashing them with
their feet never appealed to her as fun.
Lydia laughed. “It has to be done,” she returned and watched
Florencia charge from the yard.
The child’s constantly watchful bodyguard came forth and pulled
her back as usual to within her playing boundaries.
Florencia squirmed for Mr. English to let go of the hem of her dress.
“Back! dog,” Lydia directed and signaled overhead.
The animal obediently released his teeth for Florencia to scamper
away.
Lydia went on to work several hours with the others in the fields.
She was proficient at removing worms in record time and then offered
her help to plow the rice paddies along with the men. Antonio assured
her that help wasn’t necessary, so she decided to have Florencia help her
carry lunch to the men instead.
After crossing two miles of cotton and cornfields, she arrived to the
Mendoza’s house.
The front door slowly opened and bright eyes peered up. Carmen’s
younger sister informed the woman that the girls were at school. “They
go almost every day.”
Lydia grew annoyed and sprinted back past the spring to the village
schoolhouse. She arrived as the sixty children from various barrios

43
poured outside at session’s end. “Clean up for lunch at the cooking
house,” she instructed Florencia, “I want to speak with the teacher.”
The Protestant instructor greeted her warmly in the familiar Ilocano
tongue, but Lydia immediately voiced her threat.
“If I find that you ever let Florencia back into your classes, I’ll make
sure you never teach in this entire province again. To train a girl to
think liberally will only ruin her life--your people put on pressure to turn
us from our religious beliefs as it is. I won’t have my child learning to
read and write your English literature, too.”
“Miss Corpus, I’m not the enemy. Maybe the real reason you’re
upset is that your village church services are spoken in Latin without
anyone to properly interpret God’s word. It’s completely understandable
if you’re uncomfortable with yet a third language--but, the English
language is required teaching in the public schools. I was sent here to
help if you’ll reconsider--”
Lydia turned on her heel and left before the woman could finish.
When she sat sharing lunch with Florencia, her daughter appeared
sad. “Mamma, I like school. I learned how to write my name, and now I
can count to one-hundred.”
“I don’t want you going back there,” Lydia said softly. She packed
rice, vegetables, and polished coconut utensils into several baskets. “I
can teach you everything you need to behave as a young lady should. To
begin with, we’ll take this food to the men.”
From that day forward, she encouraged Florencia to observe the
adults’ work and behavior. She personally demonstrated simple sewing
procedures in the weaving-house and cooking and cleaning tasks in their
home.
When Florencia was permitted to select a piglet from the litter to
care for, she immediately drew to the black and white runt. Her
affection was abundant, and she spent many afternoons playing with her
pet while Lydia trained the dog.
It was interesting to watch the woman tie raw meat to the throat of a
figure dressed to resemble a man. Lydia then antagonized the dog until
he learned to attack when threatened. For about three years Lydia
continued daily to intensively train Mr. English until he became a
proficient attack dog.
Mr. English remained a loyal bodyguard to the young girl and grew
wise to his master’s techniques. With Lydia’s patience, he learned to
safeguard the farmhouse in his own manner by growling his suspicion if
an outsider approached the area. He would also follow after to wherever
the person was headed.
The depth of the dog’s comprehension and thought pattern grew
highly impressive. Lydia regularly observed him stepping from the

44
stream to stand about in the sun while waiting for his coat to dry. She
knew any ordinary dog would have immediately shaken the water from
its coat.
Another display brought Tuto frustrated to Lydia. Apparently Mr.
English had retrieved her ax from the man’s home and carried it back
between his teeth. The animal hadn’t witnessed her give consent for
Tuto to borrow the item, so he’d gone to personally rectify the situation.
At such time, Lydia wondered if Mr. English might actually believe
he were human.
Florencia merely trusted the dog for protection until his most recent
exploit. She had watched Lydia and Antonio prepare a wagon loaded
with fruits and vegetables, but it wasn’t until after they hitched a
carabao to pull it to Market that Mr. English interrupted their departure.
He growled, baring his fangs and blocked the animal’s path.
Lydia signaled several times for him to move, but the dog only
persisted in his behavior. Not until she tied him to a tree could the trio
proceed.
They hadn’t gone far along the village road before the carabao
simply dropped dead in its tracks.
Antonio gasped, and Florencia looked to her mother.
“Never again will I contradict this dog’s judgment,” stated Lydia.
The carabao had perished from some disease she was unaware of,
but Mr. English knew.
It was another ordinary afternoon that Florencia happened to be
alone in the house. The dog was tethered to a mango tree, and she was
unaware of his distrust because she was singing her favorite song.
A stranger passed by him at whom he growled and strained
threateningly at the end of his rope.
Florencia just completed waxing the mahogany floors to a slick
sheen when there came a knock at the front door. She immediately laid
the used banana leaves down to invite an unfamiliar young woman
indoors.
Shortly after, Lydia returned from her flower garden to discover
Florencia and Guellerma sitting together in silence.
Few words were exchanged as the two women moved to the kitchen
table with Florencia peering from the doorway.
Guellerma murmured something in low tone and promptly signed
the adoption papers.
“Of course, you’ve made the right decision,” returned Lydia. “I
didn’t realize you had another child to think of. I’ll ensure that your
daughter--my daughter will have a secure future.”
That’s my mother? thought Florencia, she’s such a pretty lady.

45
 After Guellerma’s departure, Lydia permitted the girl to play with
the other children. Then, she strode off to inspect a fence broken
through by cattle because it was now mating season.
Florencia walked part of the way with her mother and then dawdled
by one of several streams that cut through the two-hundred-acre
plantation. Once Lydia was gone from her sight, she ran back past Mr.
English to catch up to Guellerma. I’ll see where my mother lives, she
determined, and go to visit her sometimes.
Guellerma hiked several miles home with the child darting from tree
to tree to stay close behind.
Little did she know that Lydia kept a good distance behind to allow
Florencia to satisfy her curiosity. The woman felt that a brief encounter
with her natural mother might possibly provide the girl with needed
peace.
Florencia believed she arrived undetected at the stone house where
Guellerma lived.
When Guellerma opened her front door, she voiced a command, and
a vicious dog charged out.
It immediately attacked, and Florencia shrieked. She looked down
to see the animal’s teeth sink deep into her calf. It leapt about wildly
while she stumbled from the yard with blood trickling down her leg.
She would never forget the woman’s hateful expression.
Lydia rushed to assist her daughter home where she cleansed and
bandaged her gouged flesh.
Florencia contrasted Lydia’s faithful care all the while with her
natural mother’s vengeful actions. I won’t visit my real mother again,
she firmly decided.
Lydia comforted the girl and propped her in bed to rest until
suppertime. When the hour came to wake Florencia, she discovered
what she least expected.
The child was consumed with fever, and her breathing labored.
“Mamma, my chest hurts.” Soon after that Florencia’s muscles also
cramped up.
I’m not experienced with these things, but I can’t lose Encia, Lydia
privately anguished. She quickly rewrapped the wound with a protective
covering of moist, green bamboo paste and prayed most earnestly. She
knew of nothing else to give the girl besides chrysanthemum tea.
Though the brew eased mild cramps, she had no clue as to whether it
alleviated general pain.
The hours passed slowly with Lydia at the child’s side. Days later
she was exhausted and worn but grateful that her prayers were
answered.

46
 Florencia’s fever broke. More time passed and she grew restless
before the wound finally mended to a scar. Once it did, she was right
back outdoors climbing her favorite mango tree. She felt peaceful
sitting securely in its crotch while gripping a handmade slingshot from
Pablo. His gift brought a smile to her face when she was ill; she now
swung her legs back and forth while she popped gravel bits at other
trees. Every so often, she targeted a mango and successfully shot it to
the ground.
Clouds floating claimed her curiosity, and she admired how
wonderful it was for them to fly freely. That was before the sky
suddenly turned gray. Rain poured, and she tried again to make her way
down the tree’s now slippery bark. She quickly lost her footing.
“Mamma!” she screamed as she landed on a jagged spear. It jutted
up from a split guava tree stump and pierced her thigh through.
Lydia drew wood fragments from the girl’s wound and ultimately
confined her to bed after an infection set in. Again, she applied the
green bamboo paste and prayed daily for her daughter’s healing. She
grieved. It was unfortunate that the countryside could not afford the
luxury of a local medical doctor.
This time around, Florencia’s fever was worse than the previous one.
The guava stump, Guellerma’s dog, even images of Gorio and Tarong
swept through her dreams.
One morning, she asked Lydia if she might be dying. After all, Maria
and Pablo’s three eldest children had recently been plagued by some
epidemic.
The villagers all sorrowed that it claimed their young lives.
Florencia missed playing with Maria’s girls and whispered to Lydia
of all the fun they had together. If they were alive, she was sure they’d
come to visit her. Now that they were gone, she didn’t care to play with
their younger brother, Santos. He was the only child to survive, but she
had no interest in playing with a boy.
Many weeks passed before Florencia improved. Often when she lay
awake, she would listen to Lydia share reports from the village. What
soothed her most was the chirp of birds after each rainfall.
“You had me concerned,” Lydia confided once her daughter was well.
“I wondered if you might lose your leg.”
As a child, Florencia disregarded yet another scar and was simply
thrilled to limp her way back outdoors.
Lydia mentioned the idea of hiring an academic tutor from Manila to
fill some of the girl’s time but continued to train her personally instead.
She enjoyed the company and love of the youngster and did her best to
make work quality time with as much fun as possible.

47
 Florencia learned much more about becoming a fitting young lady.
When restricted to play within the yard, she was obedient and stayed in
the large area beneath the house. Her pet pig was pampered and bathed
daily, and she practiced boiling eatable rice in her pottery over a small
fire. It was never a chore for her to assist Lydia in the house or garden,
and she even accompanied her to work in the fields if so desired.
For some reason or another, the youngster did end up playing alone
many evenings until the sky grew dark. At these times, all was calm,
and she wondered how the stars stayed put without falling to the ground.
“I know someone had to make all that out there,” she often told herself,
“and some day I’m going to find out who.”

48
 10
The Good Years

Florencia completed shining Lydia’s heavy silver flatware and

studied their grape-leaf definitions. Then she arranged the cherished
heirlooms on a lace tablecloth with monogrammed napkins and fine
Franciscan china.
Although Lydia’s business trips to Manila united her with friends
and associates, she planned this particular weekend especially with a
visit from Manuel Rojas in mind.
Lydia had invited him to come to the countryside to finally meet
Florencia, so the event began by Tuto’s collecting the lawyer from the
last bus stop in Callang.
When Tuto delivered Manuel to Santa Cruz, he shook Lydia’s hand
with respect evident to village onlookers. “It took some time, but these
are signed and sealed.”
She relished reading her daughter’s name change once Manuel
personally handed her final adoption papers. Florencia de la Cruz was
now officially Florencia Consolation Cacayan. A revised copy of
Lydia’s last will and testament was also included.
She beamed while she introduced the nine-year-old to her friend and
turned to her people. “It may come as a surprise that I waited this long
to tell you, but I’d like you to know that our own `Encia was Florencio
Cacayan’s daughter.” She held up the paperwork. “God has answered
my prayers; she’s now legally mine!”
Everyone smiled their approval, and Florencia blushed when Lydia
and others embraced her. It felt odd that this news would draw her such
attention.
“I’ll never be alone again,” Lydia whispered to Gloria as the
children took Manuel by the hand.
He was the guest, so they led him off behind the cooking house to
watch two cows being butchered for the evening meal. The youngsters
squealed and looked at Manuel’s reaction once the carcasses were strung
up from mango trees for the blood to drain out. They couldn’t help
bursting into giggles when his face grew pale.
The village women then proceeded to boil the cattle heads, scraps
and organs.
Their murky stew never appealed to Lydia’s taste, so she always
allowed them to carry it home for their own enjoyment. She, being the
provider, customarily served select meats at her own family’s table.
By the time Lydia’s traveling companions, Rosita and Lila, arrived
on the scene, all food was generously divided amongst the villagers.

49
 Gloria helped Lydia carry her portion to the main house with
everyone agreeing to meet back later for dessert.
The guests seated themselves in the dining room once Maria and
Pablo arrived, and Florencia appeared wearing her new dress and satin
party slippers.
Her braided black hair reflected the setting sun’s light while she
served sugarcane wine to all.
Lydia also served by heaping marinated steak with fruits and
vegetables on each plate. All the while, she happily boasted again of
Florencia’s adoption to those who hadn’t heard.
The group spoke of Manila and good days ahead before making
their way back outdoors near the cooking house.
Boiled sweet rice with brown sugar was drizzled with coconut milk
for everyone, and Lydia offered the finest tobacco and whiskey to the
adults.
Quinto sat strumming his guitar, and the children began a game
under the moonlight. The contest was often performed by experienced
dancers as entertainment, but here in the country, the dancers did it in
fun.
Two men sat on their knees while holding two, six-foot bamboo rods
parallel. Simultaneously, they alternated clacking the sticks together
and smacking them on the ground to the music’s rhythm. The object
was for each participant to dance the longest over and between the
bamboo poles without getting their ankles slapped. They called the
dance Tinikling after the bird of the same name.
When the party ended, the hour was late and each family departed
weary but content.
Manuel also excused himself to rest in one of Lydia’s guestrooms, so
the woman drew to her somber daughter’s side.
“Didn’t you enjoy yourself tonight, sweetheart?”
The girl’s eyes lowered. “Mamma, why is my middle name
Consolation?”
“I chose that name because it’s beautiful, just as you are. Its
meaning is special to me, too.”
Florencia appeared confused.
“Consolation means comfort or solace,” Lydia told her with a smile.
“You are exactly that in my life without your father here.” She rose and
escorted her daughter out across the bridge. “I want you to be proud of
who he was and who your people are.”
The other children had teased Florencia about her name most of the
evening, but she kept her embarrassment private. She wondered
whether they did it because she was adopted or that the name was fancy

50
and long. Mamma seems happy though, she thought, so I won’t tell her
that my new name bothers me.
The following morning, everyone rode in carts to attend the Mass at
the schoolhouse.
Each Sunday the Ilocano villagers gathered to hear Latin sermons
but could only worship the best they knew from their hearts. Even when
Lydia was out of town, Florencia attended these services which Jose
Guinaldo performed.
Jose was the government-commissioned leader for the area.
Although the church expected the priests to be celibate and to maintain
sole devotion to God, Jose was married with children. He had been
minimally method-trained for the position but sincerely desired to
shepherd seeking souls at Santa Cruz. In conversation, he often referred
to the priests at the large church down in Santiago. They inspired him
to eventually train to become ordained also.
Florencia’s instincts were that this man was honest and trustworthy.
She and her best friend, Carmen, often witnessed him talking and
praying with fervency while he rehearsed his sermons alone in the
fields.
When this day’s service ended, Jose approached the two girls
outside. “I’d like to know if you’d care to assist me as altar girls during
each Mass. “I believe you can handle the job,” he stated, “you both
seem like nice young ladies.
They smiled and shrugged.
“It’s tradition to have altar boys, but as you can see, the only ones in
this area are much too young.
“We’ll have to ask our mothers first,” returned Florencia.
Carmen nodded.
Jose agreed and explained the duties he would require.
When Florencia approached Lydia at home with his proposal, the
woman wholeheartedly agreed that it would be good training.
Manuel followed their final conversation with farewells to Lydia and
Florencia and started back to Manila. That night, the people attended a
shorter Mass referred to as “evening devotions”.
It was the first service for the girls to aid Jose. They replenished
bowls of blessed water at either side of the school door, and lit candles
when instructed. Finally, they even drew wine and rice “hosts” from
beneath the altar for the Holy Communion table.
The girls went on for months with this weekly responsibility before
they became curious about Jose. They had often seen him sip from the
altar’s wine jug when church was not in progress and wondered if that
was the proper thing to do. They were not certain, so they decided to
judge for themselves by drinking it under a tree in the woods.

51
 The two quickly became lightheaded and giggly before falling into a
deep sleep. When they woke hours later, their heads ached and they
agreed never to drink the homemade concoction again. They then
returned the jug to its proper place late that afternoon.
As the children made their way back out of the church, Jose
discovered the empty container and urged them to confess. “This wine
is for the sole use of the church, but I can help you to be forgiven of your
sin if you confide in me.”
“Only God can forgive us,” blurted Florencia. She wasn’t quite sure
what drove her to say so but felt confident of her statement.
“You children will eventually die and go to hell for what you’ve
done.”
Both girls certainly believed there was a heaven and a hell but
returned home indifferent to Jose’s predictions. God had to be too kind
to send them to a terrible place for experimenting with a beverage. They
had also never heard of anyone having dropped dead from wine
consumption in their village. Still, from that day forward, they kept a
watchful eye on their behavior.

>
The old woman observed Florencia.
The girl was brave at the age of twelve and now was able to scoot up
the bamboo trees as adeptly as Carmen.
When the girls inched high to the clumped branches, neither dared
let loose, for the flexible limbs bent over deeply from their weight.
Carmen was first in line and pushed off the ground with one foot.
Whoosh! The two ricocheted into the air with shrieks while tightly
gripping the tough, sturdy stems that swung back and forth in the
breeze.
They repeated the game again and again before they stopped
laughing to join the old woman below. Her presence was a familiar
comfort since she was often seen wandering the village and casually
revealing children’s fortunes.
“You both are strong,” she stated and peered closely at Florencia
with mystic eyes. “To your life will come much change. One day
Florencia, you will marry a foreign man and follow him to another
country.”
The girl nodded and shrugged, and Carmen’s future was foretold,
too.
“Carmen, we should go now,” Florencia insisted when the cooking -
house bell sounded. The gong signaled the final inspection complete

52
with the tobacco ready. After thrice cultivation over time it was now
ripe for the picking.
The girls waved to the woman and dashed home to see most of the
other children already in the fields with the adults.
Everyone worked the rows for days to gather matured leaves into
piles designated by quality. Those piles were then be hauled to the
tobacco pavilion where the men separated them from first grade down to
third grade to hang up to dry.
During the drying period, other routine chores continued. The
women picked cotton, men gathered corn, and everyone collected
vegetables and fruits. The children stockpiled jackfruits, granadas, and
lancones, among other fruits more exotic. The young hands also pitched
in to help plant rice.
Florencia enjoyed planting rice with the others in the muddy flooded
fields. The drenched earth felt good as she squashed it between her toes.
She also thrilled to follow the adults slicing through sugarcane with
their sharpened sickles. They often set her to slash safely with her bob
knife about a small area of her own, and she knew better to stay behind.
That way, they could work ahead at a steady pace ahead without
hindrance or endangering the child with their sharp blades.
Other times, if she or her mother desired, Florencia rode along in the
cart to inspect the ranch. When a fence needed mending, Lydia
summoned some men to drop what they were doing and to secure it.
This kept cattle from roaming over to adjacent properties.
The condition of the rooftops of the numerous buildings around the
estate was next in order of priority. If the metal or wood needed repair,
again Lydia called someone to patch the leak.
Pineapple plants and banana trees were also checked for ripeness.
Then the cornfields were inspected for signs of marauding birds or
insects. All the chickens, pigs, and goats had to be examined, too, for
possible sickness or disease.
After a long day’s ride about the margin of the plantation’s, it was
still important that everything in the house be dusted and in proper
order.
When there was spare time, Florencia helped to scrub soiled clothing
and linens clean by hand. Those who washed draped dark pieces over a
rope line to dry and spread whites across the lawn for the sun to bleach.
They would press only special dresses with their charcoal-filled iron.
Along with her workmen Lydia periodically checked on the progress
of the tobacco. Once the leaves dried, they spread them in layers on a
metal dome in the center of the building and sprinkled

53
vinegar around each layer. Additional layers followed until the dome
could hold no more.
It was routine to age the crop approximately three months before
preparing it for Market. One-half would be ironed smooth for cigars;
the other half chopped for cigarettes; then all would be rolled in paper
and bundled.
Much labor went into harvesting the yields of the entire plantation,
but no one ever complained. These industrious people had grown up
playing and working with Lydia herself. As descendants of those
previously employed by her parents, they highly respected her judgment.
Now that Florencia was experienced with work, Lydia rewarded her
generously at the end of each day. “This is the fruit of your labor,” she
would say as she handed her daughter fifty centavos.
Florencia hoarded her accumulating riches in a hand-crafted wooden
case. The container was her most treasured birthday gift from Lydia,
and since her mother provided more than the essentials, the girl never
quite knew what to spend her money on.
She kept the case hidden deep in her clothes trunk and only
withdrew from it occasionally. Even then, twenty-cents was more than
sufficient for a girl her age to shop around Callang’s market. With a
nickel, Florencia was able to buy an entire bowlful of ice cream there.
She usually spent the remaining change on some small trinket or even a
token gift for Lydia.
Life was good, food plentiful, and loneliness never experienced.
Once when Florencia played in the woods with some other children,
to her startlement she witnessed a boy swallow a santol pit. The furry
white fruit was a sour treat, but its inner seed was the length and double
the width of her thumb. Dare or not, she could not be persuaded to
follow suit. She feared was that someone would eventually choke to
death on one.
Christmas and Easter were largely celebrated, traditional affairs at
the plantation. They were times when Lydia opened her home to all
inhabitants of Isabela province and most attended the fiestas.
Florencia was continually amazed by the number of people her
mother was acquainted with and who often spoke highly of the woman’s
generosity.
When the year’s Easter celebration was in full swing, Lydia
introduced her daughter to Antonio Pasqual and family.
The girl discovered him to be an only child, not much older than
herself, and his family to be well to-do as Lydia.
The two young people were shy but respectfully shook hands.

54
 “I’ve agreed to let you marry Antonio once you both are older,”
Lydia said with a smile. She could not help pondering the beautiful
tradition.
This was Florencia’s first awareness of the plan. As was custom, the
boy’s family sought permission from Lydia for the two to eventually
marry, and the idea met with obvious approval.
Once a young couple’s engagement was “arranged,” any or all future
conversations between the two would be properly chaperoned by adults.
Maybe this is only practiced in Santa Cruz though, Florencia thought.
After all, she had often spied boys acting out the familiar custom of
“harana” when she played near other villages.
Older girls claimed harana was a romantic and flattering practice in
which a boy sang to them below the window of the girl’s hut The young
man would sing while playing a guitar or do his best without
accompaniment. If interested, a young woman sang back. If not, she
would disappear from view.
Florencia knew she would feel silly if some boy tried singing for her.
After all, they would most likely have to shout instead with her house
being so high off the ground. There were also many windows, and she
envisioned how ridiculous a boy might feel if he turned up at the wrong
one. Worse yet, what if Mr. English scared them away?
She shrugged off the notion for she was sure that word of her
arrangement would circulate to the other children after tonight. That
meant that Lydia would allow no future suitors to creep about in the
dark.
She recollected the old woman’s prediction and went to visit her
after the holiday was over.
“What I said will come to pass.” She touched the girl’s cheek. “One
day you will meet a man from far away and go to his country to live.”
Florencia half expected the same forecast but did not anticipate the
words that followed.
The woman composed herself and said, “It’s time for me to die.”
Florencia watched as she lay down and appeared to drift off to sleep.
She left the woman to rest but confirmed the following day that the
elderly woman died as she had said.
The young girl chose not to concern herself with her future’s
conflicting plans. After all, the old woman was gone, and her wedding
with Antonio would not take place for several more years. She trusted
her mother’s decision and went about as carefree and secure as before
for she was the apple of Lydia’s eye. Her trust demonstrated itself as she
acquired Lydia’s gentle, kindhearted disposition.

55
 11
The Japanese Come

It was December of the same year, 1941, with much to be completed

before celebrating Christmas in Santa Cruz.
To benefit the livestock, the men cleared several acres of tall grasses
by setting it all ablaze.
Through the thick smoke rising to the sky, Pablo Ramirez came
riding a borrowed horse at top speed.
The men immediately sensed new trouble on the rise and ran to meet
him.
The horse reared up on hind legs as the man halted and called out.
“The Japanese are coming from Aparri!”
Recent air strikes against US military bases to the south proved more
than a threat since they were followed up by the Japanese’ invasion of
Luzon from the North.
Word continued to spread as fire through each province, and the
sight of aircraft passing overhead fueled people’s mounting uncertainty.
Residents of Santa Cruz decided it would be best to cancel upcoming
festivities so they could gather and plan for their escape instead. If an
evacuation were necessary, they would make every effort to flee
together.
Ferociously barbaric Japanese soldiers were rumored to be driving
down from the north and stripping the possessions from those fortunate
enough to own material wealth. Any advance information for Santa
Cruz came through Pablo, their volunteer spy runner.
Lydia was the first to bury most available cash and the few treasured
jewelry pieces she inherited from her mother.
Once other villagers heard of it, they also added to the secret dig that
she carefully marked at the edge of the forest.
By mutual agreement all would carry on as usual with the exception
that they would practice “blackout.” This called for lamps to be
extinguished at night to prevent any overflying enemy bombers from
using their light to guide them to any possible target.
Six months elapsed into 1942 before the inevitable transpired. The
Japanese arrived, some by horse and some on foot, at the mayor’s home
outside the village.
The heavy rains just let up as Mr. Castilio came from his field. He
greeted the soldiers the only way he knew by the nod of his head.

56
 These men spoke with foreign choppy tones and pointed to the
house, but he stood in silence. That is, until they shoved their country’s
flag into his hands.
Their gestures only confused him until he realized they commanded
him to hang the red and white symbol at his front door. Apparently they
knew of his local political office and intended to use it to intimidate the
people. The group left the mayor’s wife and four children to their work
and took Mr. Castilio with them into Santa Cruz.
Mr. English first spotted the army approaching and dashed along the
rice fields to reach Lydia’s side. He growled fiercely, and after she
appeared to recognize the distant military uniforms, he disappeared into
hiding.
Lydia felt somewhat relieved by his conduct since she had heard that
guard dogs were being shot without hesitance throughout the island. Her
initial expectation had been for him to attack, but the dog’s instinct
proved otherwise. Now was obviously not the proper time. She looked
about and collected her thoughts. Mr. English certainly would come
through for protection if necessary.
When the Japanese’ calls sounded, all the workers promptly dropped
what they were doing to move toward the main house. It was not until
the soldiers began ransacking each building and home that they grouped
together.
“I assume they’re looking for Americans or Filipino resistance
fighters,” the mayor risked to whisper.
Lydia nodded. It would take all her courage to maintain a
businesslike demeanor in the enemy’s presence.
Soon after, an interpreter poorly instructed the women to create a
Japanese flag in the loom house.
They steadied their nerves and obediently set to work. Apparently,
the banner was to be strung up at Lydia’s front door since she was the
property owner. Smaller emblems were also sewn and pinned to the
garment of each person’s breast. Somehow, this was meant to signify
their agreement with the Japanese government.
Lastly, the schoolhouse was emptied of its educational books and
papers. All trace of English print was piled in a heap and destroyed by
fire.
When the intruders finally left, Lydia and the others gathered
minimal necessities. One sheet and towel per person, spare clothing,
two cooking pots, and their utensils were bound to each able body. They
also bundled all the rice they could hand carry and fled northwest.
The group arrived at the Siffu River at nightfall. There, they quickly
constructed a bamboo raft to cross to the opposite bank. This area
appeared safe and everyone agreed to camp at the foot of the

57
Cordillera Central Mountains. From the dense woods, they chopped
grass, vines, and rattan to build miniature huts.
Each day, they watched for signs of the enemy’s approach. They
spent much of their time foraging the jungle for eatables, and they fished
the river for shrimps, snails, and clams. The uncultivated vegetables
consumed in their diet consisted of early bamboo shoots and tender meat
from the nipa palm tree. Wild pigs and chickens were also a rare catch
that required a group effort to tackle.
The men spent time busily chopping mature bamboo trunks to proper
lengths. They left the lowest inner knuckle of each stem intact but
punctured others along its length to create a hollow tube with a bottom
in one end. The group was pleased with their success at creating tubular
water containers. These containers could be easily strapped to their
backs for further travel.
Their children were busy all the while, too, playing deep in the
jungle much as they did back home. They swung from vines as
mountain monkeys, played hide-and-seek, or scrounged for wild fruits to
snack on.
The women were the ones who often stayed nearer to camp but kept
their youngsters in sight. They also had plenty of practice preparing
their foods after dark over ingeniously hidden fires. Their fire pits were
deep enough to camouflage the flames, and the smoke was undetectable
at night.
A month passed with the people in hiding, but they still had no
information as to whether the Japanese returned to Santa Cruz or even
occupied it.
The men discussed their alternatives at length and then several left
to make contact with Filipino guerrilla soldiers. They were not gone
long before bringing word of no present danger, so they led their
families back to the plantation.
Lydia and her people cautiously approached and found nothing more
than overripe crops and many chickens running loose. Some fences
needed mending, but the cattle still grazed the pastures undisturbed.
Florencia found a nest of field mice that had scratched their way into
the rice and corn bins in the barn. She trapped them and set them free
outside.
After everyone worked to harvest the fields, Lydia rounded up spare
carts and carabao from the others. They were a month behind on crop
sales. An overabundance of pineapples, bananas, mangoes, tobacco, and
eggs had to be hauled to Market. No one knew for sure, but that could
very well be the place they would meet more Japanese.

58
 They realized that all the grain they had carried into hiding was
gone, so they gathered together to pound more. Then supplemental
short-season rice was rooted in the dry fields, and new growths of
longer-season rice seedlings were planted in the flooded rice paddies.
Barely a few weeks passed by before Pablo brought disheartening
news: the Japanese now fully occupied the island despite heroic Filipino
resistance.
It was also disappointing to learn that the enemy had bombed much
of the island’s heavier equipment with rice threshers being on the list of
demolished machinery. Rice threshers had been seasonally employed on
the farm to save the labor of many men, but now the job would have to
be done manually.
Everyone put their hands to work together, for they knew exactly
where to begin. Their parents had taught them the process years ago.
They would have to begin by clearing an area and pressing it smooth
with cow dung. On this smooth surface they would drive their carabao
around to trample the rice. The weight of the beasts would slowly hull
the grain.
Afterwards, with pitchforks they would separate the hay and toss it
to nearby ground. Another day or two would be required for the rice to
settle to the bottom of the heap. Then, with shallow baskets they would
toss the grain into the air for the wind to blow away any remaining bits
of hay.
With that complete, the rice was stored in large baskets or burlap
sacks in the barn. It could always be pounded later as needed to free the
grain of its covering. They knew that rice eaten with its covering could
kill the eater.
Florencia and Carmen still served as altar girls through Sunday
church services, but school was no longer in session. With formal
education denied, the children played or worked the fields instead.
The adults kept with chores but occasionally met to discuss survival
techniques for any future evacuation. The best suggestion from the
group was to store necessities just inside the front doorway of each
home.
Also, since a saltwater well was discovered eight miles away up a
hill, they had a ready source of saline liquid that they boiled down to
granules. This they stored by the gallon with two cooking pots and
several gallons of rice. Spare clothing they bundled for quick retrieval.
Lydia’s proposed that they slaughter a cow and preserve the best
meat. This they did now and then and sliced the beef into strips to
skewer on sticks. After the meats dried in a screened pavilion, they
were wrapped tightly with banana leaves and placed in burlap sacks.
These sacks were also to be hung inside the front doors of their homes.

59
 Eventually it became apparent that the Japanese were winning the
war they had instigated. It was evident by the soldiers’ periodic surprise
visits at any time of day or evening.
The people were then expected to bow subserviently. They could do
nothing but wait in silence while the soldiers took all they desired from
them.
Often times the soldiers remained for days. They ate and drank all
they pleased. They even robbed the tobacco pavilion of its contents
before departing.
To add terror to intimidation, the intruders sometimes displayed
heartless deeds without cause. They burned out the plantation’s dry rice
fields one afternoon before demanding a certain amount of grain be
available upon their next inspection.
The people inwardly anguished that their calloused hands had
labored in vain. Florencia was heartsick when one group of soldiers
chased after her pet pig. She ached to cover her ears from its squeals
and shivered when it was finally captured.
Lydia squeezed her daughter’s hand to keep her still since no one
knew what these men were capable of.
The girl clamped her eyes shut and swallowed hard while the hog
was butchered and roasted. Why are these people being cruel? she
wondered, and why won’t they lust go away?

>
Just about the only thing Lydia’s people had to do for fun amidst war
was to gather together some evenings. A three-foot high, hollowed tree
stump was filled with a gallon of rice, and the women took turns to
pound the grain within. In groups of four, they gripped six-foot long
poles as pestles to rhythmically hull the rice clean.
The children ran about while men played their guitars. Up and
down the poles moved to the beat of guitars strumming until there was
enough rice to feed everyone.
These times were cherished since hardly anyone slept sound at night
anymore. They were not quite sure what was happening far and away,
but they believed that each day could very well be their last. Like it or
not, they would have to make the best of it.
With time, holiday celebrations resumed at the plantation, but Lydia
long ceased handling business in Manila. She and her people still
hauled what they could spare to Market, but it was much too dangerous
to travel most main roads. She also did not dare send written word to
Manuel. Instead, she prayed for his safety and trusted he would
safeguard her legal documents.

60
 The Japanese’ aggression permeated everything, down to the money
exchanged across the land.
Lydia came home week after week with less Spanish currency and
more Japanese notes than she was sure what to do with.
She and Florencia carefully counted the bills and tallied it all in a
ledger before piling in a massive travel trunk.
Harvesting inevitably doubled everyone’s work hours, but they pulled
together to supply their needs along with the enemy’s.
So it was that Lydia was grateful when Mr. English trailed behind on
her farm inspections. She learned that food supplies were dwindling
about the islands since the Japanese were not being supplied by their
country but lived off the land. This caused peasants to desperately turn
to thievery after the Japanese seized their reserves.
Unexpected visits increased as the soldiers’ growing needs brought
them to Santa Cruz more often.
“Get to the fields,” Lydia often warned Florencia, “they’re coming!”
She trusted her daughter to heed a warning brought by someone other
than Pablo.
A kind stranger from a distant village voluntarily risked his life to
inform province families of the enemy’s mounting fancy. Japanese
servicemen were far from home, far from their own women. Japanese
military occupation policy included kidnapping young girls and forcing
them into brothels for the soldier’s use.
Florencia swiftly joined her friends in the rice fields where they
hurriedly smeared mud across their faces, arms, and clothing. They
knew the enemy would be unattracted to filthy youngsters.
Lydia was grateful that her daughter’s physical development
significantly trailed her age. That blessing from God in itself proved a
safeguard against desperate soldiers. The Almighty knew the future,
and she knew only to trust in Him to protect those dear to her.

>
An unexpected development riveted to the villagers’ attention. One
morning they were summoned to the edge of the plantation, where they
stood in fearful silence.
The enemy soldiers purposely picked this spot close to the
schoolhouse where almost everyone passed each day or attended Mass
on Sundays.
Tuto was required to locate Mr. Castilio, the mayor, and shortly led
him with his wife and children to the assembly.
The mayor was immediately drilled. “Why isn’t your flag on
display?”

61
 Mr. Castilio looked to his wife with wide eyes.
The woman bowed and explained her family’s neglect in the matter.
She and her husband had removed it the previous morning to wash since
it’d grown quite dirty. No disrespect was intended.
Mr. Castilio apologized for being distracted with work and not
promptly rehanging the flag. He then bowed several times. “The flag is
clean and will be strung immediately.”
The army captain stonily stared at length before he ordered Tuto to
surrender his shovel.
Villagers contained their loathing mixed with fear for the enemy as
they watched Mr. Castilio being forced to dig his own family’s grave.
On command they obediently knelt before the open pit.
When the leader dismounted his horse, he drew his sword. “If
anyone so much as blinks or even flinches, they will be next!”
Florencia felt faint at the slice of his blade.
Mr. Castilio was first to be decapitated. His body fell into the hole
with a dense thud.
The people stood in horror. Blood pressures rose with their shallow
breathing as they were forced to witness the wife and children fall into
the grave, too.
Any disrespect or insubordination, even assumed, would not be
tolerated. These brutally vile men were here to enforce that fact.
When the people were left to resume chores, there was nothing to
say. They wept for the mayor’s family and wept for themselves.
“Mamma, I don’t know what other people are like around the
world,” said Florencia, “but I’ll never learn to like a Japanese ever.”
Lydia drew her close. “Try not to hate them, sweetheart. We must
pray for them. They’re only human as we are and following orders.”
Florencia swiped the tears from her cheeks. “Yes, but we don’t go
around hurting others. They’re horrible.”
Lydia rocked her in her arms. “Calm down now,” she soothed.
“Some day it will all be over, and we’ll try to make everything like it
used to be. We don’t understand their motives, but believe me, one day
they’ll be judged.”

>
A girl in the next village was ready to marry the young man she
favored and invited friends and relatives to be present.
Her family prepared the simple wedding by calling in the priest and
laying out various food dishes on an outdoor table. A pit was dug for a
fire, and an abundance of meats for the celebration were already
simmering over it in a metal tub.

62
 Florencia stepped close to Lydia. The other witnesses also moved
into a tight group to hear the couple exchange their vows.
Florencia knew the bride to be quite young. Knowing that, she
contemplated her own future wedding day. Even at fourteen, boys still
did not interest her romantically, but Antonio seemed nice enough the
time she met him.
She wondered what year Lydia had in mind for the wedding but
decided never to ask. It seemed better to let the subject rest since she
was not eager to leave her home in Santa Cruz for the Pasqual’s ranch.
Lydia occasionally assured her that when the time was right the
celebration would be a grand affair. There would be no call for
homesickness with the plantation open to the girl as often as she desired
to return. The woman also looked forward to being a proud
grandmother to Florencia’s future children.
As for today, no one was aware that an enemy informant observed
from the woods and sent distorted details of the day’s event back to his
base camp.
No sooner was the ceremony over than a troop of Japanese soldiers
arrived and interrogated the bride’s family.
Strangely enough, the outfit was convinced that American soldiers
were being hidden nearby. That would account for the large pit and its
excess of meats.
The family had not the chance to explain before a soldier wrenched
their infant from their arms and tossed it into the air.
The baby fell upon the point of a razor-sharp, upraised bayonet, and
the villagers gasped.
Once the Japanese commander lowered his weapon, the small
quivering form slipped to the ground. Horrified cries chorused and he
thrust the blade high to silence the people.
The men drew their trembling families close, but they dared not
reach for the lifeless child in the presence of these men. If so, their fate
would be sealed, too.
Again, the enemy manifested their brutal training as vicious war
dogs. Their paranoia was intense, and they sought only to subjugate the
conquered to their country’s control. They themselves were abandoned
with no alternative than to pilfer to eat, fight to overcome, and struggle
to survive. Evidently, they would never return home defeated but would
battle on to the death to save face for their nation. What would life be
like when this was over? was the lingering question in the people’s
minds. There was little else to be lost or taken.
When the soldiers were gone from sight, they looked to the blue skies
for renewed hope. Their God would surely end this war someday soon.

63
 12

Evacuation

Lydia’s people learned that civilian fatalities in the Philippines’

were escalating with the loss of resistance fighters. This made it easy to
believe rumors of simultaneous conflicts in other countries. So if it were
truly the height of a Second World War, islanders worried how the
Americans would keep up defenses. Too many Americans and Filipinos
were now held captive in shameful concentration camps.
The enemy even improved at communicating in the Ilocano tongue,
but locals remained skeptical of their effort to win their loyalty. They
believed the Japanese would eventually force their language upon them
should they go undefeated. The people struggled daily to maintain a
positive outlook though. Displays of senselessly cruel punishments kept
them wary but also strengthened their resilience.
Word of an even greater widespread food shortage dampened their
hopes. They were already working their fingers to the bone with no
relief anticipated. Each week brought them to Market with less to sell
or trade.
Lydia began to estimate whether her cattle, pigs, and chickens would
be consumed before war’s end. If it came to that, the enemy might very
well resort to butchering her goats or carabao. She had heard of that
kind of thing happening elsewhere in the south. Without water
buffaloes, plowing would certainly be more strenuous.
She stayed sharp though. Since the loss of the mayor, she personally
sewed a spare Japanese flag and kept it handy. She felt that by
alternating clean banners every few months would prevent the
possibility of punishments for displaying a soiled one.
Florencia admired her mother even more after Lydia insisted on
plowing the fields with the men after sundown. The fact that the
woman was smaller could not deter her. With muscles rippling and
pantaloons drawn tight beneath her skirt, she pushed on through the rice
paddies. Her people were as family, and as long as she was fit to work,
not one child would go hungry for the sake of the enemy.
As often as possible, the women still had to gather fruits for the
Japanese along with their own. They moved swiftly beneath while
shaking the trees with long-handled poles. With a basket attached to
each tip they collected their yields without dropping and bruising them.
The group then cleverly stored the best for the village and for sale at
the back of the barn. All else that had fallen to the ground were set

64
nearest to the structure’s heavy front door. The enemy, not knowing the
better was satisfied to take from those what they wanted.
Florencia was now well trained in all aspects of farming the
plantation, but as of late, Lydia felt compelled to broaden her education.
With enemy occupation the time had come for her to learn the basics for
survival.
The others agreed that their families would benefit by practicing
survival techniques, too. It would make the change easier if the time to
flee ever came.
Shortages sparked ideas for substitutes. Lydia prepared soap by
hand. She burned hay to ashes, dripped water through it, and filtered the
water. Then she boiled the cloudy liquid with coconut oil to produce a
cleanser that lathered well. Coconut milk and oil were already being
used to moisturize skin and hair, and everyone expected the jungle to
supply more as they needed it.
Lydia drew on her mother’s training and demonstrated that lack of
clothing need not be a concern either. The pineapple plant’s leaves
supplied fibers which could be woven into fabric. The bark of another
particular tree could be pounded to a sheet for cloth, and its fibers could
be stripped for threads.
Everyone knew or learned that bamboo trees were invaluable no
matter the size. Depending upon the diameter of a trunk, it could be
separated at the joints to form cups, jars, or narrow pails. Knives,
fishing poles, traps, river rafts, and all sorts of items could be crafted
from the bamboo. Besides the edibility of the bamboo shoots, the seeds
could also be used to stretch or replace rice supplies.
Plentiful fish and shrimp were also still easily caught from
freshwater swamps about the rivers.
The people of course were familiar with wild mushrooms and tender
rattan or nipa palm meat, but discovered that certain flower petals and
insects could also add to food staples. Taste for the latter had to be
acquired but they were able to stave off hunger if necessary in the depths
of the jungle.
Lydia even thought to create enough clay jugs as storage containers
for animal fat. She knew her people would find it practical to use if
their kerosene supply ran out.
It was a serious time with every hand working the fields, but the
youngsters needed and usually found time for play.
So it was that Florencia and Carmen often perched high in the trees
along the road leading out of Santa Cruz. They had seen other friends
do the same and decided to copy them. From there they would pitch
coconuts or mangoes down upon unsuspecting farmers that drove past in
their carts.

65
 The poor victims always rushed off in a panic with shouts to others
that the Japanese were nearby and going to get them.
This prank became the girls favorite until the day they nicked an
animal smartly in the rear with a pebble from their slingshot.
A troop of Philippine soldiers was coming through at the time and
several men rode on horseback. The instant the stone hit the
commander’s mount, which neighed, and reared up, the men swiftly
scouted about for signs of the enemy.
Florencia and Carmen muffled their giggles when the soldiers silently
signaled to one another.
The men muttered something about a stone having kicked up and
disturbed the one horse. Then they moved away, and the girls slipped
down to dash home.
“You saw for yourselves that the children were playing again,” griped
the commander. When his men chuckled, he couldn’t help but grin and
lead them on.
By the summer of 1944, Florencia was still absorbing all the
information Lydia could fill her mind with when new company arrived.
Philippine guerrilla soldiers found the rolling hills three miles above
Santa Cruz a strategic location to set up headquarters and replenish
supplies.
Many lost or separated American soldiers joined the guerrillas. Also,
spy runners were positioned as lookouts at various points miles away.
Although the villagers were placed at greater risk, Lydia was
nonetheless hospitable. She provided food that would have otherwise
been taken by the enemy and stripped spare linens to rewrap healing
wounds.
To date, the Japanese were still unaware of Mr. English’ presence, but
his training and instincts brought him to the front with arrival of these
allies.
The enemy was losing and now retraced their invasion route through
the Cagayan Valley. Their thought was to delay the American advance
toward their own homeland. Santa Cruz was said to be a marked target.
Emergency evacuation, long-practiced, now was real. The Japanese
used cruel means to enforce obedience and respect for their presence
since the earliest occupation. This barrio’s residents knew they could
expect no mercy. Flight was the only solution.
It was still dark when the people gathered the provisions kept in
readiness for flight.
Mr. English growled his refusal to obey Lydia’s order to leave, for
this was the hour for which he had been trained. He, now in command,
disappeared into the forest.

66
 She and the others had to leave without him and feared it was the last
they would see him alive. They stopped on their way out only long
enough to dig up precious belongings. The site of their cache was
marked so only they could find it.
Florencia was watching them unearth their things when she
remembered her small clothing sack. “Wait for me,” she said and ran
back to the house.
It was too late for Lydia to stop the lithe, four-foot figure before she
streaked across the field.
Florencia was inside and back out of the house just as the first of the
hated and feared Japanese army arrived.
The guerrillas, now numbering about three hundred men including
American reinforcements, had little time to properly position
themselves. They were dug in about the farm, but they were confident to
engage the enemy.
The “peek-pok” sound of the Japanese rifles combining with guerrilla
gunfire startled Florencia.
She dropped flat on her stomach. On the yard’s slope, she
immediately saw that she was trapped between the two firing lines. She
thought, If I can just crawl under the house, I could run the long way
around back to Mamma. Her eyes darted to and fro.
“Don’t move!” came one Philippine soldier. He lay in the brush
directly beside her. “You must lie still.”
The girl cupped her ears as he triggered a burst of bullets. Then she
squeezed her eyes shut when zips of metal seared past only inches above
her head. When she dared open them again, two Japanese fighters
dropped dead several feet before her. She gasped, her face kissed the
dirt, and she covered her head. Her thanks instantly went to God for
this unknown comrade who just saved her life.
All the while, Lydia and fifteen others managed to stay safely hidden
throughout the nightmare.
People from surrounding villages were running around and out from
the plantation. Amidst exploding ammunition their cries were echoed
by family members being separated and scattered from each other.
“I’ll wait for ‘Encia as long as it takes,” came Lydia. “Go on ahead;
save yourselves.’’
The others were frightened and deeply concerned but refused to leave
her behind.
For fourteen hours, from dawn to twilight, Florencia would have to lie
beneath sporadic gunfire. Each time a session appeared to be over, fresh
bullets sang, and in every direction she witnessed bodies drop.
Farm carts serving as combat shields were shot to splintered shreds,
and the chicken house was riddled with holes.

67
 The girl flinched when Lydia’s kerosene barrel exploded within the
barn.
In moments, several guerrillas fled out from the cover of the barn
after its back wall crackled with fire.
It wasn’t long before flames licking at the gates of the attached pens
sent pigs and goats running amok.
Florencia was overwhelmed by compassion for the animals that
charged their way to freedom. The chaos was unbearable. She held her
breath when the windows of Lydia’s house were blasted wide and
furniture was dragged about to barricade each entrance.
The girl’s senses were keen, and she believed she picked up on Mr.
English’ muffled snarls beneath the din. She squinted, but he was
nowhere to be seen. The dog was highly trained though, so she knew
the scent and sight of enemy blood had to drive him to fury. Sic’em,
boy! she silently cheered. Participants in the fighting later said some
animal had ripped out the throats of the majority of the enemy dead.
Some time during the day, the protective soldier rolled Florencia a
canteen of water to quench her thirst.
She immediately committed his face to memory. If the two ever
crossed paths again, and he was in need of help, she would not hesitate
to be his volunteer.
Night finally came before she dared roll on to her back. Her bladder
ached, and she felt stiff all over. When she looked to the stars, she
firmly decided that now was the time to do or die.
The fifteen-year-old prayed for deliverance and bravely inched past
the house on her belly. No survivors seemed to notice, so she broke for
the woods. She would not look back and felt her heart would burst as
she ran full speed ahead.
Earlier, her people had been forced further toward the river but now
that she was clear and free, they joyfully caught her in their arms. They
each whispered their relief it was as if the enemy were mysteriously
blinded to her escape.
“Mamma, the place is a mess.”
“Don’t look back,” returned Lydia. She kept her daughter close
while everyone rushed further up the trail.
They knew the path by heart, and no one dared stop until they
reached the fork of the Siffu and Malig Rivers.
It was there that ten other strays joined them. Lila and other women
in the party were weeping.
Apparently, Rosita Valdez fled with people from another village,
Antonio Pasqual, was shot and killed, and his father drowned while
trying to escape along the riverbank. It was not known whether Mrs.
Pasqual survived because she was nowhere to be found.

68
 Timing was crucial. If the Japanese were to make it around to the
north side of the farm, the group knew they would be spotted. They
immediately broke into groups to cross the Siffu in an abandoned canoe.
The children were too frightened to cry, and with wide eyes, they
clung to their parents.
Then in silence, everyone moved northwest through the dark
between the mountains and the Malig River.

69
 13

On The Trail

“The guerrillas are leading northwest on into the mountains,” Pablo

told everyone.
With sporadic fighting up ahead, each believed they would remain
alive by keeping a good distance behind the troops they followed in the
area. Yet they had to do their best to stay hidden each day. That task in
itself was enough to cope with, but they had the added stress of
mourning other villagers who had been separated or killed.
When they were not on the trail or hiding, they mostly foraged for
edibles in the hours of early darkness. They discovered familiar wild
mushrooms, select roots and leaves, and wild fruits. Besides the fare
jungle plants provided, they appreciated an occasional rare catch of wild
boar or chicken.
The people once saw mountain residents trapping monkey but chose
shrimp instead from the jungle’s freshwater rivers. They unselfishly
pooled their finds and cooked them after dark according to previous
training. They ate only small portions before wrapping the leftovers
snugly in banana leaves. These they would keep to eat the following
day.
Tuto and Pablo bravely volunteered to seek news each morning from
Philippine soldiers. So before sunup, they ran ahead to get an estimate
of the Japanese’ position.
The fighters couldn’t guarantee the civilians’ safety but agreed to
inform them each time they were ready to move on.
Word came from time to time that it was necessary to travel after
dark. But rough hiking over uneven terrain was more difficult, although
safer for the elderly and children, than moving during daylight. Far
behind the battle lines, their stops were temporary but provided needed
rest for their cut and bruised feet.
Then in the middle of one such trek, the people reached an area that
appeared over strewn with felled tree trunks. As they stood in an
overgrowth of grass they agreed it was a good time to feed the
youngsters.
Florencia and a close friend, Carmen Santos, were the first to drop to
rest on one log.
“Aahh....” Carmen sighed as she eased onto the heavier end.
Florencia plopped down beside her in the center.
Bwoosh! came a gush of escaping air.
The two shrieked and leapt to their feet. Beneath them a corpse had
deflated which they had mistaken for a log.

70
 “Don’t anybody move,” whispered one man. He went about the spot
with wide eyes. “Let’s push further on. Obviously, some fighting took
place here. I can’t tell if any of the bodies are those of the enemy, but
we shouldn’t stay around to find out.”
They left the battleground with Florencia disgusted. Never before
had she sat on the stomach of some unknown soldier let alone a dead
one.
Eventually, some people became ill along the trail from the water
they drank. Everyone decided it would be best to sip only enough to wet
their throats since they couldn’t be sure which streams might be
polluted. Others grew weak and gaunt on short rations, yet it was one
soul that strengthened their tenacity.
That soul was an old woman frail with disease and unable to walk on
her own. Each day she pled for her son and daughter-in-law to leave
her behind. “Bury me in the sand under those bushes, and I’ll be safe
there to die.”
Instead, love kept the couple struggling to carry her at the back of
the line.
The group bond became even stronger because others were willing to
bear the added weight of that family’s children and possessions.
By the time the journey led further north, everyone was forced to
camp three weeks in the lower elevation of the mountains.
One evening, a young woman was ready to give birth to her first
child. She and her husband were newcomers to the group when flight
began.
Since Margarite had borne five children of her own in Santa Cruz,
she prompted the pregnant young woman when to push and how to
breathe.
The mother-to-be lay in excruciating pain for hours, so when moist
crimson streaked her cotton frock, she panicked.
“Something is terribly wrong,” whispered Margarite.
“What do I do?!” the woman rasped, “The baby’s not coming.” She
gripped Margarite’s hands tight. “I’m scared.”
As the young husband returned from the forest, his wife slipped into
unconsciousness.
Soon after she became insensible no hope was left, and the others
offered to help dig her shallow grave.
“Leave me,” the man insisted. On his knees with bare hands, rice
bowl, and knife as tools, he cut through the dry earth. He then
completed his purpose with a kiss to his wife’s forehead and laid her to
rest forever with their unborn child.
The people watched him smooth the topsoil over and head back to
the woods alone. They could help now only by respecting his privacy.

71
 The hour was late that same night when Tuto and Pablo came saying
that the Japanese were coming up from behind.
The news of the advancing enemy drove them westward over new
hills. Then the group arrived safely at one river branch too deep to ford.
Without words, the men began assembling a raft for all to cross to the
opposite bank.
From there they pushed on, and their next rest came days later.
Although they heard no sound of combat, they needed no persuading to
take cover in makeshift huts. They were in dense forest, which was
further from the river. Therefore, they decided to split into teams to
scour the nearest deserted barrios for food. Occasionally, they were
lucky enough to find leftover food still warm in pots.
Their stay lasted an entire month, until one evening brought cause
for quiet celebration.
A farmer from a distant village generously donated two head of
cattle to the Philippine soldiers, so the men took what they needed and
gave the remaining cuts to Lydia’s people.
The savor of each bite of roasted beef strips warmed their grateful
hearts.
During the stay, Sarah and Antonio expected the arrival of their
sixth child.
Lydia and the others had already scattered one night leaving
Florencia with Sarah. “Would you mind helping me?”
The girl had lagged by the fire and was about to be off to the river,
too, when she turned back at the call for help. She spotted the woman
propped against a tree. “What is it, Sarah?”
Sarah winced and rubbed her swollen abdomen. “It’s time.”
Florencia stiffened and looked about. No one else appeared to be left
here at the base camp.
“Would you stay with me?”
The girl’s knees cracked when she squatted beside her. “Yes, but I
don’t know how to help give birth.”
“That’s fine.” Sarah’s lips quivered when she forced a smile. “If
you can do what I tell you, I’ll take care of the rest.”
The girl nodded and wiped the woman’s sweating brow.
Sarah moaned. “Do you feel the baby?” She pressed Florencia’s
hand against her belly.
The girl’s eyes widened. “It kicked twice!” Although she was
thrilled, she privately wished someone would return. At that moment
water seeped out from under the woman.
Sarah steadied her breathing and explained what her young
companion ought to do.

72
 Florencia obediently slipped a clean towel beneath the woman and left
to sterilize her sharp bolo over the cooking fire. No sooner had she
returned when the newborn slid into their cold world.
“What a relief.” Sarah heaved a great sigh. “It seems with each child
I bear, their arrival comes quicker than the last.” She used the girl’s
knife to cut the umbilical cord before they tied off the baby’s extension
with a strip from the hem of her dress. Then she held the child upside
down by both feet and lightly spanked it.
Florencia sat attentively while the boy wailed its first breaths.
Sarah squeezed her hand. “Thank you, `Encia.”
She cocked her head. “I didn’t do much.”
“You helped more than you know.” The woman wrapped the towel
about her son and drew him to her chest. “I appreciate not being alone.”
Florencia nodded and imagined what it might be like to bear children
of her own. That’s if I survive to see the day, she thought.
When it came time for the group to depart, the frail old woman that
had been carried to this point now lay dying. “Grant me my wish,” she
whispered.
Both her son and daughter-in-law refused.
The woman insisted she’d be safe from scavengers if left here. She
would also have a better chance of passing peacefully. “Let me go with
dignity; I don’t want to die on the trail.”
It took much persuasion, but the troubled son eventually agreed to
that as all he could provide in the midst of war. Leaving only her face
protruding, he tenderly placed her in the sands and prayed his mother’s
days would be shortened.
The people then moved north when the guerrillas’ assured them that
traveling the next ten miles would be simple. Along the way, they
discussed what they could trade for food if they happened upon
inhabited villages.
It turned out to be a hard day’s walk without much progress. Young
and old alike complained while they maneuvered over and around sharp
grasses and jagged rocks. The ten-mile trip they first expected now
looked to be more than fifteen, so for the sake of the weary, they sat
down near a stream.
The following morning, the group woke to discover several children
ill. The youngsters were weak with fever and unable to travel, so there
was no choice but to stay put.
“I think they have what’s called typhoid,” commented Pablo, “I’ve
seen this before.’’
By the third morning, a man named Miguel and his wife had to bury
their two older children. Only their sick baby clung to life.

