Literary treasure

The last time I saw Dr. Resil Mojares was at the Tubo Cebu Art Fair last month. He was silently checking out paintings and was by the Casa Gorordo booth. I recognized him from the numerous books that featured his photo. We constantly referenced his works when I was taking Cebuano Writing in college and eventually using his poems in DYAB's program "Sugbuanon Na Ni." Yet, we never met or were formally introduced. It was a missed opportunity for me to talk to him, even too shy to ask for a photograph. I still wonder what I would have said had I gathered enough courage to approach him.

Today, the nation mourns his passing, close to a week since he left. It took days for the country to realize we lost a literary treasure. Friends who frequented his wake said he wasn’t afforded his privileges as a national artist immediately. Not even a flag was placed over his casket on the first night. Unlike an artist from the capital, there seems to be a disparity for one who comes from the regions. Just in time, the National Commission for Culture and the Arts released its names of new national artists. Several also hailed from the regions. The timing is impeccable, something I don’t want to speculate about.

Mojares' legacy lives on even if he has left the world. He is widely described as an intellectual giant with a moniker as a "Visayan Titan of Letters." Many described him as a quiet soul inside coffee shops and bookstores despite his big contribution in transforming how the Philippines views its own history. His peers, students, and readers describe his character, personality, and style as unassuming and humble. Perhaps his writings may have translated too many messages to the new generation, with the hopes that they will also carry on the same love for our local language.

His humility was endless as he famously described himself not as an all-knowing authority, but simply as an enthusiastic learner who viewed research and writing as ways to continuously explore the world. His historical narratives featured three-dimensional, vivid characters written with unmatched prose. His style is uniquely complex, deep, and brilliant that it was virtually impossible to replicate. Perhaps his biggest contribution is the dedication he gave to literature, language, and culture.

We may not have the chance to meet again, but I will continue to admire him. He will always be that big man who likes to look at meticulous details or one who is quaintly reading a book at the back of the room. His soundless actions speak largely to a community that he helped to build. May this day of mourning be more than just a half-mast flag but a day to introspect into our own contributions as well to local knowledge. Perhaps this is how we honor the people who taught us to look closer at our own stories. He will forever be missed and remembered.