Tito Alex Bon had one weird feature: he had a protruding belly button. It didn't help that he had a large belly because his belly button looked like a hidden bulb underneath his polo shirt. When I was a kid, I was always intrigued by this and how it looked like in its naked glory, especially when my uncle would rub his button up and down when he laughed.
Tito Alex is the husband of my mother's sister, Tita Quellan. I don't know how long they've been married but they are blessed with two
Tito Alex is the husband of my mother's sister, Tita Quellan. I don't know how long they've been married but they are blessed with two
daughters, Ate Tata and Perlin (the cousin I loved to hate before). My uncle would pretty much resemble a modern-day santa minus the beard: he was galante and had the physique of a couch potato.
Through the years, I haven't been that close to my tito. It didn't help that he lived here in Manila and rarely went to Nabunturan to meet the rest of the Evangelio clan. A boholano, he owns huge tracts of land in Bohol as the Bons are one of the prominent families in Panglao (that's what I think).
Most of what I know about Tito Alex came from other people. For instance, my father was amused, na-lingaw, because when Tito Alex would visit Nabunturan riding his Harley Davidson-esque motorbike, he wouldn't be bringing any luggage whatsoever. For clothes, he simply bought new ones during his brief stays in Nabunturan. Talk about traveling light.
He also ran for public office in Pantukan, I think thrice (the third time was last year, when he lost). And when he made the rounds in the town, he would always carry bills of varying values in his front and back pant pockets. That way, whenever a group of istambay, men having their drinking session, would see and greet him, he would pull out a twenty-peso bill, say "Pasensya na pare, kani lang ang naa ko karon" (I am sorry guys but this is all I have right now) and proceed to help pay for their liquor (Yeah, yeah. Most of you will say it's corruption but, unfortunately, most Filipinos in the provinces think "public official" is just another term for "personal piggy bank" and vice versa).
When I visited Tita Quellan's place several months back (because Perlin was flying to the States and I had to be there to bade her farewell), Tito Alex advised me to also apply outside. His contention was that I was young and there are many places I could go. I guess he was also trying to save me from the frustration of growing old in a country which is clearly deteriorating both morally and economically. But when Perlin was leaving, he was the one who had the deepest sigh and the saddest-looking face amongst us.
Tito Alex was not a saint but in his own way, he was a good man. He also had a heart problem and staying healthy was not one of his best suits. Tonight, while I was going home, riding the bus, Tita Quellan called me up. Her voice was bereft of warmth when she announced the bad news: Tito Alex was dead.
I was shocked, initially. Right now, at this point, I still don't know the cause or time of death (Not that it mattered anyway; details such as these are what people look for to avoid the enormity, the severity, the finality of the fact).
I don't know what kind of legacy Tito Alex will have five or ten years down the road. But I'm writing this post to simply share to people what he was to me. The grief hasn't settled yet and when it comes, maybe I can write some more about my uncle while I try to lay on the table every inch of memory I have about him.
For those who have accidentally stumbled on this post, please say a little prayer for him before you go to sleep. It would mean a lot. Thank you.
Through the years, I haven't been that close to my tito. It didn't help that he lived here in Manila and rarely went to Nabunturan to meet the rest of the Evangelio clan. A boholano, he owns huge tracts of land in Bohol as the Bons are one of the prominent families in Panglao (that's what I think).
Most of what I know about Tito Alex came from other people. For instance, my father was amused, na-lingaw, because when Tito Alex would visit Nabunturan riding his Harley Davidson-esque motorbike, he wouldn't be bringing any luggage whatsoever. For clothes, he simply bought new ones during his brief stays in Nabunturan. Talk about traveling light.
He also ran for public office in Pantukan, I think thrice (the third time was last year, when he lost). And when he made the rounds in the town, he would always carry bills of varying values in his front and back pant pockets. That way, whenever a group of istambay, men having their drinking session, would see and greet him, he would pull out a twenty-peso bill, say "Pasensya na pare, kani lang ang naa ko karon" (I am sorry guys but this is all I have right now) and proceed to help pay for their liquor (Yeah, yeah. Most of you will say it's corruption but, unfortunately, most Filipinos in the provinces think "public official" is just another term for "personal piggy bank" and vice versa).
When I visited Tita Quellan's place several months back (because Perlin was flying to the States and I had to be there to bade her farewell), Tito Alex advised me to also apply outside. His contention was that I was young and there are many places I could go. I guess he was also trying to save me from the frustration of growing old in a country which is clearly deteriorating both morally and economically. But when Perlin was leaving, he was the one who had the deepest sigh and the saddest-looking face amongst us.
Tito Alex was not a saint but in his own way, he was a good man. He also had a heart problem and staying healthy was not one of his best suits. Tonight, while I was going home, riding the bus, Tita Quellan called me up. Her voice was bereft of warmth when she announced the bad news: Tito Alex was dead.
I was shocked, initially. Right now, at this point, I still don't know the cause or time of death (Not that it mattered anyway; details such as these are what people look for to avoid the enormity, the severity, the finality of the fact).
I don't know what kind of legacy Tito Alex will have five or ten years down the road. But I'm writing this post to simply share to people what he was to me. The grief hasn't settled yet and when it comes, maybe I can write some more about my uncle while I try to lay on the table every inch of memory I have about him.
For those who have accidentally stumbled on this post, please say a little prayer for him before you go to sleep. It would mean a lot. Thank you.
Note: By the way, I was supposed to publish this yesternight, Sunday, but the server of the internet cafe just went berserk. Also, yesterday, Marky Cielo (?) died of a heart attack and the priest during the mass I went to mentioned the recent death of his mother. In short, death pretty much permeated my day.
No comments:
Post a Comment