73
 One other couple was forced to carry their two weak children when
the people could no longer remain in that place.
Everyone else helped by splitting that family’s belongings among
themselves to carry as far as possible. They had just made their way
down between two hills when the guerrillas sent word back.
Fighting broke out in a nearby village, so the people had to sit tight in
the narrow valley for the time being. They felt overexposed in the
clearing and immediately took cover under the sparse trees. No one
knew how long they would have to wait, so they took their rest in the
open with packs still strapped to their backs.
Fortunately there was a stream passing through their midst. They all
were grateful for drinking water and prayed to find something to feed
the children.
When several boys returned a short time later from the stream, they
carried a wet sack. “Can you believe it? This creek has crabs and
shrimp!”
The area was far from rivers, which ordinarily supplied this type of
food, so the people firmly believed it was God’s blessed provision. They
quickly went to fish the stream as well, and some in their eagerness ate
their catch raw.
Florencia and Lydia snickered at the others. They, too, were
famished but chose to eat a cooked meal instead. Burning dry grasses
and twigs to cook their catch, they patiently waited to savor a poached
supper.
That first night everyone slept out upon the open ground. Many
voiced their amazement at the absence of hungry mosquitoes.
“Do you see that?” Florencia broke in. The night-light was brighter
than usual, and she lay in awe of the sky. “The moon has a face.”
Lydia rolled over with eyes closed. She patted her daughter as though
urging her to sleep.
Those stars look like the shape of a spoon, too, the girl thought to
herself. Even that over there is like a big cooking pot. She suddenly
wondered if she were the only one who could discern all this greatness.
I don’t know what they’re about, but they’re beautiful, she decided. She
lifted her head to see the others now dozing and shook her head. These
people don’t know what they’re missing.
Fluttering in the trees caught her attention, and she cowered.
“What’s that?”
“Bats,” whispered Lydia. “Go to sleep now. They won’t bother us if
we don’t bother them.”
Florencia woke the next morning to see the women creating domed
shelters in the tall grass by the stream.

74
 They bent the tips of clumps of tall grass and tied them together for
each family to rest under throughout the day.
No one would have believed it when they heard that a man drew
clams from the stream had they not gone over to catch some themselves.
Florencia had never eaten a clam but didn’t mind much after seeing
one.
When word to move still did not come, the people settled for their
evening supper. They had barely taken a bite when a doe appeared with
her delicate fawn at the water’s edge.
The deer drank and eyed the humans who watched them, too. The
animals were an odd portrayal of serenity in this violent, dismal land.
The next morning, the rattle of gunfire was distant but startling
enough to wake almost everyone. They chose to dismiss it and instead
filled their time with fishing and washing their laundry.
The group was mind-boggled when Florencia pounced to seize a
catfish from the water with her bare hands. “Look! Mamma.”
Lydia was pleased and prepared the catfish to dry while she roasted
over a fire the shellfish they had collected.
Florencia felt favored for her unusual catch would provide her and
Lydia two days worth of good eating.
The third morning brought news that the group would still have to
remain in place. They did not know which direction their next journey
would take them, so they kept everything packed and ready for flight.
In the meantime, Miguel and his friend decided to backtrack several
miles to scour a village for supplies.
Everyone stayed there resting but Miguel’s companion startled them
when he returned breathless and alone after dark.
The man had daringly lugged back nearly fifty pounds of rice he
discovered. “I managed to hide,” he informed them, “but there were a
couple of Japanese there looking for food, too.”
Miguel’s wife caught her breath. “And, my husband?”
“They caught him and took him away.”
She lowered her head. All knew that The Japanese now put most
captured runners to death.
Everyone tried to comfort her and to display their gratitude for the
supply of rice.
Lydia stepped forward. “It looks like the grain needs to be hulled, so
we must lay out our coconut leaf mats to work on. I’ll start searching
for rocks, too.”
Before long, the women blistered their hands pounding the grain
with small rocks on a flat, stone surface.

75
 “Can you imagine our ancestors?” voiced Lydia. She improvised by
using her tin plates to fan away as much hay as possible.
The week finally drew to an end in the valley. Still Miguel did not
return. His wife knew better than to wait alone in the area when word
came to move.
“It’s unanimous,” stated another woman. “We all want you and the
baby to stay with us. If Miguel survives, he might find his way to catch
up.”
She agreed, and the guerrillas led the people northeast out of the
mountains. Without the trees for protection, they could not safely cover
much ground by day, so they pushed on at night.
The fighting guerrillas mapped a route for them including a path for
possible retreat. They, then, went on to drive the enemy in other
directions.
Even so, the people had to rely on their own judgment as they
traveled through most regions. They lived on borrowed time and lost
track of both the day and the date. By their estimate another month
passed without any sign of Miguel. They could only assume he was
dead.
Six others from the group also died from various disorders.
One woman complained that she could no longer walk well, and
everyone wondered if she would drop from her illness, too.
Weak or not, others still able to keep going on their own two feet
were grateful to be alive.
There were few supplies remaining when the people finally reached
a heavily wooded area. With relief they approached a river and prayed
that no enemy was hidden about.
The fighters assured them that the area was clear, so the group
spread out to rest and search for food. They took time to wash their
clothing and linens, but when they spread cotton sheets across the
ground to dry there came a surprise.
An airplane flew directly over and dropped several crates and canvas
packs.
Tuto cried out when the attached parachutes opened. “Run for your
life!”
Everyone was frightened and scattered to the trees. They expected
the delivery to explode and crouched low with covered heads.
Instead of experiencing a rainfall of debris, they heard the thud of
one falling object after another.
The people stood up dumfounded.
American soldiers arrived soon after to gather what they claimed as
theirs. Apparently, the supplies were supposed to target a large

76
tarpaulin spread nearby. The men apologized for mistaking the people’s
bright, white markers as the specified drop site.
Everyone enjoyed a good laugh with the children tackling Tuto to
the ground. “Run for your life!” they chorused.
In relief they passed for weeks without further incident after that
unfortunate blunder.
Lydia spent some quiet time having Florencia recite her family tree.
Since they both were the last of their family lines, she urged her
daughter to commit the information to memory for her future children.
One evening, under the moonlight, the girl was retracing her family
line. “After Grandfather Antonio there’s my great-grandfather,
Lordrigo. He was married to my great-grandmother, Carmelita--
”Florencia looked down. “--this makes me think of Carmen Mendoza. I
can’t help but miss her sometimes.”
Lydia sat closer. “I think of my best friend often, too.”
“You mean Gloria.”
The woman nodded. “I only hope those other families that didn’t
make it out with us are alive and well. ‘Encia, I hope you understand
that difficult times must come in life, but my own parents taught me that
God doesn’t leave us facing more than we can bear.”
Florencia agreed. “I don’t know how young I was, but I remember
standing by the stream near Uncle Gorio’s hut. There was a sliver of
grass fluttering from a chunk of dirt out in the middle.” She paused to
pluck a green blade by her feet.
“Water ran past on both sides, and for some reason, I believed that
someone had to make all these things of nature.” She looked to the
clouds. “Now I know that I was thinking of God, and if a bit of grass
were kept safe and dry from the water, I believed He would keep me
safe, too.”
Lydia sniffled and watched Florencia leave to join her friends. “If
we make it out of this war, Lila, I want to take ‘Encia to Manila. She’s
never seen the city.”
Lila touched her hand. “She’s becoming quite a young lady.”
“Yes.” Lydia grinned. “Still, once in a while the little girl in her
pops out--did you know that she and her friends stole Cecilia’s clothes
while she was bathing in the river last night?”
“Can you be sure it was them?”
“The boys saw them put the clothes back with her belongings.” She
shook her head. “I know it’s not funny, but poor Cecilia was bathing
and had to sneak back naked to get her spare skirt.” Lila laughed. “At
least no harm was done. The youngsters are sometimes frightened or
bored. They need to enjoy a bit of fun.”

77
 Pablo broke the conversation when he came with good news. “The
soldiers say we can set up permanent camp in Santa Maria if no one
wants to travel any further than that. It’s less than a day’s walk away.”
Guerrillas confirmed the village to be clear of Japanese and that food
was to be found. Meat was also available because many cattle grazed
about.
The people were too excited to sleep and left at the crack of dawn.
The valley trail was heard to be an easy one, which led east toward the
Cagayan River.
“Surely the war is coming to an end!” cheered an elderly man. He
thrust a fist in the air. “Until then, we finally have a place to call
home.”

78
 14
Desolation At Santa Maria

“It’s all right to walk ahead with your friends, ‘Encia.”

I smile at Mom. She seems quiet today. Moving along slowly, too. I
go to make my way past other adults and wonder if she’s not feeling
good. What could be wrong? I’ve never seen her sick. She’s always
been a healthy woman.
“I don’t think my mother’s well, Carmen.” I’m hoping to myself
that Mom didn’t get something the others did who died along the trail.
I breathe deeply, having walked the entire morning. The position of our
shadows in the sun indicate it is now high noon.
“Does anyone care to eat?” a woman calls out. Her small daughter
whimpers as she stumbles behind.
Everyone agrees, so we stop under good shade and search through
our food sacks. It turns out that there’s plenty of shrimps, crabs, and
clams left from last night for us to share. We’re all pretty hungry, so
lunch tastes good.
We eat slowly and rest nearly an hour when everyone gets to talking.
Some of the parents say that they’re glad their little ones haven’t fallen
asleep. There’s still much ground to cover today.
I’m sitting against a tree stump with my eyes closed, but Carmen
pokes me to get up.
“Come on, we’re packing up to leave.”
We all move on, and it’s evening by the time we reach the edge of
Santa Maria.
Pablo says American soldiers are a good distance beyond the next
village, but that village is where we ought to find good shelter. We’ll be
able to stay until there’s word to head back home to Santa Cruz.
Mom looks worse now, so I hope she and I can get into one of those
houses we see up ahead Maybe if she can get some rest then she’ll be
okay.
It looks like a good size village as we walk on in, and there're other
strangers around, too, who arrived before us. When we go further to
explore the place, there seems to be enough homes to house each family.
The sun’s going down now and Mom is sweating and shaking
awfully.
Lila comes over. “We should get Lydia to rest. I hope she doesn’t
have malaria, but she might if she got bit by an infected mosquito. It’s
hard to tell unless she’s still not better by morning.”

79
 I speak with Mom, and she has a splitting headache now but refuses
to go inside one of the houses yet. She waits until everyone else locates
where they prefer to live.
Lila sees someone she thinks she knows and starts to go toward
them. She promises to return in the morning though to check on us.
Mom and I are left to ourselves now, and we notice that no one has
claimed that small house by the overgrown field. We walk around it
before I follow Mom inside through the narrow kitchen. When she
heads straight for the only other room, we’re both relieved to discover
two small beds.
I’d almost forgotten what it was like to sleep off the hard ground.
She’s shaking much worse now, so I’m trying to help her out of her
damp dress and shoulder pack.
“Mamma, you lie here, and I’ll pour water to drink.”
Mom groans and crawls onto one bed between its sheet and worn
blanket.
By the time I get my own pack off and drain the last of our water
into my tin cup, she’s asleep. I’ll just leave it here for her on the chair
between our beds. She may need it in the middle of the night. For now
I’ve got to see what food and other stuff might be around this place.
It seems there’s not much in the kitchen other than two cooking
pots, a water basin, and some baskets.
It’s still light when I go outside to look around. Thank goodness I
see vegetable gardens growing near almost every home. I know they’re
fertile because they’re overgrown.
I keep walking the path until I meet up with Carmen’s family clear
at the other end of the village.
We’re thinking that all the people who lived here before must have
run off recently since everyone finds a good deal of stored rice.
We all feel fortunate and gather enough to pound to eat tonight and
for tomorrows breakfast. Everyone feels bad though. It’s strange to just
take over other people’s houses. Maybe if they were here, they wouldn’t
mind taking us in, but since they’re not, we don’t have any other choice.
I’m just glad that Mom doesn’t have to sleep out in the rain in her
condition. Thank God for this place. We know it’s not right to take
what’s not ours, but that seems to be the way He’s provided the
supplies we need to live on as long as we can. Here we are in a nice
place, and comfortable, too. It’s almost like home, only we’re in a
strange area.
I say goodnight to Carmen and take some boiled rice back to the
house for Mom.

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 >
Mom is still very sick. She kept shaking the first three days we were
here, so we continue gathering herbs that might help if she eats.
Lila takes a bitter vegetable to her three times a day that she calls
anpolla.
I don’t recognize the leaves, but there’s quite a bit of the stuff
growing in the gardens.
I only hope Mom’s illness passes soon. When I see her, I’m glad
we’re not still out there in the fields somewhere. We're in a house
where she can stay dry. If she were out there in the rain, it would be too
much for her to endure with this thing.
I feel sorry for her and only wish there was something 1 could do.
All I know is to stand by her and take care of the work that we used to
share together.
Everyday Mom tells me that she loves me. She says that she’ll be
here to take care of me and not to worry. She’s trying to encourage me
and tells me she’s going to be all right.
I hope so, because I love her, and I need her. I need her because
she's the only one I’ve got in my life now. What to do without her with
me, I wouldn’t know. I don’t even want to go out and be with the other
young people. Not even to clown around with my girlfriend on the other
side of the village.
With my Mom very sick, I don’t want to leave her. All I care to do
is stay by her side at this time.

>
After being in this place almost a week, it’s rained. We can’t
believe all the mushrooms that came up in the field last night, but it’s
our opportunity to pick them since there’s such an abundance. We
know they’re the kind we can eat, so we’ll mix them with our vegetables
and rice. That is, until we can walk the mile down to the stream and see
what’s there to be found.
Some of the other people are still sickly in our midst, too. I think
Mom might be getting better because she’s been trying to get up and put
her dress on each day. I know she’s always been a brave woman, but I
hope she’s not just doing it for my sake. I don’t want her to have to be
doing that.
I know God is going to take care of us because He always has. I
know there is a God somewhere that does take care of us people.
Mom must be getting better for sure. She stopped having a high

81
fever, so it must have been the anpolla that helped her. I do hope so
because I don’t like to see Mom like that.
Maybe she's overcome by stress. It’s not her way of life, the way
we’ve been living on the run. I think it’s been almost a year since we
left home. It must have all come down on her. I think she’s just being
brave to face all these circumstances we’re up against, but I know
somehow we’re all going to be okay.
Maybe when we finally get word to go back home she’ll be okay.

>
We’ve been living here three weeks now, and it looks like rice is
what’s cultivated most in this area of the country. It’s another farming
community. All we see while we explore is rice paddies. There’s plenty
of horses, cows, and carabao around, too, that are used to farm.
There’s even quite a bit of chickens running about, but we don’t try
to catch any to eat. I suppose we could, but we don’t. We’re just
feeding those chickens some rice and corn grain that’s stored at the
sides of the houses.
We found some pigs in pens, too. Whoever lived here must have
been desperate to get out because there are all these animals around
with some running loose.
It looks like some people that went to kill two cows are just now
returning. They did it to supply the nearby army and are coming around
with leftover organs and beef chunks that the soldiers didn’t want. They
say that what we don’t cook to eat, we can dry to save for another day.
Although we’ve been told that we’re safer here than anywhere else
we’d been, we still hear some fighting going on every so often. That’s
probably why no one can completely relax. If word comes to move,
we’ll be ready at any time.
So while we wait, we catch up on rest and find things to do. We
find a plant similar to the pineapple and cut the leaves off. After we
beat them with a rock we’ll be able to draw out the fibers to use for
thread.
Mom pulls out some sewing needles she’s been carrying since we
left home, so we’ll use those with the thread to mend our clothes.
Since the river isn’t too far from the village, everyone seems to be
going down there every day. They are careful though since the fighting
sounds a bit closer.

82
 >
Some guerrilla troops just arrived in our village. They’re saying
“Hi” to everyone and give us little cans they call ration supplies. I guess
they got them from the Americans who received them from the United
States. Some of the cans contain what they call canned sausages. I
guess they can be opened very easily when the men are on the run.
I’m saving mine because it’s special.
Mom opened hers up, and it’s a little can of cheese, but she doesn’t
like it. She says it tastes rotten.
I guess whatever it was, if anybody likes it then they can appreciate
the taste of that cheese. My can says sausages, and I don’t know what it
tastes like. But maybe someday I’ll have the courage to open it and
taste it. I don’t know, but I’ll preserve it for now.
Carmen just came over to tell me what’s going on over at the other
end of the village.
“My mother asked Dad to fix a little garden over there so she can
plant some seeds she found in the house. He loosened the dirt on one
side of the house, and we hope, Mom will have some vegetables one of
these days.”
I listen to her go on about how the other young people in our group
are planning to go to the river. We don’t know when, but we’ll go to
fish and swim and stuff like that.
Our parents heard what Carmen said and tell us not to get too eager
to explore that area because we never know what’s out there yet.
I guess it’s because we’re still hearing guns firing. It looks like
they’re not too far away from here, so that’s why we’re not allowed to
go exploring yet. She and I will just keep trying to find things to do
around here to keep ourselves busy.
Everyone just decided to get together tonight to pound rice, so
whatever we accomplish, we’ll divide and share.

>
Last night was the first time we were able to pound rice the way we
used to do back home. We really got quite a bit accomplished. We were
all able to pound what looks to be at least two hundred pounds of rice.
Now each family will have enough to last for a while.
It was nice that the young people were finally able to loosen up
some. We all sang together after we pounded the rice, and then
everyone went back to their place. We really tired ourselves out because
we all slept long after the sun came up this morning, but we enjoyed it
last night.

83
 Mom says she feels much better today, so she’s thinking about
digging a pit about two hundred yards from the house. It will be near
the tall grasses for toilet purposes. She doesn’t want to just go to the
bathroom out in the weeds, so we’re going to go dig a type of ditch. We
can use it to go to the bathroom, number two at least. Go and do our
business.
We’re digging the ditch deep enough now so that the dirt is piled on
the side. We’ll be able to scoop with a little shovel to pour the dirt over.
That’s the way we’ll have our bathroom.
Everyone else is digging them a ditch, too, so we can avoid
contaminating anybody with germs and disease that might be carried
into the area.

>
Days have passed since we discovered a spot of low land not too far
from here. It’s not outside the territory we’re allowed to explore, and it
has a small pond. We’re thinking there’s some fish in there, so we’ll
take some buckets from the village to empty this little pond. We’ll see if
maybe there’s some fish in there.
We left and came back to the pond with small baskets we tied to our
waists.
Now we take turns dipping buckets of water and throwing it out in
the nearby field. There are five of us ranging from eight-years-old to
fifteen, my age that are old enough to do something here. We’re having
a good time laughing and trying to see what’s at the bottom of the pond
after we empty it.
We’ve emptied it halfway now, and we can see a lot of snails.
Some of the girls are picking them up.
I guess their families like to eat the snails.
The girls are getting more excited now, and some say, “Well, if
you’d like to go and swim in this thing and catch what you can with
your hands, fine with us!”
The rest of us laugh. No one else wants to do that though because
they want to wait and see how many fishes will be swimming in the
bottom of the pond after we try to empty it.
Believe it or not! we got thirty fishes, so there’s enough for two
fishes for every person in our group back at the camp. I think it’s real
good the pond had that many fishes. So it was really nice that we
decided to go and do that.
Back at the village, some take the snails, and those that don’t give
them to others who like them.

84
 Me, I just have my two fishes. Two per person. I’m going to have
enough to eat for a while.
Well, we kids must look terrible because we’re covered with mud.
Mom looks at me and laughs. “Sweetheart, you’re covered with mud.”
I didn’t know how much I was covered with, tackling those fish in
the pond, so I guess I look like those kids who have fallen into a pool of
mud.
Now that it’s evening, we’ll just try to cook some rice with
vegetables to eat with our fish.
That sounds good to a hungry kid like me.
We’re all trying to do what we can not to take life too seriously.
We’re just taking it one day at a time and trying to survive. We’ve come
across enough problems to be burdened with to think so seriously.

>
One of the families that are neighbors right next the house Mom and
I stay in just brought us some wild fruit. The man got them from a wild
mango tree that had fallen down by the creek. They’re not as big as the
ones we raised on the plantation, but they’re good. In fact these have
more flavor. Now we’ll all have fruit to eat with our lunch.
I thank God that regardless of what situation we ever found
ourselves in, we always have enough to eat. We were never hungry out
in the jungle or elsewhere. There was always something we could find
to eat that would satisfy us.
We all sure appreciated those things growing in the wild. The
edible things in the jungle and the fields. We know those are provisions
of God. At least I think everybody knows. Those that know deep within
them really appreciate the fact that we can find things. We could have
been left so hungry out there because of all the places we’d been. It
was impossible to think we’d find anything to eat, but God was so
gracious to us all of those times.

>
So far the people who used to be in this village haven’t come back,
so we don’t know what happened to all of them. As we did from Santa
Cruz, maybe they’ve just gone so far from here that they don’t know
whether to come back yet.
Anyway we’re still here, and many people are growing more
restless. It’s because they know that fighting has stopped in some areas,
and they want to return to their villages as soon as possible.

85
 We’re just trying to be patient though. We hope, it won’t be long
before we can go back ourselves, too.
Right now we’re all so fatigued. For some reason, we have a lot of
sickness in our company and don’t know where it came from. Maybe
it’s from not getting enough rest while we were on the run. Now that
we’ve relaxed some, it just seems like a lot of people are sick. Of course
we’ll never know exactly what’s wrong without a doctor to diagnose
what we have.
Some people told us they’re sure that Mom had malaria because
they’ve seen that kind of thing before.
Others are turning up with fevers now, and they also have diarrhea
and are vomiting.
So we’re all trying not to eat food that might be the cause of this
problem since it doesn’t seem to be letting up. At this point, we just
don’t know what’s going on.
Well come to find out, this thing is worse than we expected. A man
and his child died last night.
I just learned that one of the children who had typhoid back on the
trail died, too. Even the child of one of the widows died a while ago.
The baby who still had typhoid on the trail is still alive, but we don’t
know for how long because he doesn’t look good at all. He looks
terrible.
We just hope this will cease, so we can be more at ease. Ever since
we all survived the typhoid that took some of the children, there seems
to be all kinds of diseases.

>
Another month has passed, and we hear that the war will soon be
over. We hope so because everybody would like to be able to go back
home to live normal again. Of course that takes a lot more doing than
they’re saying.
Everyone’s excited now because we hear that General MacArthur
has come back to the Philippines although there’s still a lot of fighting
going on. He’s supposed to be out this way next week.
We’re told if we want to see the General, he’ll be coming to a nearby
village. A high commanding officer in the Philippine army is his friend
and will be bringing him to his family’s home.
I hope Mom is well when he comes this way, so maybe we can see
him. 1 hope so. It would be nice to see the man who said he would be
back. We’d like to hear directly from the General who comes from
America whether or not the war will be over pretty soon.

86
 >
We saw the General.
He shook hands with all the young people, and some of the little
ones even got a hug.
It was so nice. We were awed to see the General who came from
America.
He told us to cheer up--the war will be over soon.
So now that we’re back to our village, everyone is happy. We can
look forward to the time when they’ll announce we can go back safely to
our villages where we come from. That was so great. Now we can be
thinking of going home. It’s a nice feeling to look forward to living
normally again.

>
It’s been some time since we met General MacArthur, and we’re
still waiting.
The young people finally decided to go down to the river tomorrow
to explore and maybe do a little fishing and swimming.
I hope we find a lot of shrimp or catch a few fish. I just don’t want
to get bit by a crab since we’ll be fishing with our bare hands. I know
some hide in the holes on the sides of the riverbanks where it’s shallow.
That’s a challenge though to catch our fish by hand It’s a lot of fun, but
I know we’ll have to be careful in case there are snakes in those holes,
too.
We’ve found lots of shrimp before under the rocks and things, so
whenever we feel something wiggling, then we know it’s a shrimp. We
have to try to take hold of it firmly so we don’t lose it.

>
Here we go! There’s five of us going to the river. The youngest is
eight-years-old, and the rest are my age.
Mom kisses me goodbye. “I love you,” she says, “and be careful. I
don’t want you to be hurt by what’s happening.”
“I will,” I tell her. I’m thinking maybe she’s not feeling well.
Maybe she’s sick again.
As we leave, we hear what seems to be new fighting near our
village. We’ve heard so much battle noise lately that we try to ignore it.
It sounds heavier than usual though. We don’t know what’s going on.

87
 Perhaps they found a lot of Japanese around. As far as we know,
we’re safe, so we’re going on to the river to do what we said we’d do.
We’re almost there but hear more gunshots. It sounds like a cannon.
Planes are flying over our area, too.
Boom!
That one was especially big, but we don’t want to pay attention.
We’re only thinking about having a good time.
Now that we’ve made it to the river, we go swimming and fishing.
By lunchtime the baskets we’re wearing are so full of fish. We have
so many crabs and shrimps--well, at least I got one good fish in my
basket. So we’re going to stop to eat the little pack of rice we brought.
We spotted some wild mango trees up the riverbank, and we picked
some of those to take back. We don’t want to mix them in with the fish
though, so we’ll have to look for something else to carry the fruit back
in.
It’s a good thing we brought our bob knives. They’re big and sharp
with a nice long blade, so we cut some vines out of some trees with
them. With those we’re making a basket to carry the fruits we picked.
Now that that’s done, we’re leaving the fruits under the tree to come
and get later. We’ll go back to the river and fish some more maybe until
mid-afternoon before going home.
We found and picked lot of ferns with tender shoots. They’ll be
good for salads and stuff like that. We’ll chop them up with other
vegetables or just cook them to eat as they are. We each found quite a
lot of wild lemons, too, and some with a taste similar to lemons but
more sour.
We’ve done a lot, and the day is almost over now, so we’re heading
back to camp. For some reason the bombing we’re hearing along the
way is so loud.
My heart is pounding. I don’t know why. It just started pounding
because of that bomb we just heard.
We’d better hurry and get back because it will be time to start fixing
supper when we get there.
“Maybe we’ll do something nice tonight before we all go to bed,” I
tell the other girls. They agree, but we’re not sure exactly what. We’ll
have to see about that after supper. After we ask our parents. Maybe
they’d like us to pound rice or something.
We’re near the camp now, and we see a lot of smoke. We don’t
know what’s happening. We’re not close enough yet to see clearly
because there’s lots of high grass and trees. It’s hard to tell what’s
going on yet. Now that we arrive at the village, we can see something
happened while we were gone. A lot of the houses are missing, and
there doesn’t seem to be anybody around. We keep calling out to see if

88
somebody’s there, but we just can’t seem to find anybody. Something is
terribly wrong here.
We all start running to the other side of the village to see if anybody’s
there at all. There has to be somebody. I don’t think they’re all hurt or
anything, but we have to see if anyone is on that side of the village.
We make it to Carmen’s house, and her parents are in such shock that
they can hardly talk. We’re saying that we can’t find my mom.
They tell me they knew she was already killed. They didn’t know
how they would break it to me when we got back to camp. They’re
saying they know she got hit but they couldn’t find her body. They
couldn’t find her anywhere at all.
Everyone else found alive is badly hurt, but we don’t have any kind of
medical attention.
We just try to take care of them as best we know how. Hopefully,
they’ll survive, but time will tell.
Many say it will be a miracle if those people live through all they’ll
have to with their wounds.
Right now, we can’t find my mom. As I already heard, they think
she’s been killed, but there’s no way to find her body.
There’s an old man with a leg blown off who says he saw it happen.
A lone American plane flew over and targeted the wrong spot.
Another lady they found was shattered to pieces. The only way she
could be identified was that her head was thrown away from where the
bomb landed, and some parts of her body were thrown here and there.
But my mom--we can’t find her.
Right now I’m all alone. The one that loves me the most--that I
know is gone, and I’m left behind I don’t know how I’m going to make it
in my life now. So now I can’t think of anything. I’m too shocked
nothing is clear. I don’t even know where I’m going to stay tonight.
A lot of people who are moaning and groaning here need taking care
of. Maybe I’ll just stay around the people who are tending to those that
are hurt.
Anyway, there are six now dead from the bombing. That only leaves
ten people here that arrived with us when we came in. So we don’t
know how much longer we’re going to have before we end like the rest.
They were all right this morning, but now some are gone.
I’m too numb to think. I don’t know what the future holds for me.
My mom is gone. I can’t think of how terrible that must have been, how
her body was torn to pieces. I can’t even find a thing, not one piece of
her here. My mind--it’s just hard to think.

89
 >
No one sleeps well overnight. The injured are awake like the rest of
us when the sun rises.
We say that were going to look all over the place to see if we can
find anything of Mom at all.
I don’t know where our stuff is. I’ve only got four dresses left, so I
guess I’ll have to take care of them. Then I'll have something to wear
until I can find somebody to help me.
My girlfriend’s parents say they want me to stay with them. They’ll
look after me because they love me, too, as they love their own daughter.
I don’t really like the idea of being pushed onto anyone's life, but at
the moment it seems the only thing I can do. I agree to stay with them
just to try and do what I can to help out. Things like trying to find food
to eat and that. I’ll help and not worry about it.
I’m completely aware of the things we have to do--just to be alive
and find things to eat. I hope that, I can return something good for all
their kindness someday.
So I don’t even know what happened to all the stuff we brought back
to camp from the river yesterday. I guess the other young people took it
to their parents. They managed to distribute it to everyone who is still
alive, so they have something to eat.
I’m glad in a way because I’m lost. I just didn’t think anymore after
we came back in the camp. My mind is with my mom. I’m trying to
think what did happen to her and where we could find her, but all I
know now is what the old man said
He saw her get blown up. The bomb really dropped on top of her.
So we’re only going by that. My mind and my whole being is just numb.
I can’t really get myself together the way an adult would, I suppose.
I’m just thinking the best way I can as a teenager at this moment. I
thought perhaps there’s something I can do in the way of a funeral, but
there’s no body to bury. Maybe I can put a cross of some sort with her
name across it and put it where the bomb dropped
I don’t know. Those things are just going around and around in my
mind
Now my girlfriend and her parents are trying to help me. They’re
trying to comfort me as much as they know how.
It’s so difficult every time I turn around. I hope to see Mom. I keep
going back, over and over, to that place where she’s supposed to be.
I guess I’m not talking a lot. My girlfriend goes with me each time I
go back to sit right there where the bomb landed. We just sit there and
talk, and when I start getting moody and cry, she cries with me.

90
 Somehow, someway, she’s a comfort to me because she claims to be
my best friend. We’ve done a lot of things together, and it’s like her
mother says they even want me to be her sister. We act like sisters, but
we know the difference.
Now we’re hearing that we can take the main road back to Callang.
It’s going to take us a long time. We don’t know how many days it will
take, but it’s going to be quite some time before we get there.
For now we can pack what belongings we have to start our journey
back toward our old villages. Way back to our homes.

91
 15
Hungry Road Back

We found some more rice and pounded it last night. It’s at least five
gallons, so that should carry us through for a while. Along the way we
hope we’ll be able to find other foodstuff to eat with it. We’re going to
cook the rice softer from here on so that there’s more to share. We’ll
stretch it that way.
The others who weren’t with our original group are going to travel
back with us because they have to go in that direction, too. So now there
are five adults: Two couples, a widow, and five young people.
We’re on our way now following the main road that leads from
Aparri to Cabatuen. We’ll be traveling southwest and then south to
Callang. It is our hope that we’ll be able to make fast headway as we
travel back since we won’t have to fight through high grass and the
jungle.
On the way out of Santa Maria, Carmen says that her father isn’t
feeling too well. He’s been throwing up blood.
I just hope he's going to be okay. He doesn’t look good at all; he's
so pale. I hope there’s nothing serious about his health because we
don’t know what he has. I thank God we’re going back home. I can’t
stop thinking about my mother. She’s still back there--no longer with
us.
I’m thinking more seriously now about what I’m going to do since
she’s gone. What can I do back at the plantation? If everything's okay,
If we find that its livable back there in the village, maybe someone
can help me build a little house. Maybe I can do a little gardening, too.
I don’t know much of anything except what I remember seeing the adults
do. I won’t know until I get there.

>
Well, about two months have passed, and we’re halfway to Callang
now. Surprisingly, we still have half the rice we brought out of Santa
Maria. So when we get to Callang, we hope to find more rice to live
on.
We’ve been trying to find some vegetables near the villages along
the main road.
There’s a problem now with Carmen’s dad. He’s very weak and has
problems walking.
We’re more than concerned now since he’s lagging behind all the
others. They’ll just have to go on ahead of the four of us.

92
 Now that the sun is going down, we’ll camp for the night. Carmen’s
dad is feeling really bad, so we’ll camp, and maybe he’ll be better in the
morning. Right now, we’re going slower just trying to find a
comfortable place to sit down.
It started raining, so we need to see what we can do to keep
Carmen’s dad, Mr. Santos, dry.
There’s a suitable little spot just ahead, so we make it there and start
cutting some grass. We’ll pile some on the ground and build a simple
shelter over it, so he won’t be in the rain tonight.
We’ve found some wood, so now we’ll cook our rice soon. We see a
stream nearby where we can draw water to cook with, but we hope it’s
not dirty. We’ll have to take some anyway just to cook the rice.
Now we have some grass piled up on these small trees. We’ll put
some kind of support there, too, so the grass doesn’t fall. At least
Carmen’s dad can have some kind of shelter.
We’re clearing the ground beneath and spreading a nice bed of long
grass so we can spread something over for him to lie on.
It’s raining harder now, so he’s gone under the little shelter, and we
start making one for ourselves on the other side.
It doesn’t take long for Carmen and me to spread a sheet on top of
our own bed of grass. We look around to see what else we can do to
improve our camp before it gets really dark. In the surrounding brush,
we find more wood to bum. Maybe we’ll get a little warmth from it
since it’s really damp now. Until then Carmen and I just crawl under
the little shed we made.
Mrs. Santos has already turned in with her husband on the other
side, so we should turn in, too.
There’s nothing to do, and it’s chilly.
“I’m cold,” says Carmen, so we lay down with our backs together to
keep warm.
I take the small blanket I’ve had since we left home and share it with
her. At least it’s enough to keep our arms from being cold. From where
I don’t know, but we must find more wood in the morning. I hope we
find at least enough for a fire to cook our rice and to warm ourselves.
We’re chilly, but all we can do is lie here, try to sleep, and trust God
for his protection over us. Perhaps tomorrow is another day.
Right now my mind flashes back to our camp in Santa Maria. It’s
difficult not to think of Mom. If she were here with me, I wonder what
advice she might give me to help me survive the rest of my life.
I’m wide-awake thinking of what I could do during the time ahead.
Yet I don’t want to look too far ahead because I don’t know what’s in
store for me. As for going on without her, for now, I’m just doing as
she taught me, taking one day at a time.

93
 All of us have stopped trying to think about the future since we don’t
know what’s in store. We can only think of whether we’ll live through
today.
I’m lying awake, and Carmen is already asleep. Many things come
back to mind that happened back there. Like when we went to the river,
my mom gave me a hug. She told me to be careful because she didn’t
want me to get hurt. I remember telling her, “Yes, Mom, I’ll be careful,
and I’ll see you when I get back.” Those were the last words we had
with each other before she died.
I think she had the intuition that something was going to happen to
one of us, but she didn’t express too much of what she was feeling. At
the time she probably didn’t want me to fear or worry about what might
lie ahead It’s the only thing I can think of as to how she must have been
feeling--all that was on her mind, and all that might happen.
She gave me the last of her best when she gave me that hug and the
advice she did At least I have that much to remember from her along
with the things we used to talk about before we were driven out--
evacuated from our own home. All the things she used to tell me--what
we needed to accomplish and just to keep trying. While we still have yet
to learn, by trying can see the results of how well we do a certain thing.
I remember how she often told me how proud she was of my
accomplishments. She often said I was observant and quick to follow
directions. She even said I was a survivor because I’m determined to do
the thing I’m doing and seem to be able to accomplish the task I set
myself to do.
So many times she’d put her arms around me and tell me the things
of which she was proud. One of the last things she said was that she
was proud that I never did anything for which she had to be ashamed
She said I never talked back, that I did everything she told me, and she
never had to raise her voice to me.
I guess I finally dropped off to sleep because now it’s morning. The
sun is up, but Carmen isn’t awake yet, so I just try to lie here quietly. I
don’t want to wake her because I know she’s probably pretty tired. I
know I didn’t sleep well, because I’m thinking about Mr. Santos. I
wonder how they’re both doing since I didn’t hear anything from them
all night. I don’t know if they were just trying to be quiet so as not to
wake us.
I really do want to see if he’s doing better this morning, so I’ll get
up to make afire. I know my flint and steel is somewhere here in my
bag--yes, I’ve got it now. I strike the steel against the rock, and the
sparks light a bit of cotton.

94
 I blow on it gently to keep it glowing. 1’ll add more grass until its
going well enough to place wood on top. It has to be big enough to hold
a pot of rice.
I carefully wrap my flint stone and piece of steel away in its own
cloth because it’s the one thing I wouldn’t want to lose. Without it I
couldn’t build a fire out here.
I’m grateful we thought to cut more than enough dry grass last night
since the ground is still very wet. I have to keep my mind clear to
continue doing the important things. Always keep enough dry grass
tucked somewhere in a dry place.
Mrs. Santos woke and says she’s going to make us some rice.
Carmen’s up now, too, so she and I will walk out a way to search for
growing things to pick for food. We both hope to find enough to carry
with us. Maybe enough to last at least two days.
We’ve gone down one side away from the camp. It looks as if
there’s an old village here. Although it seems to have been abandoned a
long time ago, there are some old beans here and some bitter melons.
We find mushrooms, too. Then we cut the hearts from several banana
trees.
We’re both happy that we found enough to last us a while, so we
take it back to Mrs. Santos.
She cooks some of it as our vegetables. Enough to fill our stomachs
at least.
We thought we’d move on after breakfast, but Mr. Santos is too ill.
He can’t move now, and we don’t know what to do except try to and
make him as comfortable as possible. So we’re making the shelter a bit
bigger by cutting more grasses to pile on top. This way he can be
sheltered from the sun or any more rain.
It’s been a while. since we ate, and we’re going around, still cutting
more grass. We don’t know what to do because Mr. Santos is very sick,
and we can’t move him.
He can’t even get up or anything.
Mrs. Santos is very worried about what might happen to him.
Carmen and I are numb with what’s going on. We’re wondering
what might happen to him, too. Will he die here or something? We
both tell Mrs. Santos that we’ll find more edibles to add to our supplies.
“No,” she says, “not today. Maybe tomorrow you’ll go and find
some stuff. You just stay here with me today.”
So we just stay around the camp trying to keep ourselves busy. We
cut more grass to put on top of the little trees that are our shelter. It will
help to make it shadier to protect Mr. Santos. Now we’ve clamped two
sticks into the ground to start making a type of wall type. The sticks are
lined up for us to pile more grass against. They should keep

95
any wind out if a breeze rises. Then it won’t be blowing on him all the
time.
We’ve placed two more sticks on the other side of him to make
another wall around his sleeping area. So we spend the whole day
building his shelter up all around him to make him more comfortable.
Night comes upon us again, so we eat our supper, and soon we’ll be
going to bed. It’s a good thing we have wood to burn in case it gets a
little chilly later. At least we can try to keep Mr. Santos warm. The
fire’s not too far from him.
He’s very uncomfortable, I guess, because he is groaning a lot and
throwing up more blood. All he can do is lie as quiet as possible to
preserve his strength.
It’s grown quite dark now, so Carmen and I place a big log on top of
the fire. It should bum all night. We’ll turn in, too. There isn’t enough
light now to see to do anything anyway.
I have my dress washed for the day and spread over our shelter. I
hope it will be dry by morning.

>
The sun just came up, and it looks as if it will be a bright day. It’s
early, but I see the fire’s still going.
Now that everybody’s up, we’ll be able explore that little village near
here.
I think Mr. Santos slept well last night. I didn’t hear him make any
noise through the night. Maybe he’s beginning to feel better. I do hope
so because we have to keep on going when he can manage.
Mrs. Santos was trying to wake her husband so we can all have
breakfast together, and she just came crying out from the shelter. “He’s
gone! He’s dead! What are we going to do?”
We come to sit with her, to talk to her, but she just keeps crying.
She doesn’t know what to do with his body now that he died in the
night. We’ve got to do something. But what? We don’t have tools to
dig a hole in the ground to bury him.
We’re trying to think of something, but for the moment, we’re just
kind of stunned. Another person has died in our group. Now it will be
just the three of us to travel back, and there’s nobody here to help with
the body. We’ll have to think of what to do soon because he’ll start to
smell when he begins to decompose.
We need to come up with something soon to keep it from doing that
now that it’s getting warmer.
I tell Carmen we might both be able to do something here with our
bob knives. She has one, and I have one, so I’m sure we can work

96
together to dig a hole deep enough to bury her dad. I don’t know how
long it will take us, but we can try. The blade is wide enough with the
tip sharp enough to try to dig with.
Now that we’re both working to dig a hole, she and I are crying, and
our tears are clouding our eyes. We can hardly see what we’re doing.
We just keep digging with our knives and scoop the dirt out to the sides
with our hands. We even wipe the tears with our dirty hands and end up
looking as if we have striped faces.
She told me my face is muddy, and I tell her that hers is, too. We
can only wipe our hands on our hair. So I guess we’re a mess. We have
to keep on digging because I think he's beginning to smell here.
It’s midday, and we’ve cut the hole knee deep. We’ll see what Mrs.
Santos thinks. I don’t know. I think it’s supposed to be deeper. We’ll
just have to ask.
We manage to dig the hole about six more inches, and she says it’s
good enough. We’re just going to cover him with the dirt and whatever
grass we can gather to lay on the grave.
Right now she’s trying to wrap his body with some kind of cloth to
put him in the hole. That’s the way he’s going to be buried.
We’re all going to have to carry his body into that hole. One person
can’t do it by themselves, so we’re trying to see how we can get it done.
Mrs. Santos takes hold of his feet, and Carmen and I each take one
arm. We drag him down to the hole this way.
When we finally get him covered, we throw a lot of grass on top of
the grave.
Mrs. Santos has tied sticks together in the form of a cross and rams
it down into the ground. She says she wants us to go ahead and leave.
We won’t stay here through the night.
So we pick up what belongings we have and take off.
I don’t know how far we’re going to get.
It appears to be around one-thirty, so we’re leaving this camp and
continuing along the main road toward Callang. We’re all sad and
weeping, but God is going to take care of us all somehow.
Carmen is very, very sad. She can’t stop crying because she and her
dad were very close. He was such a marvelous man. He loved children,
but they only had the one. It’s Carmen.
I feel you couldn’t ask for a nicer man than he was. Mrs. Santos is,
too. They’re wonderful people who make you feel right at home with
them. I couldn’t ask for nicer people.
So here we are traveling--Mrs. Santos with two teenagers.
I hope we’re not any trouble for her. Instead I hope we’re a help to
her at this time.

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 Each of us wishes to reach some village down the road before us.
Maybe then we’ll find a place to lay our heads as we have before.
I know we will.
Now we’re seeing some people way ahead of us.
I don’t know what these people are. We hope that they’re not the
Japanese.
Anyway we’re still trying to be careful and watchful. We never know
what will come out of the grass and bushes by the side of the road. We
were told the war has stopped, but we don’t know if there are still some
Japanese hiding about.
1 hope we come across some people we knew before evacuation--
some that were separated from us. Also, I hope we meet up with some of
those people from Santa Maria, that went on ahead. People going back
to their villages as we are.
Those we see far in front of us seem to be more in number than those
who went on ahead of us. That group seems to be trying to get back
home, too.
Carmen and I ask Mrs. Santos if she’s ready to stop and camp for the
night, but she says, “No, there’s still enough light for us to keep going
for a while. Who knows? Maybe we can catch up with those others.
Then when we stop to camp, all we’ll have to do is cook something to
eat and find a place to sleep. We won’t have to build a shelter with the
weather this good. We can sleep under the stars tonight.”
We have about three cups of rice left, and we’re trying to preserve as
much as we can. We’ll stretch what we have. We hope we can find
more edible things along the way.
Now some of those people look as though they’re setting up camp
before us. We even see smoke start to rise in that area, so we’re going to
stop, too, to get our own fire going.
I know that although it’s been a good afternoon, it was very sad, too.
We’ll just have to look ahead instead of looking behind. We can’t do
anything now about what’s happened behind us, but we can start
thinking about what’s in front of us instead
Thank God He has provided another stream, a creek, just ahead.
That’s where Mrs. Santos says we’ll set up camp tonight.
I’m so thankful to God that we’ll be able to get water to drink and to
cook our rice.
When we stop, there’s not much we need to do except build our fire.
Anyway with the sun almost down, there’s not much time for anything
except to gather sticks and maybe find something to eat along the
stream. Maybe there will be some shrimp or other edibles.
We got to where we wanted, and now that we’ve come down near the
creek’s embankment, we can see a wild chicken that flew down. We

98
spotted her nest and found nine eggs there that we can boil to eat with
our rice. It’s so nice. We were just wondering what we’d have to eat
tonight, and here they are, God has provided us with nine eggs.
We set those eggs where we want to make a fire and decide to go
back down to the water. We see many tender fern shoots growing along
the side, so we take some of those, too.
Again within me, I’m quietly thankful to God for providing our food
tonight, and maybe we’ll have enough leftover for tomorrow.
We’re enjoying a feast now with our eggs and rice, and we even
have enough to last maybe three more meals since I only ate one egg.
Actually, we each ate one egg, so that leaves us six to go with our
vegetables. Maybe we’ll make it through another day with those.
I hope we can find some more foodstuff up along the stream
tomorrow before we leave again.

>
It’s the next day, and just as I’d hoped, we’ll go along the stream to
see what else we can find. We don’t want to wander off too far, but
we’ll do that while Mrs. Santos does other things here at camp.
She says she’s going to head down to the stream herself to take a
little bath.
We were going to do the same thing, so while we’re down there
looking around, we’ll bathe, too.
I realize it’s a good thing we brought our bob knives with us
because we’ve found some tender rattan shoots. About the size of my
finger and thick. We can roast them later in the fire, but we’ll have to
be sure to prick the outer skin first so they don’t burst. Otherwise the
shoots will splatter all over the place.
Mrs. Santos is crying, so we run back to see her. She tried to
unpack a change of clothes today and came across some of Mr. Santos
belongings. She found his pants and is crying so hard. She just has her
face buried on top of the bag, so we’ll have to let her cry it out before we
can do anymore today.
Now Carmen is crying, too. She’s chewing the handle of her bob
knife, and I start to cry, too. It’s so hard to get going now. This
morning is turning into a disaster rather than something we looked
forward to.
“Carmen, we better get our knives and things packed, so we’ll know
where they’re at,” I say so we won’t get cut if we fall down or
something.
So she and I both wrap them well in their leather sheaths and pack
them away.

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 It’s something for us to do since I was about to eat an egg, but I
hadn’t even cracked it with all my tears falling on it. I put it away
instead to eat later when I get real hungry.
Carmen’s having a hard time finding the bag she had packed.
I’ll have to help and see what we can do together.
She can’t even remember where her cooking pot is, but I know she
left it by the stream when we ran back to see Mrs. Santos.
I’ll go to fetch the pot and pack it in a basket, so we can get
everything together.
Now that everything’s done, and we’re back on our way again, we
hope to catch up with the other people by evening. It will help not to be
on this road by ourselves.
When we do catch up with some others, they say that some of their
men had to kill a Japanese along the way. They caught and killed him,
but they don’t know if there’re any more out there. We’ll know when
we catch up with more of the others.
So now we’re really concerned as to whether it’s safe to go back this
soon or not.
I just hope there’s nothing else like that because we sure don’t want
to run across many Japanese at this point.
We’d just like to get back safely to where we’re going.
As we come to the halfway mark to Callang, everyone starts slowing
down because of that incident.
The others say they don’t want to come across any Japanese as those
men did.
We haven’t been too careful thus far, but we will from now on. Of
course, it’s a good thing those people caught the enemy before he could
get them, so they’re okay.
From what I hear here, the Japanese was alone. People reported he
was half starved and dying by himself out there. He was just waiting to
die because when the men caught him, he could hardly move. Evidently
he had a gun, but they found out it didn’t even have a bullet in it. I
guess he ran out somewhere.
They say they had to kill him because they didn’t know if there were
more of them out there.
Everyone’s even afraid to go around searching for food in case there’s
still some enemy hiding in the weeds.
We’ll have to go in groups although some men in the other group say
they’ll survey the area first. We’ll feel safer this way.
Carmen and I were able to find some camote in a garden like we had
back in our village, so we’re digging up a good supply. There’s even
another type of potato that was overgrown. They appear to be the kind
that grows on bushes instead of on the vine.

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 I remember seeing this kind before that can sometimes grow to be six
feet tall. Anyway they’re edible, so we’ll take enough for everyone.
We’ve just uncovered some oboe roots, too. Maybe we can dig some out
tomorrow since we know their exact location.
Carmen and I go on back to the other people with all we can carry
on our backs.
“We found these in the village over that way,” I tell them.
They say that maybe they’ll look around in that direction tomorrow
also.
So we share all we’ve found, and Mrs. Santos cooks some of ours to
eat this evening.
We’re glad that it’s safe to build a fire during the day now, so we
don’t have to cook extras for the next day as we used to.
I think those potatoes should last a couple of days, but I hope we
find some other stuff too.
We just have to make sure we didn’t gather more than we can use,
otherwise we'd have to slice and dry them. If we do, we’ll pack them in
a little bag or bamboo jar.
Carmen and I have gone back into that village again, and we find a
row of jicamas growing. We gather what we can and haul them back
right away.
The people are all happy because there’s enough to go around.
They’re just eating those jicamas raw since they taste sweet like an apple
and don’t have to be cooked.
Well, it seems there’s quite a bit more people arriving around us
now. We’re here on the east side of the road, but I don’t know how
many of them are over there on the opposite side.
I hope we progress well while we travel. With a slower pace, we’re
just not sure when we’ll reach Callang. Everyone feels it’s better to go
slowly instead of moving ahead fast and maybe being trapped. We’ll
just let the men go on to survey the place and come back before we move
on.
I guess we’re just going to set up camp and stay another day while
they go ahead to do that.
I’m sharpening Carmen’s knife since she says it’s getting dull.
This way we can chop grass to put on top of the shelter we’ll make.
If we build a little shack, it’ll be more comfortable and dry than sleeping
out under the stars.
That’s what we’re doing since we have to wait anyway. We’re
putting more grass over and around us so it won’t feel chilly or windy in
bed tonight.

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 Mrs. Santos says that we’ve run out of rice, so we’re just going to
have to live on what the area can provide, such as wild stuff growing
anywhere.
The people who were here first just said they have checked around
but didn’t find any abandoned rice, so we’ll just live on what the fields
or woods can supply.
We know it’ll be harder now since we’ll have to hunt for all of our
food before we do any cooking. That’s the way it will have to be now
that there are more people around.
They, too, have the same problem. They’ve eaten everything they
found.
So Carmen and I go back to that village again to search for what we
might survive on. We see what looks like a little house or hut that
seems has fallen down. There’s nothing to be seen on the ground but
the roof She and I can tell it was once a house there, so we poke around
underneath in all the piled grass and hay.
To our surprise, we found a jug of rice that’s already been pounded.
It looks as if someone prepared it for their escape because it has a
leather carrying strap on it.
But it’s full of rice, and there’s a cloth covering with banana tree
bark tied over with a string. That’s what seems to keep it tightly closed
and how it stayed dry.
We’re both so thrilled, so happy we found this jug that we run back
with it to Mrs. Santos. We’re both saying, “Mom! Mom! We found a
jug of rice!”
She’s looking at us like what in the world are these kids talking
about. Where would they find such a thing as that?
So we told her how we found it digging around under a collapsed
hut.
I’m just thanking God inside that He provided this jug of rice since
we’ve all been having trouble finding supplies.
The others had been saying they’d had trouble finding rice in the
empty villages around. They found nothing to eat.
Now Mrs. Santos tells us to keep it quiet, especially since it’s hard to
find supplies.
So Carmen and I are kind of keeping it quiet, what we found instead
of sharing it the way we used to. Just as the others had told us, it’s
getting harder to find rice as we go back toward home.
I keep wondering why the people who went through before didn’t
notice the potatoes growing in that village at all.
Carmen and I are now going back again for potatoes, and we find
quite a bit more. But we think we’ll just leave them here until it’s time
to move on. We can take more with us then.

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 >
It’s been weeks since the men went to survey the area of Callang. So
now that they’re back, they say that they found nothing to fear. We can
continue on our journey.
Carmen and I want to go right away to dig up more potatoes, so we
tell the others, and they decide to come, too.
Come to find out, many of those people can’t find any, so we give
them some of ours. Anyway, some of the potatoes are hard to carry.
We still haven’t shared any of the rice we found. It’s about five
gallons, so it’s going to be a good supply for a while.
Mrs. Santos will carry some, and the two of us will carry some with
wild vegetables and other stuff we found.
It looks as if some of the other people in that camp across the road
are tired and cranky. They’re all fighting with each other and getting in
each other’s way. So we just lie low, trying to keep to ourselves and not
get too near them. We’re just being quiet and maybe say “Hi”
sometimes when we have to. That’s about it.
Those people are from other villages not so close to our home
anyhow, so we’d just as soon keep it that way if we can.
We decided to give the families that left Santa Maria with us a half a
gallon of rice each, so they’ll at least have something to cook. We’ll
keep it that way, and then if they need more later and we have some left
then we’ll share some more. In the meantime, we just give them enough
to put a little something in their stomachs.

>
We’re ready to move forward now.
The men had said we could travel on safely, so we have our things
packed and ready to go.
We’re just thanking God we made it this far even with the tragic
things that happened along the way.
I hope we can continue on without any problems, although we can
never know when something will strike.
We’re aware of that, too, so we’re just keeping what we’re thinking
to ourselves and understand that anything can happen without warning.
We’re still not quite sure how safe we are, but we’re still going along
from one day to the next.
At least I do. I thank God we’ve come this far and are still alive.

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 16
End of the Road

Another week has gone by, and we’re still on the road. We just keep
traveling south with supplies being scarce. We find foodstuff here and
there, but because there are more people heading in the same direction,
we share what we find with the others.
People have completely run out of rice as we had before God
faithfully provided that five-gallon jug of rice.
He has provided it for us. This I know.
So we’re going to have to stop and camp for the night.
I guess everyone's decided not to set up camp too extensively
because we’ll go on further when we can. At least that’s the plan.
We’ll all just sleep under the open sky tonight. For now we’ll see what
we can gather to burn to cook our rice.
There aren’t too many trees around, but we’re able to find a lot of
dried flower stems that had grown taller than the grass. We chop some
of those to bring to Mrs. Santos to build a fire to cook our rice. We also
have found some partially burned logs in the woods for her to set the
cooking pot on so the food can simmer down to tender. Otherwise the
rice will taste half-raw.
Now that we’re back at camp, we clear an area so there won’t be any
lumpy beds tonight. We chop the grass to spread where we’ll bed down
to make it more level for sleeping.
Mrs. Santos gives us rice and potatoes for supper. She’s cooked
enough for breakfast, too, so we won’t have to do that in the morning.
She says we’ve run out of the salt carried the entire time out here.
Now we’ll have to eat our food without salt. It will be a new
experience for us. Anyway, we just thank God for our supplies because
the people over there don’t have anything except what they’ve
scrounged out in the field or the nearby swamp. Salt or no salt, we’re
thankful to God for it.
It looks as if we’re in a rice farming area because of the rice paddies
on both sides of the road. Here and there water forms a pond in the
middle of the rice fields. Since carabao like to swim in those swamps,
they obviously contain plant life.
We can see the kangkong on top of the water there, so Carmen and I
go in to gather some of it. We don’t go too deep because we don’t want
to get too wet. We just go in knee deep and pull the vine to us to get the
tender shoots.
We’ve harvested as much as we want, but there’re also some water
lilies, so we collect those, too.

105
 We take it all back to the camp and clean it before we cook, and
Mrs. Santos says to clean it even more.
Everything sure tastes different without salt, but we eat it anyway.
We’re just trying to get used to it is all.
Now that we’re back at camp, we learned that some of the other kids
tried to gather kangkong and search for snails and other stuff as we did.
Come to find out, one kid was killed. They think there was a
crocodile in that swamp.
We thank God we’re here because we didn’t know about the
crocodile.
The only reason they think there’s a crocodile is because something
came up out of the water and snapped. Then the girl was gone. They
saw something like the tail of a crocodile go under the water, and they
decided that’s what killed the child.
We’re not going back there again. We have what we went for, and
we’re just thanking God we didn’t come across that crocodile. We
won’t go to the water again. We’re scared, so we’ll just sit here and
rest. Then when evening comes, we’ll turn in to sleep.
Everyone is becoming scared now because we can see vehicles
coming down the road toward us, and they are big. So we all take cover
in the ditch here and there.
Carmen and I hide under a heavy brush of grass with Mrs. Santos
right here beside us.
I think that whoever it is has already spotted us. Now, I’m sure of it
when they get here and stop.
The trucks are full of army people, and there are a lot more coming
behind them.
Somebody shouts, “Come out! whoever you are. We’re not your
enemy, we’re on your side.”
One by one, we all stick our heads out.
They tell us to come out again, that there’s nothing to be afraid of.
But the truck is so big and so high that we don’t know what to make of
it.
The convoy of trucks carries a lot of army soldiers, and they are
headed north toward Aparri, they say, and they ask us where we’re
going. Where is our destination?
We tell them we’re from villages not too far from Callang, but we’ll
stop in Callang and stay until we’re told it’s safe to go to our own
homes.
The soldiers tell us it’s okay. Their camp is on the north side of
Cabatuen and the Magat River. They’re camped there until they have to
move again, and they say there’s nothing to fear.

