Covenant of unity

BALTIMORE, Maryland – I received word from Manila that the leaders and aspirants for election to the board of directors of the University of the Philippines Alumni Association have decided to form and support a common slate of candidates. This show of unity and solidarity culminated in the formal signing of a "Covenant of Unity" in the office of the Board of Regents last week. This move is commendable, considering that the two parties vying for seats in the UPAA have a long history of acrimonious squabbles, even leading to the filing of a court case to determine the winners of the past election.

This covenant of unity among UP alumni political leaders is viewed as paving the way for a "commitment line-up" of candidates that could usher in the election of a cohesive and "teamwork-oriented" set of UPAA directors. This is significant, particularly because the university needs inputs in addressing and solving its perennial budgetary problems, and as it prepares for the centennial celebration in 2008.

The 23 candidates who withdrew their election bid for the sake of unity and the best interest of their alma mater, are to be congratulated.

UP President Emerlinda R. Roman, who hosted the meeting, was visibly pleased with the signing of the covenant. Likewise, UP Regents Nelia Gonzales and Gari Tiongco, who worked tirelessly in the forging of the accord, were also pleased. Also present during the signing were former Chancellor Marita Reyes, businessman Ponciano Rivera, finance technocrat Fred Pascual, dramatist Behn Cervantes, and former Congressman Romulo Lumauig. Incumbent UPAA President Jaime de los Santos, who was out of the country, sent his expression of support of the covenant.

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GILDA CORDERO FERNANDO’s lessons on life. I have yet to come upon an autobiography that enthralls as much as Gilda Cordero Fernando’s does. Written under the intriguing title "The Last Full Moon," it sweeps you through the life and times of this celebrated figure in Philippine literature and journalism. The work provides entertainment and education, executed as it is in GCF’s original style, with humor, and at times, startling openness. It is a work too good to be placed on glass-encased bookshelves, and so I have bequeathed it to a good friend in Baltimore – Sony Robles Florendo – herself a future great autobiographer if she sets her mind to putting her life’s lessons on paper.

"The Last Full Moon" is family and cultural history – the episodes talk about Gilda’s ancestry, the flavors of living in pre-war Quiapo, her teen-age years, the bitter World War II years, her work as a fictionist and publisher, her marriage, friendships, her children and grandchildren. It is a work of love, of lessons learned in the life of a woman known for her unorthodox ways, her warmth and tenderness, and creative outputs (including wearing old sayas in unpredicted ways).

In her fascinating story-telling style, she talks of cultured grandfathers (on her father’s side, the lolo lived in a house with colored glass windows and a wide staircase made of Belgian tiles in Pagsanjan, a town "with a passion for a comfortable and cultured life," and on her mother’s side, the grandfather owned the only pawnshop in the whole of Batangas, Tayabas and Laguna.) Gilda’s father was a physician teaching in the UP College of Medicine who had studied in Cambridge (England), who played an unusual wooden flute and took Gilda, the apple of his eye, to Shirley Temple movies.

Other writers would gloss over family eccentricities or totally ignore them – in effect saying their families are perfect. It’s no holds barred for Gilda. Her account of her parents’ quarrels is quite frank.

"All the time when I was a child my mama and papa argued. Then they quarreled. Sometimes violently. When doors started banging and objects crashing in the conjugal bedroom I would quake in fear, rooted to the spot until the noise subsided . . . I didn’t realize how their quarrels had traumatized me until the first time I ever sat in a group meditation and one of those terrible scenes flashed into my consciousness. In it my father was standing on the star landing, the top of his silk pajamas in shreds and my mother trying to claw off the trousers. Through a big tear on a pants leg, a bit of his penis was showing. My father said something like, ‘That’s enough,’ then held her wrists in a vise-like grip and led her away."

But what "never ceased to astound me was that my father and mother really loved each other and stayed together until death. Mama was extremely loyal and protective of daddy – she would brook no criticism of him. . . (fed) him delicious food that he had no appetite for. . . when she wasn’t bedevilling the be-jesus out of him she was always kissing him." She was a fabulous cook, but did not train her daughter to cook; as luck would have it, Gilda married into a family with a rich cooking tradition. Today, the Cordero -Fernando household is well known for its exquisitely planned lunches and dinners.

The gleeful narrations of Gilda are broken by a somber piece on the Second World War, that recalls the killings of civilians in Manila, deafening bombings, the burning of the city and homes, and the death of her brother Leo. When the American soldiers came along the street where the Corderos lived, they threw candies and gum upon the spectators. Gilda picked up a gum and put it in her pocket. Mournfully, she said her brother was dead, her brother was dead, and she could not find a flower to place on his grave, so she would place a gum instead.

Then the episodes on growing up. Jam sessions, with party food as macaroni, flat bread sandwiches, hot dug, cubed Spam mixed with mayo, and ice water. The girls wore ankle-length balloon skirts and liked Gibson Girl blouses with little black ribbons. In vogue were also below-the-knee "pedal pushers," and flat brown and white "Saddie" shoes.

Aha, the Cordero-Fernando romance. Marcelo Fernando, who would become a successful corporation lawyer, and Gilda, went to motels before they got married. "We would cavort on the strange beds with delighted screams, chasing each other with baby oil and talcum power for an nth round of bliss. His tongue would lick me from the navel downward, relentlessly searching every sensitive fold."

Marcelo, writes Gilda, "liked my being a writer and hated it because it was the star on top of the litany interests that we did not share. . Eventually I realized that more than any man, woman, or child, my husband considered my writing his rival. And maybe so, because it was my passion. I could pour into a piece of paper all my anguish, my fantasies, and my secret desires. I could create a dwelling place, a holy of hollies that no one could enter."

There would be indiscretions (on Marcelo’s part), which is why Gilda needed space for reflection. "When I was finally able to surrender my resent-ments, let go of my hurts and the shreds of my vanquished ego. . .when I had gotten the courage to jump into ‘the abyss of the unknown,’ and forgive his indiscretions, I found that I had landed at home . . . and finally accepted my partner’s love the way that it was, and had always been, warts and all, with no conditions." Gilda as entre-preneur, short story writer, essayist and publisher is docu-mented. Among her books: Culinary Culture of the Philippines (1977), Turn of the Century (1977), Philippine Ancestral Houses (1980), Folk Architecture (1989), Being Filipino (1981), Burgis, and Ladies’ Lunch.

Among her many awards are the Pat-nubay ng Sining, City of Manila, 1993; Gawad CCP Para sa Sining, 1994; CCP Centennial Honors for the Arts, 1999; Dean’s Awards for the Arts, Ateneo de Manila University, 2001; and Gintong Bai Awards for Filipino Lifetime Achievers, National Commission on Cul-ture and the Arts, 2005.

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My e-mail: [email protected]