The Metal from an Ore

“It was for the difficulties and trials I owe this strength and optimism I have.”

        It was an ordinary day in my endeared barrio of Tobog, in the slow-growing yet historic town of Oas, Albay, the dewdrops fell from the leaves and kissed the soil as the scorching sun rises and warmed the sylvan atmosphere of the place. I woke up early, I groomed myself to a deceiving look that no one will figure out what was the real situation of life I have, and got into school late. It was the very same thing I’m always into every day. En route to school, I saw different faces of people. Some are dressed and are off to their work. Some are in uma harvesting palay and they are dressed with sleeves so long and that native salakot to protect their selves from the penetrating heat of the sun. Some are with ragged and torn clothing begging for alms in the street. Then I look to myself, I am dressed with my uniform. A sudden thought lingered on my mind that it’s the different dresses of life. I pondered on what I saw and asked myself, “What will be my dress after this?” Saying that in mind, I realized that I am actually in an opportunity, a great opportunity so that I can buy a better dress of life―education. Reaching junior year in college, I can’t help it but to think how this had happened and be thankful for having this privilege to higher level of learning. Back in high school, I put in mind that my parents can’t afford to pursue my tertiary education and soon after graduation I will go to Manila and work as a helper, factory worker and the like as the usual custom of a high school graduate in the province. But that time I can’t see myself doing such work and I don’t know how I entered college surrounded by financial worries and thoughts that I can’t finish it and I will just stop. Perhaps this was the bravest thing my parents have done. Looking around me right now, I can see a bright tomorrow from not so far away.

      For this was a good thing that happened to my life, I recalled the life I’ve been to before I am dressed like this. The trials of yesterdays had put me to where and what I am. The road I travelled is winding and miserable like a labyrinth where getting out is not easy. I have been lost in the middle of it but neither I am daunted nor frightened by difficulties it gave instead it made me tougher and molded me into what I am today.

Me and Mama

        When I was five, my brother Mark got sick. He was so ill that he is almost on the brink of death. We are cradled by unbearable sorrow. I was little child that fateful days but I felt how painful and intolerable the situation is. He was also young that time and I couldn’t imagine how excruciating it was for him, for enduring that pain even a strong grown up man may surrender. We are all gloomy and wrecked and some can’t bear it anymore. Many got tired and lost their hopes but it was our parents who never thought of giving up and took every little chances possible. In that disease which seems incurable, in that ordeal which seems impossible to overcome, my brother is cured, yet he is doomed to illiteracy and social discrimination. He lost his mentality in the process and from then on, he never set his foot on school again.

Me and Papa (why so shy on camera?)

       As the years passed, he grew to be a sturdy man. So different from what everybody presume that you will grow taunted and sickly. He was short tempered and he easily got mad and we learn to cope with that and we understand. We knew that it was the remnant of the illness he got. There are times I am tearful and blaspheme Him asking why He had inflicted my brother a curse. Growing up with him, I was thinking what life he would have if everyone of us is gone. He needs companion for a lifetime. He needs someone to count and read for him. He can’t stand alone by himself. I dreamed that his life would be so different from that life he is living. I dreamed that someday he will have his own family to take care of him when our parents will no longer be with us. But who will want him? I dreamed that one day I could hire a professional to teach him the lessons he missed in school for so many years. I couldn’t just let him suffer from the thing he didn’t choose but he doesn’t have a choice, he is deemed to suffer, an undeniable truth so painful to accept.

    We are brothers and we will always be. We may often have misunderstandings but inside of me, an unyielding compassion lies. I was born next to him to be his crutches, to guide him along the way in the journey he may take. I read for him. I help him count his earnings for his labor in the farm. He may not know how to write his name but he’s far better to those educated man who lay idle and don’t know how to write a well-lived life. This is just one of the many tests of time that we will stand together. And yes, we stood it together.

