MyOther, My First Other, My Mother: Herstory Through a Gender and Son's Lens

(Cubao Bus Terminal in Quezon City, May 2008 at around 4am) A 66-year old woman got off from the bus. A distinct joy overwhelmed me upon seeing her, my first concept of the other. It was my mother. From Bicol, Philippines, my mother came to Manila with my two nephews. I rushed to hug her. My mother hugged me back. I felt home in her arms around me.

My mother has a great and marked influence on my life. My story is intimately intertwined with my mother’s story.

 In celebration of Mother’s Day, I had an intimate talk with her. At that moment, I was an awed listener of herstory, a son, and a friend. At the same time, I got to hear herstory in a new light with gender lens. With sharp focus on her being a girl, her relationships with her father and husband, and her being a mother, I was listening to herstory as it unfolded like the first time before my eyes.

I thought that writing about my mother would be a tribute to her deeds and services to me and her family. It would be a space where I would get to know more and better the person who has touched me in a special way. The dailiness and ordinariness of the life of my mother would hopefully provide a glimpse of the survival in the World War II, the struggle of growing up and getting education as a girl, the lack of control of women on decision on marriage and other matters, and the desire to be productive economically to support the children.

My story follows the developmental life cycle of my mother, from childhood to old age.

Her early and childhood years

When she was born on January 30, 1942, she was named Valeriana. It was at the height of the Japanese occupation. Her father would take the whole family to caves near Mt. Isarog in Pili, Camarines Sur to escape the Japanese. Her mother would wrap Valeriana with clothes and put amulets to dispel evil spirits inside the caves.

When Valeriana was 5 years old, just after the war, her younger sister died while being born. Her father supported the family by farming a piece of land awarded by the government through homestead. Life was starting to settle in Pili when her father’s carabao was stolen. Without his carabao, her father could not farm. Thus, her father brought them to Sabang, Del Gallego, about 90 kilometers from their house, where his relatives offered him a piece of land to till (with carabao of course).

Valeriana attended her Grade 2 in Del Gallego while her parents moved to Sta. Cruz, Laguna, about 200 kilometers away from Del Gallego, to manage a canteen. She stayed in Del Gallego to continue her studies under the care of her grandparents.

She was given a responsibility, to look after and take care of her younger brother and sister. She accepted this responsibility seriously while doing some household chores on the side.

Her adolescent and high school years

After graduating elementary education, she was stuck to the task of looking after her younger siblings and doing household chores. She was not sent to school. Her parents were having a hard time financially to be able to send her to high school.

At 16 after four years of being out of school, she was finally sent to high school.

Valeriana vividly remember her first dance in the plaza. Her mother set her up with an older man. Her mother gave her a fancy soap to wash her face. The older man incidentally became my father.

After 2^nd year high school, she was made to stop schooling. Her parents had no more finances to support her growing expenses in school. But her brother continued his studies in high school.

Early marriage, being a wife and mother

Valeriana had no plan to marry yet, but my father had his sight of the future with Valeriana. She was 18, while my father, Felino Sr., was 23 when they got married. My mother did not want marriage yet because she still wanted to go to school. But her parents persuaded her.

Her desire to go to school lasted until she had her 3^rd child. She simply wanted to finish an education degree to become a teacher.

Felino Sr. earned his income from managing a rice mill owned by his uncle. To augment the family’s income, Valeriana learned dressmaking and bought a 2^nd hand sewing machine. Consequently, things changed. “I could now earn a living for my children”, my mother quipped.

My mother is not the epitome of women in her generation. However, herstory is a glimpse of the survival in the World War II, the struggle of growing up and getting education as a girl, the lack of control of women on decision on marriage and other matters, and the desire to be productive economically to support the children, which reflect the stories of many women in her generation.

Under ordinary times, there are mothers who strive to keep their families which are the fabrics of society together, girls who lack access to education and yet remain steadfast in their belief in the power of education to liberate them from the “bondage” of ignorance and monotony of household life, women who resist the roles given to them, and young girls who dream of a better future where girls and boys or daughters and sons are equally valued and treated.

Amidst the stories of violence and discrimination against women, there are also stories of joy and triumph. The joys and triumphs of every mother are the joys and triumphs too of her sons and daughters.

My mother is my joy right now. And I would like to share my joy with you.

Happy birthday, Ma.

Go Go NGOs: Sportsfest of Partners in Development

They were careful as someone crossing an iced-over stream. Alert as a warrior in enemy territory. Courteous as a guest. Fluid as melting ice. Shapable as a block of wood. Receptive as a valley. Clear as a glass of water. – Lao Tzu

            In September 2000, a fitting prelude to the Sydney Summer Olympic Games was the Iriga Non-Government Organizations (NGO) games hosted by the Foundation of Our Lady of Fatima Center for Human Development (FACE) in its 25^th anniversary. Eight teams from different NGOs gathered together and participated in the most-awaited annual 3-day event in the world of NGOs in Camarines Sur. If the Olympics is a celebration of humanity in sports, the NGO games as a whole is a celebration through sports of our commitment to humanity. Same spirit, same soul, same shared goal.

            NGO workers assigned anywhere from far-flung areas to office-based or combination of both doing anything including everything displayed their skills in traditional and non-traditional sports. Invariably, there were no discriminating distinctions among participants. Directors, managers, officers, clerks, organizers, all development workers played each other without these labels. Unlike in the Olympics where superiority connotes wealth and inferiority which points to poverty of certain countries, the NGO games were manifestations of equality at its culminating point. One against one; adversary in the games, partner in development work. Indeed, there was no first, just a leader and tail ender among equals.

            After all the cheerings and jarrings, the frustrations of could have-been and the joy of winning the science of opposing and the art of conceding, the psychology of congratulation and consolation, the beauty of teamwork and the vanity of each team, the Ateneo group of NGOs composed of Center for Community Development (CCD), Community Development Foundation, Inc. (CDFI), and EAGLES emerged as the overall champion. While the Ateneo group brought home the bacon, others went home deserving the rest yet thinking of the next day’s report, meeting and area visit. 

           In the mind of the worker, there is no time to lose in pursuit of real change in the sign of our times since even little reform takes time. It is written in every action, in speech and in reason that the worker can have the time of his life so long as it accords justice, common good, and equality. The event was a welcome break for all NGO workers but the shadow of impeding work inescapably loomed in the guise of Mt. Asog.

            Looking back, those three days in Iriga City were of all sorts of sports fest, a jubilee, rejuvenation, and a reunion rolled into one in the engaging social milieu of the NGOs in Camarines Sur. It is undeniably well recognized the contributions of NGOs to development efforts everywhere especially in Camarines Sur. Most often than not, they are effective and competent in their endeavors to effect change. And gradually the system is taking a form bonded by the civil society. On this hopeful note, I end with a congratulatory message to Ateneo-based NGOs.