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 They say we’ll have to be careful because there are fresh unexploded
time bombs lying around in Callang. They can go off unexpectedly
since their set time is unknown. So they draw us a diagram of what to
avoid. We shouldn’t get too close because they can kill us when they
explode if we’re near.
Now that we’ve been told about the dangerous things to look out for,
we’ve decided that it might be safer to camp outside Callang.
I think that these men would have removed the time bombs, but I
guess they don’t want to bother for now. I suppose we should have
someone with us that knows what he‘s doing. Of course it would be
easier to go on in and occupy some of the houses that weren’t destroyed,
but we decide it’s wiser to wait until we know that it’s safe. We want to
wait until we’re told we can go back to our own villages.
We’ve traveled closer now, about ten miles north of the town on the
main road. But some men are going to have to go and survey the
plantation soon, so we’re all just talking about the idea of camping
outside Callang for now.
As we draw nearer this evening, we decide to stay here about three
miles on the north side of the village. Then tomorrow some men in the
company will go to survey that area.
Another day has passed.
The men went into Callang this morning to see what the situation is
and are now just arriving. Apparently they found some of those time
bombs. There were parachutes still attached to them, but somehow they
managed to disconnect some for their families to make clothes with.
Their children have been in need of clothing, so they took such a big
risk just for their families to be able to sew something to wear.
I think only a certain type of man would do such a thing for the sake
of clothing. I guess they didn’t think too much about dying or dying
that way.
We all decided to set up camp here on the north side of Callang
since we feel safer. We don’t want to go in with all of those time bombs
lying around. Especially with the children running all about.
Some of the men say they definitely plan to go up to survey the
plantation, and if they like the place, they may even set up a home for
themselves. The women are welcome to go with them to look around,
too.

>
Again, time has passed, and the men that went ahead on their own to
survey Santa Cruz have just returned. They say that some places are
overgrown, and others look like a desert now. They don’t think it’s

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really a pleasant place to go right now because there are so many
skeletons all around. Not unless we were to bum a lot of areas between
there and Callang.
They say that all we could do is try to gather all we could and bum
it, otherwise they’re not comfortable with the idea of going back there to
live.
I guess we’ll go back home another time to see what kind of place
we find. Right now there’s a lot to do.
We’re still trying to set up camp, trying to build a hut so we at least
have a shelter from the sun or rain. So far we chopped down six small
trees with our bob knives. A few are at least six feet long that we can
use to frame our hut. But we’ll gather more later.
For now we’ve built a temporary shelter with grass until we can
work on the hut. From what the men said, it doesn’t sound like we’ll be
going back to the plantation any time soon.
I hope we can find supplies somewhere because we’re out. I myself
know that God is going to supply for us. It’s just a matter of trying to
find them. I just hope that no one has died where the food is planted I
wouldn’t dare gather anything between Callang and Santa Cruz
because of all the bodies seen along there. We wouldn’t know what kind
of germs we’d be eating.

>
We’ve been hunting for food and found a lot of wild eggplants, so
we picked those to cook. They’re smaller than the domestic ones we
were used to and white with stripes. They’re loaded with seeds, too, so
we’ll have to squeeze them all out before they can be cooked.
I’ve tried them before, and to me they taste bitter unless there’s
something to go with it.
Carmen tries to crack them instead of cutting them with her bob
knife. She’s just playing with them now. She has two pieces of stone
and is cracking an eggplant with them, to get the seeds out instead of
squeezing it herself. Now she’s pounding it to death to get those seeds
out.
Well, to each his own I suppose. If she can do it that way, fine. The
only thing is, she won’t have much left after pounding it to death,
probably nothing but the skin.
We just found some wild figs to bring back to camp, too. The santol
fruits we see are still green which means they’re sour, so we won’t pick
any until they’ve ripened.
We take what we’ve found back to camp now.
I hope Mrs. Santos isn’t too lonely.

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 Even though we try to include her in what we do, she doesn’t seem
to care much for it except when we work on the hut. Then she helps
with that, too. At least she’s trying. It’s been very hard for her.
Actually its been hard for me, too, but I know I can’t sit down and
suck my thumb. I’ve got to keep going. I miss my mom terribly, but I
can’t do anything about it now. It happened. I guess we have to look at
life that way. I can’t do anything about it, just have to keep on going
especially when something like that happens. Death has taken
somebody that I love, but I just have to try to keep on living. That’s
what I’m trying to do. Well, Carmen must be tired Mrs. Santos, too.
They’re both taking a nap here in the middle of the day.
I've never seen them do that before. I hope they’re not sick or
anything. I know Carmen. That’s the first time she ever wanted to take
a nap like that. I hope they’re just tired. Now that I think about it, her
mom has been extra quiet since the beginning of this trip, since we
started out from Santa Maria.
It’s been hard for each of us. Some of those people around us have
never experienced what we did. They just don’t know what we’ve been
through, so they don’t know how we feel. They haven’t had that kind of
loss in their life. Of course, they’ve had a difficult time surviving as we
have from one day to the next.
So far God has been so good to us, providing our daily needs. So we
can go on. This is life.

>
A lot of the men tell us not to build our camp too nicely since we’ll
have to move on soon. The supplies are scarce around here, so once we
finish eating everything we now have, that will be it. We’ll all pick up
and go further to search for foodstuff.
I’m a little disappointed because we thought we‘d finally reached a
place comfortable enough. Even after all that labor we did to cut some
trees to build a hut, it looks as if we’ll be heading further south. We’ll
see what’s down that way.
Everyone is even more concerned now because most of the families
have several children to feed. Although as a group, we do try to share
everything we find. There just isn’t much to be had here.
We hear that in some places, where people were able to get back to
their own villages, they’ve started to do their own farming. There
wasn’t any fighting there, so they were able to make it back.
I don’t see what they might be using to farm with since there are no
animals left alive. It’s hard to farm without animals. Maybe they just
found enough seeds to plant a little somehow, some way.

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 For now, whatever we can do to find food-- we’ll help the people.
We’ll just have to pull together to get out of such a hungry condition.
There’s supposed to be another village just south of Callang where
we’ll see what we find to eat. We won’t know until we get there. I guess
a lot of the others plan to go deeper into the fields instead of keeping
along the main road to find something to provide for their families.
I can tell they don’t know much about hunting for growing wild
things because they were so used to having a little vegetable garden
growing outside their homes. They were used to having their fruits and
vegetables supplied and would get their rice from other farmers or from
the Market. They’re in a sad situation, not knowing how to find edible
wild things.
I guess some of us that know a bit more about how to survive can
help them find something to sustain them.

>
It’s the middle of the next morning, and we’ve made it to the south
side of Callang.
Carmen and I want to explore, so we plan to go along the east side of
the road, and Mrs. Santos wants to come, too.
She just now changed her mind though and says it would be better if
she stays behind to guard our things. Someone might try to steal our
rice since we’re the only ones who have a little.
“We won’t go too far then,” Carmen tells her, so she won’t have to
worry. Besides, some of the young people and a few adults who
originally left Santa Maria with us are coming along, too. We won’t be
alone.
So here we go on a scavenger hunt. We hope we’ll find some stuff.
We’re going through the whole little village here, and Carmen and I
think we see a small hut not too far over there. It looks as if it’s by itself
at the end of the village. We’ll check it out, but right now, we’ve found
some papayas. They’re not big like the ones we had back home though.
They’re small--about the size of my fist. We’ll just take the biggest we
find here. Seven in all.
Now that we’ve come to the hut, it’s all overgrown. Someone else
might have thought it’s just a huge pile of hay in the field if they didn’t
look closer. That’s probably why they’ve missed it. We’re a little
scared to go inside, so we walk around it first.
There doesn’t seem to be anything or anyone hiding around, so we
peek inside. It’s just the one room with a little cooking area over there

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in the corner. That’s a box full of dirt with three stones in the middle to
prop up a cooker of rice.
We step on in now to find hay and rubble all around. There’s corn
in their husks, but it looks as if some rats ate most of them. We claw
around and find three ears with the grain still on them. Maybe there’s
more stuff here, so we claw some more.
Sure enough! there’s rice here. Nearly a whole gallon with the hulls
still on.
Carmen and I carry that rice back to camp right away, but we say
we’re going to save it instead of pounding it. Maybe we’ll be able to
plant them for seeds. We don’t know, we’re just happy. We were just
talking about people planting seeds when we were on the northern side
of Callang. And here we have three ears of corn, too, that might be used
to grow much more.
Some have burned out a field and cut down a tree. We sharpen one
end of that log so it will act as a post-hole digger. We’ll be able to drive
it into the ground to make holes. Not too deep though. Then, once the
corn is planted, it shouldn’t be very long until we see some growing.
The rice will have to planted differently, so we’ll save that for
another time.
Now we’re going to make a little shelter again, a lean-to to lay our
head under for the night. We’ve found six poles to put into the ground
at four corners with two across on the sides. That will work for us to fill
in with grass. We even found some bamboo that we can split for the
roof. It can be clamped on top with vines, and then we’ll pile it over as
usual with tall grass.
It’s nearly the end of another day, and we’ve finished.
Mrs. Santos has fixed us something to eat. She took one of the
papayas, peeled it, sliced it, and cooked it through. There’s rice and
vegetables with the green papaya, but it’s all tasteless without salt.
Thank God though that we have something to eat. It sounds as if the
people on the other side of the road are still having trouble finding
things to eat. We feel sorry for them because they have little ones
crying. All they can do is cry to let someone know they’re hungry.
I hope they have success finding something soon. It’s not good for
those kids to go hungry all day. Tomorrow we hope we can help them
find something.
Another group over there says that they’re thinking of going to
explore Santa Cruz tomorrow, so I think we’ll accompany them. That
way we won't be going by ourselves to see what exactly is there.
I hope we find the place suitable to return to, but of course, we
won’t know until we see. I know we’ve been told the fighting was heavy

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in that area, but we don’t even know if there's still any enemy hiding up
that way or not.
We’ll see. We’ll just trust God to be with us and protect us in
whatever we do tomorrow. Right now, we sharpen our knives so they’ll
be good enough to swing around the brush there in Santa Cruz. If
there’s extra time tomorrow, we’ll drop by the villages right outside the
plantation. There might be foodstuff we can scavenge there, too.

>
We’re on the plantation now and looking all about. The place is
terrible. All the fruits and everything that was growing are gone.
There’s only a tree here and there trying to survive. Everything else has
been demolished. It’s hard to walk around because there are too many
skeletons all over the place. It looks too unhealthy to come and live here.
There’s so much destruction around that it’s just a mess. So many
bones are here and there, especially around my home. It looks as if so
many bodies were just dumped in heaps, too, not even buried. Maybe
the fighters didn’t have the strength to even bury their dead.
We’re going away from this now to check out the nearby villages.
We’re finding those no better either. They’re not suitable. Skeletons
are lying everywhere.
So what’s the plan now? we’re all saying. Do we continue south on
the main road to Cabatuen? If so, it would lead us to the Magat River.
We’ll just go back to camp to see what everyone else decides.
As we’re making our way back down past Callang, we’re so thrilled
to meet some people who used to live in Santa Cruz. They became
separated from us, and now we’re having such a happy reunion! Their
camp isn’t too far from ours.
They told us that they recently traveled all the way down from the
west part of the mountains. They’re saying that when everyone had to
evacuate Santa Cruz, they made it all the way up to some place where
the mountain people live.
I remember those people. They used to come down to Market to sell
baskets they wove or to trade them for a pig. They would get all the
pigs they could and walk them all the way back up into the mountains. I
don’t remember the name of the place, it’s just way up there.
Our people who stayed in the mountains say they just recently
learned the war was over. So they came back home as we did only to
discover, there’s nothing left. That’s why they too decided to keep
traveling south past Callang.

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 I guess we’ve all experienced the same thing. We all thought once
we got back to our old place that we’d be able to start fresh and keep
going, but to our surprise, there are absolutely no supplies. It’s hard to
find anything now.
We all say the same thing. It’s just like coming to the end where
nothing’s left. It’s as if we’ve reached the end of everything, and there
will be nothing more to come. It’s hard to take. We’ll really have to
think of ways to be able to produce food quickly. But growing rice and
foodstuff like that takes months before it can even be eaten.
There has to be some way, somehow. Some people have gone to
stick by the stream so they can at least search for snails, shrimps, crabs,
and edibles like that. They’ll fish what they can until that runs out, too.
Despite how much we want to go back home, we have to take a
different approach. We have to move in a different direction like
heading down to Cabatuen. Maybe there we’ll find someplace around
the river to live.
Those we’ve reunited with say that all the animals that used to be on
the plantation are completely gone.
I guess the animals we had were eaten by the Japanese or other
hungry people, or were killed in the fighting.
One of the men here is saying that he thought he saw a dog, but he
can’t be for sure.
I’m smiling because I believe it’s Mr. English. He knew what to do,
did it, and maybe is doing it to the end.
When we reach our camp, we all decide to stick with the main road
and travel on. At least that way we’ll be able to see clearly ahead to
where we’re going.
To my amazement there are many more people coming along with
us toward Cabatuen, too. As we arrive at the riverbank, it looks like a
little city with all the people who are already here. They already have
their huts built with more people still arriving.
I just hope it’s not so overcrowded that we can’t find a place to
camp. At least trees aren’t scarce here. We’ll be able to cut things to
make us a hut.
We see a nice shady spot near some trees, not far from the river, and
we go there to unload. Mrs. Santos wants to stay and rest some, so we’ll
take off while she cooks us some rice.
Carmen and I make our way down to the riverbank, and we can see
some potato vines all twining up around some trees. So now we trace
those vines to where they lead into the ground, and we dig until we
uncover big potatoes. There are quite a few.
We’re both looking around for something strong enough to carry
those potatoes back to Mrs. Santos.

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 I’ve collected enough vines and use them to tie the potatoes together
like in a small basket.
Carmen finishes while I cut down a small tree about five feet long.
We both secure the basket to the middle, and now we’re carrying the
pole on our shoulders back to our camp.
People everywhere look at us and ask us what in the world we’re
carrying.
“We found some oboes,” I tell them.
“Where did you get them?” some ask, “and how could you tell what
you were getting?”
We say we spotted the leaves on the vines and followed them down
to the ground.
So back at camp we distribute some potatoes to other people we
know, especially those people whose children kept crying back on the
road.
They tried to find clams in the river but didn’t get any, so now
they’ll have potatoes.
We’re preserving our rice and trying to find other things for food, so
we’re finished eating oboe potatoes and start cuffing grass to make our
shelter for tonight. We hope we can stay here for some time.

>
More time has passed, and we’ve finally got a little hut built
adequate to last our stay here.
Some guys from the other side of the camp walked by and say,
“Wow! How did you learn to make such a thing? You two little girls
are smart.”
Carmen and I don’t say anything. We just giggle to ourselves.
Today we’ll try to go up river to see what kind of food we locate. I
guess we’re having the last of our potatoes now because Mrs. Santos has
cooked them. That’s the menu for the day. I see we’re also having tea
tree leaves as our vegetable since she's boiled those, too.
We don’t enjoy our meal though because it’s tasteless. No salt. At
least it’s something to eat.
Lately all the people we meet who used to be in or around our village
keep inviting me to come live with their families. Especially after
hearing the tragic thing that happened to Mom.
I don’t know though. I don’t feel like imposing on them, so I think
what I’ll do is stay with Carmen and her mom as long as they want me
to stay with them. Even though the other people knew me since 1 was a
small girl, I don’t want to impose on them. Yes, I think I’d be better off
with Mrs. Santos and my girlfriend.

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 Right now were just trying to think more on whom we could contact,
whom we could talk with to see if they know a better place to go. All we
seem to live for and think about lately is finding better supplies.

115
 17
Nowhere To Go

Some of the people around heard us saying that we’re on our way up
the river, so they’ve asked if they can go, too. They say that we could all
team up to better find some food.
Carmen and I agree for them to come, but we decide not to show
them yet how to find wild growing things. Then if we find anything,
we’ll be able to go back to harvest it ourselves.
So now that we arrive at the river, we find a shallow branch of water
that runs out to one side from the main body. We’re looking around to
see what might be trapped--fish and anything of the sort. We haven’t
checked yet to see if there’re clams or other shellfish.
Those other people are just romping around in the woods. They
don’t know what they’re looking for, but the two of us see a variety of
things that we could come back to harvest later. We spot some fruit up a
tree and call to the others.
When they come back, we point to let them know that those are wild
figs.
Some of them climb up right away to pick a bunch, and I guess they
really like them.
We even see something I know that grows like beans, but they’re not
beans. They taste different.
“Those are Lukong,” I say, “a vegetable that’s shaped like a star
when you cut it up.”
We have quite a bit of those harvested now--a good basket hill.
Further off, Carmen and I see some Camman trees, and we wander
away from the others. She and I both feel as if we’ve struck gold
because the wild fruit of these trees is very sweet but hard to find. We
both eat up the few that are ripe before we have to return to camp.
“There’s some rattan, too,” I tell Carmen, and we chop six of those
to roast the meat with later on. For now we round up the others to leave.
As we’re going, we pass a separate stream.
I’m thinking that no one has ever been here before. At least there
aren’t any footprints.
We walk closer along the edge and see quite a bit of fish in there but
agree to return another time instead since we know where this is located.
We’ll make sure that we bring something to carry the fish back in when
we return, too.

116
 >
Today Carmen and I want to go swimming down the river since we
haven’t done much of that. We’re also thinking of what else we can do
once we tire of swimming.
Now that we’ve let Mrs. Santos know, she says she wants to go
down to wash some clothes once we get back. This way we won’t have
to leave the camp empty. We don’t really like to do that.
Carmen and I talk it over and tell her to wash her laundry first, and
we’ll swim afterwards.
So Mrs. Santos leaves, but when she returns later, she’s brought
back another small family. She and Carmen are happy because these
are people they knew back in their old village. It’s the first time they’ve
all seen each other since their own evacuation.
To me they seem like good people who have lifted Mrs. Santos’
spirits some. I think it’s good for her.
Carmen and I get to talking with everyone and don’t go swimming
after all. Maybe we’ll just take a bath later and swim another time.
We’ll just stick around our little hut since Mrs. Santos has asked these
people stay the evening with us.
She and I put on more siding where we see little cracks here and
there. We’re filling the hut in little by little, so no one can see us inside
while we sleep. We also talk and look forward to what we’ll do
tomorrow. We don’t know what though.
As the sun goes down, we each lie together on the ground just
outside our hut. Everyone gets to talking about what we might be doing
from now on. Now that we’re here we have to locate food, and there’s
no place to find anything to eat except in the woods. Maybe we could
find a place where people have begun farming or anything like that.
There might be a little job for us with them--something to do. We don’t
know.
Maybe we ought to go across the Magat River to see what’s there.
Perhaps some farmers have already made it back to their old villages on
that side. It certainly might become a trip if we can make it over their
way. We really should try to find some people who might have some
salt to spare.
We all know the army’s camp is on the other side right before
Cabatuen, so I tell Carmen that maybe those army people have salt.
“What do you think?”
She says, “Oh, that’s an idea. Maybe we can ask if they have any
they’d share with us.”
Right now we’re thinking of going back to the stream where we saw
those fishes. We might be able to catch some. We haven’t had fish in a

117
while. We only hope there are no dead bodies over there. So far we
haven't found anything like that around, so maybe it is cleaner down
around these parts.

>
We have our bob knives and something to carry fish in if we catch
any. So as we approach the stream, we can see many of them swimming
around. The water’s shallow and looks like it could be ready to dry out
in this one spot.
I’m looking at how the stream runs downhill and where the fish
have become trapped right here before a hump of dirt. Maybe the rains
caved in the soil.
Carmen is thinking what I’m thinking, so we dig a narrow trench
just wide enough through the hump of dirt to empty the water down and
out. It won’t allow the fishes to squeeze through though. So now all we
do is catch them by hand.
They seem to be shorter and flatter than the regular ones we’re used
to seeing in the swamps. But there’re many, so we grab them all before
following the stream further up.
Off to one side we’re surprised to discover some chicken eggs.
These are the second bunch we’ve come across since traveling back
from Santa Maria. We even spot some wild lemons we know taste good
with cooked fish. So we gather those to carry back with us, too.

>
Time has passed, and we’re seriously thinking about moving on to
see what’s on the other side of the river. The water’s quite rapid and
sometimes dangerous in this area though. Because of that, the only way
we can cross is by canoe or possibly a ferry we see the army using--the
one they transport trucks back and forth with.
We want to find out if we can use the ferry without charge since we
don’t have money to pay. We’ll do laundry beforehand, so we won’t
have to carry anything dirty with us on the trip.
Carmen and I go to the woods close by to cut a certain tree’s bark
and pound it to bits. We then pour them into a container with water to
shake up for soap-like suds. It’s good for washing clothes with except
that it tends to whiten and rinse colors out if we use too much.
She and I then chop down a tree branch about a foot and a half long
and trim all the bark off with our bob knives. We’re able to smooth it
enough to beat our clothes clean on the rocks with our soap and water.

118
 Now we can pack up to leave camp while Mrs. Santos goes to check
about that ferry ride at the river. We hope it will be free of charge.
Carmen and I finish gathering our things together and sit to guard
them. We’re ready to go but are waiting for her mom to return.
When Mrs. Santos finally comes back, she says it will be another
week before the ferry will come to this side again. That’s when the
army trucks plan to cross over to head north. We won’t have any
chance of taking the ferry until then. We’ll just have to wait for them to
bring those trucks over here, so we can climb aboard.
Mrs. Santos keeps talking and sounds very impressed. She says she
spoke with a man on this side of the Magat who could speak into a box
wired up there. She listened as another man from the other side spoke
back. His voice answered straight out of the same box. She says it sure
was something, talking back and forth through that box.
The man said, “Once we get our trucks to this side, anyone who
wants to can go to the other side for free.”
That’s after another week though. Yet this is truly another
provision from God.
Carmen and I will just have to stay busy scavenging for more food
in the meantime. Maybe we’ll invite some other young people with us if
they’d like to come along. Yes, we’ll do that when we’ve eaten our
breakfast.

>
We’re back up river now about six miles and happy to discover a
few banana trees in a village that appears to be abandoned. Probably
long before the war. The fruits are growing wild and bigger than the
usual eating bananas. Their edges are hard, too.
I think the area is really old because the other trees close to the
riverbank have bananas hanging half rotten. There’re even mushrooms
growing from moist parts of each tree’s base.
We gather the good bananas and mushrooms. Then we spot some
wild grape-like fruits. We taste them, and they’re sour but good to eat.
There’re also other fruits clustering like smaller grapes. The taste is
similar to raspberries but very sweet. We collect these also.
Carmen and I see other things to pick, but we tell the others they
can come back for the stuff if we leave to board the ferry before we can
pick it.
We all go to camp to immediately deliver a banana to each person
we know.
Everyone now has a banana supper with mushrooms on the side.
This is something different with the bananas tasting more like bread.

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We call them banana bread. They’re not mushy but kind of dry and
sweet even with the peels still green.
So now we just wait for the day to cross the river. It’s hard to wait
because we don’t know exactly when the crossing will be.
Today I think about things that flash back to mind--the way things
looked and all I saw on the plantation when we went to inspect it. I think
of Mom and wish she’d been there with us. Then again, it would have
broken her heart to see the destruction that took place there.
I wonder when the time will be right to go back. I’m thinking, what
could I do as a young person to keep that place going? How would I
start with the condition it’s in? I suppose I’ll cross that bridge if I ever
come to it.
We can only keep going as we have been--trying to survive. Even
after reaching a place where we thought we’d start life over again, we
find ourselves in a situation more hopeless than we imagined. Most
likely we won’t get back to our permanent home for a long time.

>
Some of us young people have been back to the river again, and I
thank God within myself that He never fails to provide something edible
in the woods or along the riverbank.
As usual, the others can’t find anything because they never know
quite what to look for.
Carmen and I found more mushrooms and wild beans that we share
with them. We even found a few nice, cream-colored gourds along with
several jicamas. These are a very rare find.
I like jicamas--snacking on them like an apple.
During our swim and play upstream we now come across shrimps
trapped between river rocks. The water here is more rapid, but the rocks
are easy to turn over to grab these shrimps.
Carmen and I are happy we have more of a variety of things to take
back home.
The others only have their mushrooms, beans, and some fruit, but
it’s God’s provision without end.
I know because I pray silently within me every day that He’ll take
care of us. He surely keeps doing so because we’re back to a place that
had a lot of fighting. It’s become a place we wouldn’t survive in if we
only knew to search for garden things such as what we had growing in
our villages.
I’m grateful for all that my mom had taught me. I think we’d all die
out here except that God provides for us every inch of the way. Things

120
we easily found edible didn‘t just come our way. He provided for us the
entire time.
Evidently one of the young girls that came today lost her father
along the trail, too. She and Carmen seem to be sticking together now
most of the time. At least they have one thing in common. They both
lost their dads and can try to comfort one another. It doesn’t bother me
that they’re together because Carmen’s mind isn’t much on trying to
find food now anyway--only on what they’re talking about.
I hope they can somehow get their minds directed in a more positive
way because they feel so sorry for themselves with the way they lost
their loved ones. I feel bad for them, too. I know I could feel sorry for
myself but I have to keep going. I must forget the past because I can’t
do anything about it--just have to keep going.
Again God has been good. We found enough to last at least two
days even after we share with the other people.
So now that we’ve returned to camp, I suppose everyone is doing
what they can to be content. Some of them don’t look too happy though.
I guess this kind of situation could depress anyone. When people
haven’t geared their minds up for a big responsibility, they’re just there
trying to exist.
I keep thinking of Mom and how hard it might have been for her--
worrying whether or not we’d survive.
Now Mrs. Santos is telling Carmen and me that we have only
enough rice to last, if we stretch it, perhaps another four days. That’s if
we don’t eat it every day. It’s gotten quite low. We’ll be living like the
rest of our people here on the riverbank--just surviving on whatever we
can scavenge.
We all feel terrible thoughts, being so near home. We have nowhere
to go, nowhere to start.
Mrs. Santos is quite concerned and wants to go scavenging with us
tomorrow, but we tell her we think she should stay here in the camp.
That way we won’t have to carry all our stuff. We don’t have much, but
if she goes with us then it’s that much more we’d have to drag up and
down wherever we go.
We let her know that there were two ladies and about four men that
want to go along, so she agrees to stay behind with our things.
I feel that if she came along and left our extras, someone might steal
our clothes and what little rice is left over. That would be the end of
any supplies.

>
Today we’re searching up the river again--about ten miles out. Four
men, two women, and four young people are here--ten of us in all. And

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thankfully, we find some mussels where the water’s shallow enough to
dig.
We add young bamboo shoots and camotingcahoy potatoes to our
collection also. Camotingcahoy is the kind of potato that grows on the
roots of a small tree instead of from the vine. More mushrooms have
come up after last night’s rain, too. We pick them and afterward find
some wild papayas.
Carmen and I take the time to show some of the others what to look
for.
In the woods I see oboe vines. We can survive on their buried
potatoes as before.
So Carmen and I explain how to identify the vine leading down a
tree into the ground.
We’ve each dug some of the potatoes out that look like they could be
nearly five pounds each. Huge.
We even come across some leaves that taste like spinach when
cooked, and tender gourd vines.
Back in the river we dig around the sand and find clams. These are
small, but we collect enough with which to flavor our dinner.
Now that we have almost more than we can carry, we head back
home. It’s a long walk back, the ten miles, but I thank God again for
providing. It’s good we’ve never had to come back empty handed
We arrive at home and now share everything with the people we
know. The people we aren’t acquainted with--I don’t know what they’ve
found to eat. Some of them know what to look for, but they often go
down river instead of up like us. Most likely it’s because along that way
the expanse of the woods isn‘t broken by open areas.
Mrs. Santos has the fire going with a lot of hot coals. So, instead of
boiling the camotingcahoy, she toasts them on the fire. They take a bit
longer to cook, but that’s the way she decided to do one for each of us.
Good thing the ones she picked aren’t too big because sometimes they
can look like a log to me. So we’re having potatoes and mushrooms.
Tomorrow we’ll eat the bamboo shoots and gourd vines.
For now our backpacks are ready in case we hear that the ferry has
come. The army men said they'd tell us when it’s coming across the
river, so we have to be ready.
The day after tomorrow the army convoy will go north, so anyone
that wants to cross to the other side can ride the ferry free. They plan to
bring some more trucks over afterward. That will let even more people
cross to the opposite side.
We’ve heard that a lot of villagers are going across since the
fighting has cleared out of that area. At least quite a few of them can go
back to

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try to farm what they’re able. They’ll plant what they can by hand with
what seeds they find. Then, time will tell what they come up with.
There’s going to be a long haul to survive this whole war.

>
Now we’re over to Cabatuen. We’ve crossed the Magat River by the
ferry, and that sure was fun. We got to hear those guys talking on that
box to each other.
A man talks on one side of the river, telling someone what to do, and
that person on the opposite side answers back, “Okay.”
That was kind of cool because we’ve never seen anything like that
before. We were just tee-heeing to each other.
Now that we’re here on the south side of the river, we’re trying to
decide which direction to go. Southwest or southeast.
Mrs. Santos says she used to have relatives over in Ilagan. If we can
travel that far, she’ll look to see if her cousins survived the war.
Carmen and I tell her we’ll go with her wherever she thinks is best.
So it looks as if we’ll be heading east a way again. We don’t know
how long it will take us to get there since we re walking.
Along the way we see many army encampments, so we want to ask
where we could get some salt. An American soldier we come across
says he’ll go see and comes back with a tiny bottle of salt--maybe
enough to last three or four dinners. At least that’s better than nothing
to go with our rice or what greens or fruit we might find to further
along.

>
Days have passed, but we finally arrive at Ilagan, the place Mrs.
Santos thinks her cousins might be.
She can’t seem to find anybody that knows them.
In fact there aren’t any houses around here yet.
We see some people building huts and shelters, but when we speak to
them, they say they don’t know anything about her cousins.
Now we have a big decision to make. Do we go back to Cabatuen
from here or head northwest for Ifugao? We could even go southeast a
little and then southwest later on in the trip and still end up in Santiago.
Either way, people are traveling on the main road.
It might be a good idea to head straight for Santiago instead of going
back to Cabatuen. We can travel southeast a bit then turn southwest
later on.

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 Well, Mrs. Santos just decided for us. We’ll go back toward
Cabatuen before traveling south to Santiago since there are more small
villages along that way. Perhaps we’ll have a better chance of locating
food.
Together we start walking again.
I guess we’re going back in the same direction we came from, so
we’ll see what happens.
We don’t have any more supplies except one cup of rice, so Mrs.
Santos says she’ll fix that into a soup. That way we’ll have enough to
share. In the meantime, we’ll see if we can find edible things along the
road and woods as we travel.
We’re really down to the nitty-gritty. Everything has run out, and
we aren’t certain if or where we’ll find anything. We know everybody
ended up in the same situation. We’ve no food unless someone takes
pity on us to give us something to eat.
Maybe that’s why Mrs. Santos is thinking of going back in this
direction. Maybe someone has a little food to share with us.

>
We’re closer to Cabatuen now--not too far from the army camp.
We’re still completely out of food and didn’t find anything around. It
seems that everybody on this side has cleaned up all that could be found.
Mrs. Santos says she’s going to the army camp to ask if we can have
some food. We haven’t had anything to eat, so she’s going in there to
ask them.
Carmen and I stay here where we camped last night by the road.
Even though she’s gone begging for food over there, we don’t know if
they’ll give her anything. But the Lord God knows our need, so we’re
just sitting here patiently waiting for her to come back to us.
Then maybe we can keep on going if we can only have a little
something to eat. We’re kind of hungry and getting a little weak.
I do hope they give her a few rations. Then maybe on our way
south, we 'Ill find food somewhere.
Mrs. Santos has returned, and she has enough to last us two days.
They gave her several canned sausages and some rice. They’ve even
given us a bit of salt and something in a can with vegetables. We hear
they’re not supposed to do that because it’s only for the army’s supply.
They told two children the same thing who went begging there before.
Mrs. Santos let them know that we’d gone to Ilagan and couldn’t
find the people we thought we knew, so I thank the Lord that He
touched the men’s hearts to give us something.

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 Now that we managed to cook some rice here by the road and ate
some, we feel a little better. We don’t eat everything she cooked, so we
can have a little something later along the way.
We’ll be going again now. Hopefully we can find more to eat later.
We don’t know what we’ll do if we’re not successful. The meat that the
army gave us tastes all right for now--the kind we pull from the can.
I keep thanking God for His provision. We could have been left
hungry for days without any supplies. I’m sure we may have done better
on the other side of the river, but the Lord knows our destiny. I just
thank Him that we had something to eat this morning and maybe enough
for another day or two.
We encounter a couple of the families I knew way back in my
village of Santa Cruz. They’ve gone along this road, too, and are trying
to find a place to settle until we’re able to go back home according to
plan. Perhaps we can also find a place to settle until the situation
changes back at our village.
Right now our biggest concern is where do we settle.
Many of the people don’t want to go too far from the villages here.
As of today we’re out of food that the army gave us back there in
Cabatuen, so we searching for something but still turn up nothing.
Carmen and I did find a guava tree, so we pick all the ripe and
nearly ripe fruit off the tree. Maybe that will ward off death by
starvation. So far there’s not much foodstuff to be found around this
area either, but as we continue south, we may discover something--never
know.
We hear the river isn’t too far from where we are, about three miles
away.
Carmen and her mother want to go since we might find something
there by the water. Maybe there’s some vegetables left behind by nearby
villagers.
For now, we stay in this little run down shack, a lean-to that wasn’t
built quite the way it should be.
I suppose whoever put it together couldn’t take the time to build it
right, but it’s something to live in for now.
We’ll have to prop up the sagging corners so we can get under it
when it rains. This is our situation.
Night has fallen, so it’s time for us to turn in.
Mrs. Santos says she isn’t feeling well and wants to go to bed early.
Actually, she hasn’t been well for two days--been throwing up blood. It
seems as if she has the same thing her husband did
I hope not, but she's throwing up blood and complaining about the
pain in her stomach.

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 Now tonight, Carmen lies all curled up next to her mother with one
arm around her.
I hope she doesn’t have the same thing her husband did because if
something happens to her now, I don’t know what might happen to
Carmen. She hasn’t gotten over her dad’s death yet, and right now, it
would be just awful if we lost her mom, too.
I’m lying on the floor across from both of them, praying silently to
myself that God will take care of her and whatever’s ailing her. Maybe
tomorrow we can continue further south. That is if she's not too bad.
Otherwise we’ll be stuck here for a while. I do hope she’ll be all right.

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 18
Shred Of Hope

The war is over as they say, but we still have to think as though war
is still upon us with nothing to be found to eat around this area. It
seems everyone has converged on this side of the river, and the place is
completely clean. Except now and again we find something that’s
merely a snack. We’re in a desperate condition to survive--have to find
a better place.
I hope the next place we reach, we’ll be able to find enough food to
share. We don’t know at this point.

>
We’ve moved further south into the first village we find. It’s known
as Ilocos Norte and touches its twin village of Ilocos Sur. The two were
evidently named after the large far west coastal provinces of the same
names.
Here I’m happy to find some more friends I knew back in Santa
Cruz.
They are Tuto and his wife, Carmelita. Lila too, a woman I once
knew.
They know some people who own a farm a short distance away that
might let us pound some rice in exchange for a little bit for ourselves.
So now we’re on our way to the house where Tuto said to go.
We meet the people, Mr. and Mrs. Theodore Lopez. Fortunately,
they didn’t have to stay away from home too long. They were warned of
the Japanese coming through. Once the enemy went on to Cabatuen,
this family was able to return to their village.
I understand they didn’t have as much difficulty as we did.
We ask them if they’re hiring anyone to work for them, and the lady
says she could use someone to pound some rice. If we’re willing, she’ll
pay us one cup of rice for every five cups we pound.
We tell them we’ll do it since we don’t have any other way to get
supplies at this point. So we start work right away and pound rice all
day.
When we’re done, we’re pleased to see we earned a whole gallon of
grain for ourselves. It’s enough to supply us for a while.
Mrs. Lopez even gives us some eggplants along with anpolla, which
they also grow.
We’re glad to have that to cook with our rice.

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 They tell us we can pick beans for them also, and after we’re
finished with that job, we can help them pick the ears of corn out in the
field. The corn is ready to be harvested and piled in the shed for
storage.
It looks as if we’ll have a few things to do around here. We just
thank God for our friends from Santa Cruz that know these people.
Apparently Mr. Lopez generously allowed Tuto and Carmelita to
plant crops for themselves here on a portion of his land. They have corn
and beans growing, among other things. Since the owner lets them
borrow his carabao to plow the field, they in turn receive one of every
four gallons of rice they harvest.
At least they get something to feed their family.
These people are very nice. They tell us they understand exactly
what we’re going through. They lost some family, too, during the
wartime. They don’t mention how, but they did lose some loved ones.
At least they’re sympathetic and willing to keep us here on their place.
They lead us to a small, empty chicken house that’s no longer in
use. They say they need to build another with more room, so we can use
this one to stay in.
We’re grateful to them and clean it all up for the three of us to live
in.
After we scrub it down and all, there isn’t a smell or trace of old,
dried chicken manure. The place has long been vacant, so we’re able to
occupy it for living quarters.
I’m so thankful to God for supplying this chicken coop through the
kindness of these people.
Now we can relax a little more than we‘ve been able to since we
crossed the Magat River. We were in a tense situation there--not
knowing where our next meal would come from. Thank God for his
goodness to us. He never fails us at all. He’s always there to guide
what direction we’re to take and whatever place we’re to stop. He
always had something waiting for us one way or another.
I just hope a lot of people will see God’s hand on them more than
they do. 1 know that without His hand on us all the way, we’d probably
be dead from starvation way back there. So it’s wonderful to always
come to each place and find something waiting for us there. Whether
it’s food, a place to put our head on, or whatever He might supply.
Mrs. Lopez has shown kindness again by giving Mrs. Santos some
dresses she can’t wear anymore. That too, is from God because who
knows how else it could come. There’s no place to find clothing at this
time.
I think it’s good that we can spread ourselves out more—by doing a
little of this and that around here in anticipation of the future. This

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little chicken house is okay, but I think that if we collect more
household stuff later, we’ll need a bigger place to put them in.
Thank God we still have our cooking pots, too. We’ve been
carrying them all the way from home, and for that matter could have
broken them and ended up with nothing to use. Sometimes the pots
aren’t durable enough, hut for some reason, the couple we have kept
holding on even as we do. It’s just so great--can’t thank God enough
for that.

>
The lady has given us some eggs. She says she won’t give us any of
her chickens though because they need those to lay eggs.
At least we have these to eat if nothing else, and then we’ll go on to
the cornfield to help pick corn.
We have it made, thank God. We can relax for a while until we
decide whether to stay here until we can get back to our village or to go
on to Santiago.
We won’t know until we see what condition Mrs. Santos is in.
She’s still been throwing up blood.
I hope it’s nothing like what her husband had because we just can’t
imagine what would make her throw up blood like that. Maybe she’s
been worrying a lot and never told us.
We’ve managed by ourselves without her husband, but I thank God
we’re all here now where food is available.
We’ll just try to relax and think of what to do in the future. It’s
hard to get back to a normal routine since we’ve been so trained to sleep
out in the open and to live day by day. It’s just not usual for us to
imagine we have a future--a shred of hope.
I only hope things will be better from now on--that the war is really
over because it’s been a hard year in our situation. We endured until
they said the war is over, and thank God, we’re still alive. We could
have been among the people who were killed back there at Santa Maria.
It makes me think of my mom and all the things we could be doing
together today. Of course she’s not with me now. I just never imagined
I’d be without her in my life, but everyone's been so nice to assist me.
They’ve encouraged me to keep on going, so I hope some day God
will reward those people who thought kindness toward me. I hope I can
repay some of them one day.
Now I know of some families—five, that are still alive from our
village. One of the remaining three is dead, but perhaps the other two
families are still alive up in the mountains. I do hope so. Everyone

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promised they’d go back to our village when the time comes--when the
village is clear enough of decomposing flesh to return to.
We still don’t know how we’ll manage once we get there with all
our animals gone. There’s nothing there. Nevertheless we’ll cross that
bridge when we come to it. Right now, we’ll just try to be content where
we are.

>
Time has passed so fast. People can travel back and forth to Manila
now.
I guess war is truly over because people are allowed to travel from
this end of the island to the other--anyone that wants to go.
There are trucks and busses that now travel the distance from here to
Manila. Actually they’re big, old army trucks converted to busses to
transport people. Passengers can sit on a bench built around the inside
or on one right in the middle. There’s a handrail along the sides of the
benches to hold onto, to avoid falling all over each other when they hit a
bump or the driver goes too fast around a curve.
After so many months, we can really do that now--we can really
travel.
I hear there’s a woman, named Milagrosa Tupas, who’s from
Santiago and who often caught the bus there to travel back and forth to
Manila. During peacetime she became acquainted with Mom on the
bus. Supposedly they often rode to the city together along with Mom’s
other friends.
The women got to talking on one trip about who has children and
family. This woman heard my mom speaking about taking me to
Manila when things settle down, but that was their last attempt to go
there after the war broke out. It ended the traveling--they couldn’t go
back anymore after that.
Milagrosa once mentioned to someone that she’d like to take me to
Manila herself to show me the city. This is what I hear.

>
Now Carmen and I are looking for young coconut leaves that
haven’t developed to the point of opening into a branch. We’re trying to
find some for Mrs. Santos.
Before they open she plans to cut the leaves into strips about an inch
wide. Then she’ll dry them.
She says she’ll hang them inside our home under the roof. That way
if it rains, they won’t mold. Once they’re dry, she’ll roll them up until
she collects enough to weave a rug big enough to cover our floor space.

130
 We don’t want to be sleeping on the bare chicken house floor.
Lately Mrs. Santos, because she’s still not feeling well, is not very
active.
So Carmen and I are trying to store enough supplies so she won’t
have to worry about pounding rice and doing other work for rations.
.We’ll even pick more corn from the field to pound small. We can mix
it with our rice as an extender.
Even so, we’re doing much better now after arriving on this side of
the river. We thank God for that whenever we go to bed.
I’ve been thinking about my mom more so than before, which helps
me realize I have to make a decision. I can’t stay with Carmen and
Mrs. Santos indefinitely. I sense one of these days we’ll be going our
separate ways.
I have to think of my future. I don’t know where God will lead me,
but I wonder what destination He will take me to—if I might have a way
to go to the city. Thank God He sustains me. Soon I want to find some
kind of work to earn something to buy some clothes. Mine are getting
shabby. I’ve been mending my holes, so I’ll need new dresses shortly.
Let’s see--what to do. Maybe Mrs. Lopez knows of any place where
I could find a job to earn the money I need for clothes. It definitely will
have to be soon, or else I’ll be running around bare naked

>
It looks as if Mrs. Santos could be dying on us. She coughs
frequently and is getting very thin.
Some villagers are saying she might have what they call
tuberculosis.
I don’t know, but Carmen only goes out with me now and then.
She's trying to take care of her mom, and I can tell she feels lost now.
Most of the time she just sits there, staring. I hope she can begin to
look forward somehow to what she can do to survive.
I’m still trying to help them. I know they’re like a family to me, so
I'll stick by Carmen as long as I can. She needs someone.
She's thinking of finding her relatives so she can go to stay with
them.
I’ll stay by her, but meanwhile I focus my thinking on what I could
do for myself besides helping with their circumstances. God is going to
provide a way for me to survive somehow.
I tell Carmen now that I know God is looking after me. It is obvious
in the way He has provided for me from the time I was born until now. I
know He’s the one who has taken care of me. So I try to pass this on to
her. Maybe it will help her to understand that we don’t have to be

131
left desolate in our circumstances--that God is somewhere looking after
us.
I hope she’ll be able to put her mind to that. It’s hard for some
people to think that way, but deep inside of me, something is telling me
there’s a way. This is the way. I just have to keep moving--hoping the
direction I’ve taken or will take is the direction God is leading me.

>
I’ve come to speak to Mrs. Lopez about what I’d like to do. I tell
her I need to get a job somewhere to earn money for clothes because
mine are wearing thin.
She says there’s a lady who used to come here maybe once a month
to sell her merchandise. Yard goods. She sold the material to various
villagers since she had a small business in Santiago. The woman
apparently would travel back and forth to Manila to buy yard goods
before bringing them here to the province to sell to people around about.
Some she sold in the open market in Santiago--every time it was
open for business.
Mrs. Lopez says that the woman is Milagrosa Tupas--the woman I
heard was one of Mom’s traveling companions during peacetime. She
believes Milagrosa could still be doing business even though she hasn’t
been up this way in some time—Mrs. Lopez hopes she’s still alive. It’s
definitely something she’ll look into for me.
Maybe that way I can go to Manila. I don’t know.

>
I really need to find a job soon, but when I speak with Lila, she says
she can’t travel to Manila for a long time since she has no money. She
doesn’t know how she’d be able to go anywhere right now. Her
condition is one of bare survival.
Her family hasn’t been able to earn any money just like us but can
only get something to eat when someone hires them to work.
The farming villagers, who arrived here long before us, are as yet
only able to produce enough for themselves to eat.
I’m still pounding rice for Mrs. Lopez, and she says she’ll have me
help get more corn ready to be pounded, too.
We’ll be removing the kernels from the cob to soak in water
overnight. Then tomorrow we’ll pound them to remove the skin.
Afterwards we’ll pour them into her grinding mill.

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 She’ll have me turn the wheel so the corn grinds fine against the
grindstone. Then we’ll mix it all in with some rice for cooking. The
rice and corn combination will stretch our supplies further.
Mrs. Lopez assures me that if Milagrosa comes to sell her material,
she’ll find out what the lady can find for me to do.
In the meantime I’ll keep doing the little odd jobs here to get our
supplies.
We’ll have to sit tight here for a while just to be able to eat.
Carmen’s mom still needs looking after, too. Her condition has gone
down hill to the point where she can’t even get up to go to the bathroom.
It’s good that someone sent word to her sister in Pangasinan, so we hope
to hear soon what the woman will decide to do for her sister.
Mrs. Santos hopes she can go to stay with her in Pangasinan for a
while.
Right now I believe she knows her death is drawing closer because
she doesn’t hope to recover.
She doesn’t even speak about getting well anymore--only talks about
her time getting closer to the end and that Carmen will have a place to
go to.
I guess it’s just a matter of time for her.
For now we must keep on going as long as God lets us live on this
earth.
I’ll just keep helping Carmen and her mom and keep searching for
something for me to do.

>
I think I’ll ask Carmen to go down to the river to see what we can do
for fun. If I can get her to go, we can climb trees or something to bring
her out of her mood She’s gloomy these days, so I’ll see if she’ll go with
me.
We could even wash our clothes while we‘re down there. If I can
just get her out to explore, to see what we can find there must be
something we can do down there to entertain ourselves. Whether it’s
just skipping rocks across the water or whatever. We used to do that
way back when we were still hiding in the mountains.
Right now we’re just not doing too well at planning how we’ll live
in the future. We think about Mrs. Santos more and more instead. What
are we going to do with her now? She needs some care, and as little as
we know as teenagers--I guess we’ll just do what we can. All we know is
what we’ve seen others do to survive.
Maybe we can see if she’ll be all right alone for a while so we can
go down to the river for the day. I hope we can do something else

133
besides pounding rice for these people and sitting around here in our
chicken coop. We can only clean this place so much before we’re left
with nothing to do again.
Carmen just doesn’t have the incentive to do anything. She looks as
if she made up her mind that she’s at the end of the road with no place
to turn and nowhere to go.
I hope I’ll be able to cheer her up a little.

>
This morning I persuaded Carmen to go with me to the river, and
now we’re back home again. We had such a good time with so many
things happening there by the river bank that time slipped by fast. As
we walked along the water, we found a rope that someone must have left
behind. So we used it to play games with.
I tied one end of the rope to her waist and the other end around
mine. “We’ll swim this way,” I told her. “This way, if one of us gets
beyond safe limits, she’ll pull her end of the rope to draw herself toward
the other. That way neither of us gets hurt.” I figured it would help in
case one of us went a little deeper than we’re supposed to go.
We even played on the opposite side where it’s rocky shallows, and
we decided to do a little fishing. We turned rocks over easily and caught
lots of shrimp. It’s a good thing we brought our little baskets to carry
back our catch. We also found clams, and thought, we can wash these
well to cook with our vegetables for flavor.
After a while, we returned to this side of the river to play. We
tightened the lids on our baskets and lowered the shrimp into the water
so they wouldn’t spoil. Then we tied them to a vine attached to a little
tree and placed a marker at that spot.
Soon after, we found a baby alligator. It was only about eight inches
long, and we took it to play with on the sandy bank. Once we grew tired
of that, we turned it loose. Then we went further along the sands until
we reached a place of high grass.
We were just going around that spot when we saw two little chicks
running around and thought we’d find where they came from. Once we
found their nest, we decided to leave them alone--to let them go back to
it. We knew their Mamma chicken would be back soon from wherever
she was, so we continued walking up the river a way.
After we spotted some oboe vines, we dug up the potatoes. We found
really big ones to take home with our shrimp and clams.
Then I suggested that we start back home, but Carmen wanted to
catch those little chicks. She wanted to take them with us to try to raise
them.

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 She fixed the idea so strongly in her head that I said. “Well. I don’t
know whether we can raise them or not, but we can try.” Then I asked,
“How will we carry them home?”
She said that if I could make a little basket cage, it would be good
enough to carry them back to our house.
I agreed and put a little one together with a lid so they couldn’t get
out on the way home.
When we returned to where the little chicks were running around,
the mother chicken had come back.
We caught the two chicks anyway and put them in our basket.
Now that we’ve brought them back to our chicken house, we show
Mrs. Santos all our stuff. We found shrimps, clams, potatoes, and two
chicks.
It looks as if we cheered her up sufficiently that she tells us what to
do to keep the poor little things alive.
We listen to what she says and then immediately go to see Mrs.
Lopez. We ask her if we could have something to feed our little chicks
we found by the riverbank.
The lady’s so nice that she gives us some rice that’s been ground
finer than regular grain. They’re the small left over bits from where we
beat the regular rice too hard. She saves this stuff to feed her chickens,
so she gives us a couple of cupsful to feed the little ones with.
We thank Mrs. Lopez and come home again to make another basket.
We don’t want the chicks to get away, so we make a bigger one to give
them space to run around in.
After we finish the crate, we put them inside with some rice and a
little water in the corner.

>
We watch our little chicks every day, and sometimes we take them
out to play with. They’re cute. They’re even beginning to be a bit tamer
because they’re not as afraid as when we first got them.
So much for playing with the little chicks. I must go see if Mrs.
Lopez has more work for me so I can get more supplies.
Carmen says she’ll stay and do the cooking this evening to be near
her mom.
There’s some work for me, and when I return home, poor Carmen is
crying her eyes out.
She burnt the rice she was boiling. Even the vegetables are cooked to
a crisp. She obviously let them cook dry until they stuck right to the
bottom of the pot because she’s ruined everything she started out to do.

135
 We have to see what we can do to clean up those pots. Then we’ll
try to fix another batch of rice and vegetables since hers are completely
mined.
She’s so upset about that, but I tell her not to worry. We’ll make
more after we see about cleaning the pots. I don’t know for sure how
we’ll scrape all the burnt food off the bottom of the pots. That’s our
story for the day. We’ll just try.
>
Today we harvest more corn from the field. We’ll pull them off the
stalk and stack them in piles. Then afterwards, we’ll haul them by cart
to storage. At least it hasn’t rained, so they’re okay.
Mr. Lopez just told us we’ll load the cart with all the corn
tomorrow, and pound more rice afterwards. That’s our schedule for
tomorrow.
Our job now is to finish harvesting this field.
The owners have other people coming to help pick the corn, too, so
it shouldn’t take us long to finish.
I hope Milagrosa will come here to the village pretty soon. I really
want to see about getting a job to earn money for new clothes. I’m
thinking more along that line even though it’s the most comfortable
we’ve been since we crossed the Magat River.
I know we need to think more about other things--like finding work
to earn money to buy a few clothes and stuff Another thing I think
about is what could develop if I get to the city. Will I be able to get a
job to carry me through, or is this just wishful thinking at the moment?
I know God won’t lead me to a place where I can’t become situated
Somehow I’ll be where I can take care of myself I guess I feel sorry for
myself today. I’m thinking of Mom again and what it would be like if
she were here. I suppose it might be easier, but I know I shouldn’t dwell
on it.
I need to think about something else besides feeling sorry for myself
if I stay here I can only keep doing what I have been--only surviving.
But if I try to find my way to somewhere else--again, I don’t know what
it would be like. It will be a new experience all the way since I’ve never
been to the city, and I’ve never worked anywhere but on the farm.
I wouldn’t know where to start--wouldn’t know what to do except
what I’ve been doing. 1 just had a crazy thought. I wonder if they have
a farm in Manila where I could go and work in the cornfield Ha! Well,
that’s just a wild thought going through my mind today. Other than that
I’d probably be able to scrub floors for people to earn my living.
That’s all another matter, so I’ll cross that road when I get there.

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 19

I’m excited that the lady finally arrived from Santiago to sell her
merchandise.
Lopez have been really nice though. They say
that if I’d like to keep working for them, I may. That is, until we decide

I thank them but also tell them that I’ll see what Milagrosa
has to offer since she’s here. Maybe she can help me get down to the
city at this point.
Tuto and his wife, too, for helping us find this place. Then
Milagrosa comes by, and I talk to her. I ask if she thinks I might find a

just a visit.
Since she’s familiar with Manila, I ask if she thinks I’d be able to

again.
Milagrosa assures me that she can arrange that--that she can put me

I tell her that right now I’d like to earn money for clothes. Mine are
pretty worn out.

everything I need.
It sounds so promising, so I ask how much it will cost to go to

She says not to worry about it.

need. I can always pay her back when I get a job.
I think that sounds good, so I agree to go on the next trip she makes

before I go out on my own. “Her mother is real sick.”

“Don’t worry about that either,”
people here who will take care of them--lots of friends.”
I say I’ll talk to Carmen to see what she’d be doing otherwise. I

They need help. I needed help one time, and I want to help them in
return as much as possible.

her to bring back the next time.

“I’d like dresses with pantaloons or panties to wear underneath.

even a pair of bukyas. Those would be all right.” I think if I owned a

bukyas--wooden shoes with a low heel and a leather strap across

137
the front would be good enough. They’re easy to step into. “Otherwise,
I’d like a pair of shoes.”
She says she’ll be sure to bring all these items when she comes back
for me. She promises to return in a couple of weeks to take me to
Manila. This should give me time to take care of everything before
then.
So now I have two weeks to prepare myself and to try to help my
girlfriend and her mother until then. We’ve just gotten to the point
where things are more serious.
I pray to God that He’ll give me a clear mind and wisdom to
manage my life since I’m aiming more and more toward being
independent. Also, I pray He’ll surely guide and direct my life. I could
do a lot of things that aren’t quite right, and I wouldn’t want that.
I want to honor my mom’s wishes in my life. We didn’t talk too
much about it when she was alive, but I know exactly what she would
want for me. She wished the best for my life. I want to honor that--to
conduct my life in the way that would be honorable to her and to God
also. That’s exactly what I want to do.

>
A week has passed since Milagrosa left, and Carmen’s aunt arrived
here to see what’s the matter with her sister. Now they can decide what
they’ll do. Whether they’ll all go back to Pangasinan or whatever it
takes to help Mrs. Santos.
In the meantime I tell Carmen what my plan is, and she’s quite
upset over the whole matter. She starts yelling at me and yelling at her
mother--saying she doesn’t want me to leave this family. She wants us
all to be together.
Of course Mrs. Santos tells her, “We can’t possibly keep ‘Encia from
going if she wants to because she has a life of her own.”
Carmen’s not thinking about that though. She thinks we’re all
together as a family, and that’s the way it should stay.
I respect her wishes and way of thinking about the whole matter, but
I know we’ll have to go our separate ways at some time or another.
She’s just one day younger than l am, so she's more or less treating me
as her older sister. Nevertheless she has to start thinking that we’ll be
going our own way somewhere, someday.
So we talk some more, and I tell her that regardless of going our
separate ways, we’ll still be friends and think of each other as sisters.
She and I are so close that we both don’t want our friendship to be
broken.

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should just remember the things we used to do to have a good time
together. The things we shared--our sorrow, and our good times, so that

remember each other regardless.

After a while, Carmen begins to realize that it can work that way

We begin working things out--trying to figure out how we can still

get in touch whenever we’re away from each other. Regardless, we’ll

as to where we might be.

I know this is going to be a hard departure from friends and friends

Santos can withstand a trip to Pangasinan because her sister has

this will finally work out the way it

Milagrosa is due to come back for me in a couple of days, so my
trip’s about to begin.

the same bus, as I will from Santiago. They’ll ride to Pangasinan, then
That will be really nice if we
can do that. We’ll see what happens in a few days.

since they’re not going to take anything with them except what little
clothing they have. Me, too. That’s just about all—a little pack on our

It’s been wonderful being with friends who have been so kind

I can’t thank God enough for all those things He provided all along
the way through our difficulties.

just lived day by day and hour by hour. God kept my mind stable that
way, for which I thank Him. Things had been a lot easier for us than

Well, Carmen and I are now heading toward the main road. We’re
just walking and talking--telling each other our feelings. We tell each

But I know it
At least we didn’t feel the sorrow we would have without God in our
thoughts.

riding a bus for the first time in our life. We once were scared of those
big things coming down the road. We’d run to the ditch to hide because
we were scared of them. Anyway, here we are. We’ll be having our first
experience riding those great big busses down the road.
Right now while we walk beside the road, we see something moving
toward us. We think it might be one of those army trucks because the
dust is so thick that we can’t even see what’s running down the road.
The main road is gravel all the way, so anytime they happen to come
along, they stir up the dust. It’s so cloudy with it all.
Carmen and I decide to sit beside the road where there’s some brush
so maybe the people coming toward us won’t see us when they pass by
here. We just sit here, and all the sudden we hear this vehicle stop.
I whisper to her, “Oh! no, they saw us. Now what are we’re going to
do?”
We sit still as someone climbs out of the truck. He’s an American,
so we stand up in the ditch. We just stand there so still, not saying
anything.
He says, “Can you speak English?” and I nod my head, Yes, for
some reason.
He goes on to ask me for some directions and asks if we want a ride.
I say, “No, sir.”
“Is this the road that will take us over to the Ilocos Sur area? That’s
where we’re going.”
I say, “Yes, sir, not too far from here.”
“Thank you,” he returns, “are you sure you don’t want a ride?”
“No, sir.”
When he climbs back into his truck, Carmen says she doesn’t see
how I understand everything he’s talking about.
They drive on, and we laugh. That was really funny because here
we were thinking we’d encountered somebody who might hurt us. We
just stood in front of the truck scared--half laughing, half crying. So we
get off the road and walk the path back to the village.
Along the way we discover a pineapple and cut it so we’ll have a
nice fruit to eat when we get back to the house.
We’re more at peace with each other now, realizing that we’re not
going to do anything to hurt each other’s feelings. She thought we’d go
our separate ways and never see each other again.
I tell her that if it’s God’s will, we’ll see each other. It might not be
soon but maybe later. We’ll stay in touch somehow and try to keep each
other posted as to what’s going on.

