Redoble Family

I have to apologize to all the readers who get offended by the title of this article. I am not a religious person, well I use to be, but the title is not meant to malign one’s religious belief nor to antagonize the believers, for I am a believer too.

This is a story about our mother who beats Kris Aquino as a fund raiser, and beats any wife as a servant to her husband full of worldly tricks and to her ten(10) independently minded and adventurous children.

At 79 years of age, our mother is still very young. She kneels all the way saying the rosary with no cushion to absorb her weight concentrated on both knees rubbing against the hard cement floor.  And in times like this when we the promdis troop to the provinces to pay homage to our departed, our mother would always beat us in all respect. She’s the last person to sleep to ensure that every member of her household is all accounted for when she calls it a day. She’s the first person to wake up. She prays in the confines of her room before heading to the kitchen in the morning. She cooks breakfast, sets the table and leaves us behind to say mass. In short, when the whole house is literally snoring in deep sleep, our mother has already hit the road to thank God of all her blessings.

She’s a retired public school teacher who spent more than 30 years of her life nurturing grade one pupils in Mindanao. She started her career as a substitute teacher in the mountain barrio of Moalboal, Cebu the world’s famous scuba diving destination in the southwestern side of Cebu, Philippines.

Fifty years ago the Philippines’ road infrastructures were nothing but engineering sketches. Teachers then, including our mother, would walk kilometers of dirt roads to reach their classrooms on time. During rainy season they would arrive at the campus soaked in rainwater, having to delay the classes to make themselves presentable to the children. They meddle with family disputes brought by the pupils to their attention, they act as barrio arbiter, and sometimes financier of their pupils’ financial needs, especially when a member of the family is sick.

In the early years of her stint in Mindanao , particularly Ipil, Zamboanga Sibugay, the nearest city then was hours travel on a motorboat. Supplies are inadequate, so teachers are expected to use their creativity to cope with the wide gap between the meager resources and the huge demand for office supplies. Pupils have to share books with classmates. Our mother has to neutralize the cultural and lingual divide among muslims, ilongos, yakans, ilocanos, tausaugs, badjaos, maranao, and other ethnic groups because Ipil then was, and still is, the melting pot of tribal minorities in that part of the island.

Life wasn’t easy as a teacher, and our mother did her job with flying colors! In return, what did the institution she served for almost half of her life rewarded her? The Philippine government gave her a lifetime pension, so low that it’s not even enough to buy her medicines and feed her two guard dogs. But she’s a strong believer and she has her petitions to God everyday.

Despite her financial woes, she can still afford to help others without reservation. And when God closes the door on her, she picks up the phone and call her children for help!

“Mga anak namatay si chu-chu, kinahanglan ta mo blah, blah, blah, LBC lang ipadala kay duol ra sa balay. Sakit na akong tuhod loy…”, she talks to her children on the phone on a soft and commanding manner.

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