Sunday, March 05, 2006
Highlights of My Life
By: Paulo Jose A. Solana
My Conception – April 28, 1976
The first miracle of God that I experienced was the moment my father and mother united to make an individual…ME! Like all miracles no one knew the exact time it happened, nor the significance of the event until a later time when the realization of the miracle hits them.
My Birth – January 28, 1977
I became a veteran of living as I lay inside my mother’s womb. To be pulled out from the safest place I knew for an eternity was the biggest challenge. Being thrown out to a place of light, hardness, noise and the dreadful untaseted air was quite frightening. Lungs trying to breath in the water of my mom’s womb that was no longer available, fighting nature to live and succumbing to defeat as I expelled the water from my lungs, the unfamiliar air rushed to my lungs in sweet aching swiftness, my eyes react to the pain as the tears flowed from my eyes blasted by the stabbing points of light. As I hear loud booming noises and felt a strong sensation of a han gropping my feet, I wail a defiance and accepted the challenge of life.
1984
First trip and ride in a boat that I remembered as we were fleeing Davao’s violent past towards Manila. Living in a small room with my parents and 2 brothers while studying in an exclusive school for the rich was quite a contrast but was a important experience that shaped who I am today.
To live as a street kid palying hide & seek in a “kalye” lined with jeeps, cars, tambays, drug addicts and ofcourse the normal people of Manila. Playing patintero, text, taguan, habulan, rubberband guns, cursing playmates with vehemence, it was a wonder we never had an actual fistfight that broke out among us.
I still recall Chembong, an Ilokana girl I had a crush on that prompted me to memorize Randy Santiago’s “Di bale nalang kaya”. Speaking of Randy, it was also the time we were fond of drawing dark glasses on the guy in the five peso bill. My friends studied at the local publich school, but who cares? Our family is not rich anyway. It was really a wonder where my parents got the money to support three sons to go to Ateneo de Manila University.
I only remember a few of my friends there at Kundiman St., Sampaloc, Metro Manila. David, Jakeris, Alex, Chembong and our arch enemy, Surot. I actually forgot her name. Surot was the typical streetgirl who was loud mouthed and has a way with spitting cuss words. It was because of her that I finally succumbed to the temptation of shouting expletives to my barkada during one of our many “fights”, which by the way I don’t remember the cause of which.
I only remember the cursing because my father heard about it and it was the first time that he scolded me seriously and meant every word of it. Which may be the reason that I am also like this today, not really close mouthed, but silent at times. It was already ingrained in me to think of what I will say before I blurt out anything.
It was also my first encounter with how an addict becomes unruly, an understatement actually, rather how an addict becomes a menace to society. Bernard, that’s his name, our local street addict. Even offered me a roll of weed, imagine that a teenage guy offering a gradeschool kid a puff of dope. Good thing the barkada of my kuya was there and hesitantly or carefully reprimanded him. Well one night, by this time our family already moved to our aunt’s duplex, we were about to sleep and suddenly there was a commotion. So everyone was curious and rushed to the second floor window. We saw Bernard shouting curses to the police next door and smashing pots that lined Jongjong’s residence. The police is Jongjong’s dad. I don’t really knew the issue between them. Anyway, I saw Bernard with his arms stretched as if drawing bowstrings but there was no bow. He released his hand and another pot broke with a bang. Or was it the police that shot his gun. After that Bernard ran away. It was later on that I learned what Bernard has on his hands, it was commonly called an “Indian pana”.
There was also this guy, I forgot his name. What I know is, he is David’s older cousin who just came from rehab. A reformed addict, it was weird the way he talked, walked and moved. He was like a robot.
Well suffice it to say with my early exposure to the effects of marijuana to an addict gave me a lasting aversion to drugs. Thank God for that.
One of the happy moments of my life in Manila as a kid was when my dad buys hamburger for us & my mom. No, its not McDonalds & Jollibee, it was just a local burger joint four streets down the road from us. It was a treat. Ah, the simpleness of being a kid.
Food. Yumyum…my mom is a good cook. Especially with veggies. All our childhood life we neet to eat veggies. If we don’t eat it, we cant leave our seat at the table. A nice condition, very very strategic. Imagine, you have a veggy you don’t like. For example, ampalaya which I really hate. Ok, so ampalaya is served on your plate. You take time with your food, hoping you can get away with it. Then suddenly you hear your friends on the streets shouting, laughing and having fun. What do you do? Ofcourse! Eat the veggies to get olunch over and done with so you can play.