140
 >

Manila.
Mrs.
Come to find out, we’ll all be able to take the same bus from
Santiago, which passes through
Well, Mrs. Tupas just arrived for me. She came down in her own
Lopez.
Milagrosa wants to start back to Santiago right away since it will

travel there from here. While she speaks, she shows me the clothes she
bought me.

even brought wooden bukyas and a pair of

wooden ones but feel softer. Their upper covering is made of leather
and velvet. There are also small beads sewn over the strap to look

She says that when we get to Manila, she’ll charge the people, who
will keep me to work for them, the price I’m supposed to pay her for the

They’ll pay for all these, and I’ll work for it. Then when I finish
paying these off, the people can start paying me all my wages. That is if

This is the arrangement she’s giving me. She’ll charge those people
for my clothes and trip. Then after a certain amount of time, I can go

I’m thinking that since there’s no other way than to do that. I’ll go
ahead with One way or another, I’ll have to do something. That
should be okay for now.
Tupas just told me that she can give Mrs. Santos, her sister,

the bus anyway. She offers them a ride down in her carretilla, and they

That sounds very fine to me. It will be that much more time I can
spend with Carmen. It will be nice.
Tupas tells us that on our trip, periodically the bus will stop for
people to get off to go to the bathroom.

everyone to use, but she says, “Don’t be shocked if you see things when
you go to the bathroom.” We don’t understand that at all but guess

else does.

141
 She also says they stop at certain places along the side of the road
where we can eat—little places like small restaurants where you can buy
food and such things.
We understand that much and just let it go at that.
So now we leave for Santiago. We hope it’s nice because we already
know how the carretilla ride is going to be. We’re really excited about
how the bus ride will be tomorrow. It sure is something we’re looking
forward to--to see how it feels. In the meantime we’ll just try to be
patient and wait until the time comes to board the bus.

>
Today is the day! The big city I’m going to see. Wahaa!!
The bus is loading up now. It has a canvas over the top to cover the
back where we’ll ride.
Some people put chickens on top of this bus, so those poor chickens
are going to roast up there. They’re trying to load everything that they
can on top.
Whoever owns this bus made the roof flat so they can set luggage or
boxes up there and the people down below. This is really going to be
something else. They even have piglets going up there. We don’t know
if it’s going to be a quiet ride, a noisy ride, or what. We’ll find out for
sure after we get going.
Carmen, her mom, and her aunt are with us until they have to get off
in Pangasinan. Anyway I’m now on my way to Manila, the big city.
After we cover about thirty miles of gravel road, the driver says that
up the road about twenty more miles, we’ll stop for everyone to go to the
rest area. We’ll all get off to do that.
We’ll see. Anyway I’m wearing a dress with my pantaloons
underneath. I have my whole body covered and my wooden shoes on.
When 1 get out, I can go clackety, clack down the road--down the street
or whatever.
We’ve stopped now to go to the bathroom, and this is funny. Funny,
funny. Everybody's gone off the side of the road to the woods. The men
went to one side, and the women have gone to the other.
Yet these women--I’ve never seen anyone go to the bathroom that
way. One woman just stepped off the bus and right away took hold of
the back of her skirt and whipped it up. Then she yanked up the front
and spread her legs wide open to pee. Right there in front of us all!
I couldn’t help laughing yet I’m so stunned. I’m here with my
pantaloons. I think, now what do I do? I have to find a tree somewhere
to get behind to manage my things. I can’t imagine what these people

142
 Tupas did
warn us--
To each his own, I suppose. So here 1 am, behind this tree thinking

wait and see.

143
 The City

We all relieved ourselves and are back in the bus again. So away we

I felt sorry for Mrs. Santos when she had to get off the bus back

truck was painfully difficult. It was so hard--it took four people to help
her get off the bus so she could go relieve herself it was pitiful. I hope
it to where they’re headed because she’s so frail. I suppose
carretilla so she’ll be able to ride to her
sisters’ place. That’s probably how they’ll go to her sister's house since

Anyway, it will be another two hours before we even reach

Pangasinan.
in the corner. We put her there so she can lean against the wall of the
bus. The people we asked to trade with her were kind enough to give up

center bench with nothing to lean against. We’re all sitting up straight
as it is.
I hope
she’ll meet new friends so she’s not lonely where she’ll be living. For

Perhaps. 1 do hope so.

Well, I just saw my girlfriend get off the bus to go to her aunt’s
house. Now that the
There are three other girls Milagrosa is also taking down there, but
their own, too. I see they’re not talking much.
Maybe they’re scared or something.

I’ll be with is nice. I’m trying not to think about how difficult it is to
come this far without knowing anyone--just have to cross each bridge as
comes.
I hope I’ll be able to earn my own way in Life out there. It will be a

I’m here today and that I have seen His provision, so I’ll keep trusting
Him for what He’ll bring my way. I wonder how difficult it was for my

144
alone. She wasn’t much older than I am. I’ll just have to relax and see
what happens.
Right now I remember a day long ago before she adopted me. Mom
was about to go plow afield and was preparing to leave me with one of
the other families. When I asked if I might go along to watch her, she
just said, “Well, that could be worked out.” Then she gathered the
pottery pieces she’d created for me and placed them in the cart. After I
asked if I might come, she didn’t say, “No.” She just took me with her.
When we reached the edge of the field she would work, she laid a
coconut leaf mat on the ground She made sure I was safe in the shade
by bending some tall grass over me and tying them together. Then she
placed leaves over those and laid another mat on top. While she plowed
the field, I sat watching. Little did I realize that it took more work for
her to bring me along rather than if I’d stayed behind to play with the
other children.
But we had half a day out there in the field together. She worked
while I watched. Of course the plowing must be done to prepare for
planting. Most of the villagers had to get out there and plow. As I
recall, even during peacetime, machines only came to thresh the rice.
We just didn’t have machines to plow. Perhaps other countries have
them, but here it must be done manually. The animals pull the plows
while people guide them.
So that was a nice day--watching her do that. I guess someone
could say it was how I got to know her some. I observed important tasks
she had to do since I’d probably be doing the same if I stayed on the
farm long enough.
Mom always tried to do her part alongside the others working for
her. She would not only give orders and ensure things were done right,
but she worked as one of them--no different. She was out there in the
midst of them.
I think I did want to learn to plow. That’s the kind of life we have
out in the country. We must earn our living by maintaining the
plantation or something along that line of work. So naturally, I think I
would have wanted to do all that when I became old enough.
I really do cherish all I’ve seen my mother do and all she passed on
to me. Learning the basics of living and how to survive in the wild if
necessary. If I hadn’t absorbed all that from her, I probably wouldn’t
have survived after she was gone. It’s all very precious to me.
Thinking back on my biological mother--I cherish her also. Had she
not been so overwhelmed by what she faced as a young girl, I know she
would have love in her heart for me today. Because of what she went
through, she just couldn’t see me as sharing any part of her life.

145
If there was the remote possibility in her private thoughts, she most
likely tried to ignore it because of all her pain.
I can feel sorry for my real mother because I know some things
women must experience in life aren’t pleasant. Things that occasionally
come our way. She went through some of that. And regardless of what
foolishness was in my parents’ hearts at the time, I can almost feel her
pain now. I understand more now of what young women and men get
into. Then they’re often unable to handle the responsibility
emotionally, let alone physically.
At least my parents weren’t able to do so. My father was a lot older
than she, but his mind was set on something else. Generally, I can
sympathize with what they both went through. 1 just don’t know whether
they believed in God in their hearts. I sure pray to see them both one
day. Although there's no assurance of coming across my mother in this
life.
I can even appreciate my uncle and his family who sheltered me
there in Balatunang for a while. I cherish all they did to care for me in
my early years.
Most of all, I thank God for the woman who took me into her home
and adopted me. Because of all she taught me and the way she took
care of me, I can’t help being grateful every day. Every moment of my
life. Without the good examples shown me, I wouldn’t have been able to
survive the way I have. I thank God for each person who took part in
my life. Each one who showed interest in me and contributed their time
and love will always be cherished
I pray that somewhere, somehow, I can pass those qualities of
character on to someone else before I leave this world. The very
thought of how much time and love goes into caring for someone
overwhelms me at times.
Although I didn’t receive the education most other young people
get, the training I received is more important for many reasons. It’s
helped me become a good citizen and do things more important in life
than a formal education may bring. 1 know academic education is
significant, but what I received is something many people lack. I’m so
grateful for what I came to know which I might never have acquired
anywhere else.
I came to know that my parents loved me and truly cared. Some
young people don’t have the privilege to observe and know their
parents’ love that way. But I did 1 learned how much time and love my
adopted mother had for me. That kind of education--no one can
replace. It’s the life we ought to know so as to be able to convey to
others as they come along.

146
 I pray that whatever I leave in this world of my behavior and
conduct as a citizen would be pleasing to God. He's my guide and
teacher all through life besides the parents He gave to watch over me.
I’m thankful to Him for all He’s done in my life and what I might
contribute to society.
Anyway, I’m about to turn another page in life. At least it’s before
me. And I pray this step I take is one in which God has directed me. I
hope this city I come to will be what it should be. I don’t want to be
misled into something that isn’t right. If I ever find out its not the place
for me, then I’ll try returning to the Isabela province. I’ll try to make
my life back there where I’m from.
We each try to relax on this bus, but I keep thinking about many
things. My friend is back in Pangasinan, and I’m on my way to Manila.
Much is on my mind. What will I be doing? What kind of place will I
be at? Will I be able to earn my living, or is it a place where I’ll just do
whatever comes my way?
Once I’m established, I hope I can really find myself and the
occupation I’d like to be involved with or at least one to keep me going.
I don’t know much else besides doing housework. I hear some people
need help like that, so I guess its what I’ll be doing. I’m so curious
about what family I’ll be with.
It won’t be long now to the big city.

>
It’s evening, and we’ve finally arrived in Manila. We step off the
bus and flag one of the carretillas to take us to the house of Milagrosa’s
friend. It’s about a mile from this bus station.
Milagrosa says she’ll visit the family tomorrow that I’ll be staying
with. There are four of us girls in all, and she’ll have to take each of us
separately to where we’ll be living. But she plans to speak first with the
family I’ll go to.
In the meantime, we all will stay at her friend’s. That’s going to be
something new since none of us speak Tagalog. This is the plan for now
until tomorrow.
When we get to the house, it’s the first for me to use an indoor
bathroom. I don’t know what to do with the waste after it's passed. So
I’m asking Milagrosa what to do.
She says to pull on the string hanging above my head when I get up
from the toilet. This will do the job.
Well, I use the facility, but once I pull the string, to me the toilet’s
pipe appears to connect to the fresh water pipe. I think, Oh! boy, for

147
sure I’ve ruined the whole place--I’ve flushed waste into the drinking

When I tell the others what I’ve done, they all have a good laugh
and let me know the bathroom isn’t built that way. Waste matter goes

another.
1
country.
They think it’s funny that I’m also ignorant about the bathroom’s

It gave a slight pop when it lit up after I turned the switch. How was
it would startle me?

This is now the next day, and Milagrosa is gone to the places we’ll

until she returns. We’re all somewhat nervous because we don’t know
what kind of people we’ll be with. Also, we can’t speak
just don’t know what to do about the new dialect we’ll need to speak--

While we wait, I wonder how my girlfriend, Carmen, is doing in

Pangasinan.
try hard to find each other--stay in touch one way or the other. She
gave me the address of her aunt’s house, so I want to have someone

living at. Then she’ll know how to reach me.

Now that
a place for us to go now. She spoke with the people she knew were
interested in having girls from the province work for them.

I do hope I can learn their dialect quickly to better communicate. I

outsiders coming and going each day. With the lady being pregnant,
she’ll need me to help her with each person’s laundry. There’re also the

Apparently, there’s a five-year-old daughter who will be starting

school soon. This means I’ll help to care for the child, and since the

once it arrives.
Since we leave tomorrow morning, the other girls and I speak about

other or whatever. That is, if it’s allowed.

148
 I hope the families the other girls are going to won’t be so hard on
them. There’s no way of knowing what we’ll each be up against. But
God knows. So I’m in His hands as usual wherever I’m at.

>
Well, I’m in my new home--temporarily, I guess. Or maybe not.
The lady is real nice. She has us call her “Aunt Mary.” Her maiden
name is Bartolome, and she’s married to Nano Aspecto. We call him
“Papa Nano”.
Milagrosa was right about the family. There’re ten people who
come and go. They have jobs here in Manila. Two of Aunt Mary’s
brothers are here along with Mr. Aspecto’s three nephews and two
nieces. There’s also Aunt Mary’s sister, Lina. Then there’s Yolanda--
Aunt Mary’s daughter out of wedlock. Christina is the Aspectos’ five-
year-old girl. Then there’s another lady staying here--a teacher from
Aparri where Mr. Aspecto came from.
There are other people the Aspectos allow in while looking for jobs
in the city. When they settle, they move out. In the meantime, we do
their laundry and things like that which I suppose is how Aunt Mary
makes some money. Right now, she’s doing all she can but tires easily
since she’s pregnant.
This place is so crowded It’s wall to wall bodies at night. There’s
only one room upstairs, which I would estimate to be fourteen by
fourteen feet square. All the girls sleep up there, and the men sleep
downstairs on mats on the cement floor. Sheets are their only covers,
but of course, sheets aren’t necessary since it’s so hot anyway. Everyone
must also sleep under a mosquito net.
I’ve never experienced this before--sleeping with mosquito nets. But
the mosquitoes are so thick at night here in Manila. There’re also lots
of bed bugs that come out after dark to bite us. We have all these things
to fight off at night. It’s something. If we sleep near the edge of the net,
we are eaten by mosquitoes where they can reach us. Also, sleeping at
the very edge brings a lot of bites from the bed bugs.
Since this place is very crowded, some of the girls small enough lie
underneath the cots upstairs to sleep at night. This is how it is night
after night. Going to the bathroom is a whole other matter.
Anyway, I have to observe everything Aunt Mary does and note
what she tells me to do.
She can speak Ilocano, which I’m thankful for, but she says I should
try not to use the Ilocano dialect when I’m talking so I can learn
Tagalog faster. She says I’ll pick up quickly if I can name each thing

149
 Tagalog. She
also states everything we do each day.

Tagalog. I’m learning to ask where things are at and to adapt to their
way of life.

hardly any place to walk around without bumping into someone. This
place in the city is really different from what I There are
streets they call “
corridors only wide enough for two people to walk side by side. They’re
actually more like alleys but terrible looking because of the open ditches

We have to walk over wood planks to avoid the messes out there--
the mud holes and stuff. It’s just filth coming out from houses into open

of the time. All we can do is hop from stone to stone or walk over the
planks to get out to the streets. Even the water from laundry tubs run
All that gooey stuff from the
houses. It’s
If we see greenery at all, it’s sure something to look at. Only a tree
is left here or there after the war. Flowers and plants aren’t readily
Terrible looking.
I’ve met the family that will be coming in and out of the house.

where her other brother, Tuto, works. But Papa

water department. The others leave early each morning and come home
around five o’clock in the afternoon.

So we have much to cook for the evening meals. Although we have

lights, there’s no refrigeration, so we must go to market each day around

The kitchen is quite small. In one corner is a cooking area where

there’s a box of dirt with three stones to hold a cooking pot. Another

the stones, so we can prepare enough food for everyone. Then we feed
the men first since there’s only a small eating table in the kitchen.

everything inside gets splashed. We have to climb steps to get through

that window to spread out the clothes we wash. Sometimes the whites

detergent and set them on the roof for the sun to bleach. Then we go up
quite often to sprinkle water to soften more of the dirt. The second day,

150
 You sure do have to be an expert to climb up and down through that
little window. It’s only big enough for a body to squeeze through while
carrying a load of laundry. We usually devote two to three days each
week to washing clothes depending on how much each person has.
The clean clothes then have to be separated and folded. Of course, a
lot of them seem to need ironing to soften. Then, it’s because even the
socks are stiff like boards after drying on the line. Aunt Mary and I
work together to get the job done quicker. She with her electric iron,
and I with the charcoal one. Much of the time I end up ironing
everything alone since she’s getting close to her delivery date. She
doesn’t feel up to doing much of the hard work at all.
I’ve also been running to Market alone to buy vegetables or meat
while she stays behind to build the fire to prepare supper. If there
happen to be leftovers, we save them for the next day’s lunch. I don’t
mind also having to get up early around five o’clock before everyone
else. I’m expected to run down to the bakery a few blocks away to buy
hard rolls. Everyone eats these with a bit of butter and coffee for
breakfast.
Without refrigeration, we seldom have cold drinks. If someone
wants something cold, they have to buy a block of ice to chop up and put
in a glass of water or something. We also don’t enjoy soft drinks and
such. People only buy those things if they think they can afford it to
give to special guests. Other than that, we drink water day in and day
out.
I’ve recently learned that I arrived here in Manila on February 11,
1946. 1 hadn’t thought much about the date since we’d all lost track of
time after running away from home during the war. I’m just now
learning the year, days, and hours all over again.
I also found out that Milagrosa collected her money for my trip and
clothes by charging the expenses to Aunt Mary. I’m working to pay
those off. She did tell me beforehand that she might be able to do that,
but come to find out, she even added a small commission on top of the
total for her time. I don’t receive money, so I’ll need to work that off,
too. I assumed she was just helping me--being Mom’s friend and all. I
don’t know--maybe she didn’t really know my mother at all.
Apparently, she does this kind of thing for a living besides selling cloth
goods. Live and learn.
At least I have a roof over my head and food to eat. Aunt Mary even
altered four dresses for me to wear that she can’t fit into anymore.
Other than those, I don’t receive wages while I work off what’s owed to
Milagrosa. From time to time, the people who stay here give me a little
something because they’re grateful that I help to clean their clothes. It’s
so I can go to the movies or have some other recreation with the girls.

151
 After being here a couple of months, Yolanda took me to see a
movie. I didn’t care for it much though. It’s the first one for me to see
in my life, and it turned out to be a war movie. I could only try to sit
patiently until it was over before we could leave the theater. That was
all right, I suppose, except for more bed bugs. Once we made it outside,
I discovered I’d been bitten up behind my knees from those things--
bumps all over.

>
It’s the third month I’m living here, and Aunt Mary awakened
Yolanda and me in the middle of the night. She thinks it’s time to have
her baby, so she needs us to go with her to the clinic.
It’s six blocks away, so we both get up to walk her there. We’re
trying to get there as quickly as possible but have to slow down
whenever she starts having the pain bad. After we finally make it, we
take her to the nurses’ station for one nurse to admit her.
The doctor told us there’s nothing for us to do at this point, so we
have to leave Mrs. Aspecto here and walk back home. We’ll come again
tomorrow to see if she had the baby.
After Yolanda and I get home to bed, we have trouble falling asleep,
so we climb up on the roof instead. We lie here counting stars, and once
in a while, we get laughing and have to shush so as not to wake the
others. We’re talking--wondering if Aunt Mary will have a boy or girl.
We hope she doesn’t have a hard time but won’t know until we return
tomorrow.

>
We’re back to the clinic, and Mrs. Aspecto had a baby girl after all.
She named her Vicki--Victoria. She’s supposed to go home tomorrow.
So we’ll come back again to walk her home.
Papa Nano just goes about just as calm usual. He doesn’t think to
come visit Aunt Mary here at this clinic. He’s just waiting for her to
return home. What a way to be.

>
Yolanda and I take turns to carry the baby home while Aunt Mary
walks slowly.
I can see she’s extremely tired because it takes us longer to get home
than it did for us to get over to the clinic the other night.
At the house, Lina has prepared supper for everyone since we
weren’t around to do it. She works at a Chinese restaurant downtown.
But even though she’s not feeling well and didn’t go in today, she ended
up making supper for eleven people. That’s how many stay here now.

152
 Yolanda and I take Aunt Mary and Vicki upstairs to fix her a spot to
lie down in one corner. That way the girls won’t be stepping over her.
She won’t be expected to move, and they can just spread their mats on
the other side of the room.
Once she and the baby are situated, we’re able to bring her supper
and a portable potty. Now she won’t have to go up and down the stairs
for what she needs.

>
It’s back to the same routine all over again. I get up in the mornings
to buy rolls at the bakery. I also have to see what Aunt Mary wants me
to buy from the market to feed the people each evening. Most of the
cleaning, laundry, and ironing are up to me now while she recuperates
from having the baby.
Each day after Yolanda comes home from school, she studies until
it’s time to help me or one of the other girls fix supper. Then after we
feed everyone and wash the dishes, she returns to her studies.
Five-year-old, Christina, is so taken with her baby sister. Almost
every day, she sits upstairs with her mamma to be close to the baby.
She’s no trouble at all and plays with her dolls or whatever while we’re
doing the usual housework.

>
Today is cleaning day. We scrub the floor upstairs first by using
coconut husks to make it shiny. Then we wax and polish the downstairs
floor the same even though it’s cement. We want to be sure it’s nice and
clean. Once that’s done, we’ll prepare supper. It seems as if the job is
forever for us--over and over each day. Well, that’s the way it goes--just
need to keep on doing.
There isn’t much time for socializing, but I do try to attend church
on Sundays. The others don’t really care for it except Yolanda. She
goes with me to a church about four blocks away. We usually attend the
service and return home to relax in the afternoon unless we walk
downtown.
At least we do have Sundays to rest as much as possible. Except for
the usual cooking for everyone.
Once in a while, Lina asks us to go along to the restaurant. Then
she doesn’t have to walk alone. The cook is nice to let us sit in one
corner of the kitchen while preparing food for the customers. They even
let us eat for free sometimes as a compliment to Lina.
If we’re not waiting, Yolanda and I walk downtown to browse the
shops or catch a movie. The theater isn’t far from the restaurant, and
she likes to watch those sad love affair movies. We once saw one about
an

153
actress who killed herself over jealousy. The boyfriend’s eyes were on

movie with Yolanda crying.

spoken in Tagalog. I still don’t know much of the language yet, but once

they make, but it’s not much fun for me since I don’t understand their
words-- only their motions.
Sometimes we catch an American movie like the first one I ever
saw. Of course it had to be a war movie. A lot of Filipinos and

her name’s Hedy

stealing. But as far as going to see all that--its just not my idea of

>
I’ve been working for the
time is almost complete.
Aunt Mary’s brother, Roman, works at the American Embassy and

clean their apartment and wash their laundry.

So he and I speak with Aunt Mary, and she feels that if I’m able to

can get the job, then that’s good.

154
`Encia's Six-Month Journey
Roadside farm house
Encia Approaches the Big Hut
Farmers Carabao
‘ geneology
Florencia’s Journey On The Run
Florencia at age 18 after the accident
Florencia and girls at the American compound
Florencia at age 19 first dating Henry
Mrs. C. C. Sadler in her living room
Henry at Clark Field
Florencia waiting to be married
Florencia celebrates at Luneta after the wedding
Florencia greets Henry at Kaligtasan
Florencia waiting to board the SS General Gordon
Mama and Daddy Miller in 1950
Florencia and Evangalene waiting
For Henry to come home
Florencia and Henry proudly holding
Linda
Florencia and Henry on graduation day
Burruss Hall, VPI, on graduation day
Florencia and Davis, our third child
Our little family at Rush Avenue, Binghamton, NY
Visiting Grandpa and Grandma Miller
The back trail on the way to Baguio, PI
 21
New Experiences

I worked off what I owed last month, and since this is now August,
I’ve been with the Aspectos seven months.
Roman doesn’t think I’ll have difficulty getting the job with those
two men because they wouldn’t be home by the time I’d arrive to work.
Then I’d be gone before they come home from their offices.
The men tell Roman, “Yes, they’re still interested in having a
housekeeper.” They need someone until their wives join them here in
the Philippines. After that, they’ll each move to different quarters.
Even so, they’ll want someone to work for them until their return to the
United States.
So Roman got me the job at the Embassy. The arrangement is for
the men to put their money in an envelope on payday and set it on the
dining room table in their apartment. That’s the way it will be. I can’t
speak English well but can understand a lot.
My first week of work, I don’t even see my bosses. I’m walking
back and forth to the Embassy since I’ll stay on with the Aspectos until
perhaps I can find a place near work. Maybe some other girls work at
the same place that I can get a room with.

>
By week’s end, I meet three other girls who work on the other end of
the Embassy.
They’re housekeepers, too, for men who are waiting for their wives
to arrive.
One girl’s name is Hedy Lamarr--like the actress. I tell her my
bosses’ wives are also on their way and will want someone to work for
their families. I get to know her well and learn she’s from Pangasinan.
Then I tell her there’s a family I know who went there.
She happily announces she knows this family--the sister of Santos.
Santos. The woman is a neighbor of her family’s. She also goes home
from time to time to visit, so if I’d like to go one weekend, we could
travel together on a Friday evening and return on Sunday.
It seems that again it’s God’s provision for me to be able to see
Carmen again sometime.
Hedy and I talk it over with the other two girls who agree to rent a
one-room apartment together. Our apartment is in a house where we’ll
share a kitchen with the other tenants in the place.

155
 We’ve seen two more girls on the other end of the building, but the
four of us occupy one room large enough for each of us to sleep on a cot
at night. Then we fold them up in the daytime. Our rent will be five
pesos per month each, so that’s really nice. At least we won’t be
spending all our money paying for a room. Then the rest of our wages
will go for food and whatever we want to do.
After staying with the Aspectos, they only paid me fifteen dollars for
the extra month I worked for them. I lived there a total of seven
months. Now that I work at the Embassy, I’ll earn seventy pesos every
month. Now that’s big money!

>
About the beginning of the third week I finally meet one of my
bosses. When he stops in to ask how I’m doing, I say, “Okay.”
He’s a really nice man, Mr. Julian. When his wife and daughter get
their visas and passports processed, they’ll come here by ship.
That’s the extent of our conversation, so it’s all right with me.

>
A few more days have passed, and now I’ve met my other boss, Mr.
Sadler. He’s nice, too, and tells me his wife will also be coming over
from the United States. They’ll need someone to work for them at that
time.

>
I don’t see my bosses much at all. They only come to the house
when they need to get something, and then they immediately return to
the office. We cross paths, so that’s okay.

>
I’m glad the girls I live with are nice. Besides Hedy, there’s Mary,
Cincia, and Lourdes. We never have any kind of disagreement, so we
each think it’s nice that we get along fine. We’re also glad to be able to
walk to the Embassy together each day. It takes a good hour to get down
there. When payday comes, we go to buy a dress and see a movie
together, too. We put the rest of our money aside for food. We don’t
think to save any--just spend what we have.

>
The families of the men we work for will arrive soon. At that time,
they’ll move down to the housing area southwest of the Embassy. It’s

156
still an hour’s walk from our apartment house, but we won’t be alone.
We can still come and go together as usual. Of course, we could take a
jeepney, but we’d rather walk. It’s better for us.
At this point, I’m still not sure which family I’ll be working for.
In the meantime, my girlfriend, Hedy, is the only one working for
single men. She does housecleaning and laundry for three guys who
don’t have families.
I guess she could keep working for them if she wants. Because she’s
like an older sister to me, and since we get along, I mention that Mr.
Julian will need a housekeeper when his wife and daughter arrive. I say,
“Maybe you could apply for that job, and I could take the other family.
When Mrs. Sadler gets here, I could work for her.”

>
Hedy came to tell Mr. Julian she’d be happy to work for him after
his wife gets here.
He says he’ll keep it in mind--he’ll see what Mrs. Julian says when
she arrives.
I won’t mind working for either Mr. Julian or Mr. Sadler because
they seem to be nice guys so far.

>
It’s the weekend, and Hedy wants to see a movie.
So the four of us girls go to a love affair movie they want to see. It’s
a story about some couple in love, and the girl ends up killing herself
because of jealousy. She can’t stand the thought of losing the man, so
she kills herself. It’s another one of these movies people seem to watch
over and over. I don’t care for it, but the girls want to see it again after
the first showing.
“I’m bored and want to get out,” I say. “I’d rather go find
something to eat at a restaurant.” I tell them about the place Lina still
works at. Maybe we can stop there for supper before heading home this
evening.
So we leave, but the people rushing in to catch the second showing
bump into those trying to get out.
Then while I pass through the door, I bump into some guy who’s on
his way in.
He apologizes, and I say, “That’s okay, it didn’t hurt me.” He did
step on my foot though. Then he asks my name and where we live.
We just mumble where our apartment is at and go on.

157
 >
There’s a knock at the door, and when one of the girls opens it,
there’s a guy standing there. It’s the one I bumped into last week at the
theater.
He asks for me, and when I go to the door, he shakes my hand.
“Hello. How are you? This is Felix Tomao. Do you remember me?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Do you remember at the theater? You were going out while I was
going in. I remember stepping on your foot.”
“That’s okay,” I say. At the top of the stairs here on the second floor
is a small porch with table and chairs. So I offer him a seat here where
we speak with people we don’t know well. We don’t want to bring
anyone into the apartment--they go as far as the porch.
Once we sit down, he starts telling me all kinds of things. He’s
Ilocano and comes from Ilocos Norte on the west part of the island.
Northwest from here.
We speak about the places we’re from since I was from the
northeast.
He’s a pilot and only has certain days off since he flies most of the
time. He does a lot of traveling, flying the President’s plane.
I learn that Felix is quite a bit older than I am. So I don’t know
what he’s after. He seems to be a really nice guy though and asks where
I work.
“I just got a job at the American Embassy as a housekeeper, and I
room with the other three girls here in this apartment.” I say we walk
together to work and home--how nice it is that I don’t have to walk by
myself.
“It’s good you can go together. I don’t think girls ought to walk
down the street by themselves anyway.”
I think it’s strange for him to say that.
Then he tells me he rents an apartment with his cousin about three
blocks from here. He doesn’t need his own place with all the traveling
he does. Once in a while, he goes back home on a weekend to see his
parents since he doesn’t have much time to meet other people apart from
work.
For some reason the day he felt like going to the movies was the day
I bumped into him. After we speak at least an hour, he asks if it’s all
right to come back to see me next time he has a day off.
I don’t know why he wants to see me, so I tell him that when
weekends come, my girlfriend and I usually go to town to the movies or
something.

158
 “It’s okay. If you’re not here, I’ll come back some other time.

Since the girls and I usually take turns cooking our food, about this
time they inform me they have supper ready. They’re asking if my

“I don’t know,” I say.

So instead of waiting for me to say if I want to invite him,
opens her mouth and says, “Would you like to eat supper with us? We
have enough. Everything’s ready, so you don’t have to go anywhere to

“Well, I don’t know,” Felix says, “I just came to see Florence.”

Here he’s calling me Florence.

The girls persuade him to stay, but I’m very embarrassed about the
whole thing.
girls end up having a good time with him.
They like him and keep him talking--asking him questions about all

He’s a good conversationalist, so he’s able to speak with them a lot,

too.

I’m just sitting here quietly because to me he’s just someone who
popped up at our door. We’re here
laughing and tee-
they’re saying.
They talk about some of their dogs and what some of their pets were,

all get laughing about my pig.

With supper over, we each carry our chairs from the kitchen to sit

And since it’s such a beautiful night, one of the girls says, “Maybe
we could go out to the
It’s a concrete wall off the sea--wide enough to walk along the top.
It’s about a block from our place.
house.
All the sudden the girls agree we’ll go and ask Felix if he’d like to

So we get out there and stop here and there to look at things. The
water is reflecting the light while the others talk about people who come

I guess some are Americans. I don’t know for sure since I’ve only
been in this part of Manila a short time.
 The girls arrived here about a month before me, so they’ve seen more
of the community. At least they knew where this seawall is. They even
know of some hamburger stand on Harrison Boulevard--the boulevard
near the seawall. Apparently, they go there for burgers and soft drinks.
It’s one of their pastimes.
It’s not long before we notice some people having a picnic out there
by the sea. It’s nice just to sit and watch the water slop back and forth
against the wall while the tide comes in.
The evening has turned out nice, so it’s somewhere around ten
o’clock before we head back to the house.
Once we’re home, the girls mention that we usually try to get up and
go to church since the following day is Sunday.
“Maybe I can go with you sometime if I’m not on a trip with the
President,” says Felix.
That sounds great to the girls, and they’re thrilled he’d like to go with
us. I know they’d probably rather have him be interested in them. It’s
more or less what they’re thinking.
He shakes our hands goodbye and plans to come by again as soon as
he can.
So the girls and I head upstairs where I take my bath while they put
their cots together. Once we turn in, they’re all lying there thinking up
all sorts of things they’d like to do the next time Felix comes.
I’m really not really enthusiastic one way or another. I guess
they’ve come to the point where they’re interested in boys. Although
none of them has a boyfriend yet.
Felix is all right, I guess. He's a handsome man--very light
complexion. I can tell he's had a good upbringing and is thoughtful of
others, too.

>
It’s nearly the end of September and several weeks since I moved in
with the girls.
Hedy says she wants to go out to the province to visit her parents in
Pangasinan after work this coming Friday night. She asks if I want to
go, and that way she won’t have to travel by herself.
I decided I’d like to go after our first discussion when I mentioned
that my girlfriend went to Pangasinan.
Hedy knows Carmen’s aunt well since they were neighbors.
I’m delighted to hear it because I’ve been wanting to know where
Carmen is at, and now I have the opportunity to visit her.

160
 >
It’s the weekend, and we’re almost to
Hedy’s telling me her aunt has two daughters. One is about the
same age as she is. Also, they went to school together.

family Carmen went to. Now I can visit her from time to time.
It’s late when we arrive, so we agree to locate Carmen tomorrow.

This is a really nice province. I like Pangasinan.

few mango trees around here where Hedy’s folks are. Lots of other
If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was seeing Mom’s
plantation. Much of what’s growing here is what we had back home.

Hedy and her mother spoke about Carmen last night--the fact that
my girlfriend moved here from Santiago, and that Mrs.
passed away.
So when we visit them, we confirm that Mrs.
Apparently, she was buried two weeks ago, but Carmen’s uncle didn’t

the same day they die since there’s a problem with them decomposing.
There’s no way to preserve them for any length of time.

because she’s so full of grief. She’s still heartbroken, and it’s hard for
her to talk about her mother’s death. I can understand that quite well,

Hedy says she doesn’t mind since she can visit her family at the
same time.

I tell her about the place I spent the first seven months working at in

won’t you come with us? Maybe you can get a job where we’re working,
too.”
Ilagan so
I can have a family.” She says he’s supposed to return for her shortly,

leave word with her aunt since Hedy visits her family sometimes.

home. Because her uncle still has young ones, she thinks she’ll go back
to the province to live with them. That’s what she wants to do--or what

161
 I’m glad she has a place to go. She has relatives she can count on to
live with. So I tell her I hope everything turns out for the best for her.
“If you’re still here the next time we come, maybe we can go out and do
something together.”
“Yes,” she returns, but I can sense she doesn’t find the idea very
appealing. She’s still quite affected by the death of her mother.
Then I tell her I’ll make sure to keep her posted as to what’s
happening.

>
Hedy and I arrive in Manila around six o’clock this Sunday evening.
It’s nice to see the other girls.
They even have supper ready for us since they knew we’d be back
tonight.
We eat and are a little tired, so we all start getting ready for bed
around seven o’clock. We want to be rested for work in the morning.
About this time there’s a knock at the front door, but we think it
must be for someone else in the building.
Then another tenant raps at our door; she says we have company.
“Who is it?” we all ask.
“I don’t know. It’s a man.”
Lourdes is still in her clothes, so she goes to investigate. Then she
comes running back. “It’s Felix out there! You better put your clothes
on because he wants to see you.’’
I think this is terrible since I’m ready for bed. Instead, I manage to
pull my clothes back on and go out there to the front.
“I’m sorry to come so late,” says Felix, “yesterday, some woman said
you and your friend may have gone away since you didn’t answer your
door.” He’d gone back to his cousin’s apartment and decided to try me
again this evening.
When we sit down, I explain about our trip to Pangasinan--that I was
able to see my friend, Carmen. Her mother has died, and she’ll be going
back to Ilagan.
He’s very sympathetic about it and doesn’t know how he’d feel if one
of his relatives died. Nothing like that has happened to him.
I go on about my visit with Carmen all day Saturday and so on. It
was also nice to touch base since seeing her last in February. We rode
the bus together on the way to Manila. Now she’ll return home, so it
might be some time before I see her again unless I make a special trip to
her uncle’s province. Unless she decides to come see me.
“It’s been kind of a hard trip--very sad for me,” I say, “Carmen and I
used to do things together until she went to Pangasinan and I to Manila.

162
 Throughout the war we were very close and especially after 1
evacuated from Santa Maria.”
He’s quite sympathetic about everything I say we went through
together and sorry about what happened to my mom.
To me, he’s still a stranger but is very sincere in expressing his
sympathy. Right now I’m kind of tired and not too much for having
company.
“Well, I don’t want to keep you up too long. I just stopped by to say
‘Hi.’ If it’s okay, I’ll be back to see you again the next time I have a day
off.” Right now it’s touch and go with the hours he works. When the
President has to leave--Felix must fly the plane. But he’ll be able to
come see me some evenings when he’s not flying. Anyway, he’s a really
nice gentleman.
“Thank you for your concern and for coming by to see us,” I say.
He hopes he’s not annoying us. However, since he doesn’t know
anyone else, he’s glad he bumped into us at the movie house. He needs
somebody to visit once in a while since he doesn’t know anyone other
than his cousin.
“Thank you again for your concern. I hope God protects you with
your flying.”
“Thanks for saying so. Maybe next time we can all go out to eat.”
“That would be nice. I know the girls will enjoy that.”
“I hope you will, too, Florence. Thanks for talking to me and letting
me stay this long. I’d like to be a friend.” He hopes to see me soon, so I
say, “Okay.” Then he shakes my hand and goes his way.
“You mean you sent him away already?” the girls say once I’m back
in our room.
“Yeah, he’s gone home.” I tell them perhaps the next time he
comes we’ll all go out to eat.
It’s obvious the girls look forward to it.
“Great!” says Mary.
“But he’s not coming to see you,” Lourdes tells her. “He comes to
see Florence.”
Ever since Felix began calling me Florence, they’re calling me
Florence, too.
Whatever. I don’t mind much because I know what my real name is.
The following morning, Hedy’s up early. “Let’s all stop at that little
place there on Dewey Boulevard for breakfast.” She says we can have
sweet rolls before work.
I know it’s that hamburger stand except they serve sweet rolls there,
too. Then once we’re dressed and heading along the seawall, I realize
it’s the first time we’re eating breakfast out.

163
 >
Our bosses informed us they’ll be moving their housing sometime in
the near future to the other area west of our present location. It’s
halfway past our apartment, so we tell them that’s great. We’ll still be
able to walk along the sea to work. Our plan is to keep walking unless it
rains. Then we might take the jeepney.
This means we’ll learn to do other things besides the cleaning and
laundry after their families arrive. Most likely we’ll cook for them, too.
I think I’ll enjoy that since I like to cook anyway. To me it would be
a great challenge to learn to cook different kinds of food--American
food

>
It’s the middle of October 1946, and I’ve been working since August
in the Embassy, and I’m grateful this work has provided me the way to
earn my living. I feel my friends and acquaintances have been nice to
pitch in to help me get started.
Roman especially was very kind and thoughtful to get me this job. I
know he's concerned that I’ll be okay. He’s not a married man but a
caring individual. Now and again when I worked in his sister’s home,
he gave me a tip. Just some money to go to a movie or something. Not
because of the money I feel he was quite nice, but because he's a kind
individual.
After having his annual physical with the doctor, I’m saddened to
hear he’s stricken with tuberculosis. They’re required to have regular
examinations to make sure they don’t transmit anything to people they
work with in the compound. Since discovering his illness, he no longer
works at the Embassy. He’s confined at home now with Aunt Mary.
Yet whenever I visit him at their house, he acts cheerful as usual as
though nothing’s wrong with him. The only time I recognize he’s not
feeling well is when he starts coughing. He's quite caring, so I hope
people will return the goodness he shares with others. He’ll be needing
much help soon. This guy that so graciously got the job for me is now
dying with this disease.
I’m sad within, but God knows every one of us and when it’s time to
get out of this world I know Roman will be around until God takes him
home. I told him if he ever needs help, I’d be glad to come back to
help. I don’t know exactly what I can do, but perhaps he’d just like
someone visiting with him.

164
 Roman thanked me for my thoughtfulness and said. “You come see

The Aspectos are the same way. They say I can visit often--that we

So I go whenever I’m not downtown on weekends roaming with my

friends.

clothes in the windows.

We stand around looking at the way the things are put together. Or
seawall or something like that. Anything for the four of us

>

being celebrated. Supposedly this is when all the dead come back from
the grave to beg for food.

around the neighborhood for whatever is being handed out.

Some people give whatever they have whether it is tobacco or a
matchstick or other small item since
people are poor and haven’t much to offer. But they give something one

“I don’t want to go around like that,” I say.

Then they tell me I’m chicken and no fun.

Then they go out the door, but no more than five minutes later they
return.

same thing, and we don’t feel like going around with that crowd.”
Apparently, some others are smearing things on the neighbors’ doors

wish to be involved with that.

So we all sit around, playing cards in the kitchen. After a while, we

with wood. We’ll need quite a bit of detergent to scrub those clean.

>
Tomao went to the province to visit his folks, but he’s back on
his fourth visit to see me. He tells me he informed his parents that he’s

165
 I really don’t consider him my friend because he seems like someone
who just wants to visit somebody when he’s not working. At least that’s
the way I see it.
He’d like to go out to dinner sometime but doesn’t want to give the
impression we’re doing anything immoral. People often think the worst
of young people, so he’d like me to invite one of the girls along. He
wants to make sure our relationship is pure.
I know if I only invite one, the rest will be disappointed They think
that each time he sees me, they’re all included in the whole deal. So
inviting just one doesn’t seem right.
We sit here on the porch deciding what we’ll do, and he starts telling
me how he feels. He’s liked me from the beginning when he first
bumped into me at the theater.
I guess now he's pursuing the feelings he has. I’ve never thought
much about boys. I’m busy being a young girl and don’t have those
kinds of thoughts.
He even tells me he’s falling in love with me.
I don’t have anything to say because I don’t understand half of what
he’s describing. Nothing in my mind is about boys. “I don’t know. I’ll
have to think about it since I’ve never come across anyone like you.”
It’s never occurred to me to think that way about the opposite sex. To
me, boys and girls are just other human beings. They’re just there.
“Well, think about what I’ve said. I’d like to have an answer the
next time I come back.” Then he asks Hedy to go out to dinner with us,
so we go.
Throughout the meal, whenever Hedy is distracted, he tells me what
he’s thinking. He’s a guy to be admired. A gentleman. He’s one of
those who says “Look, but don’t touch.” It’s because he doesn’t want
anyone saying anything bad about our relationship--that I’m not playing
around with boys. Also that he wouldn’t harm a girl.
He wouldn’t want the next guy who might come along to think I’m
secondhand. And he doesn’t want anything to happen like some guys
and girls who have wrong relationships before marriage. Then when
something goes wrong, they break it off. So we’ll always take someone
with us when we go out. Not just anyone, but someone who can say
nothing went on between us.
I admire him for that. He’s quite a gentleman and thoughtful.
Actually, he’s like a big brother to me. He wants to make sure my walk
in the world as a young woman would be admirable. I’m very impressed
with his behavior.
He says his mom and dad will be coming to Manila sometime next
month in November. Maybe they can meet me. Perhaps he’ll bring his
cousin whom he lives with, too.

166
life, mingling with other people, I can’t behave as before. I have to
think of what this means. All the sudden a man is interested in my
it
never thought of having anything to do with anyone that way.

help because I don’t know what to do.

in an. So I need God’s direction. There’s much for me to think about

people. At the same time, I pray that my life will be pleasing to God.
were more interested in one of the other girls

still about how to survive.

over, she wants to be the one entertaining him instead. Well, each must
his own path, I guess. She’s from
here and a little bit
sometimes she mentions how she, too, wouldn’t mind having a

she’s thinking of visiting him each time she sees her family. From what

her. She has her mind set on someone who’s not interested.

also has her own way. From time to time I see her cozy up to someone
So I think she’s coming to realize that
of course, I really don’t know what girls

Here I sit with Felix, wishing my Mom were with me.

her guidance from time to time especially since I’d never seen people
know of some girls who

though. So I’m ignorant about this boy-girl thing.

I cry out to
I still want to honor my mom
i
can only continue to carry myself in the way that’s honoring to God and

The girls I live with don’t have much regard for my way of thinking

because this is just how I am. They want to go out dancing in places
they are not supposed to, too. Why go dancing with strangers you don’t
know?
We were brought up differently. They’re a little bit more wild than I
am, I guess, since they’ve always been closer to the big city. They like
to cuddle with boys and stuff like that. I’ve seen them when their
boyfriends come--just sitting in the boy’s lap. I don’t understand that at
all, so I ignore them and go in our room when they have company. I
just don’t like their behavior.
I’m praying hard that God will grant me my desire in this whole
matter. I’m young and not too familiar yet with the ways of life. So I’m
just going along as usual, trusting God to take care of me all the way. I
know I can’t go wrong with this way of thinking.

168
 22
What To Do With Felix Tomao

It’s the start of November 1946, and Felix, his parents, and cousin,
Pepe, are exchanging stories with me about life in the province and how
the war affected the people.
They seem nice, but I sense they may have second thoughts about
me. I appreciate their thoughtfulness though and thank them for
treating me to dinner at this Chinese restaurant.
Afterwards, we see a movie at the theater about the battle in Bataan.
I guess some people don’t mind seeing it again and again. I don’t enjoy
it but keep my opinion to myself. It wouldn’t he right to force my ways
onto anyone else.
After they drop me home, Felix tells his parents he’d like to visit
with me a while.
“Fine,” they say and head back to the apartment with his cousin.
Then on the porch, Felix thanks me for going to dinner and being
who lam with his folks.
“You’re welcome, I don’t know much about entertaining since it’s
been some time ago that I witnessed my mother serve guests and make
conversation.”
He nods. “Whoever your mother was, she was a real lady.”
“She was a lady,” I agree, “I could never ask for a better mother. I
thank God for the way my uncle took care of me from birth, too. You
know, I could have died out in the field where I was born or later as
many babies do. But I’m still here.”
Felix agrees that God’s been taking care of me and says he’ll return
after his parents leave.
“That’s fine. They came all this way to see you.”
Next he asks politely for a piece of thread. So after I fetch him one,
he asks to see how big my finger is.
I extend one hand but wonder why he wants to know the size of my
finger.
“No, I need your left hand.”
So I’m slow to open that one.
After he ties the string around the finger next to my little pinkie, he
says. “Thank you.”
I’m ashamed to ask why he did that.
Then he puts the knotted thread in his pocket. “Thank you very
much. The President needs me to fly him to another island tomorrow,
but I’ll see you after my parents leave.”
As I prepare for bed, the girls ask me all kinds of questions like how
dinner went with Felix’ parents, and do they like me.

169
 “They seem nice as far as I could see. But they’ll be here another
week, so Felix won’t come back until they’ve gone.”
“Goodie!” they say, “We can go downtown after payday this
weekend to buy material.”
I think to myself that I could stand another dress. But I’ll have to
find a picture in a newspaper or catalogue to show the dressmaker how
I’d like it to look.

>
We brought our material in yesterday, and the dressmaker already
has our dresses completed today. To my surprise, she made mine
exactly like the picture.
When she asks if she can borrow my picture to make a dress for
herself in another color, I tell her to keep it since mine turned out so
fine.
Whenever we want a dress made, she charges us two dollars and
fifty-cents worth in pesos.
For some people in the city that’s a lot of money, but I only earn
seventy pesos a month myself. It’s more than a Staff Sergeant in the
Philippine Scouts gets paid. Then again, I do many extra things. Often
when people entertain within the compound, they ask me to cook and
serve since they’ve heard I can do that. It’s how I make extra money on
the side.
>
I promised I’d visit Roman, but he’s asleep when I arrive. So I stick
around, hoping he’ll wake soon for me to say “Hello.”
Once he does, I can tell he’s getting worse. He smiles and says,
“I’m happy to see you. I hope you’re doing fine.”
“Quite well. I’m doing more work for other people now. I earn extra
pay cooking for their parties, so thank you for getting me the job.
Without you, I’d still be working for your sister.”
He’s quite happy to see I’m finally on my way.
I’m afraid Roman is another who’ll die shortly since I’ve never seen
anyone live long with tuberculosis. They just seem to wither away. I’m
visiting with Aunt Mary and little Vicki, too. And I see the baby’s
learned to sit up and stand a little now.
Lina’s happy to see me but must leave for work.
So I walk with her. Then from the restaurant, I take the bus back to
Harrison Boulevard where we live in Pasay.
Upon my return, I see the girls have gone out. Being somewhat
tired, I take my shower. Then I go to bed. It’s only six-thirty, yet I’ll
probably be asleep by the time the girls get back. I lie thanking God for

170
 It seems everyone who’s
feet is gone or dying away. But I thank Him for His provision and
protection.

There are many frightening things people can become involved in, here
in the city. I just realize that some people in this building aren’t living

Two girls on the other end of the house do awful things such as
selling their bodies to survive.
instead? Then some
It’s shameful to see them that way.

>

here to see me. He’s brought a bag of mangoes, grapes, and lancones

I favor the round, furry lancones. They’re good eating despite all the

He wants to speak with me on the porch instead of going out.

So I ask how his parents enjoyed their visit.
Pepe, and
appreciated meeting me. “I’ve got something for you,” he says. I

from his pocket and hands it to me. “I hope you’ll wear this ring for
me. At least I’ll feel I’m welcome in your life.”
Why should he do this? There are girls more worthy

He pleads for me to wear his ring, so he won’t feel rejected. “I’d like
to know someone’s in my life and that I’m welcome to visit you.” At

Now he’s getting a little too serious with this whole matter. “I don’t
have feelings for you.”

see you whenever I can. Soon you’ll realize I love you. Then maybe
you’ll learn to love me, too. I don’t expect you to feel love for me right

You like to think about things a while before you make up your mind.
I respect and admire you deeply for not answering right away

to be considerate of you, so I’ll do the best I know to be the kind of guy

you think I ought to be for a girl.”
 As long as he feels this way, we can continue being friends. “I know
what you’re talking about, but I’d rather take time to think since my
mom’s not here to advise me. I have to rely on the good Lord to direct
me since I’m not sure what life is about to have a boyfriend. It’s a relief
to know you don’t pressure me. Since this sounds like a commitment
for the future, I don’t know whether I want to get into it or not. You’re
older and know more things, so I appreciate your patience.”
I tell him that I don’t think I want to wear his ring, but if it’s all
right I’ll just keep it a while. Then maybe after I decide, I’ll put it on.
It’s beautiful and expensive. I saw one like it in the jewelry store when
the girls and I went browsing. “I know how much you paid for it and
don’t want to lose it, so I can return it if something comes up. Anyway,
if you don’t mind, I’ll keep it safe until I think more clearly about the
whole thing.”
He realizes he’s moved a little fast on me. “I should have
understood but was eager to buy you this ring to wear. The sooner
you’re able, it will show the other girls I belong to you. Then they won’t
get the idea I have my eye on them, too.”
It’s a good thing it’s Friday night. We’ve been sitting here two
hours with the others still playing cards in the kitchen.
Felix mentions how the President must go to another other island in
a few weeks. “He needs me to fly him to a vacation area to meet with
his Cabinet. I just hope we don’t have to stay long.”

>
A week has passed since Felix left for their trip. So some evenings, I
open this little box to look at his ring. For some reason, I just don’t
have the courage to put it on. But I promised him I’d keep it in a safe
place since I don’t want to lose it.
I do remember his saying he hopes to be back before this coming
holiday weekend. He wishes us to spend Thanksgiving together. Maybe
we could all go out to dinner.
The girls tease me now and then. Since Felix hasn’t come around,
they say he might not be back. They’re unaware he left his ring with
me, but when they tease me, I don’t say anything. I just chuckle within
myself. Little do they know.
Hedy even says, “You should have been nicer to him than what
you’ve been doing.”
“How much nicer can I get? I shake hands to greet him and again
when he leaves.’’
They think I’m a little dumb.

172
 “Well, that’s okay. I guess it’s all right to play dumb once in a
while.”

coming back.
They don’t know what I have in my possession, but one day I just

relationships that personally, I think, stink.

I let it go and head to the room since they’re playing cards again.

take to the dressmaker with more material. The way the girls are going,

thick.
Hedy’s planning to visit her family again, but she might take her

It’s no big deal. Maybe I’ll see how Roman’s doing. I might even
hang around Yolanda will
be up to, but at least I’ll get to see Vicki. I can’t really shop for
Each day we must buy fresh at
the tiny grocery store nearby what little food we need. Except dry rice.

Since Friday will be here before we know it I’d like to look up the
girls who arrived from the province with
their addresses but will have to ask directions. I suppose Mary, Cincia,
‘t
harmonize with their hanging around their boyfriends. We can’t do like

the guys, and I’m just not interested in boys at this point.
I think of Felix and feel sorry. Here’s a guy falling deeply in love

come to the point he’s talking about. But I thank God .for such a
person. People God sends my way have been true friends who accept me

Why do the girls have to nag? They ask if something’s wrong with

“I’m too young to get hung up with boys,” I say, “My thoughts are
still on how to survive.” I know they’re entirely different from me so I

about boys.

It’s midday on Friday, and there’s still a few hours before I get off
work.

173
will be meeting their boyfriends. Anyway, I have much to finish before
I’m through. My bosses have lots of drawings and such things they
bring to the apartment that must to be in place after I clean. Once I’m
out of here, they won’t be able to ask me where anything’s at until
Monday.
While I’m hanging clothes out to dry at the back of the apartment, I
meet another girl who’s sweeping the entrance next door.
She’s from Visayan Island and seems nice. “I only live about a
block from here.”
I’m happy to meet Celing, the new girl in the compound. It seems
her boss goes out on Saturdays, so she must baby-sit the two preschool
children that day, too. She even fixes their beds and everything the
same as weekdays.
It’s about time for me to make sure everything is in place here when
Hedy drops by. She’s headed for the gate where her boyfriend is
waiting.
So I take the bus home to find the place empty. I guess everyone
went somewhere after work again. Since I’m here alone, I clean up the
room and sit to pull the ring out again. But each time I look at it, I get
more nervous because it’s expensive. I feel sorry for Felix and wish he
had someone other than myself I don’t know when I’ll be crazy about
boys, and he’ll need a lot of patience for me to reach that point.
I hope the girls won’t come home scrambling tonight. They get to
shuffling around and don’t know when to quit. I don’t want people
touching my stuff I like them tucked neatly in my corner. But it seems
I’m the only one who cleans since they usually have dresses hanging all
around. I want mine neatly folded in my box. Maybe one day I can get
a trunk to replace this box.

>
It’s Saturday, and I’m on my way to visit the Aspectos. The girls are
waiting for their boyfriends to visit anyway, so I’m glad I won’t be there.
They just get awfully rowdy sometimes. I like quietness whenever
possible.
When I reach the house, the whole family is home. Even Mr.
Aspecto. Roman is still quite sick. But Lina isn’t working today, so she
thinks we can all go to the movies.
I’d like to be back to the apartment before dark, so we decide to go to
the theater right after lunch. Once we’re there, the show is an American
film, called Hamlet. We really don’t watch much though since we talk
half the time.

174
 I know some people around are annoyed because they’re moving up
to the balcony.
Later, we eat chop suey at the restaurant where Lina works. Then
instead of catching the bus from there, I take the one near their house.
It’s only six o’clock when I get home, but the girls are gone again.
So I sit and look at the ring. I’m here on my cot when I hear the front
door opening and think it’s some other tenants coming up the steps.
Then our door swings wide, and the girls come in. Right away,
Hedy asks, “What’cha got?”
“Nothing.” Of course it’s a lie. I don’t want them to see the ring,
and I cover it up.
“Did somebody give you something? The people you visited--are
they okay?”
“Roman’s still not well, but the rest of us went to the movie house.”
“Where did you go? What time? We were there and didn’t see
you.’’
“It’s not my fault you didn’t see me. I didn’t see you either.”
They’re frustrated that they didn’t see me there.
I had no control over whether they could see me, so I think they’re
ridiculous. Why they concern themselves as to whether I was there, I’ll
never know. They’re so occupied with their boyfriends anyway.
“Maybe next time we can all go together,” I suggest, “it’s nice not to
have bed bugs in that theater.” I don’t tell them what I saw because
they’ve seen the same show.
They want to go back again.
Another Hamlet? Why?

