Mysterious white cross beside an old bangar tree, San Mariano, Isabela
He graduated from the famous Philippine
Military Academy on top of his class. On
the day of graduation his father, a general of the Philippine Air Force, and
his mother, a dean of the State University, proudly pinned the Medal of Excellence
on their only son and child. Nobody
could be happier. God smiled at them. The world loved them. And they loved the
world. What more did they wish?
There
was none, although his mother once said in whisper and in prayer, “How I wish
we are like this forever – happy and united, and nothing to separate us.”
Secretly
his father wished his son to become famous, too. He knew that a military career
leads to many opportunities of greatness to one who adheres to his pledge to
defend his country and stand for his people. His thoughts gleamed as he
polished his medals he received in two war missions - the Korean War and the
Vietnam War. He treasured most a medal given by the President of the
Philippines for serving as a top military adviser during Martial Law.
“Those
were troubled times,” he thought, “we are now living in peace,” and put away
his fears that his son would be put in a similar test.
The
young Lieutenant is indeed very lucky. How many young men in the world are
endowed with caring parents, exclusive school, superior intelligence, good
looks and excellent health? Heads turned
by his mere presence. Young women saw him a knight in shining armor. Children
looked up to him a model, a hero. Would they grow up just like him? Dreams! Oh, air castles!
But
he was real. He dressed simply. He was friendly. There was no air of arrogance in his actions
and words. He liked people, and people
liked him. Many times he would go to the village of his birth in Pangasinan –
Bigbiga near Anda. He loved to visit and
talk to farmers and fisher folks. He traced his relations, kinship and
contemporary, as far as he could, calling them by nicknames, and with courtesy.
With him around, work became light and gay. Always he had stories, varied,
spontaneous, humorous, all interesting, to share. And if you happen to be
around you will surely lose tract of the time.
Housewives
on errand bringing baon to the field
workers had all sorts of alibi for returning late. Passersby would not just
passed by. On learning it was Lieutenant
Carding Lopez, they took off their hats in greeting - and always, they were gladly
acknowledged. Crowd would easily grow by
midday and double by late afternoon.
Children playing nearby would caution one another not to be rowdy, and
they would display their best to impress their special guest.
And
months passed. The monsoon came and he
joined the planters in the field as he joined them at harvest time. Came
fishing season, and he would be pulling in the daklis (seine) net. And when
they gave him his share of the catch, he would simply refuse, or give it to the
old people in the village.
One
time he stopped to greet a crew draining a nearby swamp, the lowest part of the
village. While telling a story on how the Panama Canal was built, people the
next day came with their own shovels and drained the swamp in record time. Farmers planted melons and watermelons on the
reclaimed land early in season and made a lot of money.
But
it was the marketplace he was fond of visiting on Sundays. The barangay
chairman made everything clean and orderly.
More vendors came to sell their goods and wares. And more people came to buy them.
Once
strolling on a dirt road, he paused to put some stones to fill up a rut. The next day a gravel truck came. With it were workers. What took an hour to
reach Bigbiga from the highway, can now be reached in half the time.
General
Lopez and Dean Lopez who were living in Manila began to wonder at the kind of
life their son was leading in the province.
Surely it is very strange to know of one who is full of dreams and
raring to seek a bright future. Not for
a young and ambitious man, a Pemeyer at that. No, not for their only
child, now a fine gentlemen, a living gem .
“No,
no, let’s talk to him,” the mother insisted, rising from her lounging
chair. “Hush, hush, let him be,” her husband
soothingly reacted.
One day the young Lieutenant received a
call to report for duty. In the next few days he was flying over Sierra Madre
on a mission. But alas! His fighter
plane disappeared in the sky and crashed into some peak buried in cloud, far,
far away from civilization. No one witnessed the accident, but guesses are not
rare for such news. The plane plunged into the sea where three islands make a
triangle, ventured one mystic who knew about the Bermuda Triangle that
mysteriously “swallow up” airplanes and ships. Attempts to find him failed many
times until search finally stopped.
Maybe
it crashed on one of the Philippines’ tallest mountains, heretofore unreported,
but taller than Mt. Apo or Mt. Pulag.
“That’s how high jets fly,” said an elderly native who knew too well
about the flight of the Philippine eagle. “Oh,” exclaimed an activist, who said
the young Lopez is an idealist, and it is possible that he defected to another
country.
Guesses
turned into hoax, rumors died down, only the enigma on how a promising young
man suddenly disappeared without trace persisted. General Lopez shook his head
in utter disbelief. “Even in times of
peace,” he realized, “danger can be just around the corner. You can’t rely on
technology,” he muttered. Those planes – yes, those planes he remembered, they
were very old. He knew it because they were acquired as donation after the
Vietnam War. Mrs, Lopez retired from the
university, but how could you enjoy retirement if you were in her place?
It has been five years since the young
pilot mysteriously disappeared. The village people of his birth put up a cross
in his memory at the center of the village cemetery. At all times they kept it
white, and not a single weed grew around it.
Tourists
today come to Bigbiga, now a progressive community. It boosts of a model cooperative. It is a persistent winner of cleanliness in
the whole province. A church has been built, around is a beautiful park
frequented by people of all walks of life. Classes are no longer conducted
under the big mango tree. Floods that accompany the monsoon are a thing of the
past. The market is now a village mall, attracting people from nearby towns. An
institute of science and technology was recently inaugurated. Young men and
women are returning and changing the concept of balikbayan, at least in
Bigbiga. They call it brain gain,
whereas before they called it brain drain.
The fields are green and at harvest time under the moonlight, some people would
swear, they would see a handsome young man inaudibly talking and laughing – men
and women and children huddled around him.
The
general and his wife did not live long in their grief. A new generation had
taken over the reins of command in the military. A new president has been
installed in Malacañang. He is young and
handsome, friendly and there’s something they like in his eyes and the way he
talks. They trust him. Those who knew
the late Lieutenant Lopez liken him to the new president.
One day there was a flash report that a
community was discovered somewhere between Nueva Ecia and Aurora. It is hidden
in a valley shrouded by forests and thick mist. That is why it remained
obscure. There must be a mistake, commented a local government official who
knew well about the region. Cautiously a survey team followed the trail. It is
like searching for a lost city in the Andes of Peru, or a Shangri-La in the
Himalayas. But it is true. There before their very eyes appeared a
progressive community. It is actually the Viejo
Dakkel, the remotest barangay in San Mariano, Isabela.
The
people in this newly discovered community are peace loving, industrious and
self reliant. They are highly
respectable in every measure. They are farmers, craftsmen, many are
professionals. They have children studying in Manila, and relatives working
abroad. There is a progressive multiple cooperative, and the village market is
always busy. A chapel rises, around it is a beautiful park. Nearby is a
cemetery. In the middle a white cross gleams in the distance, and no weed grows around it. ~
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