14/01/2024
BIYAHERA by Maximilio (Sun Jan/14/2024. My mother passed at forty-four (44). If we in the Philippines called December-February winter, it would be my eleventh (11th), but I’d like to write about Maxima “Simang” Eligio Santos Gonzales (1921-1966) and my last summers with Inang.
Inang and Amang, Emilio “Milio” del Rosario Lopez Gonzales Sr. (1914-1988), were a small-business couple from the same town Hagonoy in Bulacan. After World War II, they relocated to Tondo, Manila, and then moved their family to San Jose, Occidental Mindoro. It was in the late 1950s is my best guess. The Gonzales Family of ten (10) children found us living next to the public market. My first memory was when I must be no more than four (4) years old. I went up to our home being constructed, embraced a second-floor post, and saw the public market burning from that vantage point.
I do not know when airplane service started in San Jose, but in the 1950-60s boats ferried us from Manila Harbor, Pier 4, to Caminawit. This narrative centers on the fact Inang was a biyahera, and the years covered are the early 1960s.
My family was used to Inang going on travel to Manila and back to San Jose to sell and buy store merchandise. I started school in 1960. I remember looking forward to joining her trips in summer or when school was out.
My mother worked hard all her life. She was always busy. Even during travel, she took things to do. The board ride was around sixteen (16) hours one (1) way. She occupied herself, for example, by cutting bicycle tire interior tubes into rubber bands we sold at our Divisoria candy and toy store. We put together palabunutan or raffle draw boards to sell as well.
I remember, one time, I was already on board, but Inang was not. The boat was already making the right turn into China sea when a smaller boat chased after us. Inang was running late, and my mother talked the Coast Guard into letting her catch up, because I, her bunso, could not travel unaccompanied by an adult.
Nowadays, the boat might be considered a cheap version of a cruise ship, but the ride was not always calm and smooth. I remember trips when strong wind made waves big and rough. Particularly at night, we felt how the boat bottom rolled left and right. At other times, rain was unrelentless. Inang made sure we’re secure in the foldable cots, and she would recite the rosary all night long.
In Grade VI, I had a bad case of nosebleed. I refused to go home, although my white T-shirt uniform was blood soaked and all red. The teacher sent a pupil to fetch my mother. Inang rushed to the classroom with a fresh shirt. I was excused for the afternoon. My mother and I took the next boat to Manila. I remember it was a Saturday, and we had no appointment, but Inang insisted the EENT (eye, ear, nose, and throat) specialist at the corner of Recto Street and Rizal Avenue see me. The doctor prescribed some kind of grainy ointment. Late in life, I self-diagnosed. My nosebleed was a summer allergic reaction. The nostril lining thins and breaks. I apply Vaseline as remedy – a smoother version of the EENT prescription.
Because I had to be in school in San Jose the following week, my family let me take a one (1)-way airplane ride. I was eleven (11) in the Summer of 1965, but I was asked to wear my shortest short pants, so I looked younger and be charged half-price as a child instead of as an adult. I remember I twisted this story for a Toastmaster’s Club speech as though my first airplane ride was my first sexual experience. The joke did not go over very well; of course, because my pre-teen imagination evolving into an adult fantasy was such a stretch. HaHaHa!
That was my last summer with Inang, though. In September, she had a medical checkup. My mother was in Manila those later months of 1965. On January 14, 1966, Inang passed from post-surgery complications.
I grew up fast after Inang passed. I am sure I was allowed to go on trips to Manila and back by myself. I still summered in Manila in high school. I still took the boat. In college, my family budgeted for airplane rides.
Inang was a biyahera. It’s another way of saying my mother was not always in San Jose or in Manila, but she was always around with the family. During our growing years, some of us children went to school in San Jose, while others went in Manila. Inang divided her time, but her time was always for us.
When I remember Inang now, I remember when I used to climb up to her lap at the dining table. My siblings would make fun of me. “Hey, Bunso, you’re too big now.” I had deaf ears. I was in Inang’s lap, and that’s all I cared about. Inang would feed me. She knew how much I liked alige (crab eggs), for example. I felt secure in her lap. And, although she took trips and left early, I’d always feel at home with Inang. And she’s home.
Please take great care of yourselves and your loved ones, thank you for all you do, and please do live love in the time of corona… Love, Mel