What I fondly remember about my mom was when she makes monggo juice. Yup monggo juice. Damn! So delicious! It’s the same boiled monggo beans, just add milk and sugar. It’s one of the best treats I had when I was a kid.
To tell you frankly, I don’t really have much friends in Ateneo, just a handful. Art, he is good with a guitar. Blas Yu, a karatedo brown belt when we were at grade five. That’s it. I also remember Diego, the Nido boy, but he is not really a close friend.
What I remember in Ateneo Grade School was the Rock Garden! It’s the best place for adventurous, daring, brave, energetic and high spirited boys. Imagine jumping from rock to rock in varying heights, degrees, gap and difficulty. There’s the ten foot drop. Yep, ten feet, climb the rock and jump to the ground. Usually there would be a lead, who will choose a path (there were already predetermined paths made by past students way way back). Sounds easy huh? Nope, hard to explain, you’ve got to be there to feel the adrenalin, the rush and the danger.
The most dangerous was the Devil’s Peak. It doesn’t look that dangerous. Its not that high, the gap is manageable, the challenge? There were a minutae of fingerholds. That’s the catch. You jump, you only have three or four fingerholds and one foothold to cling to. Man! Those were the days. By the was, I never got injured. Im one among the boys who belong.
Basketball? A game of Dungeon and Dragons? Sure, but the Rock Garden beckons. I do Rock to Rock during recess, lunch and dismissal most of the time. Its there where I learned of adventure first hand. Its there where I learned how to dare and feel the rush on your first and successful jump. Even the repetition of jumps does not lessen the elation I feel, because for me, every jump is the first. You are not really sure if you are going to land on the exact spot next time or wheter it is slippery or not. The uncertainty of the unknown is still there. The elation is as strong as the first jump because you put your life literally in your hands. Not that someone already died at the Rock Garden, broken bones is the most dangerous injury you can get. Its ther where I learned to face your fear and move ahead to achieve your desire. I want to jump the Devil’s Peak. Very simple desire. Yet it teaches a lot to a ayoung mind. It’s there where I learned how to be successful and live your life’s desire.
Hmmm…that got me thinking. I think if im rich enough im going to make a Rock Garden for grown ups. Enough with that Rock Climbing thins. You want thrill, rush, adventure? Man, do Rock to Rock!
By: Paulo Jose A. Solana
My Conception – April 28, 1976
The first miracle of God that I experienced was the moment my father and mother united to make an individual…ME! Like all miracles no one knew the exact time it happened, nor the significance of the event until a later time when the realization of the miracle hits them.
My Birth – January 28, 1977
I became a veteran of living as I lay inside my mother’s womb. To be pulled out from the safest place I knew for an eternity was the biggest challenge. Being thrown out to a place of light, hardness, noise and the dreadful untaseted air was quite frightening. Lungs trying to breath in the water of my mom’s womb that was no longer available, fighting nature to live and succumbing to defeat as I expelled the water from my lungs, the unfamiliar air rushed to my lungs in sweet aching swiftness, my eyes react to the pain as the tears flowed from my eyes blasted by the stabbing points of light. As I hear loud booming noises and felt a strong sensation of a han gropping my feet, I wail a defiance and accepted the challenge of life.
1984
First trip and ride in a boat that I remembered as we were fleeing Davao’s violent past towards Manila. Living in a small room with my parents and 2 brothers while studying in an exclusive school for the rich was quite a contrast but was a important experience that shaped who I am today.
To live as a street kid palying hide & seek in a “kalye” lined with jeeps, cars, tambays, drug addicts and ofcourse the normal people of Manila. Playing patintero, text, taguan, habulan, rubberband guns, cursing playmates with vehemence, it was a wonder we never had an actual fistfight that broke out among us.
I still recall Chembong, an Ilokana girl I had a crush on that prompted me to memorize Randy Santiago’s “Di bale nalang kaya”. Speaking of Randy, it was also the time we were fond of drawing dark glasses on the guy in the five peso bill. My friends studied at the local publich school, but who cares? Our family is not rich anyway. It was really a wonder where my parents got the money to support three sons to go to Ateneo de Manila University.
I only remember a few of my friends there at Kundiman St., Sampaloc, Metro Manila. David, Jakeris, Alex, Chembong and our arch enemy, Surot. I actually forgot her name. Surot was the typical streetgirl who was loud mouthed and has a way with spitting cuss words. It was because of her that I finally succumbed to the temptation of shouting expletives to my barkada during one of our many “fights”, which by the way I don’t remember the cause of which.