>
“Our boyfriends are coming to church with us.” The girls want me
to walk with all of them since we’re not far away.
I agree, but after we set out, I end up walking by myself. It’s okay
though. Sometimes I walk ahead. Sometimes they walk ahead of me
also. We’re all walking together except like strangers. So this is how it
is now that they’re involved with boyfriends.
They’re talking about going along the seawall after church to have a
hamburger at that stand.
As for me, I’ll just head home and hibernate.
But immediately after the service, they come back to the house to slip
out of high heels into walking shoes.
I’m thinking of sticking around home but soon realize, Felix is up
the stairs knocking on our door. He told me that he returned last night
but didn’t drop by because it was late.

175
 The girls tell him they plan to go for hamburgers for lunch.
So he says to me, “If you want to go, we’ll go.”
We do end up eating together, and the girls decide we’ll sit on the
seawall afterwards. We watch the water splash back and forth when a
voice calls out.
“Hey! you guys, what are you doing here?” It’s Felix’ cousin
standing behind us. We tell him what we’ve been up to, and he asks if
we’ll go for ice cream with him.
The rest of the gang says it’s a good idea. So we all sit and order
from the ice-cream shop nearby on Dewey Boulevard.
This time, I tell Pepe he can come see where we live.
So he accepts, and when we get home, we all talk on the porch about
the following weekend being an American holiday.
Since it will be Thanksgiving Day, the girls ask if we all might do
something together. There’s a nice park in Tagaytay, high on a hill
where we can spend the day looking over the ocean. People go to relax
and be themselves. There’s lots of coconut trees and benches set up
around. A person can see quite a distance from up there. Even though
we don’t celebrate Thanksgiving in depth here, we could do that and
maybe go to a restaurant for dinner.
At this point, Felix’ cousin offers to go with us. “It might be nice.
I’ve never been there.”
Then Felix quietly asks if I will wear his ring that day.
I suppose I’ve put him off long enough. But it’s not easy for me to
wear it since I don’t have feelings for him. I might appear a hypocrite
to show he belongs to me and I to him. As far as feelings go, there’s
just nothing there.

>
We’re here in this nice park, and I threaten to climb one of the
coconut trees.
Felix begs me not to. He feels bad, thinking I really want a coconut
to drink the juice. So he asks someone from the park to consider
climbing one tree to fetch me a young fruit.
I think it’s funny because I would have shown them all how I can
climb. But since he asked me politely not to, I won’t disappoint him.
The others cheer me on to climb the tree if I dare.
I don’t think there’s harm in it since I have all the equipment I need
I’m wearing my pantaloons under my dress, so I wouldn’t be showing
anything to the people down below.

176
 But
on a bench.
Pepe is speaking with him about his schedule of going to school
day and working nights.
Then when the time comes, we decide to buy
park since we won’t get back to the city until late in the afternoon. Even
then, we’ll need to catch a small empty bus for the nine of us.

many smaller islands we can spot out in the ocean. We can almost see
way out to
be fun to take one of the boats out there. Then we realize it might not be
a good idea to go this soon. There was quite a bit of fighting on that

cave somewhere?
We’re just talking about exploring the little islands. We’d have to

anyway.
Then Felix asks if I’ll wear his ring. He’s
he gave it to me, but I didn’t have the heart to do it.
This time I agree and slip it on in the presence of his cousin before

it on my finger, and I’m wondering why they’re both clapping and

saying, “
“What are you all doing?” The others assume something exciting is
going on and want to know about it.

Then, to my embarrassment, I hold out my hand to show the ring.

“Oh!” the girls cry, “that’s very expensive. Did he give it to you

“No, I’ve had it a while. I just didn’t want to put it on.”

“So you finally started thinking,
“No, my mind hasn’t changed. I still think the same as before.”
Now they’re all disgusted with me.

want to be left alone.

“You only say that because you really wanted that ring on your

I ignore them, but back at the apartment, the girls are so rowdy.
They keep teasing about my ring.
it go.

don’t feel anything for the person?”

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 This is the first time I hear from Carmen since seeing her in
Pangasinan. Apparently, she’s returned to Ilagan, doing fine, and has
been seeing a boy she met. They plan to marry next year.
I love her as a sister and wish her the best. I just hope she’s
marrying a nice guy who will take care of her. Anyway, she’ll let me
know when the wedding takes place and hopes I’ll be able to attend.
So I’ll be planning ahead for that.
Her uncle and his wife will give her the wedding since they want to
be sure it’s a nice one.
I hope she’s not rushing into anything and want her to have a good
life. I’d really like to go, but sometimes its’ difficult with living so far
away. But by God’s grace, I hope to be there. I surely miss her, and it
would be a thrill to see her again.

>
I found one of the girls who came to Manila when I did.
She’s thrilled to see me since she hardly gets time off from working
for this big family. There’re five children, so she does all their laundry,
ironing, and housecleaning. She also helps with marketing and
cooking. With chores, she doesn’t see anyone except friends of these
people. So she doesn’t know anyone close to her own age to visit. But I
hope we can see each other as she's suggesting because she’s lonely,
too.
She tells me one other girl, who came down here with us, already
returned to the province. She worked to repay the expense of her trip
here and some extra to earn money to go back home. She didn’t like the
city, so we won’t be seeing her.
I hope the third girl, Maria, is still around Maybe in the next week
or so I can look for her. She's more toward the northeast side of the
city. I hope she’s okay. I've thought of these girls often, but it’s not
their fault I haven’t seen them. It’s just as much my fault, too.

>
I found Maria, but she plans to return home after the first of the New
Year to marry a boy she knows. Her sisters and brothers are back there,
so it won’t be difficult for her to leave.
I’m happy for her and wish her the best.
It’s nice for all these girls to be able to be reunited with their
families.

178
 I’m just doing what I can to survive, but it’s hard to live alone.
Trying to care for myself and thinking on each day to come isn’t
something I can easily ignore. I also think of Mom often and struggle
not to become depressed. I need her advice. Life seems more
complicated and serious, as I grow older. There are more demands on
my friends and me. What do we do if we lose our job? How do we
maintain? I hope I don’t get carried away with the habit of spending all
the money like the others. I’d like to be able to save some.
Another matter is my cot. It’s getting wobbly from the girls sitting
on it so often. I’m afraid I’ll have to get another one since there‘s no
room for a bed That is, unless I were to rent a room somewhere by
myself. I only pay five dollars a month now, and alone I'd have to pay
twenty dollars each month. But I don’t think some of what the girls do
is nice, so maybe another room will come available for me in this
building.
Why do they want their boyfriends in our room to begin with? The
times I’ve come home from work to discover some of them was
upsetting. What they do doesn’t look healthy, and I disagree with it.
Hedy's just as wild, so I can’t depend on her to defend my beliefs. I
guess they can think what they want, but I don’t want to be seeing that
kind of thing.
Now that I’ve seen the other girls across town, I think more of
Carmen’s plans to marry. I sure would like to celebrate her happiness
when the day arrives. I suppose now it gives me an excuse to save
money for travel to the province.
I’ll let my bosses know I’d like to attend her wedding next year.
That way, they can find a substitute if they want while I’m gone.

>
I’ve met a girl who tells me she’s going to become a nun at the
convent.
She’d like me to visit her there since ladies and girls are allowed.
“Who knows? Maybe you’ll like that kind of life also.”
I say it might be a nice idea. Maybe I would want to do that.
She’ll quit her job to study to be a nun, so maybe I can visit to see
the kind of things they do at the convent.
I suppose being a nun isn’t so bad. I could at least see what they do.
Many things are a bit wild for my thinking here in the city and scare me.
So perhaps I’ll consider returning to the province where life is more
simple.

179
 >
It’s now Friday and payday. This is another challenge--figuring out
what’s needed for my groceries, rent, and bus rides. I’m thinking more
seriously about life because I can’t just work, be paid, then spend all my
earnings. It’s different from living in the country. But it appears I still
have five dollars left over to save even if I were to rent a room by myself.
So thank God I can manage with what I’m getting right now.
I also think of what I’d need for my own room. Maybe I can buy a
piece of furniture from time to time. I should consider a chair to sit on
and bedding for my cot. The girls sleep on theirs with nothing under
them, but it’s too naked for me. I need a sheet on top and also
underneath.
I suppose everyone's gone on dates with me here alone in the
apartment. At least I have a moment to think. It’s hard to do that while
everyone is yacking and clowning around the place. I’m quietly
thanking God for all He does in my life. I know if Mom were alive, I’d
still behave as she taught me. Even without much teaching in our
church back home, we knew God isn’t pleased when his people do
something wrong--when they sin. So I want to live a pure life for Him.
After thinking a while, I go to boil rice but see some other women
have the kitchen tied up. Since the girls aren’t here, I may walk down
the street to see what fresh vegetables, meat, or fish the old lady has to
sell. She often cooks in her little store for people as myself who work
and want something to eat without fixing it themselves.
Before the girls became involved, we used to plan to make things for
supper. We don’t do it anymore because they go places after work with
their boyfriends. More often, the young men wait for them at the
Embassy’s gate during the workweek. That’s okay. I can manage myself
It’s hard though because the girls often barge in, expecting something
ready for them to eat. But as long as they don’t inform me of their
plans, I’ll leave them to their own.
The women in the kitchen ask, “Where are your buddies?”
“I think they’re out.” The one is trying to be friendly, but I don’t
care to become close with her since she earns her living selling herself.
I don’t want to be involved around that. “I’m going to the market,” I
say and leave her cooking for her company.
The old woman has a free corner in her store, so I sit and eat my
supper. Then I buy a cake of soap and take it back to the apartment.
Once I tidy up my side of the room, I wash my few pieces of laundry.
The girls tell me I’m laundry crazy because I seem to wash my
clothes all the time. I can see why they say that since they manage to

180
wear their dresses five to six limes before washing. They just pack them
back in the box and change into another one each day.
I can’t see putting my dress away dirty, so I wash them before
packing them in the box. I don’t know how they stand to smell
themselves. They don’t realize they have a problem and ought to wash
their clothes every day. I’d rather be a wash fanatic than dirty. That’s
the way I’ve been raised, so I guess it’s habit for me. A clean habit.
I’m self-conscious as it is without going around worrying about how
I look and smell. Well, enough criticism.
The girls aren’t home yet, and that lady across the hall is getting
louder with her company. I think the landlord downstairs is growing
perturbed with her about making such a racket. It sounds as if they’re
trying to put their children to bed down there. Everything can be heard
in this place since the walls and floors are paper-thin. Even voices
speaking.
Whatever that couple is doing across the hall--they’re laughing
loudly and dropping things on the floor. I wouldn’t be surprised if she
gets kicked out since she's the loudest woman in this place. Every time
someone’s there with her, she forever drops things on the floor.
I’m lying here thanking God for another night to rest. I don’t like
what I am experiencing, living in the city. There's too much pressure.
Maybe after I go to Carmen’s wedding, I can make my decision. I might
go back home as a lot of girls are doing. I will see.

>
The girls stayed up late last night, so it’s the first time they aren’t
attending church. I can just go by myself since they’re sound asleep. It
seems as if we’re getting away from things we started out doing together
any way. They’re dropping off.
I thank God I’m able to go even though I don’t understand what the
priest is preaching in Latin. But I feel closer to God when I’m in
church. I feel close to Him even when I’m not there, but it seems like the
right thing to do on Sundays--go to church.

>
One boy from a neighborhood gang is walking past and says, “Hi,
Florence.” He lives with four other gangsters behind our house. But
from what I’ve seen, they’re nice as long as we’re nice to them. I’m not
scared since they only try to protect the area.
Now that he’s gone on, I’m tired of sitting on the porch. But there’s
no space left in the kitchen with the girls and their boyfriends in there.

181
I’m thinking of going to the room when I see Felix’ cousin come up the
walk. I wonder what he’s up to.
“Hi, how are you?” he asks from the ground below. “You don’t mind
if I visit with you, do you? It’s kind of lonely by myself at the
apartment.”
“I suppose it’s okay.”
Pepe then carries up fruit he bought from the market. “I think I’ll go
to visit my folks soon for Christmas,” he’s saying, “With school and my
job, I don’t have time to get out there except over holidays. I hope you
don’t mind my coming, but I got bored at home.”
“I don’t mind.”
“My parents are growing old, and my sister’s thinking of marrying
soon--have you ever eaten lechone?”
“Yes, many times we roasted pig back on the plantation. Usually
when something special was going on or when visitors came. Also,
once a year, my mom remembered the dates her mother or father passed
away and would slaughter an animal for the whole village to share. We
prepared food for them all and anyone else who wanted to join in.
Pepe and I talk about our different villages before he reveals his true
name. “My given name is Thomas Tomao, but everyone calls me Pepe.
Well, I just wanted to drop by, so I ought to go.”
I thank him and head indoors only to hear the girls tease me about
not hearing from Felix.
They’re also saying Pepe is interested in me, too. Why else would he
come around?
“You’re crazy,” I say, “that’s Felix’ cousin.
Of course there’s no way for Felix to communicate because
telephones aren’t available.

>
The dressmaker has made another dress for me, and it’s nice
looking, I might say. Perhaps I’ll save it for a special occasion. I look
at the calendar, and notice it will be only a few more weeks until
Christmas. My, this year has gone by quicker than I realized.
With the end of the year upon us, I think back to the many times we
could have been killed. But thank God I’m here today. Without the
Lord, I don’t think I could have made it through much of what I faced
the past year. I’m grateful He guides my footsteps.
So it will be another week before I can visit the Aspectos. We in the
Philippines don’t celebrate the holiday the way some other countries
might do, but we have something special to eat if we can afford it.
Other than that, not many people exchange gifts. We only celebrate
Christmas day to acknowledge Jesus Christ’ birth.

182
 We know that Jesus was born long ago--we’re told he came to die for
people’s sins.
So I hope to someday know more of Him. With what I’ve heard
mentioned from time and time, I’m curious enough to learn more about
Him. I hope and pray for that opportunity.

>
It’s so hot, and Lourdes and I are on the porch saying we might
stroll the seawall.
Then at that moment Felix walks up.
So we shake hands. And he describes how rough his plane flight
was with much rain during the return from the President’s vacation.
I'm guessing he’ll be around through Christmas holiday. Then I
mention his cousin’s visit.
“I’ve already learned of that,” he returns. Apparently, Felix laughed
it off but told Pepe it was time he looked for a girl if he wants someone
to visit. When Pepe asked Felix if he is jealous about his visit, Felix
said, “I’m not jealous. You just need to look for a girl for yourself.”
By his tone, I sense he’s somewhat jealous after all. Well, what to do
with Felix Tomao.

183
 23
The Accident

The girls will be away for the holiday, so Lina’s staying with me the
whole week. Then we’ll share Christmas dinner with her family. I’m
glad she doesn’t mind that I’m younger; she even clowns around with
me like a kid herself
We still must see what comes of the holiday, though, with Roman’s
discomfort. Aunt Mary has him sleeping upstairs now so he won’t have
to face people traipsing in and out.
I feel bad for him and hope he lives through Christmas.

>
Lina just met Felix, and he says he’ll be around for Christmas, so
she informs him we’ll go to her sister’s home for dinner.
“I won’t impose then.”
“You won’t be,” she assures him, “I’m sure the family would be glad
to have you.
He still insists he won’t tag along unless he’s personally invited by
Aunt Mary.
Aunt Mary told Lina she expects me and my boyfriend to come to
their holiday dinner. Since Lina likes Felix, I hope he'll grow interested
in her and let me alone.

>
It’s Christmas, and we’ve brought fruits and goodies to add to the
Aspectos’ gracious table.
“Roman is worse,” says Aunt Mary, “but he’d be glad to see you.”
When I go upstairs to find him quite ill, he manages to smile and
whisper, “Hi.” He doesn’t say much so I promise to check on him later.
If there’s anything you’d like, we’ll bring it to you.”
He thanks me, and before I even reach the stairway, he falls asleep.
Back in the kitchen, as usual we feed the men first. Then after
everyone’s eaten, we sit to chat. ‘Felix is so handsome,” they rave,
“don’t let him get away.”
I’m thinking, how stupid, but we have a good time visiting.
Since Lina, Felix, and I don’t work tomorrow, we return to Pasay to
visit on my porch. Then when she and I retire at one-thirty a.m., the
people downstairs are still partying.
Anyway, Christmas is over, and soon it will be New Years.

184
 >
Lina treated Felix and me to New Year’s Eve dinner here at the
Chinese restaurant where she’s a waitress. Since it’s a big night with
live music, she suggests we stay to watch others dance.
So we listen to this band play Hawaiian music and special requests.
When I spot the family that owns and operates the local theater,
their son makes his way to our table. “Haven’t I met you before?”
I nod. “You’re the guy who owns the movie house, right?”
“No, my father owns it, but I greet customers. That must be where I
saw you--good to see you again.”
“The same here.” Once he’s gone, I notice Felix’ strange
expression.
Lina does also and begins telling him about her family and how
Roman’s dying of tuberculosis. Her other brother lives in La Union but
occasionally visits. “I like my job,” she continues, “tips are good, and
our boss doesn’t hold back a percentage. Yes, I’m doing quite well.”
Evidently, customers prefer her service and will wait in line if necessary.
Their claim is that she puts them at ease for a more enjoyable meal.
At this moment, some patrons arrive to ask if she might wait on
them tonight.
She’s quite thrilled that they commend her service. “This is my day
off. But if you return tomorrow, I’ll be here and be glad to serve you.”
I feel good to be out with my friends, but Felix is tired of people
stopping to say “Hi” to me. Also, since it’s nearly ten o’clock, he wants
us return to the apartment soon.
I think what a wonderful evening this has been. Even with city
challenges, I know God’s blessings have been tremendous. I’m still not
used to this life though. Things are much simpler back in the province.
And although farming is hard work, we take time to know others out
there. Most people here are more sophisticated and proud and rush to
come and go. Of course we each have different abilities, but nothing
ought to be so grand to make someone conceited I accept people for
who they are and enjoy what I do to survive. Working hard with my
hands give me satisfaction.

>
It’s now January 1947, and Mr. Sadler again says he hopes his wife
will arrive soon. One daughter, Isabel, is planning to marry after

185
college, and their eldest girl has a three-year-old child and a six-month-
old baby.
I speak about Carmen’s plans to marry in July. “She hopes I’ll be
there, so I’d like to go if that’s all right with you. I’ll try to find
someone to take my place while I’m gone.”
“That won’t be necessary,” he returns, “your job will still be here
when you return.”
I now have peace of mind to attend the wedding and incentive to
save money. It’s going to take a whole month’s pay to get there and
back. I'd like to take more than a month to visit people who helped me
before I came here and try finding some families who worked for Mom.
I also must speak with the landlord about paying him a few months rent.
Then if I’m delayed, I’ll still have a place to come back to. Yet I doubt
I’ll be away that length of time.

>
May is nearly over with Carmen’s wedding drawing closer. I
haven’t told the Aspectos where I plan to go, so maybe I’ll surprise
them and tell them all about it afterwards. God willing, I’ll get to Ilagan
and back safely. I’m really excited now. If it turns out to be better in
the province, I may go back for good
Lina and I haven’t been able to spend much time together, but she
says the doctor believes it won’t be long before Roman passes away. So
the family watches him closely.
I’m sad about the whole thing because he’s always been concerned
for my welfare. And now he lays gasping for breath. I can only pray
God allows his death to be painless.
Now that there’s little over a month to go, Felix considers visiting
his parents while I’m gone. That would be good since he‘s gotten to the
point where he visits me every day he's off work.

>
My landlord and his wife appear genuinely happy that I will attend
my friend’s wedding. They even offer to hold my belongings in case the
girls move out while I’m gone.
I don’t own much other than my cot and bedding. So I thank them
graciously and say I’ll pay for several months rent before leaving.
It’s pretty hot when I return to the porch to enjoy the breeze. I’m so
excited to the point of not only counting the days but also the hours.
It’s difficult to picture how big Carmen’s wedding will be. Her uncle
will probably give her away in marriage. Yet the more I think of it, I’m

186
happy for her but do hope she loves the guy and isn‘t marrying for
convenience.

>
It’s July third! and my rent’s paid for three months. Now I’m
outside trying to flag a jeepney to carry me to the bus station.
The one that pulls up is already full with eight other passengers.
Therefore, there’s no other choice than to sit next to the driver.
We take off fast before I grab the bar in front of me for dear life. I
also tighten the handles of my purse and small suitcase about one arm.
Along our way, traffic gets heavier with motorists impatient to
arrive at work or other destinations.
We arrive at a crossroads and stop. Common practice is for the first
vehicle approaching the intersection to flash its headlights and then
proceed. Others go in like order.
From an adjacent corner, another operator motions for us to go.
But as our driver floors it, another bus flashes his lights and rushes
the intersection, too.
The screech of skidding tires suddenly fills my ears, and someone
screams. Then I gasp when an army truck thunders through the
junction straight for us.

>
I feel as if I’m suffocating while lapsing in and out of consciousness.
Voices are terribly faint as I sense people poking and prodding me.
Then their drone weakens even more and I fade into blackness.
How much time has passed I don’t know, but now I’m aware I’m
situated in a hospital bed.
Then nurses administer a shot while murmuring how it will ease my
pain.
Warmth envelops me, but my chest still hurts so badly. I know my
body is seriously injured because each time I attempt to speak, the pain
is too great to breathe. So I lie in a numb state and wonder exactly what
happened.

>
They have me hooked up to this intravenous line, so I must be doing
fine. Yet my head hurts with scary images flashing through my mind.
I’m with a group of strangers, and we keep colliding with something.
It’s the last I can remember.

187
 I now hear I’ve lain in this bed at least a week. I try to speak again,
but it’s such an effort to get a word out. Forget it. It hurts too much to
breathe.
>
My nurse, Maria, is the nun taking care of my daily personal needs.
It’s the end of July 1947, dear. Nearly four weeks have passed for you
here in San Lazaro Hospital.” She pats my hand, but I don’t have it in
me to speak. “Would you rather I tell you what was printed in the
newspaper about your accident?”
I nod to hear details.
She says our bus was thrown off the road after being struck by an
army truck. The official report states how our vehicle flipped over twice
before landing on its side. The driver and most of the passengers were
killed. Only one man was discovered alive after I was found pinned
under the bus with my purse and bag still in my arms.
“You were pronounced dead on arrival here.” She witnessed my
being parked to one side of the Emergency Room as doctors confirmed
the others’ deaths. And after working on whom they believed to be the
only survivor, they tried to decide what to do with my body. They
searched my belongings for identification but found none. Whom could
they contact about me?
Four hours later, one doctor heading out of the room happened to
glimpse some sign of life. Maybe my finger twitched. Whatever it was,
he grabbed hold of my wrist. Then he called out to the staff, “I feel her
pulse! She’s alive again!”
The other attendants hurried over, and sure enough, they confirmed
I had life. They were quick to cut away my blood-saturated dress to set
to work on me.
I was critically injured with a deep gouge in my forehead and a large
gash to the back of my head. Bruises covered both legs, and my knees
were tom open with one cap especially exposed. Glass shards were
removed from my left eye with more fragments from my right knee.
They patched what they could with one doctor predicting I’d never
walk properly or see out of that eye again. Despite all the blood loss,
thank God, a transfusion was not needed. They also took X-rays
revealing fractured bones throughout my body. The worst fractures were
along my ribs and back. So they bound me stiff in a body cast to reduce
movement.
Maria continues talking while she bathes the exposed parts of my
body. “Up to this point, we know of no one to contact about your
condition.”

188
 I don't want to have visitors now anyway. I’m discouraged about
life. Since I have no one, I don’t respond to the daily question of
whether I have family. I guess I’m just lying here, hoping to either die
or get better quickly. It’s terrible to possibly die in a hospital with no
one to know of it. Yet I suppose I ought to be grateful. I’m blessed
with such fine people caring for me.
One nun in particular who visits patients is genuinely kindhearted.
She just arrived to sit by my side and ask questions about my family. I
don’t have the strength to speak yet, so she prays I’ll soon be on my feet.
She also prays for my quick return to my family. Little does she know, I
don’t have any to go back to.
I’m alone in this world now. But I manage to whisper, “Thank you
for praying for me.” She barely touches my hand so as not to add to my
discomfort. “I’ll be seeing you again.”
My lips form the words, “Thank you,” before she steps to visit others
around me. I’m able to see that our room holds about twelve people.
Those patients aren’t as bad off as I am since they’re up and moving
about. They even come by to say “Hi” to me now and then.

>
Maria washes my face each day along with whatever else isn’t
hurting. She also changes my dressings. With one leg especially
bruised and swollen, she checks for proper drainage on either side of it.
At least the infection hasn’t grown worse.
So this is how it feels to get run over. Each day, I receive shots of
antibiotics. There are also painkiller shots intended to ease each session
when the doctor scrapes out flesh from my damaged leg. I do grit my
teeth each time they move my other leg with its botched up kneecap.
That would also be completely unbearable if they didn’t shoot it full of a
painkiller.
I’m still having a time of it struggling to breathe. But since I’ve
motioned for them to elevate my head some, it helps. Of course, I’m
still unable to move, so someone must often reposition me. I want to do
all I can to get better, but it’s difficult not to become depressed with my
condition. But I’m trying.
I’ve been here a month with no outside visitors. In a way I’m glad
because I wouldn‘t be good company. It‘s enough to concentrate on
breathing and healing. But I do have doctors, nurses, and other
patients coming to speak to me each day. I fervently thank God I’m
alive and pray to remember exactly what happened. Even with Maria’s
details, it’s hard to recall the facts.

189
 >
The doctors took another X-ray of my body and are thrilled to report
they’ll remove this body cast off me. Since my bones are healing well,
they’re eager to begin me on simple exercises as much as I can endure.

>
Two nurses help me to stand each day but must start my legs moving
to lead me down the hail. Lying in the bed so long wasn’t good for my
muscles. I lost most of my strength. Thank God I can be walked
although my legs still tremble. I just hope the nurses don’t have to help
much longer. I’d like to be able to do it alone since the pain can be
discouraging, along with the need to depend on others. But I’ve
promised myself to cooperate all I can to help speed my recovery.
My doctor now has great hopes that I’ll regain my strength and
eventually return to work. He’s thrilled to see me walking around with
the bad kneecap since he believed I’d lose the use of that leg. It’s a
miracle of God how both legs are mending well. My eye is also not as
tender.
“Who’s the lucky guy?” teases Maria. Noticing my ring, she
assumes I’m engaged.
“Just somebody.” I don’t want to give anyone ideas to search for
Felix and bring him here.
Well, one good thing is that my rent is still paid up for another two
months. My place will be secure to return to. Yet I can ‘t imagine what
the girls will say after hearing about this.
One of the staff has kindly offered to make sure I get home safely.
Also, some patients still come back to visit me after their release.
They’re overwhelmed with the fact that I was pronounced dead on
arrival.
I thank God for their concern.
The doctors still want to be sure I can do well enough on my own
before releasing me. They keep an eye on me since I still have trouble
breathing sometimes. “After you leave, keep us posted,” they say, “and
don’t forget to return for checkups.”
I’m thankful for all these people who display such kindness. I also
keep wondering about Carmen. Maybe I can contact Hedy’s parents to
see if she's finally married
>
Once in a while I feel dizzy while they walk me. I don’t know
whether it’s due to the injury or simply because I’m getting back on my

190
feet. So after I mention it to one nurse, she remarks that I’m coming
along fine by the looks of my X-rays.
She’s probably right. I do walk better than a week ago.
“You’ve come a long way,” some staff say. They cheer me on to
keep up the good work.
I’m sure looking forward to the day I can return home and go to
work. But the doctor suggests I take it easy for a while once I’m
discharged. Thank God the money I had tucked in my belongings is still
all there. I know that anyone could have easily taken it. My little
suitcase is still intact, too. Everything is preserved by God just as He
preserved my life. The Lord knew I'd need money when I get home.
It’s funny how everyone still calls me “Miracle.” They just never
bothered finding out my real name after I could speak again. Yet since I
told them, they still address me as Miracle.

>
A couple doctors tell me I can go home in a few days. If at all
possible, I shouldn’t return to work for at least a month.
“But my bosses are expecting me back about this time.”
“Perhaps you can let them know about your accident and why you
must take it easy.” They feel if I absolutely must work, I can’t put in a
full day. Then they ask who my parents are. “How much family do you
have?”
I just begin to cry, so one doctor sits comforting me. “I don’t mean
to pry, but do you have anyone at all?”
I swallow hard and tell him the story of my life--how I was adopted
quite young, and my mother died during the war. Then I came to the
city and have no one. I’m alone.
He’s very sympathetic since he knows many people in the same
situation.
“I don’t know how I’ll possibly pay for my hospital bill and your
time in caring for me.”
“Don’t worry, everything will be taken care of. We just want you to
be well again.”
I softly thank him and thank God in my heart for what He’s doing
for me. What else could it be? The good Lord is providing all the way.
The doctor mentions how Maria and Cora, the two nurses who’ve
tended to me since I arrived, hope to accompany me home. It’s because
they’ve grown to love me.
I’m grateful they’ll take me to the only home I know--a room with
three other girls. I hope everyone will recognize me because it seems
I’ve been gone so long. The girls knew I was supposed to go to the

191
province for the wedding, so I hope I won’t be carried away with all
their questions. I’m not really up to doing a lot of answering yet.

>
The nurses have escorted me home, and the room appears the same
as when I left. My cot’s in the same place, but it’s about ready to need
replacing.
I thank God to be back, and after the women leave, I think of what
to do with my days off. I must figure out how to get over to my bosses’
to explain and get my leg checked at the clinic. Much is on my mind,
but God knows what I’m ably to do for now. So I pray I’ll be patient to
wait for my body to function properly again.
My mood is depressed as I wait for the girls to come home from
work. But I have time to reflect on how good God has been to me. I
don‘t know why He delivered me from this accident. But He brought me
back to life, so I wonder what He has in mind for my future. This is a
new experience to remember to take medication. I’ve never even
swallowed an aspirin in my life before the accident. But I’m grateful to
have these pain pills now that my leg is throbbing.
I’m sure it will be a shock for the girls to find me in bed. I’ve never
been one to take a nap in the afternoon. Then they’ll probably start
asking questions. So I must prepare myself to give some answers. They
ought to be here soon--that is, if they come straight away.
For now, I lie thinking deeply of my mom. 1 know she wouldn’t
have wanted this to happen to me. I could have gone to join her where
she’s at, but I’m still here. So I have much to consider about being
alone and how to manage. The lives of many people around us are
affected by everything we do. I know the manner my friends have been
living has affected me quite bad.
At least I’ve come to know good people such as Roman. I’ll go to
visit the Aspectos when I’m able. They’ll also be shocked to learn what
happened to me.
Evening is near now, and I have yet to see any of the girls. Perhaps
it’s that lady from the other end of the building I hear out there. I reach
into my bag. Maria and Cora are such lovely women. I see they ‘ye
tucked apples, bananas, rolls, and sandwich spread in here for me.
Thank you, Lord. At least I won’t have to get something from the corner
store. I don‘t feel I can make it all the way down there yet.
Maybe next week I’ll return to visit them at the hospital instead of
going to the clinic. I’m still impressed with their feelings toward me.

192
 Since I was instructed to walk as much as I can endure, I head slowly
out to the restroom. Then it’s back to the kitchen for a drink of water. I
hope some people get here soon.
I just now notice the few things left tucked under my cot weren’t
disturbed. Then I sit to rest with a sigh. It’s going to be some surprise
for the girls to. find me here in the house.

>
It's now five-thirty, so I try combing my hair, but my head is sore in
places from the cuts. At least my hair is finally growing where they
shaved it to stitch some parts. Well, no one can really see the cut on my
forehead unless they look for it. Thank God my hair covers it. Not that
I’m ashamed, hut it looks funny with the hair sticking out like that.
The girls obviously walked home because here they come screaming
about their feet hurting. One says she can hardly wait to kick off her
shoes. Another is thirsty. It seems another has run to the restroom
while the last has come to unlock our door. It’s not long before they’re
all arguing about who forgot to lock up this morning.
“I locked it,” insists Mary, “but the padlock’s not on the door now.”
They continue about how they shouldn’t forget to lock up since
someone might sneak in to take their stuff.
Lourdes finally pushes the door open to see someone lying in bed.
She can’t make out my face though since I’m facing the wall. My
body’s covered with my sheet, so she screams, “There’s somebody in our
apartment! Someone’s lying in Florence’ bed!”
“You don’t think she’s back, do you?” whispers Cincia.
“I don’t know--I can’t see,” says Lourdes, “but somebody’s in the
bed.”
By this time, I feel silly and say, “Come on in girls.”
“Why did you do that!?” they cry, “are you trying to scare us? Why
are you in bed? And when did you get back?”
I sit up on the edge of my cot, but they can’t see the condition of my
leg with my pantaloons under my dress. “I got in midmorning. It’s
good to see you--it’s good to be back.”
They say, “Yes, it’s good you’re back. How is your friend? How big
was the wedding?”
I’m not sure how to answer, and I break into tears. There’s nothing
much to tell them except that I was dead, came to life in the hospital,
and now I’m back.
“What’s wrong,” they ask, “didn’t you enjoy your trip?”

193
 I keep crying, so Hedy sits right beside me. “What’s the matter, was
Felix here? You know, he’s been here often to see if you were back.
Did something happen with you two?”
I realize I’m obliged to answer their questions. “Hedy, may I speak
to you alone?”
The girls don’t mind and leave for me to tell her how I never made
it out to the province. I tell about the accident and how I was pinned
under the jeepney after it flipped over. Then I was pronounced dead on
arrival at the hospital.
Her eyes widen. “Why didn’t you have someone let us know what
happened?”
“I couldn’t speak and had enough trouble breathing. So I couldn’t
respond to the doctors and nurses.” I now show her most of my injuries.
“This is all I’m able to say for now.”
“All right, you rest, and I’ll tell the girls. Since tomorrow’s Friday,
we won’t go out.”
The following day, I clean and redress my leg’s wound. My knee‘s
still stiff but I thank God it’s not as painful as last week
When the girls arrive home after work, their arms are loaded with
stuff from the market. They scramble around the kitchen area while
Hedy checks on me.
I’m okay,” I say.
“All right, Lourdes will cook the rice while I make adobo and
pockpit. By the way, I told the guys they have to wait on the porch, and
we’re not going out tonight.”
I’m impressed. It’s the first time I’ve known her to be bossy around
here. The girls have surely gone all out, too. Besides food, they even
bought soft drinks as if they’re having a big party.
“This is supposed to be your welcome home dinner,” Hedy says and
then leaves the room.
When the girls check on me, I thank them for being so nice.
They’re feeling guilty that I was in the hospital and unable to do for
myself all that time. They just assumed I was having a good time
visiting my friends in the province.
I tell Hedy I ought to take my medication so I’ll be able to stay up
with them this evening.
So she brings water and instructs me to stay put until they finish
cooking.
Now I smell adobo cooking. I am glad to be back to familiar sights
and smells.

194
 >
ADOBO Recipe
(a coconut milk version)

I coconut
2-3 pounds pork and chicken, cut up
I cup vinegar
1 cup water
1 head of garlic
1 tablespoon peppercorns
Salt to taste
2-3 teaspoons cornstarch
(soy sauce to taste is optional)

Instructions: Crack the coconut open and carve out meat. Place
coconut meat in a strainer and squeeze out milk. Combine coconut milk
with remaining ingredients. Place mixture in cooking pot or wok. Heat
on medium-high until meat is thoroughly cooked and liquid is nearly
boiled down. Slowly stir in cornstarch one teaspoon at a time to thicken
sauce. Ready to feed 6-8 people. Serving suggestion: pour over steamed
white rice.

>
I wonder if the guys heard what happened to me after one makes his
way into the kitchen. “Somebody’s outside--what shall I tell him?”
Hedy comes onto the porch as Felix asks the guys if I’m back yet.
“We don’t know. We’ve just been ordered to sit out here until
dinner’s ready.”
Felix also asks Hedy if there’s any news from me yet.
“Yes, you have a seat, and I’ll get right back to you.” She comes
right back to let me know Felix is here. “What do you want me to tell
him?”
I know I must speak with him sooner or later, so I agree to see him.
She informs him they’re preparing a big welcome home dinner for
me. This is why the girls are all busy in the kitchen. She wants
everyone to stay on the porch until it’s time to eat. “You’re included for
dinner, too, Felix.”
He’s awfully eager to see me and asks if I might visit with him for a
few minutes first. So Hedy has returned to ask me about it, and I wish

195
for an easy way to let him know about the accident. I suppose I have to
pull myself together, get up, and walk out there.
Once I’m on the porch, he almost forgets himself and nearly puts his
arm around me. But he realizes he can’t make such an appearance to
people. So he draws back and reaches to shake my hand. “Were you
sleeping?”
“No,” I say, just taking it easy.”
Right away, he asks about my trip.
If you don’t mind much, I’ll wait until after dinner to tell you all
about it, okay?”
“I was just so excited to hear, but I can wait.”
“Now, Florence,” Hedy interrupts, “you can stay out here with the
guys if you’re up to it. I just don’t want you to get so tired, okay? I
want you to be able to sit up to eat.”
Felix’ expression turns odd. “Is something wrong, Hedy?”
“No, I just want to be sure Florence isn’t tired to sit up with us.
After all, this is her big night--welcome home party.”
Still, his eyes seem to ask why she would make such a statement.
That wouldn’t be like the healthy Florence he’s always known.
After we all sit sharing a good meal, I can’t figure out if everyone’s
quiet because Felix is present or because they don’t know what to make
of all this with me.
Hedy keeps asking if I’m all right.
‘I'm okay--I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”
Once in a while, the others look to each other. But they haven’t
anything to say.
Afterwards, I follow the guys out to the porch, and the girls stay to
wash dishes.
Hedy finally pokes her head out to ask if anyone wants to play cards.
Their boyfriends immediately go back in around the table and leave
Felix and me alone.
It’s not long before I’m telling him how I reached the province. Our
jeepney was hit on the way to the bus station and flipped over twice. So
I was pinned underneath with the driver and most passengers instantly
killed. “I was pronounced dead on arrival at the hospital, but I could
hear voices. And I wasn’t able to say anything because I was hurting so
badly. I could hear scissors going while they cut my bloody dress off to
examine all my injuries.”
Felix has turned white and grips the back of the chair he’s
straddling. He asks why I didn’t tell anyone I had friends who would
have cared to know my whereabouts.

196
 I wasn’t able to speak and had to struggle to breathe. It felt like my
chest had been crushed. Besides, they gave me lots of medication,
which made me sleep much of the time. I also couldn’t move with the
body cast they put around me tight. I am grateful though for the nurse
who tended to my daily needs. Other than that, I wasn’t totally aware of
everything going on.”
He’s obviously troubled to hear all this. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t have
been there.
“It was probably better you didn’t see me injured. You would have
been upset. The nurses did ask who the lucky guy was after noticing my
ring. But I just told them it was someone.” After speaking a while, I
express appreciation for his concern. “I just thank God I’m back here.
So if it’s all right with you, I won’t say any more about this now.”
“That’s fine. We can discuss it further some other time.” He then
says he made it out to the province. He even told his parents he’d given
me a ring in hopes of planning something together. “Have you given
any thought to your feelings--have they changed toward me at all?”
I’m aware he’s fishing to learn if I love him in any possible way.
“Felix, I just don’t think of you as a boyfriend. You’ve been nice like a
brother. Although I’ve never had a real brother. But you’ve been kind
and considerate, which is why I’m thankful you’re the kind of guy you
are. You don’t force yourself on me, and that’s why I like you.”
“I told my parents I hope you have a change of heart soon so we can
plan our future.”
“We can always talk about that later.”
At this time, Hedy comes to ask if I’m tired.
“Yes, I’m getting there.”
Felix agrees to call it a night since he doesn’t want me to have any
kind of setback. “I want you to go to bed and rest. But would you mind
if I come again to see you tomorrow?”
“I think it will be all right,” I answer and wish him good evening.
Finally, the girls tell the guys to go home so they can get ready for
bed.
I feel the night went well but reach for my medicine now. My leg is
throbbing after having sat up so long. So I’m relieved to elevate it.
Thank you, God, for the time with my friends tonight. He did answer
my prayer for strength and little pain while visiting. I just realize I
should let our landlord know I’m back. Maybe tomorrow I can make it
down the stairs by myself.
Hedy’s writing a letter to her mother. “Florence, is there anything I
can let Mom know to tell Carmen’s aunt as to why you weren’t at the
wedding?”

197
 I tell her to write about the accident, so she does and includes a
separate note for Carmen’s aunt. I’m glad she’s taken care of that for
me. Maybe I’ll hear from Carmen some other time.
Come the next day, the girls are kind to take turns making me
comfortable. They even do my laundry. Each time I turn around,
they’re helping me as though I’m still quite sick. For a short time, it
seems they turned away from their selfish ways. I don’t know how long
their courtesy will last, but I’m appreciative. “Thank you all for your
help. Last night was wonderful, too.”
They carry on while I wonder if I might reach the compound next
week. Maybe my bosses would extend my days off I also must get
checked at the hospital. Although I clean my leg each day, It’s too
painful to do more than swab it. Anything else is unbearable.
As for my finances, I can thank God no one took the money from my
purse in the hospital. Otherwise, I’d be left with nothing at all. So the
three hundred and fifty pesos. I’d saved for my trip are still in my
possession.
I finally ease my way down to the landlord’s apartment and tell him
what happened to me. I also hand him twenty pesos to cover four
months rent. He and his wife are sympathetic, and she gives me a hug.
“Ouch!” I whisper.
“I’m sorry dear, I didn’t know you were in a lot of pain.”
They both understand once I explain that many of my bones were
fractured. “You don’t have to pay your rent now. You can get it to us
after you’re back to work.”
They’re so gracious that I pay them anyway. Then I get back upstairs
as Felix arrives.
He’s brought fruit and plenty of other food from a restaurant to share
with all the girls.
Later on, he and I are on the verandah with him pursuing the subject
of marriage again. He knows my feelings but wants to marry me
because he thinks I need someone to care for me.
After pressing me further, I say I may go through with that after the
New Year. ‘Until then, I’ll think further on the subject. This is a serious
matter we’re discussing.” I now recall having gazed at my ring in the
hospital. It sparked me to remember everyone I know, and I often
thought why did I agree to wear this? On the other hand, it might be
nice to have someone in my life.
To date, I still don’t love Felix, and it’s hard to imagine what
marriage entails. So what am I to do with this kind of friendship? I
know nothing about loving a man. Love to me was basically the words
my mother gave me along with her hug the day she died so before I
commit to Felix, I must know more about the involvement between a

198
man and a woman. And I pray to come across someone who might
advise me well.

>
The doctor at the clinic said my leg is doing great. “Just rinse with
this solution each day and change the dressing,” were his instructions.
Since I’m stronger, I’m on a bus to the compound. The medicine
must have helped me heal although I owe this progress to God and
friends who‘ve encouraged me.
Mr. Sadler happens to be home when I arrive to explain my
situation. “See, I was in the hospital all that time and then at home the
past three weeks. The doctors told me to rest a while. That’s why I’m
here to talk to you. Maybe in another couple of weeks I can return to my
job.”
He’s compassionate and wishes he’d known about my terrible
accident. “Mrs. Sadler won’t arrive until around the fifth of November,
so you take all the time you need to get better. We can send our laundry
out until you return. Just don’t feel rushed to get back to work now.”
I’m grateful to him since it’s been nearly two months since I’ve
worked.
“Do you have money?”
“Yes, I didn’t have any place to spend what I saved, so I still have
enough to get along.”
“Are you sure?” He withdraws money from his pocket. “Take this in
case you need to buy medicine.”
After it’s pressed into my palm, I find it’s the same amount of money
I receive for a month’s wages. I’m astounded. “I’ll work extra hours--
extra days for this.”
“No,” he insists, “that’s your gift.”
I don’t recall receiving many gifts, so I’m thrilled and begin weeping
because I don’t exactly know how to express myself.
“Don’t cry, Florencia, just remember that a lot of people love you
and want to help.”
Now I sob. I’m overwhelmed to think, how could it be that a lot of
people do love me?
My mind flashes back to my natural mother and her rejection for
me. It’s difficult to put together, but the love of people and God’s
goodness seem to make up for what I never received from her.
I still love her and wonder how she is and where she‘s at. I do hope
that someday she comes to feel love in her heart for me. But I must
think positive thoughts since it’s the only way I can keep going in this

199
world I’ll always try to remember people who've been kind to me.
Mr. Julian has just come in, so I also inform him of my situation.
He’s quite stunned to hear my story, and tears fill his eyes. I’m so
sorry,” he says, “did anyone know you were in the hospital that length of
time?”
“No, but I had lots of company--the nurses and doctors who watched
over me there.”
“Oh, dear,” he adds and tells me his wife and daughter will arrive
around the end of November. “Perhaps we will have Hedy come work
for us. That is, if she’s still interested.”
I nod. I’m sure she looks forward to the opportunity to work for you
and your wife.”
“Send her over, and we’ll discuss it. Of course, my wife may have
more for her to do than the housekeeping.” He also asks about my
financial status and reaches into his pocket the same as Mr. Sadler had.
Then he gives me the same amount I usually receive on payday. “I
know that becoming sick might call for medication and money to get
back and forth to see doctors.”
I can’t believe all this, so I break into tears again. I just cry and cry.
Both men tell me they love me and would like me to return soon but
not to rush myself so I can only thank them over and over and praise
God for continuing to provide since my birth.

200
 24
Extreme Avenues

Felix flew the President to meetings in the mountains, so they’ll be

gone a week or so. In the meantime, I’ll try to behave here at home.
I’m taking everyone’s advice to rest as much as possible to be back to
work in good shape. It’s a relief not to have to wrap my leg anymore.
By this big scar, I see it’s nearly healed.

>
I’m here to see how my friend is in the convent in case I ever decide
to do the same.
She speaks about her activities and the idea of possibly leaving. “I
plan to explain to my superiors that my thoughts are more drawn to the
outside world. There are also certain things taking place here, which
I’m not pleased with. But I won’t mention them.”
I respect her privacy and go on to tell her about my accident. “I’m
visiting while I have time before I must return to work.”
She’s quite appreciative. “But don’t forget, the next time I see you,
I may be out.”
“That’s fine. You can come by my apartment anytime.”

>
Hedy has accompanied me to visit the Aspectos. She says I
shouldn’t go all over the place by myself.
So we’ve just learned the sad news that Roman died the very same
day I was to go to the province. It was the day I had the accident and
came to life again.
Now that he’s been gone a few months, everyone’s sad he was
unusually young.
Since Lina doesn’t have to work, she takes Hedy and me to dinner at
the Chinese restaurant. Then she explains Roman’s funeral. “We had
to put him in an aboveground vault --- you know, the mausoleum. We
couldn’t afford to bury him in the ground. So his casket was slid into
the wall and sealed up. That’s the whole grave.”
It’s good to hear her mention how he passed quickly, although I’m
sure he suffered enough up to that point.
Back on the street, we invite Lina to stay overnight at our place.
She agrees and comes home with us to clown around with the girls.

201
 There, they each tell her how surprising it was to hear what
happened to me. But they can’t understand why I didn’t let anyone
know I had friends nearby who care.
“I couldn’t talk,” I remind them, “no one even knew my name. I was
a miracle a long time in the hospital, and that’s what they called me.”
They’re still sorry, but I say it’s not their fault. I’m just grateful to God
I’m here now.

>
Felix brought Pepe along to see how I’m doing. “You’re stronger
than the last time I was here,” he comments. He then mentions having
spent much time reading while waiting to fly the President home again
to the capitol.
As he speaks, my mind wanders home to the province. This is the
end of October 1947, and I’ve been in Manila a long time. Will I ever
see my old friends again? I don‘t know. For now, this is home.
Pepe’s quite shocked to hear the details of my accident.
“I don’t want to dwell on it,” I say, “I’d like to move on and think
positively.”
“I’m going home to see my parents for a few days at the end of the
month,” Felix puts in, “so I can be here for Thanksgiving and
Christmas. It will also be a good time to tell them that we might marry.”
“What about your folks feelings toward me? They may object to your
marrying a girl who isn’t educated?”
“Education or none, I love you and will marry you anyway.”
In my heart, I don ‘t want to do that unless his parents also love the
girl he wishes to wed. I’ve seen people marry without family approval
and then have it all turn sour. So I don ‘t believe it would be good for
either one of us.

>
I’m back to work for the first time but I find I must take it easy so as
not to tire quickly.
Then once afternoon rolls around, Hedy comes to speak with Mr.
Julian about the job.
“My family will be here soon, so we’d like someone to work for us,”
he tells her.
She readily accepts and says she must notify her present employer
that she’s quitting.
So now I’m privately hoping Mrs. Sadler has a good trip to come
here, too.

202
 >
With Felix visiting his parents and sisters, Pepe is saying he just got
back from the province himself. “My aunt and uncle told me the family
isn’t happy that Felix gave you a ring. They don’t think it’s right.”
“Don’t worry because Felix knows I won’t marry unless his parents
are in agreement.”
“Please don’t tell him what I said, okay? It will only upset him. But
anything you’d like to know from here on out, I’ll tell you about it.”
“Just don’t worry, Pepe.”
He’s grateful that I’ve allowed this visit since he gets lonely
whenever Felix is away.

>
Well, this is a big day here in Mr. Sadler’s new apartment--the sixth
of November. I have the window blinds clean and hung, the bed made
up, and I’ve placed fresh flowers on the table. So I’m in excited
expectation of my new boss’s arrival.
When Mr. Sadler returns from the ship’s dock with his wife, he
introduces the two of us.
“Frances, this is your housekeeper, Florencia.”
“I’m glad you’ll be my housekeeper,” she says and hugs me. After I
thank her, she suggests I take a day or two off while she rests from her
very tiring journey. “It would give me the opportunity to get over my
seasickness, too.”
I nod and thank them politely before gathering my things to go
home.
“Also, when you come back to work, you needn’t come so early--
eight o’clock is fine.”
>
The Sadlers had to transfer to another apartment on the opposite end
of the compound. It was to free up apartments to house all the single
people living here.
I’m thinking, this new place is nicer and larger with its extra
bedroom. Hedy also works for Mr. and Mrs. Julian now, and I’m
pleased that she’s nearby to share lunch with often.

>
Felix’ telegram reads: December 26, 1947. Emergency. Father
dying. Come home quick.

203
 >
I’m quite surprised to see Felix and his new bride standing before
me. He went to his parents’ to discover his father far from his deathbed.
Instead, a wedding party was prearranged, and a girl was selected from
his home village. He was given the choice of marrying her or being cut
off from his inheritance.
So here they are, back in the city as husband and wife.
Felix frowns when I remove the ring and give it to the new woman
in his life. ‘This belongs to you now,” I tell her.

>
My detective friend, Arturo, has taken me to shooting practice
several times.
So once I learn to handle a revolver, his group brings me along on a
few nightly police raids. Our mission is to storm seedy places for
certain women who failed to renew their license to prostitute. Every
scenario’s the same as we drag them out, kicking and screaming.
But one particular arrest took four of us to restrain a woman.
That was enough for me. I finally tell the guys, “I don’t think I want
to become a police woman at all. This is tough with the girls clawing
like cats to get away. I have a day job and don’t care to work under
these conditions. So count me out of this game.”

>
This cooking contest has turned out to be fun. Each able
housekeeper has prepared a special meal that we also serve to our bosses
in the mess hall.
Since my talent is judged highly, I’m now asked to cater parties from
time to time for various families. It would be up to me to help prepare
food and serve guests.
I’m happy to make myself available since it would bring in extra
money and fill my spare time. I can even get some other girls to give
me a hand when necessary.
Then as this gathering winds down, Mrs. Julian asks Hedy if she’d
like to live inside the compound. “I’ve prepared the spare room so you
can stay to baby-sit our daughter if we go to play bridge or whatever
with our friends.”

204
 I don’t think I can,” says Hedy, I have a friend--a roommate that I
wouldn’t want to be left alone outside the Embassy.” She’s referring to
me of course.
So her bosses insist they’ll fix the place up with bunk beds for me to
sleep over, too. Then if Hedy happens to go out on a date or something,
I could look after their daughter.
Hedy mentions the idea, and I think, that might be nice. Perhaps
we’ll take them up on their offer.
Mrs. Julian has come directly to me now. “You don’t mind, do you?
Then you could sit with Mary Ellen if Hedy were to go out.”
“It's all right with me if it’s all right with you. I just don’t want to be
an inconvenience.”
“Of course not. You’d be doing us a favor.”

>
Hedy and I moved into the compound.
Although Mr. and Mrs. Sadler have a spare bed available for me, I’ll
probably stay with Hedy most often. The two of us are quite fortunate to
have this opportunity to live where we work. It surely is from God.

>
One night while Hedy and I are talking on the bunk beds, my
thoughts return to my childhood. The old woman in our village told me
a few times that I would grow up to marry a man from a different land.
He would be surrounded by books and be quite studious. So now I think,
what might that mean?
My thoughts are cut short when I hear Hedy snoring below me.
Then I fall asleep only to dream of some guy I meet.
He keeps grinning and tries to speak with me.
I just turn around so I won’t see his face.
The next day I ask Mrs. Sadler if she thinks we’d be allowed to go to
the chapel to hear the minister speak.
“Of course, would you like to go with me? I’ll take you.”
So we go together to listen to the man referred to as “Chaplain.”
He speaks much about God having a son, named Jesus.
I can’t help yearning to know more of what he’s talking about.
“We can bring you back again,” Mrs. Sadler mentions outside, “you
can even come by yourself if you’d rather. I’m sure anyone can hear the
Reverend that wants to.”
Later, I tell Hedy that I went to the chapel with my boss. “You can
come sometime, too.”

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 “Sure, I’ll go with you once in a while, but don’t forget that you’re a
Catholic and should attend your own church.”
I don’t say any more about this since I know full well that I was
raised in the Catholic faith. Yet I didn’t receive much of the teaching
because I never understood Latin.

>
I’m here with other women in the laundry house while we scrub our
bosses’ clothes in these cement tubs.
Two guys walk in that claim to work in the compound now. One’s
name is Peter Riviera, and the other’s is Jaime Umandap. “We came to
check out the laundry room.”
Some of the girls ask, “Where do you work, and what do you do?”
“We clean house for some American servicemen living here.”
We’ve never seen them before, and they leave as suddenly as they
appeared.

>
Lourdes, Mary, and Cincia are still out there in the old apartment on
Harrison Boulevard.
As for Hedy and me, it’s a new world to be living in the American
compound. We have a new way of life with this new language to
master.
To me, it’s a beautiful environment. I’ve come to live in the
Sadler’s spare bedroom so Hedy can get better settled in her place of
work. Then if she and I want, we can be back and forth to stay in each
other’s place.
Mrs. Sadler has just instructed me to fix Mr. Sadler’s breakfast for
the first time here in my new home. He’ll have an egg with bacon and
toast. She wants his toast dark and then the burnt surface scraped off
before buttering.
I’ve never seen anyone eat it this way before, I think. But I catch on
quick, and Mr. Sadler seems to enjoy his breakfast.
“You fixed it just right,” he says while munching away.
I’m glad I didn‘t do it wrong.
Then when he’s about to be off to work, he embraces his wife, and
they kiss.
I cover my mouth and run from the room to hide.
Once her husband’s gone, Mrs. Sadler asks me why I rushed off.
“I've never seen a husband and wife do like that, so I wanted to get
away.” “Don’t your people do that, too?”
I shrug and shake my head.

206
 “We kissed because of our love for each other. That’s how we tell
each other goodbye.”
“Nope,” I say, “nobody does that in my country.” I now have a
terrible feeling I don’t belong here. “You Americans do something
funny.”
She laughs. “Oh! no, dear, we do things like that because we love
each other.”
Again, I shake my head.

>
“Slower!” barks Haskell, “there’s not enough for me to do around
this base as it is.”
Sergeant Henry Miller ignores his roommate’s request. Work has
progressed well here at Nichols Field. So he is proud to have mastered
the art of troubleshooting the Air Force’s communications equipment.
And since it’s beneficial to the radar set he supports, it’s good to see the
dropoff in the backlog of unrepaired items. He’s geared to work
intensely, so he just keeps on.
The weather is sunny and beautiful which has him considering what
to do over the next few days. His schedule has permitted time off work,
so he begins by wrapping up and returning to his apartment. There, he
sits unwinding with a book but is interrupted by a rap at the door.
It’s a Filipino man, named Jaime Umandap. “I’m here to clean the
apartment.”
Haskell’s out as usual, so Henry invites the fellow in. When the
nineteen-year-old immediately clicks with the housekeeper, he discovers
they’re close to the same age.
Then after Jaime tends to his duties, he agrees to show Henry about
local Manila.
>
Jaime chuckles while Henry eagerly snaps one shot after another
with his camera. For the serviceman, the Malacanan Palace, Santo
Thomas University (famous for being an internment camp for
Americans during the Japanese occupation), the Intramuros, and San
Sebastian Church are sights for his impressionable eyes. Especially
after hedgehopping from one assignment to another across the Pacific
Ocean.
As the two men make their way past a sidewalk bookseller, several
books of interest catch Henry’s eye. So he buys them on the spot. An
up-to-date Radio Relay League Handbook and two radio engineering
books seem just the ticket. Since he wants to attend college to obtain a

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degree in Electrical Engineering after his discharge, these should
provide an edge on preparatory reading.
More days follow with Jaime leading Henry on a short tour of the
entire city.
From time to time after that, Henry notices appealing female
housekeepers out and about at work much as most others. There must
be some way to make social contact, he thinks and then conceives the
idea of coordinating group snapshots with the women. He figures it’s a
great notion since his hobby happens to be recording unusual sights he
encounters.
With respect to his new friend, Jaime agrees to arrange it.

