PunongBayan

The ashes of Raymundo Punongbayan were cast over the waters of Taal Lake last weekend. That was as he wished it to be.

The man did not only study volcanoes. He was thoroughly fascinated by them. He had such a profound acquaintance with the archipelago’s active volcanoes that one might suspect he was in love with them.

So in love with them, he devoted his life to them. It was not just an interest in them; it was nearly a mania.

On the measly payroll of a public servant, he woke up each day and kept close tab on the pulse of each of the mountains he seemed to treat as his pets. He had the record of seismic activities of these mountains imprinted in his mind. Nay, in his soul.

Ray was the epitome of a devoted scientist. He allowed himself few comforts and eschewed luxury. His earthly possessions seemed limited to the few good books he owned. But his talents – and more important, his commitment – were beyond material measure.

I recall having written a column, in the wake of Pinatubo’s fury, having endorsing Ray Punongbayan for President. There was that slight ripple in the public imagination at that time, when a nation gripped by calamity was reassured by his scientific presence.

It was one of those stray ripples in the public imagination of a nation that seems constantly beleaguered and constantly in quest of reassuring leadership. But many of our authentic heroes are allergic to politics. They dread the drudgery of public administration and see the necessary routine of pressing the flesh of strangers a demeaning experience.

I ribbed Ray about it. I told him that if I had the fortune of having a name like his, I would make a go of it, mount a crusade on behalf of all who serve our nation honestly, quietly and humbly.

Punongbayan: head of the community. The poetry of it all was just irresistible.

President Punongbayan might seem redundant, I thought. But what the heck.

Ray laughed at the thought that some people were desperate enough to consider him for the presidency. That band of us who gathered around a few bottles of beer and imagined an honest public servant rising to the highest post did not have much financing to offer a potential candidate. We could sell even the shirts on our backs and not afford a single campaign sortie.

He then went on to do what he does best: monitor seismic activities in order to mitigate the forces we cannot control and, by doing so, save lives.

And the nation was probably fortunate that Ray did not entertain the delusions of a passing moment of great popularity. He continued faithfully in the profession he trained for. And he visited his volcanoes with regularity – like a doting father checking on his children.

After he retired from Philvolcs, he resisted offers of consultancies abroad and preferred to stay close to his mountains. He was on that fateful helicopter ride as a director of the Philippine National Red Cross, on a mission to assess the topological safety of proposed resettlement sites.

A scientist, Ray was not fearful of controversial opinion that was well grounded in science. He was among those who argued that the steep slopes around Real and Nakar were inherently prone to landslides regardless of logging activities. They were not safe areas for settlement.

The popular wisdom was to assume the landslide-stricken communities were safe until the loggers came along – simply because these communities have always been there. Ray’s proposition was a political inconvenience because it implied wholesale resettlement – a task government was not logistically equipped to do.

Meanwhile, the topsoil continues to accumulate on the steep slopes of the mountains surrounding the stricken communities of Quezon. One day, the rains will be too heavy and the topsoil would be unable to hold. Then, once more, we will remember too late what the geologists have been telling us all along.

As Ray’s ashes were strewn on a lake that is at once placid and latently dangerous, his children raised the hope that their father, this mad lover of mountains, might be considered a national scientist.

I am not quite sure how Ray’s scientific peers might evaluate his lifework. I am quite sure Ray, if he were still living, would be inconvenienced by the fawning. He never liked the limelight, never liked being fawned over, never sought the admiration of others. He never wished statues in his likeness will be erected someday.

He was simply a man who loved his work and loved the tranquility of life dedicated to science.

But then, perhaps, we have not honored this man enough for what he has done. Ray, of course, would be the first to say he has not done enough.

Even if it might inconvenience Ray that we seek to honor him some more, we might placate is soul by saying that what we honor is more than the man but also the mission he personified: scientific competence in complete service to his people.

Speaker Jose de Venecia, who always has a just estimate of the value of those who worked hard to serve our people, saw to it that Punongbayan was awarded a Congressional Medal of Honor posthumously. It will not hurt to honor the man further by naming him a National Scientist.

By doing so, we will also honor all those of exceeding competence who choose to remain in the public service – materially unrewarding as that choice might be. Ray had the option to peddle his talents abroad and be better rewarded. But he chose to stay and keep incessant watch on our beautiful but temperamental volcanoes.

By honoring Ray, we might also help ourselves remember his disturbing message: that the breathtaking mountains around us hold perils we must understand, perils we must tame by planning our settlements better.

The word of science must be carved on stone as well.