At first glance, the story may look like it’s treading the familiar rags-to-riches route, except that its principal character Ben Singkol himself, is no myth. He is real in each one of us.
The first few pages brought to light his parents’ disregard of his welfare. Both were awfully busy, but not with their parental responsibilities, they had their hands full fighting off the demons that threatened to engulf their cowed spirit.
Young Ben’s childhood is truly a lesson on parenthood. As a parent myself, I can now fully claim that child rearing is indeed one hell of a job, especially for someone whose views are shrouded in so many prejudices and hangups. It becomes more difficult when the bills begin to pile up and the money is scarce. But regardless of one’s emotional and financial circumstances, foremost in a parent’s agenda should always be the welfare of his/her children.
Accounts of Ben’s experiences during the Japanese occupation are equally touching. It opened the floodgates of memories of my late grandfather’s stories of the war years. How they moved from one place to another to ensure the safety of the women and children; how they starved in the jungle; how they feared for their safety during every encounter with Japanese troops; and, later, how they rejoiced in the knowledge that the war was over and that they can finally get on with their lives. But his stories belied the pain, the anguish and the sense of hopelessness he must have felt then. Had I known the depth of his pain, I would have embraced his occasional silence with more understanding; I would have spared his scarred spirit from my prying questions, and, I would have recognized the implications of the familiar banner that his former comrades had painstakingly laid on top of his coffin upon his death. But to my young mind, his tales of the war years were simply tales of adventure and fun. Nothing else. After reading that part though, I offered a silent prayer, not just for my late grandfather, but also for the thousands of nameless and faceless souls who died and gave us the freedom that we are enjoying now.
The story has also pointed out certain similarities in our country’s political, social and economic affairs then and now, which, to my opinion, have remained the same – still tainted with so much treachery, opportunism and corruption; only the people have changed.
The book has left me with a lot "if onlys." If only he tried his best to face his fears; if only he was brave enough to reveal his feelings to his beloved Nena; if only he was honest enough to admit to Isabella that he had learned to love her in his own little way; if only he mustered enough courage to fight off those veiled threats aimed at making him do the things he didn’t like doing; and a lot more. But, that is just about one side of the story. It also has a lot to say about friendship and survival. More importantly, it painted a not-so-glowing picture of utang na loob (debt of gratitude), in a manner that would undoubtedly make every reader re-examine its merits – on whether or not it is a boon or a bane to us Filipinos.
I really find it hard to detach myself from Ben Singkol’s character because we have so much in common. Like him, I am a coward. Like him, I am guilty of a lot of indiscretions. Like him, I had my share of running away. At certain points in my life, I ran away from making difficult decisions; from taking consequences of my actions; from acknowledging my own mistakes; and the lists goes on. But while Ben Singkol has remained in control of every situation, I covered my tracks behind the veneer of indiference, if not under the guise of my "signature" barbed stance.
While reading through the book for the fourth time, it suddenly dawned on me why I considered it extra special from the rest of my personal favorites. It not only made me come to terms with my own shortcomings and fears, but it also opened windows of emotions that we humans can easily identify with. It is simultaneously tough and fragile. It is life in all its beauty and pain, in all its hatred and forgiveness, in all its weakness and strength. It carried the distinct taste of the Filipino character. It is also politics in its dirtiest, meanest and lowest form.
Sucker that I am, I would certainly be on the lookout for another interesting material. But it would really take sometime before I would be able to find another favorite that could equal, much more, surpass the impact of Ben Singkol’s story in life.