Three events happened last Saturday that can likewise happen to you ordinarily.
******
Absorbed in walking early last Saturday, for the morning was remarkably fine, Ah Kong, mere ordinary laborer, passed the Cathedral of the Resurrection along Magsaysay Road at about 4:00 A.M. when a feminine voice emanated from the church’s main entrance: “Papanam?”
Ah turned, immediately recognized the person. She was the nun or Sister long assigned at the Cathedral of the Resurrection, even when the church was then originally called Church of the Resurrection.
Ah informed the nun he just wanted to walk up Magsaysay Road while dawn was still breaking. The nun smiled, nodded understandingly and headed across the street for a ride.
Continuing his walk, Ah realized with complete surprise that for the many years he had been friends with the nun, he really never knew her complete name. What a complete nincompoop, he was, he thought.
For a nun to be known by hundreds of members of the Anglican Diocese in Cordillera Administrative Region (CAR) particularly in Sagada, Besao, other areas in the Mountain Province, La Trinidad, Benguet and here in Baguio City, and not entirely known by Ah is, to him, not understandable.
In his youth, his erring ways were re-directed to helping church service in the Church of the Resurrection, as sacristan. He remembered others, too, like Norman Rulite, his younger brother Stephen and others their names he forgot but all did their part being sacristan during mass.
And always, the nun was ever present during church services. Ah only knew her by her nickname, “Sate or Sati.”
He turned around, headed to the Cathedral of the Resurrection main gate, asked the security guard for the nun’s complete name but the guard was of no help and told Ah he’d ask the nun later and advised him to come back Sunday.
He did, but discovered Sate declined the security guard’s query, only revealing she was named Sister “Child” by the missionaries who gave her that name when she was in Sagada.
Which made Sister Sate all the more a mystery. Yet, if Sate remains a present mystery to him, Ah hankers to call up bright images of the past years he had known her when he was an aimless loiterer at the Church of the Resurrection.
For the past years he had seen Sister Sate, never was there a moment she reprimanded him when youth whispered to him of fantastic half-formed plans and castles in the air that never came to fruition. Sate just smiled and made Ah grin like there’s a laughing cloud or moonbeam in your hand.
But how do you hold a moonbeam in your hand, catch a cloud and pin it down if, to Ah, Sister Sate is a riddle, she is gentle, she can be a clown if needed and can out pester any pest and throw a whirling dervish out of whirl?
How slight such incidents, yet these recall visions of lost moments, meeting a familiar face like Sister Sate or throwback to scenes of youthful pastime.
These are but, Ah thinks, pleasant memories, with days spent with Sister Sate and other dear friends. And though some friends have passed where no traveler ever returns, these memories still serve to brighten a gloomy day.
******
Reaching the stretch of Magsaysay Road, Ah rounded a bend at Maharlika Building and found himself along Abanao Road. That’s where he decided to stop his Saturday walk.
For already, the laborer-minders of the flower stalls were opening up, their aprons neatly tied to their bodies and with scissors, ties and ribbons, were carefully arranging and re-arranging flowers for display and trade.
There, as he stood, he spotted a rose in perfect beauty in one of the stalls; it rested gracefully upon its stalk. Some early-rising Baguio residents heading to the wet market momentarily stopped to gaze upon it and the stall owner smiled with delight.
Momentarily, the stall owner turned her back to attend to other flowers when, out of nowhere, a spoiler appeared – a male.
He surreptitiously snatched the rose and headed towards the steps of the overpass leading to the Igorot Park. For no apparent reason, Ah decided to discreetly track the individual.
The person reached Igorot Park, sat there and haughtily placed the rose in his shirt pocket. Moving roughly around, his arm ruggedly brushed the rose until the flower fell off its stalk. When he saw what happened, he rudely flung its stem and stalked off.
Apparently, Ah failed to notice a pretty woman who sat silently in one of the seats at Igorot Park, and who also witnessed what the flower despoiler did to the rose.
After the flower-hater left, the woman went over where the broken flower lay, carefully gathered the scattered petals, its stem and went back to where she sat, where there, she tried her best to bound up the rose which the hands of violence had broken. But it was in vain.
Ah looked earnestly at her; she raised her head, looked at Ah, smiled faintly with resignation and silently tried to offer the broken rose to him by gently holding the unhinged petals.
Ah went over to the woman; the woman gently placed the bruised petals in his palm, a faraway look in her eyes and he realized he was being offered a moonbeam in his hand.
******
Introducing each other, the lady identified herself as Lucretia Ambiling, single and residing at Aurora Hill barangay. She told Ah she was waiting for her scheduled time to be interviewed for a job and wished a laughing cloud will give her luck.
Ah assured Lucretia her laughing cloud and moonbeam will be in her hands during her interview.
All because of a broken rose, they became friends and Ah invited her for a cup of coffee in one of the stalls near Burnham Park.
After which they parted ways, but as friends to brighten for a pleasant memory.
Reaching home after parting with his newfound friend, Lucretia, Ah opened his mail and what caught his fancy among the many letters he received that day were two mails, one written by a Herald Express reader, who identified himself as Nelson Dalipis and residing at La Trinidad, Benguet. He failed to mention whether he is a highlander or lowlander.
Apparently, Nelson, by the way he wrote, could be an educator, or a philosopher, because of his wit. His long letter (edited) started this way:
“And really, Mr. Ah Kong, many among us, upland Cordilleran and lowlander Ilocano, love idiomatic expressions that sometimes, events sacred and serious are made fun of. Let me contribute some idiomatic expressions.”
“For example, if you accuse your friend of being adulterous, he could take that as an offense. But if you whisper to him, ‘Naks, parekoy, you have a hush-hush affair of derring-do with a woman,’ he will take that as the most pleasing of flattery.”
“If a man has killed somebody because that somebody raped his daughter or his wife, you don’t call the man a killer. You praise him as ‘a man of honor’ and he grabs to shake your hand.”
“A lawyer writes, demanding that you pay your utang to his client. If you don’t, he will have you arrested. And he ends his demand letter with the words, ‘Your humblest servant,’ and signs his signature.”
The second mail, by Infanta Balisdang, housewife, also from La Trinidad. She says (unedited), “Dear Ah Kong, I hope my little contribution finds space in your column.” Her message to all and sundry:
“Your annoying child is the dream of every childless couple. Your abung-abung is the dream of every homeless. Your little money is the dream of the penniless. Your smile is the dream of every depressed. So give a little thank you to the Big Spirit in the sky!”
Ah adds, maybe we dwell on what Infanta wants to say in her message, that there’s a laughing cloud for everyone’s spirit. And thanks, Infanta and Nelson, for your contributions.
P.S. Lucretia later called and informed she got her job, and thanked her laughing cloud and moonbeam in her hand – that broken rose.