I only remember the cursing because my father heard about it and it was the first time that he scolded me seriously and meant every word of it. Which may be the reason that I am also like this today, not really close mouthed, but silent at times. It was already ingrained in me to think of what I will say before I blurt out anything.
It was also my first encounter with how an addict becomes unruly, an understatement actually, rather how an addict becomes a menace to society. Bernard, that’s his name, our local street addict. Even offered me a roll of weed, imagine that a teenage guy offering a gradeschool kid a puff of dope. Good thing the barkada of my kuya was there and hesitantly or carefully reprimanded him. Well one night, by this time our family already moved to our aunt’s duplex, we were about to sleep and suddenly there was a commotion. So everyone was curious and rushed to the second floor window. We saw Bernard shouting curses to the police next door and smashing pots that lined Jongjong’s residence. The police is Jongjong’s dad. I don’t really knew the issue between them. Anyway, I saw Bernard with his arms stretched as if drawing bowstrings but there was no bow. He released his hand and another pot broke with a bang. Or was it the police that shot his gun. After that Bernard ran away. It was later on that I learned what Bernard has on his hands, it was commonly called an “Indian pana”.
There was also this guy, I forgot his name. What I know is, he is David’s older cousin who just came from rehab. A reformed addict, it was weird the way he talked, walked and moved. He was like a robot.
Well suffice it to say with my early exposure to the effects of marijuana to an addict gave me a lasting aversion to drugs. Thank God for that.
One of the happy moments of my life in Manila as a kid was when my dad buys hamburger for us & my mom. No, its not McDonalds & Jollibee, it was just a local burger joint four streets down the road from us. It was a treat. Ah, the simpleness of being a kid.
Food. Yumyum…my mom is a good cook. Especially with veggies. All our childhood life we neet to eat veggies. If we don’t eat it, we cant leave our seat at the table. A nice condition, very very strategic. Imagine, you have a veggy you don’t like. For example, ampalaya which I really hate. Ok, so ampalaya is served on your plate. You take time with your food, hoping you can get away with it. Then suddenly you hear your friends on the streets shouting, laughing and having fun. What do you do? Ofcourse! Eat the veggies to get olunch over and done with so you can play.
What I fondly remember about my mom was when she makes monggo juice. Yup monggo juice. Damn! So delicious! It’s the same boiled monggo beans, just add milk and sugar. It’s one of the best treats I had when I was a kid.
To tell you frankly, I don’t really have much friends in Ateneo, just a handful. Art, he is good with a guitar. Blas Yu, a karatedo brown belt when we were at grade five. That’s it. I also remember Diego, the Nido boy, but he is not really a close friend.
What I remember in Ateneo Grade School was the Rock Garden! It’s the best place for adventurous, daring, brave, energetic and high spirited boys. Imagine jumping from rock to rock in varying heights, degrees, gap and difficulty. There’s the ten foot drop. Yep, ten feet, climb the rock and jump to the ground. Usually there would be a lead, who will choose a path (there were already predetermined paths made by past students way way back). Sounds easy huh? Nope, hard to explain, you’ve got to be there to feel the adrenalin, the rush and the danger.
The most dangerous was the Devil’s Peak. It doesn’t look that dangerous. Its not that high, the gap is manageable, the challenge? There were a minutae of fingerholds. That’s the catch. You jump, you only have three or four fingerholds and one foothold to cling to. Man! Those were the days. By the was, I never got injured. Im one among the boys who belong.
Basketball? A game of Dungeon and Dragons? Sure, but the Rock Garden beckons. I do Rock to Rock during recess, lunch and dismissal most of the time. Its there where I learned of adventure first hand. Its there where I learned how to dare and feel the rush on your first and successful jump. Even the repetition of jumps does not lessen the elation I feel, because for me, every jump is the first. You are not really sure if you are going to land on the exact spot next time or wheter it is slippery or not. The uncertainty of the unknown is still there. The elation is as strong as the first jump because you put your life literally in your hands. Not that someone already died at the Rock Garden, broken bones is the most dangerous injury you can get. Its ther where I learned to face your fear and move ahead to achieve your desire. I want to jump the Devil’s Peak. Very simple desire. Yet it teaches a lot to a ayoung mind. It’s there where I learned how to be successful and live your life’s desire.
Hmmm…that got me thinking. I think if im rich enough im going to make a Rock Garden for grown ups. Enough with that Rock Climbing thins. You want thrill, rush, adventure? Man, do Rock to Rock!