During my Graduation Day

      Just when I thought that this is the last problem I will come across with, as I grew up there are so many more to overcome. My father is irresponsible and unreasonable in some ways. He is disgruntled for the life we are living and blame it to us to cover the truth that he is the one worthy of that blame. We have lands to till but that haven’t done any good to us. Our neighbors would say if father is just a bit of hardworking man, we will never reach the point that we are almost have nothing to eat. There are days we go bed with an empty stomach and our father doesn’t care and he would just sleep away tightly as if we had a very sumptuous dinner that night. He asks for what we do not have and a little bit of anger of him, he would throw and crash up some things we got and mother will just pick up the pieces left trying to fix it out or start saving money to buy a new one. My father always wanted a convenient life but he never did things to have it.

     One time he came drunk with that cigarette-stained smell and the alcohol’s scent is coming out of his sweat filling the air with unpleasant ambiance. I was about to go to school that time. I really don’t know what happened next. As I went back home, I was flooded with news that my mother is in the hospital. I didn’t bother to listen for all the details not unless I prove it myself. Rushing towards our home I have this feeling that it could be true. I didn’t ask my siblings for they were upset. A neighbor came to me and said that he saw mother bleeding profusely by a gunshot. The worse thing of all, it was father who shoots her by the iskupitilya we had in home which father usually used for catching birds or anything for food. Hearing those words, the world seems crashing down to me. I was so stunned and my body went numb. I don’t know what to do. I can’t even find my father to let him explain what had just happened. All I think about is my mother if she’s safe or not.

    The night came and from time to time I was standing on our door and peeking if mother was coming. A few moments passed, from not so far away a woman figure is getting closer and I knew it was her. She was sad, even more upset than all of us, and her left elbow was enveloped with bandages. That night was the most silent night we ever had. The silence is deafening and as if it was midnight. My father was there watching TV and he didn’t even bother to ask sorry for mother. I knew he was so ashamed for what he did. The dinner was set, we ate simultaneously maybe because they don’t want to sit adjacent in the table and be awkward with each other, and then we go to sleep. Still, no one dares to speak of what happened. It was a restless night for me. I can’t calm my body when my mind quivers on that gunshot that could have killed my adorable mother.

Me, Collin, Aljhun, Jerson, and Joel

     The following morning the day was serene and everyone busy themselves for house chores. But to our family, it was a day to start a new beginning and hoping to forget what happened. Mother, who’s left elbow is still aching, is sharing her sentiments to some of our neighbors about the incident and unintentionally I was about to pass by but I didn’t want to interrupt them so I just listen from behind.

“What happened?” said by one of our neighbor.

“Why he has done it to you?” exclaimed by the other.

And hearing those words my mother’s eyes went teary as she began to narrate the details.

“We had an unfavorable discussion that afternoon and he doesn’t like it being questioned or answered back. I went out of the house to fetch water. I had no idea that he is preparing the gun inside. From inside the house he pointed it to me and then I was hit in my elbow.”

“What did he do after that?”

“He went out to come to me maybe he realized how terrible it was but Beng happened to be around that time so she’s the one who escorted me to the hospital.” mother added.

“I thank God that it was just my elbow. If I did had a light movement that time, it is my breast that will be hit by the bullet that will cause my instant death. I was just thinking of my child, they are so young to be left with.” Her tears went oozing as her emotions burst. The neighbors are trying to console her.

“It’s okay Marichu. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“You’re still lucky you’re alive for you take care of your kids.”

     I was carried away by that scenario so I back off crying and had this disgust to my father. That was the first time I saw mother cried. I cursed that day father did it to her. How could he put mother in such jeopardy? His being drunk will never be an excuse to me. But whatever evil drove him to do that, I’m still thankful that we’re still with her. Our lives would be adversely affected if she will be gone. She may not be thoughtful on how much she loved us but she cares a lot.

    They didn’t split up even if many are telling them to do so. Separation could mean an even worse life for all of us that’s why we still live together even if it takes time for the wound to heal. If ever it does, still, a scar will be etched which we will remember that for once, there exists a wound. But as time goes, we all forget what happened and father was forgiven. It would be unforgivable to many but to our mother who doesn’t want us to grow without a father, she hid the pain she is feeling to stay with him even if their relationship is tinted with something obscure towards her feelings with him. We live our lives as normal as before. We are all hoping for this not to happen again. And then we moved on.

