Admirable are the efforts of daily laborers in Cordillera Administrative Region (CAR) and Region 1 who, at day’s end, their pleasure is laughing away tiredness and valuing simple cares.
Sunday afternoon last week, huddled, before a small campfire crackling happily, to warm their chilled bones, chomping on boiled camote and chasing it down their throats with hot barako coffee, four friends got talking about simple likes in life, in like manner other simple people in life, too, wish for simple things, as they say, “tay kayat ko, simple laeng.”
In midst of their conversation, Samuel Gulilang, 54, Cordilleran, a proprietor, wished two of his five children still studying would finish their college, the three having graduated already.
“Kaasi ni Apoh, makaturpos da met,” Samuel simply said.
Eusebio Debnan, 60, Cordilleran, having graduated as senior citizen but still working, nodded approvingly at Samuel, wished Sam all the best then revealed his “like.”
Eusebio wished that having become senior citizen, he’d like his hair not follow suit by wanting to be senior citizen too, and falling from his scalp.
“Sumursurot met daytoy buok ko nga ag-senior ta nu tunggal agsagasay nak, agpupukaw da ditoy ulok, umalis da idiay sagaysay,” Eusebio said drily.
Their third friend, Kruger Talisdan, 44, Cordilleran and managing a budding farm he bought in the lowlands, wished he could grow a “barbas,” (beard).
All his life, Kruger wanted to follow in the footsteps and popular image of the Benguet Cowboy and someday turn his farm into a ranch filled with bawling cattle, while he, astride a horse, would yodel them to sleep.
Being cowboy at heart among the four friends, he also wished someday to engage the pony boys at Wright Park, Baguio City in a friendly bronco-busting sport, or taming a horse that doesn’t have the inclination to be ridden by anyone.
“Saan laeng nga basta barbas, ngem kasla kuma ti barbas ni Ah Kong,” Kruger said and pointed to their fourth friend, Ah.
The four were at the backyard of Ah’s home, in barangay Dizon Subdivision, Baguio City, enjoying the small camp fire.
Strange a “like,” or “kayat kuma,” as it may seem. Ah cleared his throat and told Kruger matter-of-factly that he detested the whiskers growing like grass on his face.
“Baliktad ti lubong maminsan,” Ah cackled, and continued, “Saan ko kayat nga barbasan, ngem adda met mang-kayat.” Jokingly, Ah asked Kruger, “Anya gapu kayat mo a barbasan, eh?”
“Nu adda barbas mo ken nakakalugong ka ti cowboy hat, ayna apoh, bagay nga bagay. Kasla ka met laeng nainayon idiay nabayag a sine nga, “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly,” Kruger answered in jest.
The three roared at Kruger’s answer. Then Kruger went on to narrate his despairing travails in growing his barbas.
Kruger says that to whoever feed the hope of someday indulging in the pride of having a barbas, pulling and stroking the same, he addresses his sad tale, asking for sympathy from that whoever.
Kruger said bright was the day when he found some whiskers sprouted on each side of his cheek, giving a promise of full crop. A course of delight coursed through his veins, and he felt as if being new.
Visions of art filled Kruger. How would he trim his beard if grown? A knotty question.
Would he let it grow from ear to ear? Would he let his mustache have one continuous curl upwards or downwards? Or, would he leave it to Nature’s guiding hand?
Would he grow his barbas so long never mind if he slurps soup, the soup dribbles down on it?
Or, should Kruger leave his beard to grow wild over both his cheeks and never mind if his wife refuses to kiss him because the beard interferes with the gentle act of such devotion?
Op kors, naman, Kruger knew for a fact his good ol’ wifey would acquire skin irritation of the cheeks if these touched the bearded face of her husband.
But this bearded fact didn’t seem to deter Kruger in his quest for barbas. On this issue, Kruger had no conscience. No, none at all.
Kruger fancied the day he’d have a full crop of barbas, he’d strut along the streets of La Trinidad, Baguio City and elsewhere, and be the envy of men without beards and admired by some, or many, of the fairer sex.
Because, Kruger swore, he read before that some members of the fairer sex admire – just admire met ketdi – men with barbas. Whether this be true, Ah will dig deeper into Kruger’s fantastic claim.
So, one day, Kruger visited a barber asking for the best kind of stuff to apply on his cheeks to make his barbas grow full.
“La, bless you my good Sir, but this is the right thing you need,” said the barber and presented to Kruger a bottle filled with a mysterious greenish liquid.
“What’s in it?” Kruger asked the barber. The barber went to the pains of telling Kruger that the liquid was made from the finest stuff of which it fully guaranteed even feathers of birds will grow when used.
Thus supplied with the barbas grower, Kruger shaved, oiled, greased his cheeks, labored hard to accomplish his heart’s desire.
But it seemed Fate was unpropitious, the season unfavorable. For much as he labored, no crop of beard could Kruger raise.
Till at length, in despair, Kruger decided to leave his face to its own devices and trust his face’s generosity for all the care that he had given it.
Kruger resolved, and shunned, looking at the mirror for a month, endeavoring to drive his thought away from the mirror and calm his anxiety that troubled him.
Soon the month was up, the eventful day arrived for him to look at the mirror. He did.
Alas! But all he saw was incipient whiskers, thin and struggling to grow – and all growing the wrong way. There were patches of thin whiskers on some sides, while other parts of his cheeks were bare.
Now, Kruger realized, he would be the subject of taunts of those who possessed that much-prized ornament called barbas.
Indeed, Kruger tried to cultivate what, alas, proved to be barren cheeks, este, soil.
Such, Kruger says to readers, is his tale. And he trusts that somebody out there wanting to grow a crop of barbas, won’t follow his fate.
That, Kruger ends his tale by saying, it’s still better having a slow-growing, unequal and scanty beard. Or even not having a beard at all.
As compared to a full crop of beard which Kruger now calls, “perverse whiskers.” However, Kruger’s dream of being a Benguet Cowboy remains unchanged, – with or without whiskers.