>
I go to answer a knock at the door.
Jaime and Peter ask several housekeepers to come outside to have
their photograph taken. “Would you join us, Florencia?”
Mrs. Sadler comes to my side. “Go ahead, dear, you’re only having
your picture taken.”
I’m somewhat perturbed by the pressure but follow the guys.

>
With a camera ready, Henry makes a note of today’s date, August 7,
1948, in his journal. He’s quite eager to see if his plan will pan out.
It’s a perfect sunny morning as the girls slowly turn up in the grassy
area between his apartment building and another adjacent.
“We’re ready,” says Jaime. He and Peter are first to pose for the
camera.
A couple of guys who are part of Henry’s contingent at Nichols Field
now show up to watch. They stand around as the girls assemble on the
lawn and then again on the building’s steps.
Henry’s satisfied with the results and thanks the ladies for coming.

>
I stop off at the Julians’ apartment before returning to the Sadler’s.
“Yes, Florence, those guys came here asking me to pose, too,” snips
Hedy, That I’m not dressed for that, and I feel grubby. So I just refused
to go.”
I shrug. I don’t understand what all that picture taking was about
anyway.

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 Come evening, one of the men who’d witnessed the photo-shoot
remarks about the girls. “You know, I had my eye on a certain one.”
Henry tips his chin. “Personally, Don, I think I like Florencia best.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right. I like her best, too.”

>
“Guess what?” Don pipes, “I invited Florencia to go with me for a
picnic out at Tagatay. She’s agreed to go, and I intend to make out with
her.”
Henry’s brow creases, but he says nothing. Florencia didn’t appear
to be that type of woman, he thinks and frowns.

>
I’m glad Saturday’s finally here, I think, and it’s a good day to visit
the Aspectos. I’m waiting for the bus on Harrison Boulevard by the gate
to the American compound. An American serviceman crosses the street
to me. I don’t mind though. They all seem to be nice around here.
He points to a house behind the wall, which is across the street from
the compound, and asks how he might get there from here.
I know my way some and direct him to a narrow alley that leads
straight to that home. He’s still uncertain, so I personally walk him
around to the other side of the wall. Then I turn to leave but get yanked
back abruptly by the shoulder.
This man attacks me. He knocks me to the ground in an instant and
is all over me. We wrestle and roll, and I fear his strength may overtake
me. Then he tears my dress while I fight hard to get him off.
My adrenaline surges more strongly. Then I grab hold of a rock and
smash his arm with it.
“Aahh!” he howls, “you--”
Now I cut loose and stumble away. I’m clutching my dress closed
while running scared and humiliated.
Back through the gate, a guard calls out, ‘Are you okay?!”
“No!” I cry and keep on going straight to Hedy’s house. I’m so
upset and shaking when she opens the door. “I was attacked by an
American serviceman! It was one of those guys who took pictures with
all the girls.”
Hedy’s mouth drops and then she whisks me off to her room.
“I was waiting for the bus to go to the Aspectos, and this happened
to me. I’m so mad--I feel I could kill anyone who comes around. Why

209
would he do something like that? I’ve never hurt anyone.” I sob hard
now. “I don’t know what to do--I don’t dare go back out again.”
She seats me and draws me close.
“I feel dirty, Hedy, like someone dumped me into such a nasty place
with the way I’ve been handled.” I’m so sick at heart. Where did 1 go
wrong? I thought people are kind, but guess they’re not after all.

>
Henry spots Don stepping from a friend’s car with his arm in a
sling. So he hurries to catch up to him. “How did your date go with
Florencia after all?”
Don keeps walking. “We stopped at a restaurant for dinner, and
afterwards I brought her up to the apartment to look at pictures. That’s
when I got what I was going for.”
Henry shakes his head. He’s disillusioned about Florencia. “So
what happened to your arm?”
“We were crossing a fence--yeah, we crossed a fence when I fell and
broke my wrist.”

>
Hedy and I don’t go anywhere all week. We stay inside the
compound, mostly at her place and think hard about our lives.
During this time, she confides how her boyfriend forced her into
sexual relations the month before we moved here. It’s the reason she
broke up with him. Now she’s heartbroken and scared because she
hasn’t menstruated in a month and a half. She saw a doctor, and he
confirmed her pregnancy.
I can hardly believe it. God, I need you, I cry inside. I don’t care to
live any longer—not with these feelings. I'm ashamed to be seen
anywhere because I feel so dirty and humiliated as if I’m no longer any
good. I weep for some time before dropping off to sleep.
Then it seems a voice comes to say, “Get up, you’re going to be
okay. Just get up, and keep going.”
I believe I must have dreamt it once I wake. But I tell Hedy what the
voice said anyway.

>
Mrs. Sadler has noticed the difference in my behavior. She even
comments that I’m acting depressed. “Are you okay?” she often asks,
“is there anything I can do?”
I can’t look her in the eye and tell her what happened. “I’ll be all
right. Maybe things have gotten the best of me lately.”

210
 “If there’s anything I can do to help, please come to me.”
“I don’t think so, ma’am. I’ll be fine when I get over it.”

>
“I’m transferring back to Clark Field,” says Don.
Henry’s eyes narrow. “But you haven’t been here long.”
“Well, my arm needs attention, and it’s nearly time for me to return
to the States.”
Odd, Henry thinks when Don’s paperwork is processed quickly.

>
Mrs. Sadler says she’s observed me the entire week. “You don’t look
like the cheerful Florencia I know. There must be something wrong. Is
there anything we can help you with?”
I can’t take any more and break down crying before her.
“What’s the matter, dear? Now I see something is definitely wrong.”
So I tell her what happened to me a week ago.
She feels awful and asks, “Who did this?”
I can’t tell her that one of her people is to blame. I just keep crying.
“I’ll be okay,” I say.
“Florencia, I have children of my own and remember how it is to be
young. I know it can be difficult to open up to an adult. But I’d like to
be of help if I can. Remember that I care and love you as a daughter.”
For now, I thank her for the fact that she’s already helped me by
speaking with me.

>
I’ve been spending my nights with Hedy, and we try to encourage
each other. We try to plan what we might do to get back on our feet--to
restore ourselves to normal. Yet for me, it seems I’ll never feel normal
again.

>
Again I dream someone is talking to me but can’t see who it is.
“You will be okay,” it repeats, “get up, and keep going. You’ll be fine.”
I don’t know what to make of it after I wake. But I tell myself I must
try to keep on as I did in the past. With God’s help, I’ll make it. I know
the last week has been difficult, yet I can’t help wondering

211
whether it would be better to return to the province. Would I be fine
there or also come across people just as bad as some here in the city?

>
A big decision must be made concerning my mother’s land. I still
don’t know how I would ever rebuild that place. But the people who
worked for my mom keep coming to mind. They need a place to go--a
place to call their own. So after thinking long and hard, I decide to find
a way to have the land divided amongst them. Perhaps this will be their
means to live and support their families.

>
My friend brought me to this lawyer, Gregorio Ortega. He’s quite
friendly but growing old. So he doesn’t practice often these days.
Because he comes well recommended, we’re here to see him in his home
office.
“Please don’t call me Mr. Ortega,” he says with a wink, “it makes
me feel awfully old. But if you call me Gregorio, it might help me feel
young to perform my duties. Okay, young ladies?”
We laugh because he seems like some joker.
I begin by telling him how I’d like my mother’s land to be divided
among a certain group of people.
Then he says he’ll only charge me half the fee other lawyers would
to take care of it. “It will cost you two-hundred and fifty pesos to
process all the paperwork.”
I’m grateful to still have most of the money I’d saved. God knew
this would be the time for its purpose. So I no longer have to delay
straightening out this matter.
“I must make a trip to Santiago to check out all the details first,” he
says and jots down a date for me to return here.

>
We’re back to see Gregorio.
Evidently, he went to the province to be certain everyone I named is
actually there. It’s important he meets them personally. However, since
he didn’t find them all, he’ll go again in another week or so. He’s even
hired someone to find each person. Then we can properly list all the
names that ought to appear on paper.
“It’s awfully nice of you to do this,” he says and reveals the fact that
he knew of my mother. Manuel also happened to be the young lawyer

212
working for him back then. “I was aware that he visited Lydia at the
plantation several times.” Then he tells me that Manuel unfortunately
was killed during the war, too. “He was working inside our office
building the day it was bombed.”
I’m stunned. So Gregorio knows somewhat of this thing he’s doing
for me.
He says he hopes to get the job done quickly because he hasn’t been
feeling well lately. “Don’t worry though, I’ll make sure it’s completed
for you shortly.”

>
The job is finished, and Gregorio now hands me a note. It’s from
all the families I listed in the province.
So I ask my girlfriend to read it to me.
“Our dearest Florencia,” she begins, “we can’t express our thanks
enough for what you’ve done and what you intended for us. Your
mother was quite a lady of kindness, and you have followed in her
footsteps. We appreciate you much and thank God for all your kindness
to us all. Thank you again.” She ends by directing my attention to their
list of signatures.
I take the letter back but choose not to keep it. It’s because I know
what I’ve done and know that some appreciate it. So this will be the end
of it. “Thank you, Gregorio,” I say and slowly tear the paper to bits.
Then I pour them into the trash. “I hope God will reward you for taking
care of this kindly for me.”

>
I’ve just prayed for God to bless my mother, Lydia, because I’m sure
He loves her as I do, too. So now I begin to speak as though she were
beside me. “Mom, I know if you were here, you’d be proud of what I’ve
done. I know that through your kindness to people, you left something
for me to follow. So I thank you for your influence throughout the time
we enjoyed together as mother and daughter. I truly appreciate it.
Mom, I just pray that God has the greatest reward for you.
I’m also feeling grateful that the old lawyer fixed the papers for me.
It came as sad news that soon after he dropped dead of a heart attack in
his home. Although he knew I was adopted by the owner of the
plantation, he wasn’t able to come up with formal records. They just
happened to be stored in the office that was destroyed during the war.
But he was good to believe in me and simply conduct business through
memory.

213
 God knows those in need and who I am, so I leave it all in His hands
now. I’m going to be okay with His help. Now I can start a beginning
in my life and see where it leads me. “Thank you, God,” I say, “for a
good clean job, working with my hands to do what they ought to. I also
thank you for having Roman recommend me for the position. It was
something I was unable to thank him enough for while he was alive.”

>
This girl living next door keeps annoying me to try out as a pin-up
calendar girl.
I ask her what she means by that.
“There are people always looking to take pictures of girls with nicely
shaped bodies, such as yourself, to put in calendars.”
“I don’t think I’d like to do that.”
“You ought to try it,” she keeps on, “you have the body to show forth
and look nice.”
I’m uncomfortable and don’t care for her friendship with. the way
she’s talking.
She’s too friendly and can’t seem to speak with a person without
always putting her arm around their neck.
So I don’t appreciate this kind of attention. “I have a good job, and
that’s what I plan to keep doing. I don’t like what you’re suggesting.”
I’m thinking that life bombards us so with either the good or the bad.
With many unhealthy suggestions made to us, we must be careful. So I
can’t be foundering around to take up every invitation coming my way.
It just seems that life‘s more complicated as I get older. Living in the
city can be awfully difficult for each young person who has no real
guidance. Nevertheless I suppose I must keep relying on the common
sense the good Lord gave me.

214
 25
Man From My Dream

It’s nearing sundown as Henry and a driver ride in seated high

aboard their prime mover. The huge vehicle is mounted with radar
generators and powered to haul an eleven-ton radar trailer. Then as they
draw through the front entrance of the compound, Henry’s surprised at
the sight of an elegantly dressed young woman.
She looks very pretty while standing there near the gatehouse.
It’s Florencia! he sees while pulling past. If only I could meet her,
he thinks and determines to seek out Jaime to arrange a meeting with
the beautiful girl.

>
Jaime is inviting me for ice cream with his group. “The place is only
about a mile outside the compound,” he adds, “and Henry would really
like you to come.”
I tell him I’d rather not go and then wonder why Sergeant Miller
wants to meet me.
“Please come along,” he insists, “I’ll be the one who’s walking you
down there.”
Now Hedy nudges me. “Let’s go with them, Florence.”

>
We’re all standing outside after eating ice cream, and I suddenly
want to return home.
The reason is that Sergeant Miller keeps trying to speak with me.
He seems friendly enough, yet I don’t wish to talk to him. Ignoring
him doesn’t seem to be working, though. I guess since he’s an
American in uniform, I keep associating him with that serviceman who
attacked me. “Jaime,” I say, “I’d like to go back now.”
“Yes, Florence, we will, we will.” But he continues conversing with
Hedy, Peter, and Bill.
For me it’s troubling and quite uncomfortable with Henry. Dear
God, I pray within myself, I don’t know why I’m here. Thoughts now
come to mind of what the old lady used to tell me when I was young. I
remember her saying I would someday marry a man from a far away
country who would be studious and often surrounded by books.
My mind also kicks back to the dream I last had a month ago - a
dream repeated over the past year. I clearly recall a man in uniform

215
who kept following me around and smiling at me. Suddenly, despite the
heat, the hairs on the back of my neck rise. For now I’m standing face
to face with that man from my dream.
I shake my head and look away. Why are these thoughts coming to
my attention now? As I consider the fact that this guy comes from far
away, I become scared. So I must rely on God to protect me with what
this means.

>
I’m troubled that Henry still asks to see me. Even though his
intentions are good as evidenced by his having Jaime to deliver women’s
magazines to me, his gifts don’t help me to sleep well at night. I don’t
want to get involved with anyone. So the more I think about it, the
angrier I grow. Why won’t everyone just let me alone? I now drop the
magazines in the trashcan because I feel I’m being manipulated to do
something I don’t want to.

>
Jaime’s eyes widen. “With all the thievery still taking place after
the war, you still lent your camera to Florencia?”
“Of course,” returns Henry, “I trust her. She can use it to take
pictures if she wants to.” His conviction immediately strengthens when
someone or something speaks directly to his soul. She is the one you
can trust, Henry.
>
I’m still disturbed even after going on several dates with Sergeant
Miller. Despite my reluctance to be involved, he persists. What am I to
do? It seems the person I’m trying to avoid is the very one I’m drawing
closer to as the weeks pass.

>
During supper at the compound Henry feels half-sick as he sits at a
club dining table
“You’ve hardly eaten,” comments Bill, “what’s going on with you?”
“I’m so excited about seeing Florencia tonight. We’re going to the
movies.
Bill just grins and swallows the last of his meal before reaching for
his friend’s plate.

>
This is now September of 1948, and Henry tells me he must leave
soon. I don’t quite understand everything he says in English, but I’m

216
guessing that is where he originally was stationed. He worked on some
kind of radar assignment here at Nichols Field Airport, and now he’s
due back at Clark Field. So I’m confused and assume this may very well
be our final date.

>
Florencia ‘s awfully quiet this morning, Henry thinks as he escorts
her to work. Once he drops her off at the Sadlers’ doorstep, he’s certain
that last night will remain special in his book. But while moving along,
he recalls words of wisdom passed to him from several close
associations.
“Keep your nose clean,” his lieutenant instructed back at Clark Field.
Junior, you need to accept Jesus as your Savior, wrote his dear mother
in Virginia, U.S.A. “Don’t ever do a girl wrong,” his father often
advised.
Henry knows it’s best he not be intensely involved with a woman
outside of wedlock. But he’s still young which keeps him believing
there’s plenty of time to take all he wants from life. Florencia ‘s a good
listener, and I do trust her. She ‘s beautiful, elegant, and well
mannered, and it ‘s plain that Don was completely wrong about her.
She‘s definitely inexperienced with men. He now sighs deeply. I sensed
she was pure, and now I know it.

>
I’m staying overnight with Hedy and can’t stop weeping. I’m so
mad at myself for not taking control over the thing Henry and I did last
night. Why did I let my guard down and get physically involved? Now
I’m good for nothing and want to go away to the province. I wipe my
eyes. I suppose I’ll have to wait until the December holiday to have
enough saved for my transportation. But I’ve just lost all respect for
myself-what’s going to become of me now?
My headache’s now so unbearable that I down a handful of aspirin.

>
Everyone here is worried that something’s wrong with me because I
had such trouble waking up this morning.
Even Mrs. Sadler came to see if I was all right since I didn’t make it
in to work.
It’s all because Hedy told Mrs. Julian she believed I took too many
aspirins last night.
So Mrs. Julian called her doctor to come look at me.

217
 It appears she’ll come out of it,” he said, “because she responds
when I call to her now.”
Once I finally did wake, Hedy said Mrs. Sadler insisted I take it easy
until tomorrow.
So I’m lying in bed but don’t care to live any longer. If I die, I
think, it doesn‘t matter because I have no one to care whether or not I’m
gone. I now feel that had I taken more aspirins, I could have ended my
life this way.
Mrs. Julian now tries to be comforting. “I know something upset
you last night because I heard you come home, crying, and ask for
aspirin. Hedy said she gave you the bottle. But honey, the next time you
have a headache, only take one aspirin because that’s all you need.
Okay?”
She’s so nice about it that I just nod my head.
“Please understand that we care.”
‘I’ll try to be more careful next time,” I say and thank her for her
concern.
She pats me gently. “That’s a good girl.”
The rest of the day, I keep thinking, Dear God, I don’t like what I’m
turning into. I want to return to the province but don ‘t have any money
to do so right now. I’m so angry at myself about last night that I want
to die. Although I try to sort through my feelings, it seems I can find no
peace. “I’m confused and such a mess, God,” I keep saying, “I want to
die.”

>
“When I didn’t see you the last few days, I was concerned. Hedy
told me you were sick,” says Henry.
Florencia nods. “I took too many aspirins.”
His concern heightens. “I hope you know that can be very
dangerous.”
She says nothing more about the incident but agrees to meet with
him again.

>
It’s so difficult to say good-byes, grieves Henry. “I’ll miss you,
Florencia, but I’ll be back to see you as often as possible.” He gazes into
her eyes as a voice speaks audibly to his heart and mind. This is the one
you can trust. He’s now quite sure that she’s exactly what he’s been
looking for, that there can be no one else for him.

218
 >
While making my way to work this morning, Jaime happens to be
the first person whose path I cross.
“How are you?” he asks. Since he’s obviously unaware of what
happened between Henry and me, I shrug.
“My boss left for Clark Field.”
“Okay, Jaime, be seeing you around.”
“All right,” he returns and moves on.
I think to myself, Okay, Henry’s gone. Perhaps he won’t come
back. Well, that’s another obstacle in my life I must somehow overcome.
I have to continue seeking my survival, regardless of how I feel. But I
can’t get past this by myself. Deep within, I know there’s someone out
there who can create that miracle of healing within me, both physically
and mentally.
I just pray God will help me to keep going since I’m obviously still
here. I died and came back. So I must place my trust in Him, Who
created this whole universe to give me assurance that I’m going to be
all right.
When I arrive to work, Mrs. Sadler greets me with a hug. “Are you
okay, Honey?”
“I don’t know,” I say and begin to cry after she asks if something
happened. I ache to be free from trouble, but it seems I find myself
deeper in difficult situations. “If you don’t mind, I’ll tell you some other
time because right now I feel bad and want to get on with my work. I
apologize again for having missed work the other day.”
She looks at me with tears in her eyes and assures me there’s no
harm done. “Remember, I’m here as your friend, okay?”
I tell her I appreciate what she’s done and thank her for
understanding.
“I’m glad you’re all right, but if I can be of help, I’m here.”
“Thank you for caring. I know with God’s support, I’ll be okay.”
She places her arms around me. “Yes, I know you will.”
“I’d really like to keep myself busy,” I tell her, “so perhaps I could
do additional work. If you know of anyone who might be in need of
catering or if their housekeeper can’t work a day, I could fill in.” I say
I’d like to earn more money to go back to visit my friend in the province
during the Christmas holiday.
“My dear, this would be nice because I do know of friends who need
help whenever their housekeepers decide not to show up. So I’ll let
them know you can go to help when you have nothing left to do here.”

219
 >
Mrs. Sadler has let her all friends in the compound know that I’m
available for extra work.
They’re so nice and dependable to keep me busy, catering their
dinners and card parties.
Although I’m often exhausted, I’m content to bury my thoughts in
what I’m doing rather than sit around thinking on Henry. Then perhaps
this will eventually bring healing to my soul.

>
I’m still quite busy working for the Sadlers in the daytime and baby-
sitting or catering in the evenings. So I’m thankful to be making it
through the day without thinking much about Sergeant Miller and me.
God is so good to bring me deliverance from all the mischief that took
place.
I’m telling my boss right now that I’d like to go to the province
around Christmas time to visit Carmen. The trip could very well change
my whole situation. But I won’t know until I get there and see if there’s
any opportunity for making a living there or not. I’d be happy to see
other people I know, too.
“It’s nice to visit back and forth with friends when you can,” says
Mrs. Sadler, “but Mr. Sadler and I have something in mind which I’d
like to speak with you about one afternoon this week. So keep that in
mind, okay?”
“All right, and thank you for letting me do jobs for other people.”
“That’s fine. I realize you’d like to earn a bit more money than what
we’re giving you. We’re just sorry we can’t pay you more.”
“As it is, it’s nice you pay me so much money because I initially
thought it would be less. I just thank God that someone is kind enough
to pay me that amount.” I do hope I’m able to satisfy them. “If there’s
something I’m not doing right, please tell me.”
“Dear, you do all I expect of you, so I don’t want you to worry. I’m
happy with all your talent. You know, I believe you’ll go far in life.”
She’s so encouraging that I thank her for being wonderful to me.
“Well, you’re just like a daughter. You don’t mind if I adopt you as
my own while I’m away from my girls, do you?” I break into a smile,
and she says, “Okay, we’ll be talking soon.”

220
 >
The Sadlers asked me to go eat Chinese food with them. This way, I
can show them, which is the best restaurant to go to.
So I recommend Lina’s workplace, downtown.
After we arrive and place our order, my bosses begin asking me lots
of questions. Do I want to travel and see other countries, perhaps?
Would I like to see America where they’re from?
“I don’t know,” I answer, “because I understand it takes a lot of
money to travel here and there. So I’ve never given that much thought.”
“If someone were to pay your way then would you be interested in
visiting America or possibly going to live there?”
“That’s a big decision to make if it were so. I’m just trying to get
used to city living. It’s quite different from what I’m accustomed to out
in the country. Besides, I’m still learning Tagalog--the city language
here. And I still have difficulty speaking English although I’ve been
learning ever since I came to work in the American Embassy. I also
can’t read or write because the schooling I had was very limited.
Truthfully, I’m afraid to venture far because I wouldn’t know what I’m
doing or where I’m going.”
They say I learn quickly so it would be easy for me to adapt to a new
environment.
Now I really wonder why they’re asking all these questions. “I don’t
know anyone in another country, especially the United States of
America.”
They both chuckle.
“Well let’s get down to business, shall we?” Mrs. Sadler cuts in,
“We’re thinking that if you’d like, we want to adopt you as our
daughter. Then we could arrange for you to come to the United States.
You could live with us, but of course, we wouldn’t stop you from
marrying if a young man was to come along.”
“Now, I don’t know about that,” I return.
They both laugh and say, “Florencia, we love you very much and
would like to do this. Let’s say we give you until after Christmas to
decide. Then you’ll have plenty of time to think. So we’ll leave it at
that and see what we can do, should you agree.”
Again, I see that this is only the goodness of God for me because
everyone seems to want to take care of me. I just don’t know why. But I
won’t question it because they do have kind hearts. So I’m thanking
God for all He’s bringing my way to encourage me to keep on in this
life.

221
 >
When Henry returns at the end of the month, Florencia opens the
Sadlers’ door. He’s certain he’s never seen such a pitifully sad, little
face as the sweet one before him.
But she quickly brightens when her boss permits her to go and enjoy
the day with him.

>
Now that Sergeant Miller is back again, I’m frustrated. I wish he’d
leave me alone so I can continue picking up the pieces of my life. “Go
home and many your own kind,” I say.
He tells me he’s found the girl he likes and wants to stay a while.
So after hearing this, I grow angry. Although a part of me longs to
be with him, I still want him to leave. I’ve never felt like this with
anyone I’ve met before. He's someone I want to be rid of yet my
thoughts keep going back to him. So I don’t understand my feelings.
This person says he loves me, but he hurt me. Is that what happens
when you make love to someone? And is this what people actually mean
when they say the word “love?” Well, maybe my anger for him is the
same as hurting another person. Hopefully I’ll learn the true meaning
of the word “love” one day. I do hope so because I’m mixed up and
don‘t like the way we‘re headed. It’s torture for me because I thought
life would be much simpler.
I realize Henry keeps putting his arm around me when he says he
loves me. He also often tries to kiss me on the lips the same as I saw
Mr. and Mrs. Sadler did that one day.
They said they kiss because they love each other, but I’m not sure I
want this kind of contact with anyone. Yet this is what he likes to do. I
just don’t know if I truly care for it or not.

>
Henry’s leaving for Clark Field again. He came to see me a short
time but says he’ll return again.
I’m so mixed up that I don‘t know if I've answered him or not.
Anyway, it’s just something I’m involved in that I don’t know how to get
out of for some reason I feel I’ll go crazy. But once he’s gone, I pray to
get my mind straight. My desire was to maintain me to please God, but
in the way I’m going, I’m afraid I’ve failed my right way of thinking. I
surely need His help with all this.
If only Mom were here to give me advice, it seems everything
everyone’s told me thus far hasn’t been the right way of thinking.

222
 They‘re all so impressed that I have an American boyfriend, but ever
since childhood, I’ve heard that marrying someone of a different race is
wrong. I really don‘t know. Yet here I am, involved with this American
man.
I realize Henry‘s nice in his own way. He seems to want to do right--
at least I think so. But the deeper we go in this relationship, the more I
believe it’s wrong. Both of us don ‘t seem to know why we keep doing
the thing we’re doing. It’s just the flesh. The desire we share is so
overwhelming that neither of us can escape it. At this point, only God
knows what’s to come. And 1 want to be what He wants for me to be.
I think often of Henry's family back in America. It seems they would
want their son to return home to marry someone of his own kind. But
when I tell him that it would be better for him to do so, he doesn’t listen.
Personally, I’d rather break it off to allow him to go home and be right
with his family.
I know in my heart that somehow God will take care of me. But
Henry’s determined to do what he thinks is right. I can’t persuade him
otherwise. So I guess I’ll have to let this run the course and see what
God has in mind. It’s been such a difficult road for me because here I
am, nineteen, and I’ve seen much hardship. Yet nothing compares to
what I’m experiencing now. More so, I find myself involved in the same
thing other young people say they’re doing. I only hope to find God’s
forgiveness. Then in turn, I may be able to start living right for Him
again. If only there were someone I could turn to with more wisdom of
life. So Jar I haven‘t found them. Therefore, I hope and pray daily that
this is the road I must take and that God will stay with me.

>
“She finally writes me back,” Henry says aloud before poring once
again over Florencia’s letter. The wording is very flowery and elegant,
but he’s thrilled to receive news after sending several letters and
receiving no answer. Each time, he proposed marriage, but again, she
reminds him to go home and many his own kind. He shakes his head.
How do I help her to understand that there‘s no one else .for me? I
must marry her.

>
Mrs. Sadler tells me they plan to go to Baguio on the fifteenth of
December. She says that if I want, I can take off for the province at that
time, too. “We’ll be going through Isabela and can give you a ride.”

223
 I’d rather not go that early,” I say, “but would like to leave a day or
two before Christmas instead. See, Hedy’s also going to Pangasinan, so
we plan to ride the same bus through there.”
My boss comments that it’s nice we can travel together. “I’m also
committed to a catering job on the nineteenth and another on the
twentieth. So I can get those done before I go off.” I recall my accident
and privately hope I have no problem getting out there this time. Well,
I’ll leave that in God’s hands since my main concern now is to return to
an environment where life is cleaner than in the city. I’m realizing that
the corruption in my life was so that I wanted to take my life. That’s not
the answer, though. I just have to rely on God to guide me to escape this
situation.
I sigh. At least Aunt Mary’s willing to write letters to Henry for me.
Otherwise, he ‘d never get an answer. When I hear her read from his
last letter that his Christmas furlough was approved, I suppose he’ll
return home to visit his folks.

>
Hedy’s now as excited as I am about going home. She’ll be out there
a week and says she hopes I’m on the return bus when it comes back
through Pangasinan. Then we might ride back to the city together.
I haven’t said that I’m thinking never to return. So I need to decide
what to do about Mr. and Mrs. Sadler's proposal. I know I ought to let
them know what’s taking place in my life right now. Maybe I could just
leave them a note or something before I go.

>
Mr. and Mrs. Sadler have left for Baguio, and I’m quite busy
preparing for the catering I promised to do before the holidays. But in
the meantime, I’ll stay a few nights with Hedy. Then I must be sure to
carry my belongings to Rosario’s house. She‘s such a nice lady to let
me take the last of the small rooms she rents out. Then I’ll have a place
to sleep if I do return. I’m just thinking how small the room actually is.
It’s more like a closet with barely enough space to hold my cot. That’s
all right, I don’t own much of anything anyway.

>
Only three more days before I’m off to the province! So I’d better
go to the market to find a gift for Carmen since I never made it to her
wedding. Then again, maybe she could use some money instead.

224
 >
To head for Market I climb aboard a carretilla and turn to sit down.
Then to my great surprise I see a familiar figure across the street.
“Henry!” I cry and stretch my arms wide.
The driver mumbles something in Tagalog, but I ignore his comment
and leap back to the sidewalk. I wonder what in the world Henry’s
doing here just as he rushes to catch me. Here he is before me as I’m
about ready to take off for the province tomorrow.
“I’m here on furlough--don’t you remember my mentioning it in my
letter?”
Now I’m definitely stuck and don’t know what to think. But I must
say something and wonder if I ought to tell him I’m leaving for the
province. “I thought you’d be going home to the States.”
“Whatever made you think that? I’m here to share Christmas with
you.
Oh! great, I think, what’s happening? I’m confused and privately
ask God to guide this situation. I was hoping to go back home, but here
it is the second time that I’m being prevented. This sure ruins my plan,
and I just don’t want to stay in the city any longer.
I take him back to my rented room since we’ve nowhere else to go.
He peers around the doorway at my cot with only the narrow
walkway beside it. So we sit down, and he slides his duffel bag
underneath before placing a gift in my lap.
My people do acknowledge Christmas here, but most everyone is
poor and struggling, and it’s not our custom to exchange gifts.
I carefully unwrap the box to discover lotion, body powder, a lipstick,
and fingernail polish within. These must be the kind of things women
use in his country. I immediately thank him and tell him I have nothing
to give in return. He completely understands, so I paint my lips and
nails for him to see.
It’s not long before he shakes his head. “Would you please take it
off?”
Why did he bother bringing me this stuff if he doesn’t want me to put
it on? I don’t understand what he’s thinking, so I take it off without
question.
“The lipstick’s fine, but I see I chose the wrong color for you,” he
says and grasps my hands. “Anyway, I’d like us to discuss something.”
He pauses before blurting, “I’d really like us to get married!”
My eyes widen, and I can’t respond.
“I want to go down to Manila City Hall to find out how we might go
about it.”

225
 We speak into the night about his desire and plans.
Then I ask him to attend Midnight Mass at the local church with me.
But when we make it over there, the building and its front lawn are
so packed with people that we can’t get near the door.
Regardless, I privately thank God for sending His son to earth long
ago for us. After all, it’s the reason we celebrate Christmas.

>
Near three o’clock on December twenty-eighth Henry arrives alone at
the City Hall’s side entrance. He’s aware that Criminal Investigation
agents for the military are posted out front and ready to arrest GI’s
trying to marry without permission. Many soldiers to date had already
been taken into custody and shipped out.
Well, they can’t arrest me for investigating the process, he decides
and bravely makes his way up the stairs.
At the top, inside the entrance, an older Filipino man, dressed in
business attire, confronts him. “What do you want here?” he asks.
Henry honestly confides his purpose.
“What’s the girl’s name?”
“Florencia Cacayan.”
The man’s expression softens as though he’s familiar with the name.
“There’s a lawyer here who specializes in this sort of thing. Let me call
him down.”
Soon, a man by the name of Jose Bernabe steps out to introduce
himself. He jots down the young man’s information and instructs Henry
to return the following day with the girl at the same time to this same
entrance.

>
This is my wedding day, December twenty-ninth, and we‘re about to
go to City Hall. I’m scared and thinking, should we really be doing
this? Henry’s family isn’t even aware. So what if we marry only to
learn that he can’t take me to the United States with him?
I consider the many girls who did this very thing and were left
behind when their husbands were forced to return home. What is
expected of me? Will this marriage change my life much? How am I to
be a good wife to Henry with my mixed emotions? I don‘t even know if I
truly love him or not. I breathe deep. Well, here I am God so I surely
need your help along each step of the way.

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 26
Dream’s Reality

When Henry and I enter City Hall’s side entrance, Mr. “Guy”
Quinto, the head of security at the American compound looks at me and
greets us warmly.
Then as he leads us upstairs, Henry whispers, “You know him?”
I nod.
“That’s some coincidence. He’s the gentleman who spoke to me at
the door yesterday.”
Now we step inside the Judge’s chamber, and I reach to shake Mr.
Bernabe’s hand.
He tells me he’ll be Henry’s witness with the Judge’s wife standing
in for me.
I immediately note Henry’s expression and explain that I happen to
also be acquainted with this man through Lina.
The Judge without preliminaries addresses Henry and leads him
through brief marriage vows.
Then when it’s my turn to respond, everyone present stares at me.
“This is where you say, ‘I do’,” coaxes Henry.
I’m unsure of all the Judge has asked of me, so I murmur, “Yes.” I
just stand overwhelmed and more concerned with what the future
entails. Then as Henry turns to kiss his bride, I let out a sigh for having
made it through the ceremony.
We’re now escorted back downstairs to pay the required fee and
collect our license.
But as we set feet in the lobby, a criminal investigation agent
approaches Henry. “Young man, are you here to get married?” he asks
firmly.
“I already am,” mumbles Henry, “and about to pick up our
certificate.”
The agent’s eyebrows rise while eyeing the two of us.
I can’t make out what else Henry says before he whisks me off to
retrieve the license and head out the door.
Outside, we’re both relieved to move away from the building and
catch a bus for the park. We walk the grounds and share a soft drink
while Henry tells me he must dash back to Clark Field this evening to
get his pay. Then he’ll return after tomorrow. Since there’s not much I
can say, he drops me off at my little room--our room now.
So here I sit. I suppose this is the way a married woman‘s life goes.
The husband is here one day and gone the next. Well, at least he can

228
get paid and be back for New Year‘s. I realize that 1 must return to
work after that time to tell the Sadlers what’s taken place. Here I am,
pushing twenty-years-old, with no assurance of what we‘re doing. But
God keeps caring fir me, so my life is still in His hands. Perhaps He‘s
directed my life this way. I can only take one day at a time, as always,
and leave it at that.

>
Henry’s back as promised but with his buddy, and it’s New Year’s
Eve.
So we all go to dinner at a nice restaurant before the guy mentions
he’ll try finding a girl to stay overnight with.
Stupid, I’m thinking when Henry and I finally leave for home.
Then as we’re stepping off the bus, my husband spots a small jewelry
store and leads me past its locked door to a small window.
We both peek in at the shopkeeper.
“Are you still open for business?” asks Henry, “we’d like to buy a
ring.”
“I’m ready to close.”
“We’d just like a ring--would you mind to sell us one?”
The storeowner quickly shows us several wedding bands through this
narrow opening.
I’m not impressed with the big ring we look at but prefer the delicate
one.
“Seven pesos,” says the man.
Henry nods and pays him. Little does he realize his purchase is
nearly pure gold.
When we get back to the room, I look to Henry. I guess I have to
learn to address him properly now, as my husband.

>
It’s now the first morning of 1949, and Henry says he must return to
Clark Field in a few days. He won’t be able to see me again until the
end of the month.
“Well, I’m also going to have to see if my bosses are back yet and
explain why I didn’t go to the province.”
“I really would like it if you quit work,” he confesses, “maybe you
could do something else to stay occupied like attending school to learn
to do something new.”
I tell him I’ve always been interested in sewing and hairdressing.
There’s a place nearby that offers classes. “Sessions are held at night,
so I could still work in the daytime.”

229
 “If that’s what you want, but like I said, I’d rather you go to school
than return to housekeeping.”
I guess I’ve received my first order from my husband, I’m thinking,
he says he doesn’t want me to stay with my job. “I’ll speak with Mrs.
Sadler if it’s all right with you.”
“That’s exactly what I’d like you to do.”
“Maybe I could see about working until they return to the United
States. Then when you come again at the end of the month, I’ll be sure
to tell you what I’ve decided to do.”
“That’s fine, but remember, I’d rather you no longer worked there.”

>
Now that we’ve packed Henry’s duffel bag, I’m struck with a crazy
thought. How will the people in the compound react when I tell them I
got married? Nobody--not even Hedy and the girls are aware. Then
again, Rosario knows. I’m curious as to what they’ll say now that I’ve
married an American serviceman.
No doubt they’ll give me the whole story about servicemen marrying
Filipino girls only to be forced to leave the women behind when they
return to the US. Well, I suppose I’ll hear all about it tomorrow. I’m
now concerned about Henry’s parents. Hopefully, they’ll understand
why he married me the way he did and not hold anything against me for
it.

>
Henry just left for Clark Field, so I’m off to work, myself.
Mrs. Sadler happily greets me at the door, “Florencia! it’s good to
see you. Your closet seems to be full with letters from your American
GI boyfriend.” As she mentions having heard I got married, her face
reddens. “A funny thing happened yesterday, though. See, I came
across Jaime in the commissary.” Apparently, she assumed I preferred
to wed him because he seemed to like me, too. His frequent visits to
drop off magazines had been her proof.
My eyes widen, and we laugh together.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she continues, “little did I realize he
wasn’t even your boyfriend.”
I shake my head.
“Anyway, I told Jaime, ‘Congratulations’, and commended you both
on the marriage. But by his expression, Jaime was as surprised as I had
been. He just said he knew nothing about it and asked who it was you
married.”
I can’t help but snicker as she continues.

230
 “I thought you were the one she married, I told Jaime, but he said,
‘No ma’am, I didn’t marry her. She isn’t my girlfriend.’ Well for
goodness sakes, exactly whom did she many? It was embarrassing, and
the two of us laughed because there I was, congratulating the wrong
person.
What a mix-up, I’m thinking, it must have been Rosario who broke
the news to everyone around here.
“Well, dear, everyone seems to know you got married, but we’re all
confused. So who’s the guy? It’s obviously not Jaime.”
“You’ll never guess,” I say, “I married the guy who’s been sending
me all those letters.”
She laughs and embraces me.
Now we’re both giggling together about the whole matter.
“I’m sorry, Florencia, I didn’t mean to mix you up with someone
who wasn’t even your boyfriend.”
Now that we’ve got the right guy with the right girl, I tell her that I
never made it out to the province. “Henry just showed up the day before
I was to leave. He came to spend Christmas with me. And that’s why I
wasn’t able to go away. Then he wanted to many me, so we did.” I
shrug. “Now I’m married to a guy from a far away country.”
“I’m so happy for you, honey. I know you two will be great. Perhaps
you can find out where he’s from in the States, and maybe we’ll see each
other when you come.”
“I hope so, I hope it’s not far from where you’re from.”
“Well, even if it’s across the States, we’ll try to come to see you at
least once anyway. You can be sure of it because we love you.”
“I’ll ask him where his family lives the next time he’s here.”
“Well, we’re finally due to go home in June,” she adds.
I nod and tell her what my husband said about not working here
anymore.
“Oh! well, if you quit working for us before we leave, we’ll just take
care of things ourselves and not bother getting someone else to help.”
She appears quite disappointed. “It won’t be too long before we leave
anyway. But if you can stay on, we’d be happy to have you.”
I tell her I’ll see what Henry says. It would be nice to continue
working for my bosses, I think, but if my husband won’t allow it then I
suppose I’ll have to swallow my pride and agree. I begin gathering the
dirty clothes the Sadlers brought home from Baguio. Maybe I’ll see
Hedy in the laundry house today. Then I can tell her what really took
place while she was away. She probably heard the mixed up news like
everybody else did
For now, I must think of what to do. I can attend school as Henry
wishes, but I also wouldn’t mind working here until my bosses leave. I

231
do hope he lets me because I‘d feel bad to abandon them now. They’re
a very nice couple and won‘t be replacing me if I quit.
I set off to the laundry house, and sure enough, Hedy, Lourdes, and
Mary are already inside when I arrive. The three are busy at one
washtub when I come to sit beside Lourdes. “Hello, girls,” I say, “how
were your holidays?”
It’s odd that they completely ignore me and talk amongst
themselves.
I begin to think that maybe they heard the news and are somewhat
floored by the idea.
But they’re behaving as cold as strangers to me now.
So I quickly scrub my laundry and get out as fast as I can.
Then as I leave, they murmur something to the fact that I’d married
someone outside my own race.
I sigh and head back to the house to hang the clothes out to dry.

>
Henry feels content to finally have married Florencia. Now what to
do? He thinks and considers extending his enlistment. It would allow
time to possibly arrange for her to go the United States with him. My
best bet would be to try and accomplish that, but should it fail, I can see
about getting my discharge here in the Philippines. He scratches his
chin before beginning a letter to his parents to state his intentions.

>
It’s nearly a whole month since I last saw Henry, but I’m busy
picking out souvenirs with Mrs. Sadler. We’ve been to Market many
times to find knickknack and specialty items which she can easily pack
to take home for her collection. I’m just happy to be distracted in
helping her.
I’m thinking, Mrs. Sadler is such a nice lady, like a mother to me.
And as far as that goes, she seems to be the only one who truly cares for
my welfare because all my friends seem to have turned their backs on
me. I’m sad to hear they’re displeased that I married an American. In
fact, they’ve turned it into quite a piece of gossip.
Some girls are saying I’m nothing but the worst they can think of for
marrying someone of a different race. Marrying an American is outside
their imagination. So I’m back to the way I was long ago when I had
but one friend, Carmen. She stuck by me when my mom died. It seems
everything dies around me, especially with the way the girls have

232
turned on me. But I thank God for time with Mrs. Sadler to draw my
thoughts away from what they all think.

>
I’ve been staying with my bosses while Henry’s gone, but he’ll be
coming again in a few days. So it’s time I return to our little room at
Rosario’s place. Up to this point, I’ve been busy with Mrs. Sadler to
pack their belongings.
We did manage to fill a large crate with lots of things to be shipped
back to America.
I’m just so grateful for this woman who’s been so kind to me. Yes,
she’s my boss but also my friend. She makes sure I’m not so lonely
while my husband’s away. So again, I thank God I am disappointed,
though, after having visited Aunt Mary and her family. They’re also
somewhat cold since I got married.
Come to think of it, Lina seems to be the only one who’s happy for
me. When I tracked her down at the restaurant, we were only able to
speak a few minutes. But she said she’s eager to hear all about my new
life. She’s even jealous I’m married with someone to call my own. I’m
happy we could laugh together about all we used to say and do when I
lived in their house.
We plan to visit together in the near future, so it will be something
to look forward to. Lina is much older than I am but really nice. It
seems each time we get together, we’re like two eager kids again. I’m
happy to have a friend like her. She’s another one of those people who
seem to make life a little easier here on this earth.
I just thank God that everybody isn’t alike. I do realize that Hedy
and the others have good within them, regardless of what they’re
thinking right now. I suppose they just can ‘t understand why I married
someone different from me. But I must respect their way of thinking and
get on with my life. Yes, I could have done something else, but I took
this route.

>
Well, I’m here at home, sitting on our little bed, waiting for my
husband to come back. I hope he has a good bus ride as I step from the
room to get better acquainted with Mary.
She and her husband share the next room, which is just as cramped
as ours.
I feel sorry for them after she tells me how hard he works for their
living. She also mentions that he only receives a dollar a day, barely
enough to pay for rent and groceries at the end of each week.

233
 Anyway, we sit together on the stairs outside and spot the older
woman who lives in the tiny house, which stands next to this one.
As she comes along our walkway, she seems to think she’s the queen
of the whole village.
Her arrogance angers me, so I push a flowerpot off the ledge above
her head.
The woman flinches when it crashes to pieces below.
Then Mary and I peer down, and it’s difficult not to laugh.
The pot barely missed her.
She looks up, but we continue talking as though nothing happened.
“Hey!” she cries, “what was that!? You could have hurt somebody.”
We don’t pay attention but return inside.
In my room, I push back the curtain to stick my head through the
tiny window separating me from Mary’s room.
Here, we finish speaking.
I feel she’s nice but hasn’t many friends.
She says she does try to say ‘hello’ to those who pass her way now
and then. But she really doesn’t have anybody.
In a way, it’s nice she’s treating me like a sister.
She’s saying she trusts my judgment.
I realize she’s the first person to say this to me.
“You and your husband, Henry, are really nice. I hope you both will
be happy.”
We speak about Rosario and her ill husband being on the other side
of the wall. There are also three other families living up here on the top
floor. Rosario tries to keep each room rented to generate income.
“She works as a housekeeper, too, in the compound,” I say. I’m
grateful that I have it so good compared to some of these people.
In one corner of this house, there’s a faucet with a bucket to catch
water to bathe with. But there’s not much we can do other than to let
the used water run down and out through the bamboo floor. Of course,
we have faucets outside between the two houses to draw from whenever
the indoor faucet’s pressure is low. Then there’s the outhouse to be
shared by inhabitants of both homes. So these are our conveniences in
this place.
Henry’s just arriving, and I’m glad to see him. I didn’t think I would
be, but for some reason I am. We have much to talk about as far as
whether I’ll keep my job, attend classes, or both.
I think I’ll let him enjoy the evening and wait until tomorrow to tell
him what I found out about the school.

234
 >
Today, I tell Henry that my bosses will leave sometime in June.
“Would you mind if I work for them until then? They say they won’t try
to employ anyone else if I quit.” I say I’d feel bad if they were left
without help. “Also, I checked into the school for dressmaking and
hairdressing. The classes last an hour and a half each night, so I
wouldn’t have to stay out late. I’d make it home before dusk.”
I sense his reluctance as he agrees for me to continue working for the
Sadlers. “By the way, they told me their home is in Arlington,
Virginia.”
Henry’s eyes widen. “My folks don’t live far from there--maybe fifty
miles or so.”
My bosses will be pleased to hear this if they plan to visit me there.
But what am I thinking? I don’t even know whether I’ll ever get there
or not. Henry hasn‘t mentioned having written to his parents or what
their reaction was to our marriage.

>
Now that Henry’s returned to his station again for another month,
I’ll enroll in the classes we spoke about. They’re due to begin soon. So
it will be yet another challenge in my life. At least I’ll have something
to occupy my time in the evenings. I’m thankful because I didn’t realize
I’d be missing him while he’s gone.
Before we were married, I wasn’t concerned about it. But now that I
know I belong to him--permanently, I hope, I miss him. It’s hard to
know I’m a married woman and can hardly see my husband. So this I
must learn to adapt to.
I’m now speaking with my friend, Mary, and saying that I didn’t
know how difficult it would be to concentrate with my mind stayed on
him.
“I know what you’re saying. When my husband works on the other
side of the city, he often can’t come home because the bus costs money.
So he just stays with a friend near his workplace.” She frowns and says,
“I could go with him, but we have to keep a home here together. I can’t
have this place along with another. There just isn’t enough money left
after paying for groceries.”
The poor thing, I think, I see what she‘s up against. I ask if she
might like to work as a housekeeper at the compound. “Maybe I can ask
around to see if someone needs help.” She shakes her head. “My
husband doesn’t want me to work, so I can’t do anything but stay home.

235
 “It’s difficult for me to do, too. I’d like to make extra money for us
to save.”
I’m glad she doesn’t have children yet with their situation. I feel so
sorry for her. At least we’re able to cook supper together sometimes
when her husband’s not home. It helps her not to have to buy the food
by herself.

>
Mrs. Sadler’s thinking of buying material to have a dress made.
She’d like to have her initials embroidered on the left side of the front in
Chinese lettering.
I can take you to my dressmaker to see if she’s able to do that if
you’d like.”
So she readily goes with me and is happy my dressmaker can take
care of it.
When we return the following day, she finds the dress to be exactly
the way she imagined. So she’s quite pleased. The next thing on our
agenda is to purchase a special shirt for Mr. Sadler. Mrs. Sadler would
like to pick out a barong tagalog, a shirt sewn from pineapple material.
So I take her downtown to find one in his size. She surely has been
keeping me busy which makes it difficult to believe I’ll be married
nearly two months. I’m ever grateful for her friendship, though. I have
much to look forward to in helping her prepare to leave. It’s kind of
strange but also nice to hear her introduce me as Mrs. Miller instead of
Florencia whenever we come across her friends. I suppose I am Mrs.
Miller now and must get used to it. But it’s great going around with her.

>
This is the end of February, and Henry should be arriving anytime
now. I’m back at our room and thanking God we do have this little
place to stay in when he comes to see me.
Mrs. Sadler has often told me she’ll make sure to keep me from
being so lonely while he’s away. And she’s doing just that. I’m so
appreciative that she and Mr. Sadler act more like family than not with
me. Instead of having me serve them at mealtime, they invite me to
share their meal at the table. I guess they’re teaching me to live more
like the American families.
I thank God for helping me to realize that there are still a lot of nice
people in this world. My old friends have nothing to do with me except
when they’re unable to avoid seeing me. Other than that, their
friendship no longer exists as it did before I got married. So I also have
to get used to that.

236
 Henry’s now home to spend the weekend with me. He tells me he
wrote to his parents to let them know that if he’s not able to get me to
the States, he’ll stay here in the Philippines with me as my husband.
I tell him I feel really bad about it.
“Well, they recently wrote back to ask if you’d like to go to the States
to be with the family.”
Now I’m happy to hear that his mother has invited me to do so. I
thank God over and over that his parents are accepting me as one of the
family. So I guess we can start looking into how I might to go to
America.
It is God’s provision that the Red Cross gives Henry a list of
instructions on how to apply for permanent residence. Henry’s thinking
of hiring an attorney to help me get to the places where I’ll have to go to
apply for my passport and exit papers. But in the meantime, he’ll write
to his father to see if he would find someone in the States to help us out
from that side. Some have suggested that I go as a student and then
apply for permanent residency once I am there. But Henry wants to do
it right.

>
Henry and I say goodbye for another month, but I know I’ll be all
right. I thank God for directing what’s taking place. Although I don’t
understand it, my job is to follow His leading. So I’ll trust that this is
the path He wants me to take in my new life with my new husband.

237
 27
My News

Mrs. Sadler is laughing because she arrived in the Philippines with

one trunk and a few suitcases. But now she’ll have at least two great big
crates to ship back to the United States.
So now that we’re rid of the clutter, my boss will have more time to
play bridge with the other women.
As for me, I attend evening classes. I also must obtain clarification
papers of having no criminal record from police stations of each
community I’ve lived in. All I know is that the Philippines’ and U.S.
governments must work together to permit me permanent residency in
America, rather than my entering as a visitor or student as some have
suggested I do.
There are also x-rays, shots, and a physical examination to be had at
the health department before I’m allowed to enter another country. So
now my prayer is for a clean bill of health.

>
Today’s a big day! Mrs. Sadler and her friends are having lunch at
the dining club at the American compound and have included me.
So while I’m preparing a sandwich for Mr. Sadler, I think, I’ve
never eaten there with the American people before. To me, it will be
like going to another country and not knowing anybody. And though
the women don’t need to go to this distance to make certain I’m not
lonely without Henry, I’ll accept the invitation since it will please my
boss.

>
Over lunch, I learn that I’m sharing a meal with five wives of the
most important people in the compound. Their husbands are engineers
stationed here in the Philippines to ensure that bridges, roads, and such
are properly reconstructed after the damage resulting from the war.
I feel somewhat strange dining with Mrs. Nichols, Mrs. McClain,
Mrs. Mackenroy, Mrs. Julian, and Mrs. Sadler. But they’re all-nice and
keep addressing me as Mrs. Miller. They also comment on how lucky I
am to be married to an American.
I don’t know my husband well, nor does he know me, so time will
tell how lucky I really am. “Thank you for your encouragement and
your friendship,” I say but privately wish they’d call me by my first

238
name. Well, I guess everyone in America call the women by their
husband’s last name.
Now to top it off, Mr. Mackenroy drops by our table and says, “Hello,
Mrs. Miller, how are you today?”
I don’t know what to think, but I’m thankful for everyone’s kindness.
God surely is preparing me to be the kind of person he wants for my
husband and his people whom I’ll meet one day.
The women now ask that I join them in a game of bridge later in the
week.
I shrug. “I’ve never played before, so I wouldn’t even know what to
do with the cards if I had some in my hands.”
They insist on teaching me to play.
But I simply thank them and promise to think about it.
Then they express how enjoyable my company has been by paying
for my lunch.
It's nice of these ladies to treat me this way, so I pray that God
blesses each one of them.
Then when Mrs. Sadler and I are on our way to her apartment, we
spot Hedy walking.
She sees me and is obviously obligated to wave.
I wave back and assume that Mrs. Julian told her I’d be sharing
lunch with the ladies. So it’s just another icicle for her to chew on as far
as her feelings are concerned about my marrying an American. That’s
her problem now, not mine. It’s time I think positively about my life with
my husband. So I must accept her indifference and go on.

>
After one month of dressmaking class, I’m proud to have assembled
a skirt pretty well. So I think my next project may be to sew a
coordinating blouse. In the meantime, I must plan the dinner I
promised to cater for the Mackenroys. They expect to entertain twenty-
six people, so I’ll ask some other girls to help me wash dishes
afterwards. Then we can leave for the guests to play cards.

>
I’m finished catering this dinner party, and Mr. Mackenroy kindly
hands me a generous tip. “Don’t pay the other girls from this,
Florencia, I’ve already paid each of them for helping you clean
everything up.”

239
 >
Each time my husband’s due to come home, I feel anxious. So this
time, I don’t hesitate to go to Mrs. Sadler about it. She’s asked me to
call her “Mom,” so I say, “Mom, I have a question to ask. Would I be
going crazy?”
“What do you mean, Florencia?”
“Well I realize that every time Henry’s due home, I have anxiety like
I’m excited to see him again. I’ve never felt like this before.”
She chuckles. “No, you’re not crazy. It’s because you love him and
like to see him.”
“You mean I have to feel this way?”
“Why, yes, you two recently married and are away from each other a
great deal of the time. You’re bound to be excited, just knowing he’s
coming to see you.”
Now we really talk woman to woman.
“Well, why do men want to do the thing they do to a girl?”
She hesitates before returning, “You mean to get married and make
love?”
“Yes, why can’t they just live together?”
She still grins. “It’s like this. A man wants to marry a woman to
have someone to love and be loved by. Then he doesn’t have to take off
somewhere to share that with anyone else.”
“Hmm... but here, in my country, I’ve only seen husbands work the
fields and the wives care for their children, prepare food and pound rice
and things. So I never knew people do that-- make love.”
“Yes, that’s how children are produced from one generation to the
next.”
I guess I have a lot to learn.”
“Well, anytime you want to ask me questions, feel free to do so. I’m
here until I leave.”
I thank her for helping me understand things I’m unsure of. It’s
nice because I’ve never come across anyone quite like her to explain all
I must know about the relationship between a man and a woman. I
really hope to meet more people like her in the future.

>
Henry tells me his father was able to obtain a document to further
process my permanent residency visa. He’s also asked Mr. Bernabe to
escort me to each place that I must go to fill out proper paperwork
toward my passport and exit visa.

240
 I’m relieved because I wouldn’t have known what to do with all the
records. And as long as I’m present, Mr. Bernabe can speak for me.

>
Mr. Bernabe and I have been to the American Embassy and the
government office near the Philippine capital to begin processing my
papers.
He’s quite a gentleman, and I noticed he took a liking to Lina after
we lunched at her workplace. He even paid for my meal.
So I appreciate his willing assistance.
Now he says we must wait some time before checking the status of
my visa.
It’s about all I can do besides concentrating on my classes. Maybe I
can return to the compound to cater from time to time after my bosses
leave. At least everyone knows where I live and did assure me they’ll
contact me if they can use me.
I know I’m going to feel somewhat lost not to have the Sadlers to
work for anymore. But I thank God that He ‘s provided all sorts of
things to keep me busy. Otherwise, I definitely would feel unsettled
without my husband here.

