Graduation & Resurrection
Aboard a rented blue jeepney, we sped off to Los Baños to make it ahead of time for my college graduation at the University of the Philippines. It was April 25, 1992, a Saturday. Excitement was felt that day. It was a day of many firsts for us.
It was the first time for my parents in a long, long time to be garbed in “formal attire.” My father was wearing a pair of navy blue slacks and light blue long-sleeved polo. My mother was radiant in her black flowing skirt and a mustard yellow blouse. I was in a pair of black pants, maroon long-sleeved shirt that I borrowed from my cousin Phil. I wore a borrowed tie, my first time to wear one. My shoes were a pair of brown hand-me-down Oleg Cassinis from my college friend Nixon.
More than anything else, it was the first time someone in my family would graduate from college. It was the first time we all felt that kind of joy.
My two elder brothers, Kuya Ronie and Kuya Gadie, passed up their opportunities to enter college (even if our aunt offered to sponsor their education). They selflessly opted to work in factories in Cabuyao after high school because they wanted to assure that their three younger siblings would finish at least high school. With their meager earnings, they wanted to make things a bit easier for my parents who were both farmers then.
On the day of my graduation, it was only my Kuya Gadie who joined us to UP Los Baños. Kuya Ronie and my two younger brothers Odick and Rod were left to look after our humble house.
Some of our friends from the neighborhood like Kuya Noli and Kuya Kemlay hopped on the jeepney to celebrate with us. We were singing as we travelled to Los Baños. Because it was a celebration, my mother did not forget to bring a big buri basket filled with chicken adobo and rice wrapped in banana leaves.
We reached the university at 2 p.m., an hour before the appointed time for the commencement exercises. We parked under the robust kapok tree at the PhySci Building, our long blue jeepney sandwiched by a black Mercedes-Benz to the right and a green Toyota Super Saloon to the left.
It was a mere three-minute walk from the parking lot to the open field of the university where the graduation rites would be held. I led my parents to their seats. Unlike when I graduated from grade school and high school, they would not go up with me to the stage when I got my diploma. I also had reservations that they would see me on stage because it was far away from where they were seated that afternoon.
The program started on time. After about two hours, my name was called. I looked to the direction where I seated my parents. Under the scorching sun, I saw them clapping. I slowly walked to the stage, waving to the crowd, like I was a superstar. The summer breeze was kind enough to relieve me of the heat. My black toga flapped to the caress of the wind, as if celebrating, too, with me. I was filled with joy.
Then it hit me. The minute I walked towards the registrar and the Japanese guest speaker to receive my diploma was the moment that I felt what kindness and gratitude was all about. In a flash, I saw the hardship my parents went through to see me through. I saw the selflessness of my brothers. I saw kindness.
And because I was shown kindness, I knew I would return it, too. I walked down the stage making a silent covenant between me and the universe: I will do good in life because I will not fail my parents and my brothers. It was at that moment that I made a promise to myself that the opportunities my brothers passed up are the same opportunities I would give to their children when they have their own families.
I am just grateful that to this day I have kept my promise.
I made it through college because of a scholarship called STFAP or Socialized Tuition and Financial Assistance Program. I made it through college because I was a student assistant at the Registrar’s Office and at the library of the Institute of Development Communication. I made it through college because I had wonderful and erudite professors who taught the Communication Arts degree with passion and fervor. I made it through college because of my “brods” and “sisses” in the UPLB Com Arts Soc who believed in me.
I got my break in life because someone was kind enough to give me the break that was supposed to be his. I made it through college because my parents, by hook or by crook, made sure I would make it through. I made it through college because my brothers let go of their dreams so that I would fulfill mine.
I was in a hurry to graduate that I finished my course in three and a half years. I was in a hurry because, like my brothers, I wanted to be able to help in putting food on our table.
The graduation exercises, because of a large population of graduates that year, took about five hours to finish. Somehow, my parents and I quickly managed to see each other in the thick crowd. We went up the stage to have our photos taken, with my mother handing the camera, which she borrowed from a friend in the neighborhood, to my friend and dorm mate Lawrence who happened to be near the stage. The smile that registered on my parents’ faces was wide and indelible.
Together we walked to the parking lot. I was like a child that moment with my father holding my right hand, my mother to the left.
Inside the blue jeepney, my brother Gadie and our friends from the neighborhood were waiting. We got inside the jeep that was still parked under the robust kapok tree, still sandwiched by a black Mercedes-Benz to the right and a green Toyota Super Saloon to the left.
My mother reached for the big buri basket, gave paper plates to all of us. We were all hungry. Inside the jeepney, we all feasted on adobo and rice that was wrapped in banana leaves.
We ate. We were happy.
It was at that moment that I confidently knew we would never be hungry again.
(For your new beginnings, please e-mail me at bumbaki@yahoo.com. I am also on Twitter @bum_tenorio and Instagram @bumtenorio. Have a blessed Easter Sunday!)
