What's in a photograph?

A picture is worth a thousand words. That’s the value of photographs. In this digital world, photographs are in our personal computers, laptops and cell phones. There are so many photographs and text messages I’d love to keep, but sadly there’s not enough space in my cell to store them all.

It used to be that fathers lagged around their cameras and took snapshots of even their sleeping babies. Now, it’s all on cell phones. Before, the pictures were developed, appreciated in a frame while others ended up in a photo album. Now, photos are filed in a disc or memory card.

Last week, I cleaned out a closet full of old photographs…and the memories came rushing back. Each picture has a story. I distinctly remember the day on Balangingi Island, Sulu when only Mayor Sahidullah had a satellite phone. I called Busan, Korea and the mood of the moment was jubilant for the Philippines. The circumstances were one of success. The gathering was a noisy one and the sight was of accomplished equestrians. The picture holds the story of priceless memories and a victory during the Asian games — a gold medal for a third daughter.

I remember a picture taken in Zamboanga Sibugay at Olutanga with the Samal children from Suba Nipa while researching for my doctorate degree. Their parents told me, “Our ancestors came from Johore. They accompanied Sharif Kabungsuan as guides and sailors to preach Islam. Kabungsuan brought with him his wife Sheik Bai’ Labi, the Imam, and the crew — the Hatib, the Olangkaya, the Panglima, the Maharaja as the core group of the expedition.”

That’s their oral tradition. The picture reminds me of children in Sibugay with blond hair from swimming under the sun. What a naughty lot they were jumping on catwalks that linked houses on stilts. The walkways were made of bamboo slit in half and rattan tied the bamboo slits together. It wasn’t my ideal path. Looking down below I saw hazardous limestone. If I fell right on top of them into the blackish waters with oil spills from launches plying to and fro Zamboanga City, they would cut my feet instantly — those kids just didn’t care.

I receive a text message and see on my cell phone two adorable grandchildren sitting on antiquated stone steps of a Florence Cathedral. Energetic and perspiring, it was better not to ask them for a kiss and taste their salty perspiration.

Dropping from a huge paper bag I saw this 1966 photograph of Harper’s Bazaar photographer James Moore who came to the Philippines to shoot a fashion spread.

Bazaar honored him by having editor China Machado of Portuguese-Chinese ancestry pose with him. Likewise, art director Bea Feitler and the greatest worldwide hairdresser-coiffeur whom America was in love with Alexander of Paris during those years from the 1960s to the ‘80s.

China, I liked the rhyme in Machado’s name and decided if I had another baby girl her nickname would be China…and that’s my China today.

James Moore had gone to Tarlac to take photos of Chona Kasten and myself. The location for the pictorial was surrounded by water. It belonged to Tony Aquino, half-brother of Ninoy. We took a tiny boat to reach Tinong in Concepcion, Tarlac. Susan Donnell, the magazine’s coordinator, three yayas, one hairdresser who was Toti Evangelista, one houseboy, three guards, the photographer, our food…That tiny boat made several trips! Our clothes all came from New York, chosen by Harper’s Bazaar.

Taking photos is never a meaningless activity although subjects can be lazy and utter, “Oh no, don’t, I don’t have makeup,” and then get to cherish the moment remembering the time the camera clicked away. I love this picture during a break from classes on the beach of Lipata, Surigao City. The freedom, the wind, the white sand and the company. Inspector Cris Palmon, PNPA ’07, and Col. Benito Ramos, then regional training director texting on his cell phone!

To record an event, to remember a specific time and place, to share with others the circumstances where words aren’t enough, or to document an experience make pictures precious. We take a picture to save some importance, for us to reminisce one day and be happy for the moments we were young and carefree, even careless.

My birthday at Bongao, Tawi-Tawi... On the beach with my cousin Raul Manzano in 1989. I look at our family pictures and realize the family traditions we have established, to be loving cousins and take care of each other. I see Christmas pictures and the apo’s look older and bigger all the time as the years go by. We adults never grow old. Well, we can believe we remain young at heart forever. Just getting the children together and arranging them in a proper order for a photo is a feat. It has allowed me to make a photo essay of crying and complaining tykes.

I see photos when the girls were small and where they’ve traveled. Greece with Mikee where our luggage got lost for two days in Pakistan. Mikee and I wore the same clothes for three days and washed them every night.

There are photos of the girls’ soirees, their graduations, and receiving riding and baseball trophies. In our pictures, I also notice the evolution of fashion — and the hairstyles! There’s a lot of laughter in the house as we stare at those beehive “hair don’ts.”

More importantly, our family photos shaped a family image. An image so close to the truth: where the girls are always together, like they are now. Where the girls romped around the garden, as their children prance now but without a trampoline.

I marvel at the look of innocence like they never fought or grabbed toys from each other and the beauty of “the still” childlikeness in their eyes.

My photographs, like yours, could be judged the most irreplaceable material possessions you own simply because time cannot be turned back. A good picture provides information — it is after all worth a thousand words, an important message of some sort. How peaceful Tawi-Tawi can ever be at 4 a.m. That’s the time we docked at Tumbagaan in 1989. A sight I’ll never forget, how I marveled at God’s creation. I had to say a prayer of thanks.