>
My teacher’s quite pleased with my first attempt to cut and roll a
woman’s hair into a permanent.
Although it’s taken longer than the usual two-hour class, I’m able to
wrap up quickly to head to the market for new material and then home.
But as soon as I arrive in my room, Mary knocks on my door. “May
I speak with you?” So I invite her in, and she begins to cry. “My
husband broke the news today that he’s leaving me for another woman.
So here I am with no job and no one to help. Whatever will I do?”
I try to comfort her by saying that I’ll find out if anyone needs a
housekeeper at the compound. “I know you’d do well by the way you
clean and take care of laundry.”
“He didn’t even leave me money to buy something to eat this week.”
I feel bad and press what money I can spare into her hand.
“Thank you, but I still don’t know how I’ll earn money to pay for
rent, let alone food.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll see if we can get you a job. I’m sure someone
can use your service.”
Hearing this enables her to stop crying.
“But you must remember not to take your troubles to your work.
Then you can concentrate on caring for the family. As long as you keep

241
that in mind, you can do the job required of you. I already know of a
woman who’s thinking of hiring another housekeeper. See, she often
needs someone to baby sit.
But the girl who works for her now can’t do it since she must go
home to her own children each evening. And with your situation, I’m
sure you wouldn’t mind doing that if necessary.” I touch her shoulder.
“Just be patient to see what we can do for you. I know you' re a nice girl
and can go on in spite of your difficulties. I’m here with you. So I’ll try
to be of help.”

>
I mention to Mrs. Sadler that my friend, Mary, needs a job pretty
desperately. “Her husband has left her, so do you know anyone who
may be interested in hiring her?”
“I’m supposed to get together with Mrs. McClain today, so I’ll ask
her about it.”
I nod and gather all the dirty clothes to carry to the laundry house.
Once there, I’m quite surprised to hear Mary and Lourdes say, “Hello.”
They also ask how I’m doing.
“Fine, I’m attending night classes after work.” I’m so grateful to
hear them speak to me after all this time. They must have been distant
due to the shock of hearing about my marriage.
It’s not long before I’m back at the apartment, hanging the laundry
out to dry. Then I mop the cement floors of dust blown indoors. It’s a
daily task since we open the glass windows to allow any possible breeze
in through the screens. It’s a good thing we‘re near the seawall or it
probably would be much hotter.
I remember living with the Aspectos. It was so hot there with their
house being situated in a crowded area. So hardly a breeze could pass
through because some homes were built higher than others. Yes, it‘s
much cooler here, I think, and nice to sleep more comfortably. There
also aren’t as many mosquitoes here since the area’s often sprayed with
insecticide to drive them away.

>
Only two days have passed and Mary’s already working here in the
compound for Mrs. McClain.
I feel bad about driving the other housekeeper out.
“You aren’t to blame,” says Mrs. McClain, “I wanted to hire
someone else for some time because my husband and I want to go out
some evenings. And it’s hard to find a baby-sitter.” She observes my
expression. “Don’t worry, dear, you helped to fill our need and Mary’s,
too. Besides, the other girl had a job offer outside the compound. She

242
was just waiting to let us know. So it was simply a matter of time before
she would have left anyway.”
Hearing this provides peace of mind because I wouldn’t want to do
that to somebody. So now my friend, Mary, works here, but I realize
what a new situation it is for her each time I see her in the laundry
house. She scrubs away as though she enjoys every moment, but I know
her mind is on her circumstance. But I’m glad to have helped and pray
that she gets through this ordeal quickly.
Now it’s wonderful to hear Mrs. McClain say she’s willing to have
Mary live in her home. Then Mary wouldn’t need to walk home each
night, should they need her to baby-sit.
When I speak with Mary about the idea, I’m happy that she agrees to
take her boss’ offer to live on the premises. Perhaps it will help her get
past her situation.
>
Rosario just can’t seem to go by Mary’s old room without crying.
“She’s such a sweet girl,” she says, “and those two have been married
five years--as long as I’ve known her. She was always here at home for
her husband, too. And now this thing has happened to her.”
I tell her I was glad to help Mary get her job.
“As soon as she told me her husband left, I also thought about trying
to find someone in the compound who might hire her. But of course, I
don’t know as many people as you do. So it would have been more
difficult for me, outside of inquiring at the office.
“Yes, I was happy to help. At least she didn’t have to wait long to
get work to support herself. But she’s on her way. And perhaps
something better will come in the future. From what I know, she’s
earning more than her husband ever brought home. So I hope this
whole thing will encourage her.”

>
It’s mid April, and I’ve finished the blouse I worked on in class. It
took me longer than expected because I’ve never sewn buttonholes
before. But now that I’ve properly learned to use a sewing machine, I
can make things I’d like.
As I arrive home to my room, I’m told Rosario is visiting a sister
across the city.
Her other sister who lives here has stepped out to mention it. But
she behaves strangely as she tells me about the ink portraits that her
husband creates.

243
 From all I’ve seen, he does a very good job. He can take a
photograph and change the person’s hairstyle to look different from the
picture. Also, if you want to be dressed differently, he can do that, too.
But the picture he recently painted of me didn’t please my husband
in the least. I was portrayed as a very sophisticated Senorita. And
Henry didn’t like it because he said my whole dress and hairstyle were
arranged differently from my photograph.
So now this woman mentions the fact that her husband is also a good
photographer. He learned in Japan where he grew up and attended a
fine art school.
As her husband joins in to tell me more about his artwork, I sense
her strong jealousy.
So I elect to avoid them in the future as much as possible.
She just happened to be out in the hall when I arrived and told me all
about what he’s doing for a living. She just doesn’t care to see pictures
of other women hanging all over the place.
I suppose it didn’t help when I commented about how nice each
woman looked. So much for that, I think, I’ll go to the market and buy
new material for my next class project. I also have to study a catalogue
on hairdressing for homework. And since no one else is in the building
for me to talk to right now, I excuse myself to go outside and flag a
carretilla.
When I step out in the market, I pass by meat and vegetable carts to
scan the cloth goods. I also admire assorted housewares, beautifully
carved knickknacks, and tailored dresses. But I finally purchase the
buttons and material, which I came for.
Then as I’m drawn to an attractive pair of shoes, I spot a woman who
seems familiar. I can’t help but stare while she sorts through a rack of
dresses.
She turns about slowly. And the large birthmark on her neck which
resembles a check mark is in plain view.
Now I’m convinced I know her, and my overwhelming curiosity
moves me closer. I must find out who she is. So I approach and ask, “Is
your name Guellerma de la Cruz?”
She looks to me and answers, “Yes, my name is Guellerma, but who
are you?”
I’m Encia from Balatunang. And my mom had the plantation at
Santa Cruz.”
Now her realization of who I am becomes apparent as she turns
angry. “So what!?”
I immediately tell her that my mother was killed in the war.
“And what is that to me?”

244
 “You may not care to know, but I want to tell you that I married an
American man. I’ll be leaving soon for America, too.”
“I don’t care, and I want you to leave me alone.”
I can’t help but frown now. “I’m sorry to disturb you. It’s just that I
saw you and had a strong urge to meet you again since I remembered the
time you came to sign my adoption papers at my mom’s house.” Even
though I was happy to spot my real mother and to be filled with longing
for her, I see her reaction is still the same as when I was smaller. I
guess she has no heart for me. “It was my mistake to approach you
while you’re marketing.”
“Just leave me alone, I want nothing to do with you.”
So I move away, overcome with such loneliness that I can no longer
shop. Instead, I rush home to bury my face in my bed pillow. Then I
weep through most of the night because it’s hard to believe that nothing
has changed at all. I just assumed that with time, my mother’s feelings
would eventually warm toward me.
Here I am, twenty-years-old, and her feelings of being wronged by
someone are so strong that she still hasn’t let the hatred go from within
her. I feel sorry for her and lay here, crying, “Oh! God, please look into
the heart of my real mother. Give her peace of mind. Though I may
never see her again, I know that I want her to be my mother. She was to
begin with and always will be.”
It’s hard to think straight after seeing her react that way. I don’t
wish to torment her with how I look or whatever reminds her of my dad
because I know I love her.

>
Thank the Lord, morning has come quickly. I hope today’s chores
can distract my mind so I hurry to work to hear Mrs. Sadler showering.
Then I wash their breakfast dishes and straighten out the living room.
As I’m stripping the sheets from their bed, she calls out, “Florencia,
is that you?”
“Yes, Ma’am, good morning,” is all I return. It’s because my
mother’s still heavy on my mind. I’m hoping she’ll be all right because
I wouldn’t want anything to happen to her. I surely wish there was
some way to win her favor. But I guess that’s impossible for now, and it
may never happen. So I'll just have to accept that some people have
difficulty changing.
I do know it’s because they don’t want to change. So I can only
leave everything in God’s care and consider my husband’s family.
They’re my family now, and I hope my papers are processed quickly for
me to meet them in the near future.

245
 Mrs. Sadler comes from the bathroom and asks if I’d like to do
something with her this afternoon. I agree, and she tells me Mrs.
Nichols’ husband passed away while they were vacationing at one of the
lakes here in the Philippines. He died from a heart attack, so his
memorial service will be at the chapel. I’d like to go there to arrange
flowers at the altar for tomorrow.”
Although Mr. Nichols’ body was sent ahead to the States, Mrs.
Nichols must wait to follow. But her friends assured her that they would
pack her belongings to be shipped back home.
I feel bad for her because she’s such a nice woman. And besides
attending the funeral service tomorrow, she must also board a plane for
the long flight home.

>
This month has gone by so fast with my husband arriving home.
I’m so glad to see him and to have him as my family now. So much
has happened when he was away that I hope he understands all I tell
him.

>
May’s nearly over, and I have only to the end of June before my
bosses leave.
And Henry has come and gone as usual, so it will be another whole
month of waiting to see him again.
But I’m grateful to have made more progress on my Philippine
passport and my exit visa. It’s a good thing, too, because after going to
the government building, I saw many people also trying to get
processed. Some of those women have been married to American
servicemen for nearly three years and still have yet to accomplish
anything. Since they’re working on their own, they were surprised to
learn how much I’ve completed already.
The problem lies in slow communication between the two countries.
And, too, those poor people often don’t know where to go next with
their papers. They can only ask around as to who might know what.
Then they often don’t receive the proper answer. So it’s been a hardship
for them.
I’m so thankful to God for Mr. Bernabe. The man has been more
than willing to take time from his schedule to escort me to all those
necessary places.

246
 >
My teacher wants me to concentrate more on becoming a hairstylist
rather than sewing.
I tell her that I’d really like to accomplish both if I can.
“But you seem to have the ability to do hair much better.” She says
she’s pleased with the way I styled one woman’s hair tonight. It turned
out exactly the way she instructed.
“I still would like to continue with my dressmaking, anyway, so I can
sew some of my own dresses in the future.”

>
My period’s two weeks late, and I’ve been feeling strange. I don’t
know what it’s about. But I’m behind and feel sick every so often. It’s
something I’ll have to ask Mrs. Sadler about. In the meantime, I have
to make it through class tonight and return to the compound.
I promised to cater snacks at a single lady’s card party. I just wish I
didn’t feel so sick to my stomach. It’s also important I remember to get
together with Mrs. McClain in the middle of June. She’s asked me to
take over the big job of catering the Sadlers’ farewell party at the club.
But I’ll be looking forward to that. I only hope I’m okay at the time.
It’s hard to say with the way my stomach’s been making me sick every
morning.

>
I made it into work but am too ill to accomplish much.
So Mrs. Sadler asks if I’m all right.
“I feel like I want to throw up, especially in the mornings. But I’ll be
all right in the middle of the day.”
She immediately asks if I’ve missed my period.
“Yes, I am late by a couple of weeks now.”
Her eyes widen while she smiles. “You know, I think your problem
is that you might be pregnant, so you ought to see a doctor.”
I’m surprised to think I could be pregnant, but since Mrs. Sadler says
to see a doctor, I will.
Rosario tells me that Dr. Santos is a good woman doctor at the
nearby clinic and delivers babies all the time.
So after work today, I stop by there to set an appointment.

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 >
Dr. Santos asks me to lie on the examining table and feels all around
my stomach. But before she’s even finished examining me, she
confirms that I’m pregnant. She now says I must watch out for spotting,
sudden cramps, or discomfort since this is my first experience. If
anything of the sort occurs, I shouldn’t hesitate to come back. She also
warns that excessive relations between the husband and wife in this
early stage may cause a miscarriage. So I must be careful of this.
“I don’t see my husband but once a month, so there’s no problem
with that.”
“Yes, there could be. Usually around the time that you would
normally have your period. So you must be on guard at least until after
the third month.”
Now I have to warn Henry, and I don’t feel comfortable talking to
him about things he can or can’t do. “I’ll be careful,” I say, “so there
won’t be any problem.”
Dr. Santos wants to see me every month to closely monitor how the
baby’s growing and how I’m doing, physically. There are also certain
vitamins I ought to take. Then as I’m leaving, she wishes me good luck.
So I head to class, thinking to tell Mrs. Sadler that she guessed right.
I am pregnant. But tonight, I feel washed up and don’t feel like doing
what’s expected of me.
“You’re awfully quiet and don’t look well,” my teacher says, “I can
tell by the way you move that, too, that you’re not interested in what
you’re doing.”
“You’re right, I don’t feel good.”
“Why don’t you finish and go home to rest?”
I nod and tuck the dress I’ve been cutting back into my bag to return
to the compound. And to my surprise, I discover Hedy at the Sadlers’.
“Hi, Florence, how are you doing?” Come to find out, Mrs. Julian
sent her to deliver a note.
“I left class early because I’m not well.”
“So why don’t you come up to my place and spend the night? We
can chitchat.”
I don’t know what to think since she hasn’t had anything to do with
me in quite some time. But I assume she heard of my plans to go to the
States. “Perhaps another time, Hedy, I just wish to go straight to bed.
Besides, I need to speak with Mrs. Sadler. But we’ll make a date for me
to come and spend a night with you soon, okay?”
“Okay, thank you--it’s good to see you again.”

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 Once she’s gone, Mrs. Sadler comes to my bedroom to ask how I am.
“Your guess was right--I am pregnant.”
“Oh! how nice. I’m so glad for you. I hope it’s a girl, but what do
you want?”
I haven’t thought about it, but I guess we’re going to have whatever
we have.”
She’s so happy for me and says, “You try to be careful now.”
So I tell her I’d like to go on to bed because I do feel especially tired.
“That’s fine, you rest now. Mr. Sadler wants to stay up to read his
newspaper, and I’m going to write a letter to my daughter.”
“Thank you for all your love and for being here for me,” I add. I
realize I’m learning how to say that word, love. It’s because she uses it
a lot around me. Then I lie down to sleep. But I end up spending most
of the night with my head hanging over the toilet. By the time I think
the bout is over, I’m completely exhausted. Is this going to go on the
entire pregnancy? I worry and rush again to the bathroom.

>
What will be Henry’s reaction after learning I’m pregnant? I
wonder, and does he even want or like babies? Now that I’m trying to
prepare to go to America, I’m concerned that this might prevent my
departure. I just hope he isn‘t disappointed when I break my news. We
didn‘t exactly plan to have a child right away. And although my friends
are all happy for me, I’m not sure how it’s supposed to be for a
pregnant woman. All I know is that my body feels miserable. So I hope
that with time I’m able to say I’m thrilled, too.
Right now, I don’t know if we’ll have enough money for me to
travel. Henry did say he’ll pay for my trip, but I’m thinking about things
for the baby. I just hope his family can accept my condition when 1
arrive. Then again, I may be forced to wait until after the baby’s born
to leave. So I’ll have to ask Mr. Bernabe about the rules concerning a
traveling pregnant woman. I smile to think that everyone else is hoping
I’ll have the baby here in the Philippines for them to see.
I breathe deep with a sigh. It’s a good thing my teacher offered to
sew a maternity dress for me. All my clothes seem to be getting tighter
about my waist.

>
I’m pleased that my teacher made a lightweight, beige denim dress
with a bow and two pleats in front. There’s also a sash for the waist.

249
 “You can even wear it later in your pregnancy,” she says, “there’s
plenty of room to allow for your stomach to grow.”
So now I have the one dress, but I’ll have to make a spare pretty
soon.

>
I confide to Mrs. Sadler that I’m nervous to tell my husband about
the baby. She’s sure he’ll be more than thrilled, but I still have
reservations about his reaction. So I force my attention to the task at
hand.
Mrs. Sadler, Mrs. McClain, and I are all packing Mrs. Nichols’
belongings into crates to ship back to the U.S.
When we finish around four-thirty, I head to the Julians’ house to
speak with Hedy. It’s been a while since I got back to her, but I did
promise to catch up. So I’m ready to visit with her.
She opens the door to say she’s about to prepare the family’s dinner.
“But please come back tonight to sleep over, okay? We haven’t seen
each other in a long time, and we can visit.”
“I’ll try, but if I’m not back by dark, don’t look for me.” So she
agrees, and I return to ask Mrs. Sadler if she wants me to fix supper.
“We’ll just have sandwiches, Florencia. We’re not really hungry
since it’s so hot and sticky.”
I nod and tell her that Hedy wants me to sleep overnight with her. “I
suppose I’ve put it off long enough. This may be my last chance to
spend with her. I’ll just have to forget her past behavior and remember
how good she was to me after my accident.”
So once we’re together, I find it nice that Hedy and I can speak about
all we used to do when I was still single. We’re remembering how
special it was in the beginning when all the girls would walk to work
and home together. There wasn’t much in the way of recreation, but we
did go to movies. And cooking supper was fine, along with shopping
the marketplace on weekends.
“The girls and I haven’t had the kind of fun we all used to enjoy
together,” says Hedy. It has a lot to do with their living outside the
compound. And she’s here most of the time, doing her own things. “Of
course, I see them out and about, but they pretty much mind their own
business. They don’t ask to see me often.”
Now I feel sorry about that because I thought for sure they were all
sticking together. After all, they did arrive from the same province area.
But I guess not everyone remains true to friends--even some they grew
up near.

250
 >
Tonight in my hairstyling class, I’m surprised to have an unexpected
customer. It’s Felix’ wife, Felicidad. I didn’t even know she’s still in
town. Although I met her after they married, I assumed I’d never see
either one of them again. But I don’t think it’s a good idea to tell my
teacher that she’s the wife of my ex-boyfriend. So here I am, fixing her
hair.
“How do you like your school and all that you’re involved with?” she
asks.
I answer her question politely before she mentions the fact that Felix
began drinking heavily soon after they married, and now he hardly ever
comes home.
I don’t wish to embarrass her by hinting that I feel sorry for her.
But then she shows me a picture of her young son, little Felix. “He
looks exactly like his daddy.”
“Yes, he does take after his father,” I return and since I know of
nothing else to say, I work to finish her hair.
Then she thanks me for the fine job I’ve done. “I’ll definitely
recommend you to anybody at any time.”
“Thank you,” I return, and then I see her out.
Once I am through for the evening, I hurry home to find Rosario
cooking in the kitchen. “Did Henry arrive while I was gone?”
“No, dear.”
At this moment, Henry comes up the stairs and leads the way to our
room.
As I’m closing the door behind us, I feel I’ll burst with my news.
But I’m so nervous about how to go about it.
“I love you and missed you so much,” Henry says and embraces me.
“I could hardly wait to get here.”
I realize this may not be the best time to tell him about our baby. But
I must let him know before he’s gone again. So I decide to let him enjoy
his first evening home and not spoil it. Then perhaps God will grant me
wisdom to find the right words in the morning. But this is his baby, too,
I think, so I shouldn‘t feel afraid to tell him.

>
I wake this morning to my usual nauseated self. Then I think, okay,
now you can’t hide it. You have to tell Henry. But right now, I know

251
that if I don’t excuse myself and get out from under this sheet, I’m going
to throw up all over his face.
I quickly break for the bathroom.
Then when I return with face red and eyes bloodshot from throwing
up, he asks if I’m all right.
“I’m going to be okay.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, just give me a little time.”
I sit on the end of the bed, but he asks that I climb back in with him.
“No, I have to get up--I must be up. I have something to tell you.”
Henry props himself on one elbow. “Okay, what do you have in
mind?”
I swallow hard. ‘What would you think if I tell you that we’re going
to have a baby?” Although I expected a delayed response, I never
imagined his face might slide completely off his head.
“Oh ... no,” he whispers. He’s obviously disappointed because he
never expected this to happen so soon. Then his few moments of silence
feel like eternity, but he comes to realize that my news is quite real. He
must face up to it. So he draws me close and whispers, “I love you.”
His words reflect sadness, but I nod and agree that he does love me.
And now I feel I’ll vomit again. So I excuse myself and rush to the
bathroom with crazy thoughts coming to mind. Is he one of these
people who don’t really want to have children? I thought he once told
me that after coming from a family with five children that he might like
to have five children, too, someday. I’m quite sad to think, now what’s
going to happen?

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 28
Thy People Shall Be My People

It’s hard to believe I haven’t long to work for my bosses now. But
I’m grateful that I may return to cater for others in the compound from
time to time. It will help since my husband will have to start paying our
room rent soon.
I’ll also need some money to live on. So it will be awfully hard for
me. I have enough pride not to beg for money. Yet I’m going to have to
start asking him for some when necessary. I just hope it doesn’t bug
him. But I haven’t much choice, so again, I thank God I’m here today
and trust He’ll continue providing for my daily needs.

>
Now that I’ve laid out a buffet of assorted foods, I duck back into the
kitchen to wait.
And soon after, the Sadlers arrive at the dining hall and sit with the
McClains. They assume they’ll only be sharing a special dinner with
the one couple before leaving the Philippines.
“It looks like there’s another party over there,” comments Mrs.
Sadler.
The Mclains act oblivious to the majority of the compound’s
population in the next room.
Then once the Sadlers settle into conversation, the group floods forth
with a yell, “Surprise!”
I immediately step from the kitchen to see my bosses flabbergasted
but extremely happy.
Instead of an intimate gathering, they discover more than one
hundred people are here to wish them farewell.
It’s hard to believe they’ll be gone in less than two weeks, I think.
So, I’m surely going to miss them. They’re such wonderful people that I
hope to meet others like them, especially after I get to the States.
It’s late in the night before several other women and I have the place
cleaned up and squared away. But it’s good to know that dinner was
successful, and everyone had a great time.
Thank God I made it through this evening without incident. I’m
extremely tired but grateful to have been able to successfully manage a
job of this size.

253
 >
As I’m leaving work, Hedy tells me that Mr. and Mrs. Julian are due
to return to the States in September. So she hopes to find someone to
work for who are just as kind as they’ve been to her.
“I’m confident you’ll have no trouble,” I assure her and head to
class. Along the way, I keep thinking, I feel awful like I won’t make it
through the night. I was quite sick most of day and long to go straight
to bed. So it’s getting difficult for me to function around here. And to
top that off, I’m really sad to see the Sadlers leave. But the time has
arrived for them to return home.

>
The baby seems very active for this early stage of pregnancy, but Dr.
Santos tells me everything’s fine. “I’d like to see you again in another
month.”
“I don’t feel good half the time and have been throwing up a lot.”
“Go and buy some lemons to suck on sometimes,” she says, “it helps
to soothe that feeling, especially the early morning ones.”
So I head straight to Market to purchase a whole bag.

>
Mr. Bernabe and I have picked up one document from the Embassy
and another in Quezon City.
Then he offers to buy lunch, but I tell him I can’t eat much because
my stomach’s upset.
“Why, are you sick or something?”
Now I’ve no choice but to explain why I’m ill.
So he informs me of a limitation, a rule requiring a pregnant woman
to be less than seven months along to board a ship. Otherwise, she must
wait until after the baby’s born. And even then, the child must be two
years of age before papers can be processed to take it from the country. I
hope yours will be processed quickly so you’ll be set to leave soon.”
“I do hope so, too,” I return and sip a cup of tea. Then once I make
it home, I pray that all will work out well. I’m also hoping that Henry
wrote to tell his family that I’ll be arriving at their home, pregnant.
That concerns me since they’ll have to consider a baby besides myself.

>
I had to quit school completely because I’m sicker than ever. And I
can hardly get out of bed each morning. Sometimes I don’t even eat

254
because I know I’ll just throw it all up. So I’m pretty miserable. But
now that the Sadlers are gone and I’m not required at work, I stay in
bed. I only get up when it’s absolutely necessary because it’s often
difficult to even raise my head.
My husband will be home again soon, I think, and 1 must make the
effort to get up and move around. Then I won’t be so weak when he
arrives. I don’t want to give him an impression that I’m so sick like this.
Rosario has told me, too, to try moving about even if only indoors.
Otherwise, I’ll weaken my system all the more.
But it’s too hard for me to stand for long on my feet and try to
concentrate at the same time. So I’m glad my teacher agreed not to
pressure me to attend classes.
And although I didn’t learn much to stand on, I do hope to
eventually finish the classes.

>
Henry’s here and very sympathetic with my condition now. He says
to take care of myself. “We wouldn’t want anything to happen to our
baby.”
I assume he thought more about what we’re facing. “I had no choice
but to quit school,” I say, “because I’ve been sick in bed most of the
time.”
“I’m sorry about that, but I guess we can’t do anything about it.”
We share a small lunch and go walking along a nearby street. Since
we’ve never been this route before, it turns out that most of the homes
are two-stories high and a more favorable quality. Then as we approach
a four-house sector, we spot a “For Rent” sign posted out front.
So we ask within, and an old woman takes us to see the apartment
available upstairs.
The three-room flat appears large compared with where we’ve been
staying. So we ask how much money she wants per month.
“Fifty pesos.”
Henry takes me aside and quietly says we could get into this place.
The additional space would be better for me to move about in. But I’ll
have to go up and down the stairs to use the laundry room and bathroom
facilities, which are provided for all eight rental units.
This will be fine, so we decide to take it. We then return home to
immediately move my belongings over there since Henry must get back
to the base tomorrow.
Rosario’s understanding of our situation and wishes us the best. “I
just hope you’ll often find time to visit,” she tells me.

255
 So we dismantle our bed and flag a carretilla outside to pack it in.
Then we strap my small table with two chairs, clothes, and few pots and
pans on. And away we go.

>
I’ll be waiting for you,” I tell Henry as he’s off again.
Then once he’s gone, I happen to meet Mrs. Aguilar, the lady
renting a ground floor apartment in the next house. She has a little girl,
and her husband works as a telephone operator in the American
Embassy.
‘You may come over there to call Henry from time to time,” says
Mr. Aguilar, “and the call won’t cost you anything.”
Apparently, Mrs. Aguilar’s brother is at Clark Field, and she calls
him sometimes.
She and I become fast friends. So I’m grateful that I’ll have
someone to talk to if I have need.
She offers to be of help at any time, and I thank both her and her
husband.
Back inside, I look my place over again and am pleased to have my
own kitchen sink. But the landlord did warn that I wouldn’t get much
water up here if all the tenants happen to run theirs at the same time. It
would be due to low pressure, so I’d have to wait my turn. Otherwise, I
can draw water from the sink in the laundry room downstairs.
I have to remember to get some kind of container to fill for reserve.
It would also help to own a portable potty. It’s slightly inconvenient but
will do since we may not be here long.
I feel quite fortunate to have my own cooking area in the corner of
my kitchen where I can build a fire. And there’s also a slat rack for
drying clean dishes just outside the window. Then there’s the bedroom
with space to move freely within. And though the third room is empty,
that additional space allows me to walk and stretch myself.
So this is the biggest place I’ve lived in since my home in Santa
Cruz, other than the Sadlers. It’s nice to move about without bumping
into something.

>
Lina spent the weekend with me and even brought food so I
wouldn’t need to provide any.
We did get to go shopping while she was here. So that was a nice
treat.
But I was simply content to speak with her as we used to up on Aunt
Mary’s roof.

256
 We both remember laughing and carrying on as sisters all that long
ago.
Then as she was leaving, she said she’d come back sometimes when
she’s free to spend more together. After all, I might be leaving for the
States soon.

>
We’re now in the month of July, and I’m mainly at home doing
practically nothing. I’m pretty much trying to take care of myself and
making sure that I eat right. But I can often feel the baby moving within
me, especially at night. So I’m comforted to feel someone right here
with me. I can hardly wait until the time I’m able to hold him or her in
my arms. I just pray that my baby will be healthy and good-looking.

>
I’ve taken my neighbor’s offer to call Henry from the Embassy. So
it’s nice to hear his voice since I’m missing him often, the more he’s
away from me. That must be a good sign. I now long for him to be with
me always because I love him. And, too, each time this little one moves,
I think of Henry. After all, this child is part of him, so I feel compassion
for its father who’s stationed far from me.

>
Well, Rosario came across Hedy at the compound and told her where
Henry and I have moved to.
So now all the girls I once roomed with have come to visit me.
Mary, Cincia, Lourdes, and Hedy all say they’ve been told that I’m
preparing to go to the States. So they wanted to see me in my new
home.
It such a pleasant surprise to see them friendlier than ever in the
past.
And now that they’re here, they really like the place. They’re even
talking about seeing about renting this apartment together when I let it
go.
Anyway, I’m grateful they’re here to see me even with our
difference of opinions.

257
 >
I just received an invitation to attend lunch at the club with Mrs.
McClain and Mrs. Scott. It will be next month, the early part of August.
So I’m assuming they’d like to discuss the fact that Mr. and Mrs. Julian
will leave in September to return home.
Anyway, I’ll be working to finish the dress I started before I got sick.
And since I’m sewing it by hand, it’s taking longer than if I had a
sewing machine to use. But it’s something to keep me busy instead of
just sitting around here with my misery. My morning sickness still gets
to me sometimes, but I hope that as time goes by, I’ll feel as good as
new.

>
It’s nice to have Henry home again. I’m glad he was able to get
away because I know he’s sometimes tied down with guard duty or
something. When I called him a few weeks ago, the person who
answered informed me that he was in the guardhouse. So I was so
concerned that I’d caused him trouble for calling over there.
But I’m relieved to hear that it didn’t jeopardize him. I’m also
happy I can share almost anything with him now. “I’ve been feeling the
baby move,” I say. Even though it’s only been three months, I can feel
it flitting around within me. And that’s such a good feeling.

>
Henry and I have come to a store where cloth can be purchased for
clothing which people may need during the winter in America.
But I just don’t care for the colors we see here today. Actually,
they’re pretty ugly. So I choose a bolt with a zebra pattern and give the
tailor my measurements. At least that’s done, and I'll have something
warm to wear it is cold when I get to the States.

>
Henry told me that he received a letter from his mother. Apparently,
she and the family are eagerly anticipating the day I’ll arrive to live with
them.
So I’m thankful that they look forward to seeing me. And I’m glad
to have had the opportunity to get acquainted with some Americans
beforehand. I feel it really helped me to learn and observe some of their
customary ways. Again, I’m so grateful to God, the Almighty.

258
 >
Mrs. McClain, Mrs. Scott, and I are having a wonderful time
sharing lunch in the club.
They plan to prepare the farewell party for Mr. and Mrs. Julian.
And since they know I enjoy doing this sort of thing, they’ve asked me
to he part of it. They’re certain that the Julians will appreciate me being
there.
I say, “Okay, I’ll do it,” because I don’t mind providing that service
for them. I’m grateful to be able to visit with these kind people in the
compound sometimes.
They now firmly commit to pay me to cater the dinner party
sometime in early September. Then the Julians won’t feel pressured by
activities before taking off in the latter part of the month.

>
While the foods are cooking in the club’s kitchen, I set the dining
hall for this evening’s buffet dinner.
Then when the time comes for the party to begin, I believe this may
be the last time I’ll see the Julians. But it’s good to see a lot of the other
people again.
So it’s quite late when Mrs. McClain and Mrs. Scott slip me a nice
tip for doing a great job. They call this a tip, I think, but fifty pesos are
big money as far as catering a dinner goes. They’re so generous with
their love, and I’m grateful for this money because I’ll need it to pay the
doctor the next time I see her.

>
Mr. Bernabe came to get me again. And he says that we ought to
know by the end of the day when my paperwork will be completed.
So we go back to Quezon City to sign another document.
The man we’ve met with says, “Someone must want you over there
pretty bad because this will complete the job.”
But I don’t know what he means. As far as I can see, it’s just
another paper I had to sign.
A short time later Henry and I are called to the American Embassy.
There an official presents me with my Permanent Residency visa. He
repeats what the man at Quezon City said and added,. “This usually
takes eighteen months to three years.”
Now Mr. Bernabe informs me that this is the last trip we must make
together. Everything is completed as far as my exit visa’s concerned.
So all I have to do now is wait to board the ship bound for America.

259
 I’m so thrilled that I’m at a loss for words.
Then we head downtown to Lina’s workplace.
“Do you have time to have a big, late lunch with us?” he asks her,
“this is going to be a big celebration for Florencia. See, her visa’s
complete, and now she’s ready to go to the U.S. and leave her country
behind.”
Lina hugs me tightly. “Mary must know this news, so you have to
come by the house.”
“Yes, I can visit sometime.”
“I get off work early, so you must come with me this evening,” she
insists, “then I can go home with you tomorrow to spend time with you”
Mr. Bernabe now breaks the news that I’ll be able to climb aboard
the S.S. General Gordon ship on Election Day in early November. All
the paperwork is ready for me to travel from Manila all the way to San
Francisco. And it will be an eighteen-day journey, but we’ll stop at the
harbor of Yokohama, Japan and one of the Hawaiian Islands. But if all
goes well, the ship will arrive in San Francisco on Thanksgiving Day.
I’m so excited now that I can hardly wait to call Henry.
Then when five o’clock rolls around, Lina takes me to tell Aunt
Mary the news.
Aunt Mary’s happy for me and says, “Why don’t you and Henry just
come on over here to stay with us until it’s time for your departure?
That way you two won’t have to pay rent for where you live for the
month of October. I know Mr. Aspecto would be glad to have you both
here until you must leave.”
Now Mr. Aspecto happens to enter the room and hear the news.
“Congratulations!” he cries before suggesting the same thing his wife
has. “It would be awfully nice if you two stayed with us until you go.
Of course we won’t see Henry much with him away, but at least we’ll
have the pleasure of having you here.”
“Thank you, I’ll discuss it with him and see what he says. Then I’ll
get back to you.

>
“My papers are completed for me to make my trip to America,” I tell
Mrs. Aguilar.
“How wonderful!” she returns, “I wish I were taking that trip with
you”
Then while Lina and I are heading to the Embassy, she keeps
reminding me to tell Henry about Aunt Mary’s suggestion.
I assure her that I will as I dial his number.
“That’s awfully nice of them to offer, “Henry is soon telling me.

260
 Then I mention that advance notice isn’t necessary but that we can
simply tell the landlord that we’ll be moving out. That way, they can
post a sign outside again to rent the place.

>
I’m so glad I decided to come see Hedy because her bosses and their
daughter will definitely be leaving this coming Saturday.
Hedy tells me she’ll go home to Pangasinan for a while and return
another time to search for another job. There just isn’t anything
available in the compound right now. So she’ll take this time to visit
her family.
I’m just glad to be here, otherwise I never would have seen her
again.

>
Mrs. McClain is happy that my visa’s prepared for me to leave soon.
She says they’ll head home sometime next year, too.
So I’m relieved that it will allow Mary time to look for another job.
“We plan to help her,” says Mrs. McClain, “by placing her name on
the list for other people who may be looking for a housekeeper.”
That’s awfully nice of them to do that. Although Mary doesn’t know
what happened to her husband, I’m glad to know she’ll do fine. So I tell
her, “This may be the last time I see you, Mary. But I wish the best to
you.”
Then I take off to my last appointment with Dr. Santos.
“Everything’s fine,” she says, “the baby’s doing well. And since
you’re healthy, you have nothing to worry about. Just be sure to stop by
the clinic in San Lazaro before you leave for the United States. And
plan to see a doctor soon after you arrive there. That way, they can
monitor you as you draw closer to your delivery date.”

>
My husband’s just arriving, and we have much to be happy about.
This is what we’ve been looking forward to.
Yet at the same time, half of me wants to stay and the other half
wants to go since we want our baby to be born a citizen of America.
Henry says that he’s going to apply for a ten-day furlough. Then we
can be together while I wait to board the ship. He says there is a
complication in that Clark Field is closed and personnel are restricted to
base for a period overlapping my departure date. The reason is that

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November 8 is the national Election Day, and the US government wants
its people to avoid any possible violence.
I’m hoping they allow it, but I’ll be grateful even if he’s only able to
see me off. I can’t help but feel thankful for all God’s doing. Of course,
it’s going to be a new challenge for me once I reach America because I
don’t know anyone there. And though his family has seen my picture,
they don’t know me. I just pray that we all can get along fine since I
don’t know them either.
God always seems to provide people who care for my welfare. So I
pray that He blesses each one of them. It’s just somewhat difficult
because I have this lonely spot in me for all the friends I’ll be leaving
behind. But I must have confidence that The Lord will look after every
single one of us.
My husband will be left behind a while, too, so I’m going to miss
him. I wish he could be with me, but he must finish his time of service
here in the Philippines before he can join me at his home. So since I
have our child to consider, I’m going to have to think positively. I have
to take good care of myself so it may be born healthy. I also pray that it
won’t take long for Henry and me to be united again.

>
Well, we’ve moved into Aunt Mary’s home, and I’ve been to the
clinic in San Lazaro for my final checkup.
The doctor there informed me that everything appears fine but that I
ought to consider all that I eat. It’s because he feels the baby is large.
And since it’s my first one, he wouldn’t want me to face great difficulty
in delivering it. “So cut down on the sweets and eat more of the healthy
foods are better for you and the baby.” Now he repeats what Dr. Santos
said to me about seeing a doctor after arriving in the U.S.
I take to heart all he’s said and thank him for his service. Then as
I’m leaving, two nuns who often visit about the clinic stop to speak with
me.
The doctor tells them I’m married to an American and will be going
to the United States.
“In fact, this is the last checkup that she’ll have in the Philippines.”
The nuns look me over with surprise. “Are you sure everything will
be all right?”
“Yes,” I say.
“Well, if you need any help, we’re here for you.” Now they ask
where I’m staying.
I answer by stating the Aspectos’ address.
“Okay, maybe we can call on you before you leave.”

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 So I thank them and move along.

>
Miracle of miracles, my husband’s furlough was approved, and he
has just arrived.
When 1 greet him, I can’t help but laugh because my stomach is so
big and round between us that I practically have to stand sideways for
him to get his arm around me.
Now Henry has written instructions for me to follow on my trip and
letters of introduction to people whom I must contact to help me along
the way. “You’ll be traveling under a traveler’s agency, so people will
look after you until you reach your destination. Then you won’t get lost.
And after you’re off the ship, you’ll still be in their care until you board
your plane for Virginia.”
I’m so happy that he’s planned all this for me. Now I won’t be
worrying about where I must go.

>
I now have four days left before my ship comes in that I can’t help
but grow nervous. So I wonder how it’s going to be during all that time
on the ship. Will I be all right? Mrs. Sadler was quite ill when she
arrived to the Philippines. And I’m sure that being seasick would be
tough in my condition.

>
The two nuns from the clinic are here to visit me, so I’m glad Henry
is here.
He’s explains that be wants only to take care of his wife and baby
since there’s no one but himself to do it. This is why he’s sending us
ahead to his family, so the baby can be born in the States.
So now it appears they’re embarrassed. They were concerned for the
welfare of the child.
“You needn’t be concerned,” says Henry, “I’m here, and the baby
will be taken care of.”

>
It’s the morning of November 8, and I’m due to depart this
afternoon.
So everybody’s nervous. They can’t sit still and are all walking
around.

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 Mr. and Mrs. Aspectos are generous to have arranged for a “Youpy”
to come and pick us up. It’s the limousine, which just arrived to take us
to the pier where my ship will leave.
So we pack my luggage in and go to spend the remainder of our time
together by the sea.
There, Jaime and several other friends show up to take photographs
and bid me farewell.
Then when it’s time for me to go aboard, everyone hugs me tightly
with tears in our eyes.
A stairway has been lowered to the ground for people to make their
way up to the first-class level.
So it seems like such a long climb for me. But after I do make it to
the top, I’m grateful that Henry arranged this for me. Then I hopefully
won’t have too rough a trip. Apparently, those who are berthing on
lower levels won’t be allowed to roam the upper deck. And it would
make for a long, uncomfortable eighteen days if I had to endure that.
Now I’m up here on the deck, looking down. And my husband and
friends seem so far away. Henry looks so small, standing there, looking
up. Now I’m unable to prevent my tears from flowing for this is a trip
with no return. I wish I could go back to be with him. But I must do
this for his sake and the sake of our child. Henry’s people will be my
people now, so 1 need to be strong to take this journey and pray for us
to be together again soon.
So as we pull away, we wave to those still on the pier. We’re also
waving goodbye to this country of ours.
And I’m saying quietly to myself, “Farewell, my country, forever.
Goodbye, honey, I hope to see you one day soon.” I just feel so sad,
wishing he was right here beside me. But it’s too late now to change my
mind; I’m on board.
And now the ship is swinging around so that we see nothing but a
great body of water before us. It’s everywhere we focus. And the
Manila pier has suddenly disappeared, no more in sight.

>
Henry lingers long to watch the ship grow faint in the distance. He’s
somewhat relieved to have Jaime by his side when people nearby
murmur and laugh. Here he stands, an American Staff Sergeant, with
tears streaming down his face. But he disregards their ridicule because
they’ll never know him to understand the heaviness of his heart.
Then after returning to the Aspectos’ home, Aunt Mary prepares the
upper room for Henry.

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 There, he retires to sleep but can only lie weeping. He cries and cries
through the night, already lonely for dear Florencia. Yet he’s not
certain if all his tears are due to their parting or rather the release of
emotional tension built up from months making certain she was properly
processed to go to the States. Perhaps it’s a combination of being
separated for an indefinite time and the relief of having accomplished
what he set out to do for her.
He thinks, at least she‘s on her way. I hope her journey sees her
there safely so she'll be waiting for me when I can return home to her.

And Ruth said, entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from

following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go: and where
thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy
God my God: Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried:
the LORD do so to me, and more also, if ought but death part thee
and me.

Ruth 1:16, 17

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 29
Journey Into The Unknown

Several other women share my cabin, but it’s Carolina, who’s

especially kind. She’s exchanged her bottom bunk for my top one so
I’m not forced to climb up and down at night. Now she and I stick close
since she’ll be traveling deep into the U.S., too.
Then after the ship docks at Yokohama, Japan, the two of us choose
not to get off. The fog happens to be so thick that we figure we wouldn’t
enjoy much sightseeing anyhow.
Plus, it’s been difficult enough for me to rub shoulders with the many
Japanese aboard our vessel. And though I know it’s wrong to resent
them, with the war long over, it’s one more issue that I must turn over to
God. I’m counting on Him to help me forgive those who oppressed my
people and to forget bad memories.

>
For some reason, my roommates and I happen to dine at the same
table as the ship’s captain each evening.
And now that we’ve had the honor of enjoying his company, he’s
personally invited us to a private tea party in his cabin.
We feel fortunate to be singled out. But while we share finger-cakes
and tea, we each private wish to throw up. This seasickness has gotten
the best of us. Yet we don’t want to offend our host by rushing off.
Then when we finally do return to our cabin to rest, the emergency
siren blares.
Everyone scrambles to the deck where we must slip into life jackets.
And come to find out, this whole thing is just a drill.
Now my nerves are so jangled that I begin cramping badly and clutch
my stomach.

266
 Carolina senses that I’m in trouble and helps me down to the ship’s
infirmary.
Fortunately, the doctor finds that I’m experiencing false labor pains
with all the excitement. So he gives me some kind of pill to help calm
me down. I know I wasn’t the only one quite startled, so I thank God
that it wasn’t the real thing. Otherwise, I may have lost my baby for
certain.

>
The ship docks for the day in gorgeous Honolulu, Hawaii, so off we
go, sightseeing.
Carolina and I find we’re making out better than the others by
taxiing about the island rather than joining the standard bus tour. Our
driver brings us to many beautiful points not frequented by those buses.
And if I didn’t know better, I’d think we were in prewar Philippines.
The brilliant flowers, too numerous to measure, and lush landscapes are
breathtaking.
Then it’s onto a marketplace for souvenirs and a late lunch at a
remote restaurant. We’re both thrilled to discover Philippine food being
served here.
Back on the ship, night falls, and everyone gathers to attend a
prearranged bingo party.
But I don’t care much to participate, so I help Carolina keep an eye
on all her boards.
“Bingo!” we cry each time she wins.
When it’s over, she insists that I keep half the money. But I refuse,
and she slips me a coin anyway.
I think, well, I have this quarter, so I’ll try my hand at the slot
machine. After all, everyone else seems to be lining up to play. So I
observe each person ahead drop their money into an opening, pull down
on the great handle, and walk away a loser. I’m quiet as I slip my own
coin into this contraption. Then I’m startled when its bells go off with
lights flashing.
Everyone turns to see change pour out onto the floor before me.
“Money for the baby!” they cry. And those nearest help me to scoop it
up.
There happens to be a total of thirty-five dollars, so I lug it all to the
gift shop to swap for bills. Then I think, what a nice fluke because
that’s the extent of gambling for me. I’ll buy something special for the
baby.

267
 >
It’s Thanksgiving Day, 1949, and the S. S General Gordon has
arrived on time at San Francisco, the United States. But with the fog so
thick, we’re forced to park under the Golden Gate Bridge until evening.
Then once we do land, Carolina says, “Florencia, what if you turn in
your airplane ticket?” She reminds me that she’ll spend a few days here
with her aunt and uncle before boarding a train for Chicago. “You can
rest, see the city, and travel on with me. Then you can take another
train to Washington, DC while I go to Detroit.”
“All right,” I return, “thank God, we’re finally off the ship.”
At this point, everyone’s luggage is checked by port officials for
illegal contraband. But once we’re allowed to move away from the pier,
we cross a couple who managed to bring pickled salted fish into this
country.
We snicker to see that their large jar has smashed along the
sidewalk.
“Shoowee!” people proclaim, “It smells rotten.” Almost everyone
passing is pinching their nose and pushing to get away.
Now I meet Carolina’s aunt and uncle, Mr. and Mrs. Villanueva.
Carolina explains to them that she’s suggested I stick around.
They note my condition and agree that I ought to rest over the next
few days. So they help me to exchange my ticket to travel by train
rather than plane. And then we send a telegram through to Henry’s
parents.

>
We’ve rested, shopped, and went sightseeing over the past few days.
So naturally I thanked Carolina and her relatives for granting me the
opportunity to see some of San Francisco because I may never pass this
way again.
And tonight, while we try to enjoy our final dinner in a nice Chinese
restaurant, everyone is buzzing about a tragic plane crash.
I'm relieved to even be sitting here because it’s a shock to learn that
it was the flight I had planned to take. Everyone aboard was killed, so
I’m thanking God in my heart that He impressed upon me to delay here.
Now I must trust that my train trip will be uneventful.

>
It’s our second day on the train, and Mr. and Mrs. Villanueva are
both sweet to have packed a food sack. There are chickens, rice, fruits,
breads, enough for two days of good eating.

268
 But we don’t realize how long we’ve been in bed until we unzip our
curtain to climb out. Everyone else is sitting upright in their seats, so
we rush off to the bathroom. Then when we do return to crawl inside
our tent, we’re pretty embarrassed. And to top it off, our breakfast
spread smells up the compartment. So we don’t bother folding the bed
up to sit with the others. Instead, we stay in to trump it up with lunch,
too.
“Well, it won’t be long before we’ll have to get ready for bed again
anyway,” says Carolina.
So we take advantage of the remaining light to see all we can through
the window. We pass dry fields with cows here or there. And now and
again a small town breaks the countryside.
Then after dark, I say, “Well, I’m going to have to go out there to the
restroom.”
“All right,” Carolina returns, “that’s a good idea. I can stand to go,
too.”

>
Carolina’s quite surprised to find her husband here to meet her at the
Chicago train station. hey’ll visit friends in the city before driving home
to Detroit. But before they leave, they make sure that I’m taken care of.
And they help me call my sister-in-law, Helen, at her place of work.
Helen tells me she isn’t certain who will meet my train tomorrow but
that I needn’t worry because someone will be there to collect me.
Now I’m placed in the care of a travel agency representative, so I
wish Carolina farewell.
The representative then leads me to the other station where my train
will depart.
So for the next four hours I’m somewhat nervous to go the final
stretch to Henry’s home. The time has nearly arrived for me to meet my
new family.
Then come evening, this same woman leads me aboard the proper
train to my private compartment. “Mrs. Miller, once you arrive
tomorrow, there will be another woman who will pick you up here.”
I nod, and after she’s gone, I look about my room.
It’s snug with a seat, wall bed, toilet, and sink.
But when I draw the bed down, the toilet is situated underneath. I
stare at it and think, this is going to be some night. It’s obvious that I’ll
have to lift the bed each time I must relieve myself. Then as anticipated,
it turns out that I must get up and down several times. And by three -
thirty a.m., I can’t fall back to sleep. So I stow the bed to freshen up and
get dressed. Now all I can do is to sit in the corner chair and consider
what lies before me.

269
 At sunrise, I head to the dining car for breakfast and sit at a narrow
table for two. Then after I’ve placed my order, a young serviceman
enters and comes directly over.
He introduces himself as some Major to me.
But I don’t understand why he sits across from me, so I politely say,
It’s nice to meet you.”
“It looks like you just came across the ocean,” he comments.
He seems friendly, but I don’t really care to make conversation. I
just say, “Yes, sir,” or “No, sir,” to whatever he asks. I’m more
concerned about what I’ll face after I’m off this train.
So he finally takes the hint and lets me eat in peace.
I finish and return to my cabin to wait to reach my destination.
When we arrive, I’m relieved because I’m tired of riding. All I’ve been
hearing is the train making its clickety-clack sounds all along the
railway. And though I don’t wish to complain, it was hard to rest in my
condition with so much tapping and swaying. But other than that, I feel
I’ve had a wonderful traveling experience.
“All out for Washington, DC!” the conductor hollers while knocking
at each door.
I look out my window to see people receiving those stepping off.
And it’s not long before my guide comes for me. “Hello! Mrs.
Miller, I’m Kelly. I’ll take care of you after I collect another lady from
the end of the hail. So wait for me, okay?”
“Yes, I’ll wait,” I return, and soon after, the three of us head
outdoors.
Now as we walk to the station, Kelly stops. “If you ladies don’t
mind, wait here. I forgot something, but I’ll be back right back.”
While we wait, I see that there is a person staring at me by the
station’s door. Then when Kelly disappears, she slowly approaches.
“Excuse me, I’m looking for Florencia.”
“I am Florencia,” I say.
“Oh! my--”
My eyes widen. “--are you Mrs. Miller--Henry Miller’s mother?”
“Yes, I am, Honey, I am.”
“Oh! Mamma.”
“Honey,” she continues, ‘I’ve been waiting for you. Let’s go inside
and tell the folks at the information desk that I’ve found you.”
So once that’s taken care of, Mamma says she must call Mrs. Sadler
because she promised to do so.
I’m surprised to hear her say that, and think, I wonder why. Then
while she’s on the phone, Mamma says, “No, I’m taking Florencia home
with me, but you’re welcome to visit her on Sunday. But you can’t have
her at your house.” She talks on a bit longer, and I learn that

270
she had to take a taxi all the way from Fredericksburg, Virginia to get
me.
Now I feel bad that it must have cost her quite a bit of money to
cover the fifty miles.
Finally, we flag a taxi together and climb in with my suitcases.
I’m quietly peering out the window as we ride to her house. Then
suddenly, all sorts of crazy ideas come to mind. Suppose this woman
has played a part in picking me up, but she‘s not the person who‘s
supposed to meet me? What if I’m being kidnapped or something?
After all, I had never seen a photograph of Henry’s mother, only one of
Helen, his sister.
I try blocking out such thoughts by looking to the trees. Some are
half green, I think, but boy! they have a lot of dead ones about. It looks
like somebody‘s going to have to cut them all down. There are only a
few here and there that seems to be living.
When we arrive home, I thank God that I’ve made it and that
Henry’s family has taken me in. So now I have much to learn about
their way of living.
Then the woman from across the road returns the youngest member
of this family. I meet Mamma’s young son, Melvin, and find him to be
some cute boy. Now I have yet to meet the rest of the family.
There are two girls, Geralene and Leta, who ought to arrive from
school soon. And Helen and Dad will come later from work. Those two
happen to work at the same plant.
When Mamma helps me stow my belongings in Helen’s bedroom, I
think, well, it looks like Helen‘s going to have a roommate. Then
Mamma takes me out the back door and around the side of the house.
And since it’s built on a slope, we go down the frost-encrusted incline to
get into the basement kitchen. Inside, she slides a chair over for me to
sit on while Melvin plays on the floor. Then she builds a fire in her
wood-stove to fix lunch.
I never knew this is the way they must cook their food. But I’m
watching her every move. I see that there’s one section of the stove
where she puts wood in to be lit.
Then when the top is hot, she warms pinto beans and leftover
cornbread.
The three of us share a meal and head back upstairs to sit by the
warm space heater. We’re listening to Mamma’s favorite radio program
when Geralene and Leta come scrambling in.
Right away, they ask me how my trip was. So I share a few
highlights before they head off to do homework.

271
 Then after the program ends, I follow Mamma out to the woodpile
where she chops enough to replenish both the kitchen and house stoves.
I’m amazed that wood must be burned to heat a home in the United
States, especially after coming from a country that never grows cold. So
I’ll have to learn all sorts of things firsthand because Henry never
mentioned how they live here at his home. But in a way I’m glad that
this is how it is because it makes me feel right at home.
Then while Mamma prepares supper, Helen comes through the door
and embraces me. “How is my sister-in law?” My father-in-law steps
in, too, and shakes hands with me. “How is my new daughter?”
Now we all sit around the table to eat and get acquainted. Then at
bedtime, we’re back upstairs, and Mamma and Dad adjust the heater to
burn slowly since it’s directly across from their bed.
Helen and I go to her room, and it turns out to be a new experience
for me. She chuckles when I gasp while slipping between the bed
sheets.
They’re so cold that I tremble all over with my teeth chattering. I
think, I dread to get up in the night to use the portable potty in the
corner. But being pregnant, the urge to go often is like never before.
Then when I finally do come to rest on its rim, I nearly tip the thing
over because it stings like ice.

>
I feel sorry for Mamma. It’s four o’clock in the morning, and I hear
her head out through the cold to the kitchen below. It’s awfully early for
her to be up, but I suppose she must start breakfast for Dad and Helen to
get out on time.
Come to find out, she’s prepared biscuits with gravy, sausage and
eggs for everyone.
And after almost everyone is off to work or school, it’s just me,
Melvin, and Mamma to ourselves again.
While we sit by the wood stove, I ask, “Mamma, what do you do
throughout the day? And how do you take care of laundry with no
running water in the house? And exactly how do you clean the portable
potties?”
“Well, I empty the potties in the outhouse and set them outside until
evening. As for laundry, I draw water from our well--it’s right outside
the backdoor.” Now she explains how she boils water in her cooker to
clean clothes in her “wringer” washing machine. Then they’re rinsed in
a metal tub and hung on the clothesline to dry.

272
 >
I’m talking to my mother-in-law about going to see a doctor about
my baby. I’m supposed to be monitored now that my delivery date is
getting closer, so I hope there’s a doctor nearby.”
“We’ll be going into town on Saturday,” she says, “and we’ll take
you to see Dr. Bush.”

>
The doctor tells me all is well. The baby’s okay, so we only need to
wait for it to arrive.
So I thank God that this is done. At least I have a doctor who will be
taking care of me during the delivery.
Now the whole family takes me downtown to shop for little
Christmas gifts since the holidays nearly here.
I’m thinking, what I should get for my husband? After asking him
what he might want in one letter, his reply was that he wants nothing
but a baby. So just for kicks, I purchase a small doll to mail to him,
overseas. Then I buy something small for each member of the family.
I’ve never had Christmases like this but think, well, this is just a new
experience in my new life here in America.

>
Helen has brought the family to her boyfriend’s church to see a
Christmas play.
Many people are portraying the birth of the Messiah, Jesus Christ.
And I enjoy the program, although I’ve never seen anything like it
before.
Then the following day, it’s Sunday, so we’re off to church.
The Baptist service also turns out to be different from what I’m
accustomed to, but I enjoy it nonetheless.
There is much group singing followed by people telling the story of
Jesus’ birth.
Then the minister preaches a Christmas message of joy and
salvation.
Once we’re back at home, Mr. and Mrs. Sadler come to visit me.
I’m so thrilled to see someone I knew back home. And I’m also glad
to know that I can count on them if I ever need someone other than my
new family that God has given me. I sit here, thinking, every one of my
new families is being good to me. They all seem to genuinely love

273
me. So I still have much to learn about love since it wasn‘t so openly
expressed in my country the way it is here in America.
I also miss my husband since I’ll be celebrating Christmas with my
new parents, sisters, and brother while he’s still overseas. This baby
must be saying he or she likes Christmas, too, because it keeps jumping
within me. Now I’m thankful to know that it’s healthy. And it’s
wonderful to have it this close to keep me from feeling lonely while
Henry and I are apart.

274
 30
Waiting And Reunion

It’s now January of 1950, and I can hardly wait to hold our child in
my arms. It’s such a comfort to feel it moving around inside me. So I
thank God for that. I can’t help being thankful for Mom and Dad and
the children’s help to fill my time, too, while I wait.
Now we’ve just eaten supper, and the way the baby is moving inside
me is altogether strange. “Mamma,” I say, “it feels like the baby may be
coming soon.”
Her eyes brighten and she and Dad move quickly to get me and my
suitcase into the car. Then they drive me over to the hospital.
I’m admitted, but after being examined, the doctor sends my parents
home. “The baby probably won’t arrive until deep in the night,” he
says. And after they leave, he gives me a sedative to calm me.
It evidently relaxed me to sleep because I wake later to learn that I
gave birth to a baby girl.
The next morning my mother and father-in-law return, and one
nurse mistakenly congratulates Dad. “Your wife just had a baby girl!”
Mom and Dad just chuckle and come to see me. Since I’m still
groggy, they look in on my newborn and set off to wire Henry a
telegram.
When I’m finally able to sit up, the nurses place my daughter in my
arms.
I touch the pink bow they’ve placed in her pitch-black hair and
think, she’s such a beautiful, fat little thing.
Now everyone here can’t seem to get enough of her. They admire
how precious she is.