    My eldest brother, Tristan, insisted to pursue college even though we have nothing to it. He said it is difficult to find job as a high school graduate. My parents decided to let him do so as he is the eldest and at least one of us goes to college. They had in mind that kuya is the one who will emancipate us from poverty and that one day, he will send us all to college too. He is good-looking man and many have been so fascinated with him. Everybody else is saying he can easily find job. And when he graduated, all are happy. That was the time I thought to myself that at last our way of life will gradually change. But to our disappointment we are all wrong.

     It was summer and it was fiesta in our place. The mood was very festive. All we’re busy drinking, eating and strolling in the streets amusing themselves in the events taking place. Mother had cooked something to eat enough for the members of the family. We were just all glad as kuya had just graduated. Then suddenly, an unfamiliar girl came looking for kuya. She was six or seven months pregnant that arouses more curiosity to us. Mother who is afraid to know the truth, ask the girl.

“Who are you? Can I help you?”

“I’m Madel, I’m looking for Tristan.” she replied.

“I’m his mother. He is at his classmate’s house, Menlo.”

    The girl thank mother and she go away. She is kuya’s classmate in college. She’s classmate of Menlo too that’s why she left immediately for she knew where his house is. Mother cried as she went back to our house and all her dreams had vanished that day. She mourns as if someone had just died. She knew kuya is the father of the baby that Madel is carrying. Kuya didn’t came back home that day. He knew father would kill him if he came back. He stayed at her girlfriend’s house for a while.

    As the dinner time came, all are quiet and all we can hear is the loud music of a ball set in the pavilion outside to end the celebration of fiesta. They don’t want to talk about what happened that afternoon. But Mark asked them, “Is she kuya’s wife?”

“Stop it!” father replied angrily.

“From then on I don’t want to hear that name again anymore!” His words were adamant. His fury was intense and if ignited, will run out of control. For him, he just lost his son that day.

“You, all of you, if you’re planning to have your own family, do it now! Don’t let us send you to school anymore!” We all vowed our head and I’m starting to lose my appetite. I ate a little and then I went out.

      That night, as I watch people dancing in the pavilion, I felt disappointment to kuya. I thought he will help us but I was wrong. After sending him to college, after our parent’s hard work, and after leaving us in great debts, what makes him done this thing? In that night, I started to hate my brother even until now that his son is three years of age. Now he is working, not for us but for his new family. My parents regret the day they send him to college. But it was done and they can never turn it back. They started to accept the fact that he can’t help us and let him be happy with his own family. In spite of what he did, he will always remain as our parent’s son and me and my sibling’s brother.

     Maybe this is why they sent me to college hoping once again that I am the one who will do what they want kuya to do. They are very positive that it could be me. I, having been to these situations, have no way to follow the steps of my brother. I pity much my parents and I’m very sorry for what kuya did. I promise to myself that I will help them have the life they want. I will help my other siblings go to school. I will never disappoint them. These experiences I’ve been to have taken my attention to other things and focused it to my family. My life was centered to them to finally break the chain of despair and free themselves from the cuffs of harsh tests they have been repeatedly enduring. I’m tired seeing them in pain, in discontentment, and in regret. I have changed myself to face the struggles I may come across with. I have recreated myself. I became bold, fierce, and positive. This was the only thing I knew to resist when life toss us up again. No matter how hard I fell on the ground, I will always get up.

     I’m like a metal from an ore, unwrought, coarse, and have no definite form. I came from a muddled origin. The trials I’ve been to have served as the blacksmith and fire that pounded and shaped me into a definite piece. The more tests life gave me, the more I became molded as a tough, refined, and great metal. It was for the difficulties and trials I owe this strength and optimism I have. It had empowered my quest for that life I always wanted, for that life I never had. It had fueled my pursuit to continue reinventing myself everyday and be better than what I am yesterday. This is how life changed me. I get out of that ore and I became a metal in my own. Whatsoever trials life gave me, this fine metal is ready.