Gingoog

In my golden years, I think of the Gingoog of my childhood, and memories rush back like the rainwater swiftly rushing down the canals which, would you believe, was good enough to do our laundry in. One of the best things about being alive after the half-century mark is remembering vignettes – of days of innocence, of escapades after school hours, of walking through the town on horse-driven tartanillas, of going to dances with our fathers and being asked to dance by the boys whose private lives we secretly wondered about. They were days spent without thought of tomorrow. And then most of us left home to go to college elsewhere, then married and had children and lived in distant shores. But in the hush of night, our thoughts went, and still go, back, to dear old Gingoog.

And many are back there this weekend, to add to the merriment of the town fiesta. Among the Balik-Gingoognons are officers and members of GUGMA (short for Gingoognon Union in Greater Manila Area). It’s nice that the association’s founders thought of that acronym, which means love in the Visayan dialect.

I spent one Sunday afternoon with some of GUGMA’s members in the home of Linda L. Veloso, whose husband Terry is an engineer from Leyte. Inday Lugod Guerrero, GUGMA’s fourth president was there, and so were the current president, Tata (Casiano) Lagura Jr., his wife Ining, Yvonne Brodith, Luz Tenesa Adami, Nitoy H de la Cruz, a basketball star player of Christ the King Academy, Vicente Rapog, GUGMA’s historian; Amor Palma, who was visiting from Pagadian, Zamboanga del Sur, and Warto and Vee Torrevillas.

Talking of Christ the King Academy – that was where the Catholic kids went for their elementary and high school education, while we Protestants, studied at Gingoog Institute. We eyed each other suspiciously, for at that time, in the 50s, ecumenical relations were unheard of. When I was in the elementary grades, in fact, my family was driven out of the house we rented from a devout Catholic, and my enigmatic mother had a picture of us taken – with our bundles of clothes and kitchenware laid out on the street – and had the picture published in the Philippines Free Press as proof of religious discrimination existing in our town.

For picnics, there were several places to go, the most popular being Kahulugan, where we as girl and boy scouts pitched tents for camping and swam fearlessly in the very cold river, and Badjangon where we tarried where the warm sea water and cold water from mountain streams met. We liked to swim in Bulwa, in Mambitoon, where my Papa used to get his supply of tilapia and bangus which he distributed among the townsfolk. Our snacks were almost always suman latik and bibingka made of rice flour with a hint of coconut wine, suman made of cassava or camote, boiled camote and unripe saging na saba which we dipped into fermented fish.

I remember the quiet mornings in the old town, and under the balimbing trees I would listen to the Catholic church bells pealing, smell the nice morning air, and watch the religious devotees pass by. I would also walk to the beach, where a half-finished wharf stood, and from which young boys dived effortlessly.

Gingoog was very quiet and scenic. Trees and gardens in front of homes, fishponds along the highway. Clumps of bamboo trees here and there. And everybody knew everybody. From some radio set came the sounds and words of the day’s hits – "Tweedly, tweedly dee," "Once I had a secret love," "See the pyrmaids along the Nile."

Today, the city streets are swept clean. The old town is nearly deserted after the the site of the public market was transferred to Cabuyoan. That’s where the bus terminal is, too – for vehicles going to Surigao, Davao, and Cagayan de Oro. Total strangers have invaded the town, but they spell progress. So many government buildings and commercial stores have sprouted up. There are internet cafes where young girls are chatting with men from some foreign land. There are no more tartanillas, but there’s plenty of noisy motorized tricycles.

There will be dancing in private homes and at the city hall. There will be feasts for friends, relations, and even strangers who come knocking at the gate. And there will be victory celebrations in the barangays, and in the homes of elected candidates.

I wish I were home for the festivities.

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