>
The baby’s back again, and I’m so glad to see her.
This time, the nurses ask, “What will you name her?”
“Evangalene Fay Miller,” I return, so that’s exactly what they print
on her birth certificate.

>
I’ve been in the hospital for five days, and it’s time for Mom and
Dad to take me home.
Once we step through the door, Evangalene senses she’s in a new
place and begins crying.
She cries on through most of the day and the night, too.

275
 So almost everybody takes turns picking her up. They walk with her
up and down the floor.
It seems to help, and I’m surprised but happy when Dad steps in to
take a turn, too.

>
The girls are so excited and sure love the baby. They help me so
much since the first day I brought Evangalene home. But they can’t
seem to get enough of her. And I don’t think the baby can get enough of
them either because she seems to enjoy their holding her often.
So whenever they’re here, Evangalene is only down when I’m
feeding her.
I’ve decided to breast-feed my baby because others tell me it’s
healthier. Then I don’t have to worry about giving the baby cod liver oil
and such. She’s getting all the nutrients required from me, so I thank
God that I’m producing all the milk she needs.

>
Now that February is here, Mr. and Mrs. Sadler have come to see me
again.
Mom and Dad notified them that my baby arrived, so they’re here to
see for themselves. They’ve even brought a gift, a little dress for her.
It was so nice of them to do that, I think, they’ve come to see me
because they love me, and they’re glad the baby is healthy.
So Mrs. Sadler tells me that if I need anything at all, just let them
know. They’ll be happy to help in any way possible. “We hope to see
Henry home with you soon, too.”

>
Well, Dad just loves the baby. As soon as he arrives from work, she
seems to be the first person he wants to see. That is, after Mamma, of
course.
The girls are the same way, too. They come home from school and
drop their books to look for the baby. They want to hold her right away.
It makes me happy to know that they love her so that they give her
all the attention she needs and more. So I’m glad that little Evangalene
has brought light to everybody.
Even Melvin asks to hold her now and then whenever she’s not
asleep. One time he made us all laugh because he asked Dad what he
must do to be a grandpa, too.

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 Dad gently explained the way it all comes about, so I assume
Melvin’s curiosity was satisfied because he left it at that.

>
Mom is wonderful to have taught me how to properly diaper my
baby. Of course, she had me practice some on the girls’ play doll before
Evangalene was born so I wouldn’t stick her with pins. But with this
being new to me, for some reason I can’t take the sight of the diaper’s
mess.
So Mamma’s been changing her diaper each time that happens
because I run to throw up. She laughs and says, “Child, you’re just
going to have to get strong with this thing.”
I know she’s right, so I attempt to do it on my own. But when I try
turning my head away, it’s no good. I’ve got to see what I’m doing.

>
The days and months have gone by, and Easter holiday is nearly
upon us.
My mother-in-law tells me that we’ll be celebrating the time when
Jesus Christ died on a cross to redeem his people from sin. She also
boils eggs for the children because of the occasion.
So Melvin and the girls and I decorate each of them with names and
designs.
Then they encourage me to make one for Henry and save it until he
gels home.
I ask them why. “How can we keep it fresh until then if we have no
refrigerator?”
The children giggle and tell me to place the egg outside where it’s
cold.
>
We’re counting the days until Henry arrives next month.
As for now, the women from the church are coming to give me a
baby shower.
That kind of party is new to me.
But while we wait, Melvin says, “Mamma, we’ve got to bring up the
washtub because Florie’s gonna get a shower!”
We laugh because he' s so sincere.
He seems to think that the women are going to give me a bath or
something.

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 Anyway, the ladies arrive, and I’m overwhelmed with thankfulness
to God that they’re showing such an expression of love. I can see that
they help each other. So I hope I can return the kindness they’re
showing me someday.
>
My husband is due to arrive any day now, so we’re all excited and
preparing for his return.
And I keep thinking about Henry’s recent letter in which he asked
me not to let the girls spoil the baby.
My young sister-in-law, Geralene, had told me, “Ha! we’ll show him.
He’s not going to tell us what we can do or cannot do.”
So I’m thinking, uh-oh, I hope they don't argue when Henry gets
here because of his restriction. I don’t think that they’ll appreciate that
much. So I hope he won't be so hard on them by as not letting them play
with Evangalene because they love that baby so.

>
Today, my husband comes home! And Mamma and I get more
excited by the minute as we wait for Dad to bring Henry from the train
station. She’s playing solitaire on her bed while I’m in the rocking
chair with the baby.
I’m trying hard to calm myself, but it’s not easy since it’s surely
going to be a big event for everyone.
Finally, we hear the car coming over the hill, so we move to the
window. Then I lay Evangalene to sleep in the bassinet before Mamma
and I run out the front door.
And after we go down the steps, Mamma stops. “You go on ahead
first, Florie.”
So I fly across the front lawn with my arms outstretched to meet
Henry. I hug him tight because I’m so happy to see him home as a
family again. Then I say, “Come on! Mamma.”
She now comes to embrace her son and whisper, “I love you, Junior.”
Then she leads Dad indoors to leave us alone in the yard.
And since we’re both overjoyed to be reunited, we just keep looking
to each another.
Now Melvin comes out from hiding. But it appears he doesn’t know
what to make of his older brother because he’s not so familiar with him.
Henry’s been away since he was quite small, so this is like meeting a
stranger.
I hope that eventually they’ll be able to spend quality time together.
Maybe Henry can play with Melvin as a big brother. I don’t know.

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They have such a difference in age. But to me, that shouldn‘t matter. It‘s just a
point of putting one’s mind to do it.
Well, everybody has arrived home from school and work now, but I
already hear some grumbling from the girls. Henry has told them not to
handle Evangalene so often lest she gets spoiled.
So they’re disappointed because they want to be able to play her.
Anyway, I’m thinking about what Mamma said before Henry
arrived.
She told me that my attention would now have to be divided between
both my husband and our child. It’s important that I remember not to
put more time into one than the other.
I didn’t know that this is the way it should be. I just assumed that
after the baby arrived, all the attention was meant to go to her.
Now I sense my poor husband wishes to be alone with me and our
child, but he can’t possibly ignore the family’s desire to be with him at
the same time. He’s also tired from his trip and would like to go to bed
as soon as possible. So already I notice some impatience, which he
never displayed while we were overseas together.
And of course, he and I have a lot to catch up on, but I’m trying to
learn to share my husband with the family. After all, they were first in
his life. So I shouldn’t ignore that. I must not be selfish because it’s
proper for him to give as much attention to everyone else as he’s giving
to me and our little girl.
But when the time comes to rest, my poor sister-in-law, Helen, is
driven into the other room to sleep on the couch for the night. We’ve
invaded her room and taken over her bed.

>
Evangalene’s been so precious. She’s beginning to sleep more at
night and take naps during the day. She also gives such a sweet smile
that no one can help but to pick her up. But of course, we’re each trying
to be careful about that so she won’t be too spoiled.

>
Henry’s not out of the service yet, but he does have a 30-day
furlough with us. But he’ll be stationed at Andrews Field near
Washington, DC, so he can come home every weekend.
That’s not as bad as if we couldn’t see him at all. I just thank God
that he’ s home in the States now and not so far away.
All of us can live with that. We missed him so often while he was
overseas.

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 And now that he’s home, I hope we can plan our future together.
He wants to attend college to become an engineer. So after time, we
may have to move to wherever he decides to go.

>
Andrews Field is nearly fifty miles from here, so it’s about the same
distance that Henry had to travel between Clark Field and Manila in the
Philippines.
We’re thankful that he’s close enough to commute each weekend.
And though it’s still hard to be separated, nothing compares with the
length of time I was here without him. But we’re fortunate that
Evangalene is healthy and full of energy. And we can both enjoy
watching her grow into a big girl.
And my time is well spent caring for her and playing with Melvin.
He often asks me to take him fishing at the nearby creek, so I’m
happy to do it.
>
It’s Monday, the twenty-seventh of June, and Henry’s finally about to
be discharged from the Air Force. His discharge date fell on Sunday,
which held him over until today for his actual separation from service.
So the baby and I have come with him to Washington, DC to pick up
his final paperwork. When we arrive we learn that a war broke out
yesterday in Korea.
The military tried hard to persuade him to stay in, but we have other
plans for the future of our family.
So I thank God for blessing us with His protection. Otherwise,
Henry would have been frozen like the others. I can only ask God to
forgive us forever taking His guidance for granted. I also ask that He
forgive our inability to grasp His wonderful love for us.

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 31
College And Family

This is now the fall of 1950, and Henry’s attending The Virginia
Polytechnic Institute of Blacksburg, Virginia for the next four years. So
we’re thankful that God provided us with a small apartment since the
school’s dormitories are only available to single people.
We recently attended a welcome party for new students where we
were oriented with available activities and directions to local churches
and hospitals. So it was nice to get acquainted with many people who
have similar interests as us.
A young couple invited us to their Baptist church, too, so we plan to
attend now and again.

>
It’s the spring of 1951 and a beautiful Sunday morning. And though
Henry only takes our old car out when it’s absolutely necessary, we want
to go for a ride. He even goes so far as to ride his bicycle to and from
school, but today we wish to go driving. So we head to the far side of
town to a place that many married college students live at with their
families. It’s a trailer camp where we find one having an attached room
and a “For Sale” sign on it.
It’s owned by a student who’s graduating in June. He needs to sell it
so he can move elsewhere, and it happens to be cheap enough for us to
afford.

>
We’re all moved into the trailer, so we now own our own place. And
we’re becoming acquainted with lots of the people in this park.
One woman living next door to the camp raises cows and sells the
milk. So we said we’ll buy from her since everyone else around here
does. However, the last time we spoke, she openly expressed that she’s
perturbed with American soldiers who go overseas and return married.
“It’s a shame because many of our girls wait for those boys to come
home. Then they’re left without a man because a lot of foreign women
have taken them away.”

Well, with the summer of 1951 here, we’re back to stay a while with
Mom and Dad again.
And it’s a good thing that Henry’s working at the Sylvania plant
where Dad’s employed because it will bring in money to pay for our

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second baby’s arrival. But once classes resume, he’ll leave me behind
for about a month until the little one gets here.

>
This is October, and I just gave birth to another beautiful girl. So we
decided to name her Linda because I’m told the name means “pretty” in
Spanish.
And now my husband will take us to back home with him to be a
family again.

>
It’s early summer of 1953, and thanks to the Lord, Henry was offered
part-time work on campus. He makes test equipment and cares for the
Electronics Laboratory and often takes me and the girls along with him.
So it’s nice to spend time together and help him box what he finishes.
And since we rented a tiny lot above the camp, I also work there to
raise our own garden.

>
My husband’s been offered a summer job at the National Advisory
Committee for Aeronautics (NACA) as an engineering trainee. NACA
is based at Langley Field in Hampton, Virginia.
So the children and I will stay the summer with Mom and Dad.
In the meantime, there’s a couple here in the trailer camp that live in
Hampton. And they graciously invited Henry to stay with them while he
works. They don’t expect him to pay room or board so that he can save
his money for our winter supplies.
Nevertheless he plans to pay for his food since they’re so kind to take
him in.
And since Dad has purchased another car, he gave Henry his old
Ford to drive down to Hampton. So as usual, God has provided for our
need.

>
Mom and I are trying to can all the fruits and vegetables possible.
We’re preserving all we’re able to find for our winter stock back at the
trailer camp.
And now that my sister-in-law, Geralene is married to Ned, they’ve
offered to supply us with eggs and potatoes. They’ll also give us meat
from the pigs, chickens, and cows they raise.

282
 Each and every one of the family is being so helpful. They often try
to supply our needs by purchasing clothes and shoes for my girls. And
everything they give us is badly needed because Henry and I can’t afford
to buy much now. So I thank God for such a family.

>
Fall classes are back in session, but since it’s a beautiful day, Mr. and
Mrs. Sadler had the sudden urge to drive over from Arlington. “We
wanted to visit and take you to lunch,” they say.
It’s such a pleasant surprise since we had no idea that they were
coming. So we’re happy to go out with them.
Then while we’re eating, they ask if we might need money or
anything.
“No,” says Henry, “we’re getting along on what I get from my GI
Bill. But maybe once I complete college, we can borrow money from
someone to purchase our own vehicle.”
Henry and I can’t express enough gratitude when Mr. Sadler offers to
lend us what we’ll need at the proper time. Again, this must be from
God.

>
So much time has passed. It’s January 1954, and once again, I’m
pregnant.
And since none of the trailers have bathrooms, everyone must use the
central utility house in the center of the camp. It has the men’s restroom
and showers on one side, a restroom and showers for women on the
other, and a laundry facility in between.
So some evenings, we women want to get out of the house while our
husbands study. And since there’s nowhere else to go, we meet at the
“U-house” to sit and busy our hands with whatever knitting or
crocheting we have. It’s fun, though, because we’re usually chatty and
excited. We can’t help counting the months left before graduation and
fantasize about the kinds of houses we’d like to own one day.
Of course, it’s not as if any of us will see the right kind of money in
the near future to make such a purchase. And some of the ladies are
simply happy talking about that first steak dinner they plan to buy once
their man’s out of school. Anyway, this is our entertainment nearly
every night. Anything to get out of our husband’s hair while the
children sleep.

>
Many times, Henry and I speak about his schooling.

283
 And though he has enough finds available on his GI Bill to carry him
through another year of school, he’d rather graduate this semester with a
B.S. degree. He’s awfully tired because the subject matter he’s studying
is quite taxing. So he wishes to finish and find a full-time job.
I do understand his exhaustion because I’ve sat up late with him
many nights.
He must spend many hours reciting all he’s memorized so he can
pass each test well.
And though I can’t comprehend all he’s said about sines and cosines
and such, I know it must be difficult for him. To me, it sounds like yet
another foreign language. But I want to do all I can to help him study.

>
It’s now time to look for our own car. So Henry wrote to the Sadlers
about the money they offered to lend us.
And recently, several companies sent representatives to interview
Electrical Engineering students to possibly work for them. One
company out of Baltimore, MD examined Henry, along with General
Electric Company, which is based in Syracuse, NY
And since the interview and salary offer went well with General
Electric, he’s accepted.

>
We thank God, graduation day is here. But, wow! do we have some
crowd. Henry’s parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, sisters and
brother are all here to help us celebrate. It’s especially wonderful, too,
because Henry is the first in the family to earn a college degree.
So we’ve put the grandparents and aunts and uncles in a hotel.
Everyone else has crammed in with us in the little trailer. We’re
wall-to-wall people. So whenever anyone must go to the restroom at
night, they’re afraid of stepping on someone’s head. It doesn’t bother
Henry nor me. We’re thrilled to have everyone here. We’re also happy
to have sold the trailer for seventy-five dollars to be able to leave soon.
And Mr. and Mrs. Sadler sent the money we need to purchase a
station wagon.
It will suit our need at this time. So we thank God for our friends
who cared to help.

284
 32
Traveling Mercies

We’re back with Henry's parents, and Dad wants to drive with us up
to Syracuse, NY. So we’ve hitched a small rental trailer to the back of
our car.
Dad has some of our belongings in his car, along with Evangalene
and Linda.
And I’m sure they’ll keep him awake with all their chattering.
But we know it will be something to put up with. So we do hope
they’ll be good for him.
As for me, I’ve been having some problems with this pregnancy. So
we’ll have to stop to rest often because we wouldn’t want the baby to
arrive sooner than it’s due.

>
Thank the Lord, we’ve arrived at a motel on the north side of
Syracuse. The cottages are quite small and old. Nonetheless, we stay
and request an extra room for Dad.
Then the following morning, poor Dad says he must make his way
back home to return to work tomorrow. It’s a long trip, but that’s his
decision.
So once he’s gone, we decide to try to find a place to rent to live in.
Then while we’re talking to the motel owner about the area, he says we
can stay here in the motel for a short time at a reasonable price. There’s
a bar next door and for the children’s sake won’t agree to a longer stay.
So we take them up on the offer for now. Also, we plan to drive around
the community to look for an apartment after Henry comes from work.

>
Well, we’ve settled into the only place that we could find to rent on a
short-term basis. It’s an upstairs apartment in Phoenix, NY, about
twenty-five miles from the motel. But it’s a nice place to stay for the
next three months. That’s how long Henry will be in the GE training
program before we’ll have to transfer to another location for further

285
training. I’m glad we found a doctor’s office in walking distance from
here, too.
Now that it’s a Saturday, Henry and I have an appointment for me to
be examined. And since my baby is due in August, I ask if he might be
able to deliver it.
Instead, he recommends an older physician, by the name of Dr.
Dwinell. He’s thoroughly experienced at delivering babies, but all his
patients must go to the hospital in Fulton, NY.

>
We still don’t know anyone in the community. So we wrote to ask
Mamma if Leta might come to care for the children when I have the
baby.
Leta only we expect, but Helen nicely surprises us by stepping off the
plane with her.
>
We’re waiting for this baby to make its appearance, so everyone
takes me out in the car. They hope that a bumpy jaunt down a country
road will make it come quicker.
>
It’s three o’clock in the morning, and I’m awfully uncomfortable.
“Henry,” I whisper, “I think it’s almost time.”
So we lie here, counting the minutes between labor pains.
Then when they’re running three minutes apart, he drives me to the
hospital.
After they examine me, the nurse says, “You better stay since it’s
nearly time.”
So Henry sticks around for some time, but the baby doesn’t seem to
be ready to come out.
The doctor tells us that it may be a long day after all. He also says
that if he didn’t know I’d given birth before, he’d give me a cesarean
section. But since I did have the girls naturally, he’ll wait and see how
this one does. By evening, the Doctor sends Henry home to rest and be
with the family.
I’m still in agony after all this time, so Dr. Dwinell decides to stay
with me as long as it takes. Here he sits, the poor man. And with each
advanced labor pain, he holds my hand while I push.
I go on like this for four more hours until he gives me an injection to
induce labor. Otherwise, I’ll be too exhausted to deliver.

286
 Then, come early morning, a warm bundle is finally placed in my
arms.
“You have a boy!” the doctor whispers. Then he promises to stop by
our apartment on his way home to try to rouse someone.
Later, he returns to tell me that he tried his best but everyone was
sound asleep and never answered the door. Then he stopped by again on
his way here and tacked a note on our door.
Now that Henrys here, he says that he was out dropping Helen off at
the airport at the time. But when he got home to find the note, he
rushed all the way back over there. He barely made it in time as Helen
was about to board her plane. “Helen!” he shouted across the field from
beyond the fence, “We had a baby boy!”
“Congratulations!” she cried back, “I’ll tell Mamma and Daddy!”
So Leta is still back at the apartment with the girls.
The nurses now inform my husband that I can go home. Besides,
they’ve run out of room for all the patients. My bed’s been in the
hallway, anyway, since I never did get into a room. And I think, this
was some quick trip to the hospital. But at least I can recuperate at
home.
Henry’s thrilled to have a son and hurries downstairs to fill out the
birth certificate. He wants to name our boy, Davis.
So again, I thank God for taking care of me through those unusually
difficult hours and for blessing me with another healthy child.

>
Henry took Leta to the airport to return home.
So I thank the Lord God that she was able to be with us. Otherwise,
I don’t know whom we would have found to watch the girls while I was
in the hospital.
And now that the baby’s eight days old, we’ve brought him to the
doctor to be circumcised.
They don’t want me to watch the process and carry Davis off to
another examining room.
But soon I can hardly take it. He’s crying his head off, and I feel so
sorry for the little guy.
>
We’ve been attending a Baptist church, and the minister suggested
we buy a Scofield Bible. This way we can easily cross reference
passages that we want to study.
So Henry purchased one and reads it to us from time to time.

287
 >
It’s September 1954, and we’re moving to West Lynn,
Massachusetts for three months.
The only problem is, the rain pours down the entire time we’re on
the road. Occasionally we stop to sweep water out of our little Willey’s
station wagon. It’s terribly windy, too. But we must keep going to
arrive by the proposed date. Then as we near our destination, we stop
for gas.
“You folks just missed a big one!” pipes the attendant.
Without a car radio, we assumed that some trees were down along
the road only from strong winds. But we’re told that we rode in on the
tail of a hurricane.
So I’m thanking God that we made it safely and have a place nearby
to stay for the night. It’s late when we do pull into a motel in the little
community of Saugus, Massachusetts. But we’re grateful that it’s not
far from the GE plant where Henry must train.

>
Henry unhooked our trailer outside and then headed off to work.
So I’ve come to this motel’s dining room for breakfast with the
children. And it’s not long before I ask the motel owner if she knows of
places for rent.
“We happen to have a little three-room house out back,” she returns.
“It’s vacant if you care to take a look.” I’m curious to see it, so she
leads us to it.
The apartment is nice and clean I am pleased to find. I won’t be
doing much other than cooking and laundry, so I feel it will suit us fine
for now. Then when Henry comes from work, I tell him about it.
He agrees to check it out, and after seeing an eating table and beds,
he agrees to move in. Then he unloads the trailer to return it to a local
dealer.

>
Well, we’ve settled into this three-room apartment and met the
neighbors.
They’re two, funny old ladies who live on the other side of a stone
wall. And since they work at a nearby diner, they say they’re saving all
their tips to buy their car. Now they show me buckets full of change that
they’ve stashed under their beds.
“Yep! we’ll do that as soon as we have enough saved,” one says with
a chuckle.

288
 I can't help but laugh with them.
They both know exactly how much is in those buckets and believe it
won’t be long before they can purchase a vehicle with cash.
I think they’re so cute and kind.
They come to say “Hi” each day before they’re off to work. They
also bring the girls goodies from the restaurant because they love
children.
Evangalene and Linda are enthralled with them, too, because they go
over to their apartment almost every day that the women aren’t resting.

>
Henry’s been put to work on the second shift. So it’s been somewhat
difficult since he often works overtime and then tries to catch up on
sleep in the mornings. And that’s not easy with the girls up and about
and the baby crying from time to time.
To accommodate Henry’s schedule I do try to keep them in bed as
long as possible so he’s able to rest.

>
Well, it’s been almost six months since Henry’s graduation from
college.
And I thank God that we’ve finally paid off our debt for the car to
Mr. and Mrs. Sadler.
So we’re making it, but at times it seems difficult since we don’t
know many people. We’re only in town for a short time and then must
be off again.

>
We’ve found a church whose minister happens to be from the
Philippines, too. He’s married to an American woman, and they’re such
kindhearted people.
So we have a lot of fun with Pastor and Mrs. Castilio whenever they
invite us to their house.
Evangalene and Linda just love to play with their two young
granddaughters. And I’ve noticed that they all get along nice like
sisters.
I know my girls really enjoy going over there because they’ve
recently begun playing Sunday School during the week. One pretends to
be the teacher, and the other acts as all the people. So I think it’s good.

289
 >
It’s a Sunday afternoon, and Henry has brought me and the children
to a toy factory.
It’s a huge place that specializes in manufacturing all kinds of bears
imaginable.
So we buy one for Davis but have trouble getting it into the car
because of its enormous size. But we finally manage to squeeze it
through the door and wonder if our boy might ever be able to handle it.
Anyway, we all thoroughly enjoyed touring the factory and seeing the
play animals.
We even bought the girls small stuffed animals of their choice. And
though they’re tired, they can’t stop giggling about that big bear setting
next to them.

>
We’re ready to move again. But we plan to stop in Virginia for
Christmas before going on to Owensboro, Kentucky for Henry’s next
assignment. So once again, our belongings are packed in the station
wagon and a rented trailer.
But I thank God for people that have cared, and we’ll miss them and
never forget them.
Now that we’re on our way, the weather and the road’s condition
don’t look good. Then after some time, we start up a hill with only one
car far behind. A terrible one-car accident lies in the road. All
occupants are quiet the car. Henry pulls around and notices it is “black
ice
A truck comes over the crest from the opposite direction. The driver
brakes and immediately begins to skid sidewise.
I gasp as it heads straight for us, and Henry hits the brakes. The
truck is big and straight-bodied. Seemingly in slow motion, its front
and rear tires grip gravel on each side of the narrow road and the truck
comes to rest across squarely in front of our radiator. Realizing another
vehicle could hit us, I grab the baby and the girls and break for the
road’s embankment. Here we stand, with me barefooted and the kids
with no coats on. They cling to me with wide eyes while I clutch Davis
to my chest.
Now Henry manages to dart out in the nick of time to rush over to us.
We’re too astonished for words when the driver straightens out his
rig and moves out of the danger area.
Once more we have been spared. But I’m sure that Henry’s as
grateful to God as I am for this miracle. Otherwise, with the speed of

290
that truck we would have wound up dead like the occupants of that other
car. We know our Heavenly Father surely prevented us and our vehicle
from being crushed. So we have much to be thankful for as we climb
back inside the car. Then Henry swiftly gets us out of there before
another unwary vehicle comes over the rise.
Then later, we stop to eat at a diner.
And despite wearing boots, my feet can’t seem to warm up. But I’m
just so appreciative to be alive.

>
This is Christmas Eve, and we arrive to Mamma and Dad’s in one
piece.
I thank God for protecting us thus far and allowing us tomorrow to
spend with the family before pushing onto Kentucky.

>
Again, we’re heading for Owensboro, and since we must pass
through the mountains of West Virginia, I hope the roads won’t be too
icy.
But ultimately, the sky darkens early with the temperature dropping
fast. The heavy rains are now turning to sleet.
“We’d better stop soon and pick up again tomorrow,” says Henry.
So we pull into the first available roadside motel.
Each separate cottage appears very small like there might only be
one bed per unit.
But we’re exhausted, so Henry checks us in. Then when he returns
to the car, he tells me, “We have a room, but the place is cold because it
hasn’t been open for a while. They did put a heater in there, though.
Another thing, there’s no bathroom inside. So we have to make use of
the outhouse.”
We take the children in, and Henry’s right, the room is awfully cold.
There’s only one bed, too, as we suspected, so we squeeze the little ones
together at one end before sandwiching up at the other.

>
Today, we don’t know what the weather will be. But thank God, the
sun is shining.
I know my husband’s terribly tired because he’s the only driver. I
wish I were able to relieve him, but it’s impossible since I haven’t yet
learned to drive. So I’m hoping we reach Owensboro by the end of the
day. Then he’ll have tomorrow to rest.

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 >
Well, we’re about six miles outside Owensboro, Kentucky, and we
find a motel.
I hope the room isn’t as bad as the place we stayed at last night, I
think while Henry speaks to the owners.
They end up telling him that they rent reasonably priced three-room
units here. This is suitable, since we’ll only be in town for three
months, around all the tall trees. It turns out, there are other people
renting for a short period of time as we are.
So we settle in, and as before, we unload the trailer so Henry can
return it. So we’re glad we came to this place. It’s very nice, and the
children will enjoy playing in the big yard under the trees.

>
Well, today is January 1, 1955, the first assigned training workday at
General Electric Company for my husband. Now he’ll be working days
and can feel like a human being again. He’s just not one of those best
suited to work nights.
>
We’ve looked up the Baptist church that the motel owners referred us
to. And it’s pretty big. We meet many wonderful people, who also
work for GE, so we plan to attend services each week.

>
It’s the first week of March, and it’s nearly time to pack up again.
So my husband is gone for three days to Binghamton, NY to
interview for a permanent job.
In the meantime, I’m having a problem with our son, Davis. He
can’t sleep and won’t take his bottle. He just cries.
And since I must find out what’s wrong, I ask the motel owner if
there’s a doctor close by. This woman is so kind and insists on driving
us personally.
So once Davis is examined, the doctor says, “I find nothing wrong
with your son.”
Then I explain that my husband is away. “Ever since Henry left for
Binghamton, our baby won’t eat or sleep. He only says, ‘Daddy,’ and
cries.

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 “Make certain he drinks water,” the man returns, “and watch his
behavior. Then if he grows worse or his color changes, bring him
back.”
So we head back to the motel.
Along the way, I’m thanking God that the owner is thoughtful and
loves children.
Her daughter also helped in my crisis by baby-sitting Evangalene
and Linda while I was gone.
So I’m ever grateful for kind and compassionate people.

>
We’re so happy to see Henry home again because we can’t do much
without him here.
It’s not easy, but I must totally depend on other people if he’s away.
But I thank the Lord that our baby’s all right now.
As soon as Davis saw his daddy, he was fine again. He began to eat
again as he should.
So we know how much it had effected him to have his father gone
away from us. But we see that he’s already getting over it. And now all
we must do is wait to hear from GE.

>
GE Co. contacted Henry to tell him he’s been given a job with them
in Binghamton, NY.
We’re expected to get there so he can begin by the first of April. So
we hurry to pack another trailer to be able to hit the road again by
March 27.

We’re pulling through Ohio to get to New York, and it’s snowing
quite badly.
Then we make a stop, and we’re told to mm back. We have to
reroute ourselves. So we go south again for a time before jumping on
the Pennsylvania turnpike. Then from Harrisburg, we’re able to loop
our way back.
Henry now has no choice but to telegraph his manager that foul
weather is delaying us.
Fortunately, they accept that.
Then it’s late when we finally make it to the motel. It’s situated next
door to the plant that Henry will work at. So we must be sure to thank
God that we made it in safely.

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 33
Settling Down

We’re checking on several apartments that were advertised for rent.

Most have already been leased, but one young man says he’ll have an
apartment available soon. “It’s just a one-bedroom unit in the older part
of town. But there’s a kitchen with eating area.”
So Henry and I discuss it and say, It’s cheaper than staying in a
motel. We think we’ll probably take it until we can find a bigger place.”
Then as the young man is about to take us to view the place, his
father says, “No, you can’t take them there. You can’t have these people
there because the neighbors won’t want that.”
“And why not?” asks the son, “what’s the matter?”
“Because they don’t like having black people in the neighborhood.”
I tell them, “That’s okay. I don’t want to be in a neighborhood where
I’m not welcome, anyway.”
Back home, my poor husband is ready to send me back to his family
again and just forget the whole thing here. What little is available to us
in Binghamton either is not affordable or is not suitable for the children.
But I say, “No, we’ll see what happens. It might only be one
neighborhood that’s like that. We’ll keep looking.”
Now he mentions that he can get a loan from the Veterans
Administration to build a house Houses are being constructed near the
plant, so we seek out the builders.
They immediately let us choose what type we want and tell us it can
be finished within six weeks. Then sure enough, they begin building
right away.
Now we think that’s great. We’ll be able to move into a house of our
own soon.

>
Since it’s Sunday, Henry decides he wants to take us to the Baptist
church over on Main Street.
But I’m not feeling well, so I stay behind with the baby.
Then when Henry and the girls return, he tells me they were quite
welcome there. I want us all to go back again next week.”
And the following Sunday, we go together.
I get to talking with one lady after the service and mention that we’re
looking for a home church to settle into.

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 “We’re not taking any more new members in the church,” she says,
“but we’re glad to have you come back anytime.”
“All right, thank you.” Then on the way home, I tell Henry what the
woman said.
He squeezes my hand. “Well, I guess we won’t go back to that
church.”
We frequently travel along Riverside Drive and notice the sign for
Faith Baptist Church. The place looks more like a large house than a
church. We investigate, anyway, and learn that services are actually
held here. Partitions have been removed. And what used to be the
living room and main floor is now a huge room for the people to
worship in.
So we attend the following Sunday. “I’m Pastor Ellis, and this is
Mrs. Ellis,” the minister says after we step through the door. They both
welcome us warmly with a hug and hold the children in their arms.
Next they introduce us to several church members. Then at the end of
the service, they ask us where we’re staying.
We still live in the ugly basement of the old building on Front Street.
But we let them know, and this very afternoon, he and his wife come to
see us.
They don’t seem to notice how unattractive the place is but instead
say how glad they are that we came to the church.

>
We are glad to get out of the new house deal without loss. Work on
the building keeps dragging so long that we investigate and find that the
people who would be our neighbors in the development don’t want us
there.
>
We look through the paper again to find an apartment available on
Pennsylvania Avenue. So we ride over to see the place, and it appears
suitable enough to get us out of the other place.
The landlord informs us, “Yes, it’s ready to be rented.” And he
allows us to move in.
So everything is fine until the afternoon that my children and I are
walking across the field below the house. We come upon some sight.
Obviously, the building’s owner has the sewage disposal pipe set up to
drain into the open ground. There’s no septic tank or anything of the
kind. So I tell Henry about what we found, and we agree to start looking
for another home. This situation is not healthy at all. And we wouldn’t
want our family to contract some kind of disease.

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 >
After the Sunday church service, we take a drive along the south side
of the river. And we come upon a nice looking school, named
Longfellow Elementary School.
“Maybe we could send Evangalene there when the time comes,” says
Henry.
Then we turn the car down Rush Avenue and spot a “For Rent” sign
on the window of one house. So we take down the telephone number
and go home to call the owners.
Mr. and Mrs. Charles Church sound friendly and invite us to come
back to look at the place.
So we head right back to see the available upstairs apartment.
“The people downstairs are quite nice,” says Mrs. Church. “They
also have children, but they’re grown boys. So you may hear them from
time to time.” “That’s all right,” I return, “we have our little ones, too.
But I’m sure that they’ll behave for us up here.
Mr. Church tells us that the apartment rents for forty dollars a
month, everything included.
So we feel it’s a reasonable price and tell them we’d like to take it if
they’ll have us.
“Why, sure. You’re welcome to come here to the neighborhood.”
Now we’re so pleased to hear that they’ll receive us into their
community.

>
Well, we’re all moved into the new apartment before the fall school
session starts.
Now Evangalene can start attending Longfellow School. It’s only a
block away. And she can even come home for lunch. There are also
lots of children that she can walk back and forth with to school.
So I’m grateful to God.
He’s led us to this neighborhood with its many young children for
my own to play with. Now we don’t own much in the way of furniture,
so we’ve purchased a simple dinette and bunk beds for the kids. We
also bought a “roll away” bed for ourselves until we can afford
something better. Then as time goes on, maybe we can collect a few
more things for our home.
But this will be the first time that we’ll celebrate Thanksgiving Day
on our own.
I just thank the Lord that we can finally do something like this as our
own little family.

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 We’ll surely miss being with the folks back in Virginia, though.

>
Henry will have to commute back and forth to Schenectady. His first
job ended, and he’s been assigned to work on some project there instead
of here in nearby Johnson City. So he’ll have to leave each Sunday
afternoon and return on Friday evenings.
It’s going to be tough, but I’m sure that with God’s help, we’ll
somehow manage. At least the children will be with me. But I feel sorry
that my husband will see hardly anyone other than his coworkers. I
shake my head. How he’ll be able to stare at paperwork each day
before sitting alone in his hotel room, night after night, I’ll never know.

>
We all miss Henry, but I’m glad to have my children here for
company.
Once in a while, Mrs. Church comes up to visit me, too.
I’ve also met Grace Owens, the woman living below us.
She has two adopted children. One, named Mildred has normal
faculties. But the other, MaryLou, can’t hear or talk.
MaryLou must attend a special school in Rome, NY and can only
come home during holidays and the summer. So it’s awfully hard for
the poor girl. Each time she returns, she must reacquaint herself with
neighborhood children.
But of course, the other girls and boys don’t understand her. At
least Mildred is able to do sign language with her. Then when my girls
play with them, she interprets what MaryLou is saying to them.

>
The girls and I are trying to decide what we’ll eat for Thanksgiving
dinner. Although it’s an entire month away, we want to make up our
minds. Will we have turkey, chicken, or ham? And what will be for
dessert?
The girls just long to prepare whatever will make their daddy’s belly
happy.
So while Henry’s gone, I try to help the children understand that
their father is away because he’s trying to earn money. It’s money that
pays for our food, rent, and other needs. “He’s not away because he
likes to be,” I remind them, “he’s away just until he can get better

297
situated with his job. See, his work is too far out for him to come home
each night, but it won’t be long before he’s back with us to stay.”
I know it’s difficult for them to comprehend. But as their mother, I
must help them to learn to live together in one accord. Otherwise, the
whole family will be in turmoil.
It’s especially hard on little Davis because he’s quiet and pouts when
Daddy’s not here.
But I can only keep telling him that his father will come home soon.
Not today but another day. “So you must try hard to be patient.”
He just looks at me as if I did something terrible to his daddy.
To some people, it may seem nearly impossible, but by the grace of
God, we’ll pull together as a family. I know that the separation is taking
a toll on my husband, too. But I thank God that we’re both trying to
make the best of our situation.

>
“Hurray!” the children cry.
This is Wednesday, and Henry’s back for the long Thanksgiving
weekend. And he won’t have to return to Schenectady until Monday.

>
The children are so excited about the coming Christmas season.
“Daddy, you’re going to get us a tree, aren’t you? Then we can decorate
it with lots of stuff. We hope so, Daddy, we love you.”

>
Evangalene brought paper snowflakes home that she made in school.
I’m gonna save these to hang on our tree,” she states.
Now Grace Owens has come to ask if my girls might go downstairs
to make Christmas ornaments with her daughters. “MaryLou is home
from her school for the holiday, so she and Mildred look forward to
seeing Evangalene and Linda.”
“That’s fine with me,” I tell her and send the girls along.
Then I leave Davis playing on the kitchen floor to seclude myself in
the bathroom. “You be good,” I say, “and Mommy will be back out in a
minute.”
He’s awfully quiet before I finally hear him moving about the
kitchen.
I think, well, since there‘s nothing he can get into, he’ll be all right.
So I stay put a bit longer than I ought to.

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 Now I smell something like wood burning. But we don't have a
wood stove in our house. So I rush from the bathroom to discover the
toaster smoking up the kitchen. “Davis!”
My son has shoved the narrow block of wood he was playing with
down into it and turned the thing on.
So I jerk the cord from the wall and run to dump the toaster upside
down in the bathtub. By this time, I’m gagging on the smoke and
quickly soak the toaster with running water. Then I yank the wood out.
“Why did you put that into the toaster!?”
Davis looks up and says, “I’m gonna burn the house down and go
find my daddy!”
I’m thinking, he’s only sixteen months old but can put enough
together to say that. So I feel I’m losing control of the kid. Things
have gotten out of hand this time. Then when I place an urgent call to
Henry, I tell him all about the problem I’m now facing with Davis.

>
It was only yesterday that I called Henry, and he’s now back.
Apparently, he told his manager, “Assign me a job close to home at the
Johnson City plant or I won’t be back here. My son is having trouble
dealing with my absence.” So here he is, taking a risk on coming to our
aid and not knowing whether he’s still employed or not.
I know that the children love their daddy, but I didn’t realize it was
such that they can’t do without him. I just thank God for preserving us
because Davis could have burned the house down like he said he would.

>
Thank the Lord that Henry’s been given a job here at the local plant.
I know in my heart that it was a heaven-sent miracle for us to be a
whole family again. I just feel bad that it had to happen this way.
But Henry hasn’t missed a single day of work since.
So I continue to thank God for all His goodness in the midst of our
circumstances.
He knows our needs, and if we keep looking to Him, He takes care to
guide and direct our lives to the proper pathway.
In return, I want to be of better help to my children and husband.
Though the kids need their father, so do I. It helps to see them at
peace with him home. They play more quietly together now than when
he was away. So it’s good that we’re together.

299
 >
Every day like clockwork, Davis wakes from his nap to stand on the
chair by the living room window. It’s there that he waits for his daddy
to arrive home from work. He recognizes the color of our car. So the
minute he spots it turning into the driveway, he tears past me through
the kitchen to the back porch.
He knows he’s not allowed to go downstairs. And so he watches
from the porch window for Henry’s car door to open. Once it does, he
hollers, “Hi! Daddy,” because he’s so excited for his father to come up to
the apartment.
So Davis has himself a little schedule. And that’s how I know when
my husband’s home.

>
Henry has taken me and the children shopping.
And since we’ve given the girls a little money to buy Christmas gifts,
they’re thrilled to be picking what they can.
Now Evangalene lets me peek into her bag to happily reveal the pair
of socks she’ll wrap for her father. There’s also a toy car for Davis.
And Linda is excited about the handkerchiefs she chose for Henry,
along with a small airplane for her brother.
I don’t know what they’ve selected for me.
It’s a big secret which only their daddy is allowed to know.
Then once we’re home, the girls get bustling about in their bedroom
while wrapping their gifts.
And I can only imagine all that paper and ribbon flying.

>
It seems the excitement has just begun.
Henry and little Davis have been busy together in the attic. Those
two are making things for the girls and me for Christmas. So they don’t
want us going up there. They stay up there for hours each evening until
they grow tired.
But it must be getting serious because tonight Henry has sent Davis
down to fetch something important.
As my son marches through the kitchen, I say, “Where you going?”
Davis isn’t able to stop for he’s on a mission. He calls back, “I am
going to get Daddy’s schoosclapper!”
I grin and chuckle. “Are you sure that’s what he wants?”
There’s quite a clamor while he fishes through Henry’s toolbox on
the back porch. Then he comes back with a screwdriver in hand.

300
 “Yeah! I got my daddy’s schoosclapper, I told you.” So he climbs
his way back up the attic stairway and cries, “Daddy! my mamma said,
‘what am I doing? Where am I going?’ I told her I’m going to get your
schoosclapper.”

>
The girls have been begging for us to get their Christmas tree early.
So now that it’s Saturday, Henry has taken the three kids out to hunt
one down
I don’t know where they’ve headed. But they didn’t want me to tag
along. So I hope that the children pick a nice tree rather than a tiny
one. Well, it’s supposed to be the children’s Christmas tree, anyway. So
whatever they pick, I guess that’s what we’re going to have.
I spend my time baking several batches of cookies. And as I’m about
to slip a fruitcake into the oven, the troop comes through the door with a
good sized pine tree.
Then of course, the children want to put it up immediately.
And since Henry didn’t have time to make a tree stand, he’s filling a
bucket with rocks to secure the thing in.
The children now run to pull out decorations they’ve created to trim
it with.
So I slip paper clips through the Christmas cards we’ve received and
hand them over. The little ones hang those, too, and once they finish,
they stare at all they accomplished.
Henry and I are as happy as our children around our tree.
So I thank the Lord that they’re content and not being noisy. And
though the neighbors claim to never hear the kids up here, I’m grateful
that they aren’t ones to complain if they ever really do.

>
It’s Christmas morning, and sure enough, we hear the children
rising early.
Evangalene and Linda climb out first.
And then Davis crawls over and out of his crib.
So when Henry and I make it to the living room, they’re just sitting
there, patiently waiting for us to open gifts.
We can’t help but let them break into theirs first. So they’re happy.
And then Henry and I open ours, too.
Now everybody’s happy.
I’m especially thankful to be together. I know that some people
don’t have any family, but those that do are fortunate to be together at

301
this time of year. So I’m praising God for all His love and providing
these good things for each of us.
Even though there’s not much, the children don’t ask for anything
more. They’re happy with what they’ve received this Christmas.
So it’s precious to me to sit and watch them play.

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 34
Into My Father’s Arms

Henry will be off again during New Year’s to be with us. But in the
meantime, he must return to work.
Now the children are saying, “But Daddy, I wish you can be home
with us.”
He explains to them again why he has to work.
And they seem satisfied with his answer.
So once Henry’s left, I begin to clean house. I straighten our
bedroom and replace his reading books on the proper shelf. While
doing this, I spot the Scofield Reference bible that we’d purchased in
Phoenix, NY, before Davis was born.
And for some reason. I’m drawn to open it. I don’t even know what
I’m looking for. But I flip through the pages before stopping in the book
of John. “In the beginning was the Word,” I read aloud, “and the Word
was with God, and the Word was God.” Although I’d never been taught
to read, I’m captivated with each word. So the fact that I can’t even
open a daily newspaper and put its words together doesn’t cross my
mind at this moment.
Chapter 1, verse three, tells me that all things were made by Him.
I swallow hard because I’m being given the answer to the burning
question I often had in mind as a young girl. Often when I would study
my surroundings, I instinctively felt that there must be a God who
created all this great stuff.
So here in this Bible, in the book of John, the first chapter tells me
that it’s so.
I couldn’t be more thrilled. Then I finally lay the book down to
return to my cleaning. But I’m so amazed by my discovery that I go
back to read the same passages several times throughout the day. I keep
remembering all the things I thought about as a child. Now the answers
are right in front of me in God’s Word. “All things were made by
Him,” I repeat. I’m so happy but choose not to speak with Henry about
it for the time being.
He knows I can’t read and might figure I’m hallucinating or
something.

>
It’s the second day after Christmas, and Henry arrived home,
complaining about coming down with a cold.

303
 I told him to take it easy. So here we all are, sitting around in the
living room.
Henry’s reading in one chair while I’m crocheting on the couch.
I’m also listening to the children and watching them play.
Davis says that he’ll fly his airplane tomorrow, Linda wants to paint
with her watercolors, and Evangeline will make something for her doll.
They’re such cute kids and good company for me while Henry
works. I’m so glad that they’re here with us and quite healthy.
Davis’ feet are paddling away while he rides about the room aboard
his toy truck. But now that he’s noticed something loose, he says,
“Daddy, I got to use your schoosclapper. I’m gonna get it, okay?”
Henry just laughs. “All right, Son, you can use my screwdriver.”
I smile, and the words I’ve read in the Bible’s New Testament return
to mind. So I quietly retrieve the book. I’m curious to know what else is
written inside and decide to go to the beginning of the Bible. I see on
the first page of the book of Genesis that it tells of how God created the
world.
The way that He had formed it is exciting to me. I’m reading that
He set the stars in the firmament of the heaven to give light upon the
earth. He also made trees, every creeping thing, birds, and all the fishes
in the ocean. It’s amazing that He just commanded all those things to
come into being, I think. It confirms my many thoughts when I was
small.
God had made everything we’re surrounded by down here.
Everything we see when we look up to the heavenly skies, too.
It’s thrilling to see this in writing because I never knew it for sure
when I was a little girl. Those thoughts were often in my mind, but I
didn’t know what it all meant. So I’m thanking God that He’s opened
my eyes to read this and learn the answers to my questions.
I crave to know more and guide my finger further along the page.
Now I discover that He had made man. He formed him from the dust of
the earth.
So that’s how we all came to be! I think, I had no proper education
and can’t read as other people do. So I’m so blessed to look at His
word and be able to read and understand what it says.
I’m sure that God is helping me by teaching me to read His word.
There’s no other explanation for this. So I can only thank Him for His
wonderful help to me.
I now think about the time I first came to the United States.
My husband’s family had taken me to church with them. And it was
there that I heard the whole story of Christmas. We also went to see a
play about Jesus Christ’s birth.

304
 I enjoyed those programs but didn’t grasp much then and there. The
messages didn’t touch my heart the way they should have. Then during
Henry’s college days, we attended church from time to time. But most
of the sermons weren’t strong enough for me to be able to understand.
Of course, there were words spoken here and there that I recognized, but
that was about all.
I always wondered about God ever since I lived in the Philippines.
And since Henry was raised in the Baptist faith, I didn’t want to remain
in the Catholic Church without him. So I thought that by joining the
church of my husband’s choosing might be better for my children. This
way we could all attend together.
Besides, the masses I’d been to in the past had been spoken in Latin.
So since I didn’t know the language, I wasn’t being spiritually fed. I
longed to know more about God. And deep within, I believed that there
had to be some other way to get close to our Heavenly Father.
Otherwise, why would I have sensed the strength of His presence?

>
Today is Wednesday, December 28, 1955.
Henry is staying home from work because that virus is making him
miserable.
So as I clean house, I have the urge to read the bible again. “Play
here beside me, Davis, while I read the book.” And today in John,
Chapter 10, I read that Jesus is speaking of the door.
He’s saying that He’s the door and if anybody comes in any other
way, they’d be just like the thief. And He’s speaking about being a good
shepherd that lays down His life for His sheep. He says that He has
other sheep who are not in the fold but that He must bring them in, that
they’ll hear His voice.
I read aloud, “but ye believe not, because ye are not of my sheep, as I
said unto you. My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they
follow me. And I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never
perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand. My Father,
who gave them to me, is greater than all, and no man is able to pluck
them out of my Father’s hand.”
“I’m hungry,” whispers Davis.
I stop reading to feed him lunch but hope to get back at it soon.
Then tonight after supper, Henry tells me he’s not well enough to
take the family to the weekly prayer meeting at church. “But if you still
want to go, you can try and find a ride with somebody else. I can keep
the children here with me.”

305
 So I telephone a church deacon and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Snitchler.
After speaking with them, they say they’re happy to pick me up.
Once we’re seated at church, Pastor Ellis preaches his message from
the book of John, Chapter 14. He reads to us, “Let not your heart be
troubled; ye believe in God, also believe in me. In my Father’s house
are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to
prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will
come again, and receive you unto myself, that where I am, there ye may
be also. And where I go ye know, and the way ye know.
Thomas saith unto him, Lord, we know not where thou goest; and
how can we know the way? Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the
truth, and the life; no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.” (New
Scofield Reference Edition). Then the moment Pastor Ellis finishes
reading those verses to the people, I leap to my feet and rush to where
he’s standing below the pulpit.
He appears startled and says, “Yes may I help you?”
I repeat what he read in that last verse and tell him, “I want to accept
God--I want to accept Jesus in my heart!”
So he immediately requests that a deacon take over to complete the
sermon for him. Then he and his wife lead me aside to one corner.
They begin asking me questions. “What in particular touched your
heart?”
“Well, earlier today, I was reading John, Chapter 10. But I only got
as far as verse 29. I was reading about Jesus saying that He is the door,
the shepherd, and so on. I didn’t get to read the whole chapter. And
now tonight you read another chapter where He says that He’s the way,
the truth, and the life and that no man can come to the Father but by
Him.
So I know I can’t come any way, other than to accept Jesus into my
heart. In the past, I only became a member of my husband’s family
church because I didn’t want to confuse my children. I didn’t want us to
be going from one church to another. But at the time, I had not
accepted Jesus. I just joined for the sake of my children.
Now tonight, I want to accept Jesus as my Lord and Savior!”
They both express their amazement at how I was able to grasp all I
had. So they bow their heads and lead me in prayer for me to ask Jesus
to come into my heart.
Afterwards, I tell them that I wasn’t educated the way most other
people are. “I don’t know how to read. But I asked God to help me, and
He’s been helping me to read His word.” I go on to say that when we
first arrived here in Binghamton, we went to another church. But

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we weren’t accepted there. Then we came to this church with everyone
so loving.
“You each took us into your arms as though we’re one big family.
And it was such an encouragement to us, newcomers to this community.
I’m thankful for that. So many strangers here in America have been
friendly. And I know that some people are not kind, but that’s to be
expected. I’ve seen and experienced that, too, in my own country.
But I’m grateful to God for all the people that we know that have
prayed for me and my family. Their embrace of love in the Lord is so
wonderful.”
Now I tell Pastor Ellis that I surely want to be able to read God’s
word and to know more about His plan in my life.
So they finish counseling me and instruct me on what to read. “You
started reading in the right place,” states Pastor Ellis, “because it’s
exactly where I would have told you to begin. Then after you finish
reading the book of John, you can go on to read the entire New
Testament. From there, the book of Psalms is helpful, as is the book of
Proverbs, too.”
Now everybody in the congregation breaks into separate groups to
pray.
Each and everyone is praying for me and thanking God for bringing
me into His fold. They’re all so happy for me and can’t give enough
credit to the Lord for what He did tonight in their midst.
I can’t stop thanking God, too, for letting me realize that without
accepting the Lord Jesus, I wouldn’t be in the fold. Without taking Him
into my life, I’d still be outside. I’m also thankful for the Holy Spirit
that moved in my heart to urge me to go up and stand with the Pastor.
Now I’m truly blessed to know that I’m saved and destined for
heaven. I can say, too, that I finally see the pattern, which God used to
raise me and bring me to the United States. It was so that I could hear
His word to read and understand his plan for my life. Little did I realize
that when I met my husband, way back in the Philippines, it was also
part of God’s Divine course.
I couldn’t see it then, but I do now. Yes, at the time, I wasn’t eager
to be deeply involved with Henry, but we did eventually marry. I took
this man into my life without realizing that God created him specifically
for me. And though it may not seem right in some other people’s minds
that I married someone of a different race, I can see why it was meant to
come about. Henry was the vessel used by God to bring me to America
to hear His word. And by eventually reading the good book, the Lord
was able to touch my heart to let me know that I need Him as the Savior
of my life.

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 I can’t thank Him enough, too, for each person who played a part in
praying for me. I do know that there have been quite a few that were
interceding on behalf of my salvation.
The Lord has honestly been good to me. He’s blessed me thus far
with a good husband and three healthy children. He’s been guiding and
directing our every step.
So I owe my all to the glory of God.
He brought me into being. And my prayer now is for me to be able
to live for Him and share His love with others as long as I walk this
earth.

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For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son that
whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.

John 3:16 KJV

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 Closing Word

Here are my observations, after over 48 years of marriage with one of

God’s choice vessels:
Baguio is a city in the mountains of Luzon and a favorite resort made
famous by those seeking relief from the heat and humidity of the
lowlands. A month before I left the Philippine Islands in 1950, I
enjoyed a short visit to that small city. The road to Baguio rose to an
altitude of several thousand feet in a very short distance by means of
many sharp turns and switchbacks. At several points along the way, I
could look from the bus window out over the serpentine road over which
we had climbed.
Only a wall of loosely laid rocks stood between our bus and the
depths below on the one hand. And on the other hand, the hewn rock
face of the mountain stood between us and the heights above. The view
seemed to draw my eyes in a dizzying way to some point in the infinite
distance. At the same time it would send a thrilling surge through my
body, almost of the fear of falling.
I would have to stop looking into the distance because of the strain it
seemed to impose on my vision to focus beyond their natural limits. My
view of the highway ahead was usually blocked by the next sharp turn,
but each overlook offered a prospect of the back trail which plainly
marked the many turns needed to keep us progressing upward.
Like the road to Baguio, producing this book has given Florencia and
me a view of our back trail through the years. We can see where we
came from with its pitfalls and dangers and God’s preservation in their
midst. More importantly, we can see his divine guidance that brought
us to this point. We do not know what lies ahead, but we know the Way
ahead is under supernatural control, and we will be guided to our higher
destination without fail.
We have shared over forty years together after the date, which marks
the ending events of this book. That is the story of Divine guidance,
through the hazards of an “ethnic marriage,” in a tolerant environment
at best and a sometimes discriminating environment at worst. We thank
God for His enabling through it all and hope that the telling of it will be
of comfort and strength to others in the future.
Both Florencia and I owe much to the value of “reliving” the
sometimes buried and forgotten past with divine resources at hand to
help us appropriately handle the remembered emotions and trauma of
past events. What a victory to know the One who not only is God of the
future, but a victorious God of the present as we relive hurts and pains of
the past.

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 Speaking from a human point of view, the dedicated creativity of our
daughter, Mrs. Demetrio Zavala (Alisa) has been the instrument through
which this book has been produced. Without her work as ghostwriter,
this book would have never been completed. From the spiritual
perspective, Florencia has continually asked for and received inspiration
in recalling the facts, and Alisa has asked for and received inspiration to
breathe life into the factual “bare bones.”
It has been my privilege to see firsthand the “flight path” of a
“guided missal” (the life of my wife) through the Divine Controller.
Here are some of His promises for the past, the present, and the future,
guaranteed by the integrity of His character and written in His blood,
which we affirm to have seen at work:

The PAST
(Isa 30:2 1 KJV) And thine ears shall hear a word behind thee,
saying This it the way, walk ye in it, when ye turn to the right hand, and
when ye turn to the left.
The PRESENT
(John 14:6 KJV) Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and
the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.
The FUTURE
(Psa 73:24 KJV) Thou shalt guide me with thy counsel, and
afterward receive me to glory.

God’s guidance is available to all who will trust Him and will subject
themselves to His leading. Dear Reader, I hope you are one who has
made that transaction with Him. If you have not done so, please delay no
longer.

Henry Miller

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Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee;
and before thou camest forth out of the womb
I sanctified thee, and I ordained thee a
prophet unto the nations.

Jeremiah 1:5 KJV

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 GLOSSARY

Word Definition Pronunciation

abaca: Manila hemp ah--bah--ka”
adobo: gravy pork dish “a--doe--hoe”
barong tagalog male’s traditional
dress shirt “bah--rong tah--gah--lug
barrio: village “bar--ee--oh”
camote: sweet potato “cab--moe--tee”
carabao: water buffalo “care--a--bow”
carretilla: horse-drawn buggy “carr--a--teeya”
futon: Oriental stuffed mattress ‘foo--taun”
hacienda: farm; wealth “ha--see--enda”
harana: act of a male serenading
a female “har--on--a”
hectare: land acreage “he c--ter”
Ilocano: nationality; language “Ill--ah--con--oh”
jeepney: post WWII American jeep
converted to passenger
bus ‘jeep--nee”
jicama: sweet vegetable with potato
texture “hee--cab--ma”
kangkong: swamp cabbage “kang--kawng”
lechon: roasted pig
traditional fiesta dish) “le--chone”
nipa: from nipa palm tree “nee--pa”
oboe root: potato-like root vegetable “oh--bee”
panutza: brown sugar “pah--noot--zah”
pockpit: meat and vegetable
combination “pok--pit”
shaman: village healer “shah--mon”
Tagalog: Philippine language
dialect “Tah--gah--lug”

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