The year was 1969.
I was looking for a suit to be worn at our college alumni ball at
the Plaza Hotel in Makati. My friend, Bernie, a tailor at Todds
along Avenida was willing to return a favor, which a month before
prevented him to get tangled with big troubles. He told me that he
would make me a Nehru suit, the same style as the one Fernando Poe
Jr. wore at his wedding lately. It was the fashion of the sixties.
He said further that it would look good on me. Bernie was right.
I was flattered to have won a ribbon as the best-dressed guy in the party.
My attire was kind of loud and unique. It was made of shiny dark
brown marsuto close-neck suit with no lapel. This was matched with a
specially tailored bright yellow and long sleeve turtleneck shirt.
Around my neck was a bronze decorative chain where an attractive
medieval looking medallion was locked in affront. I looked like a
crossbreed between a maharajah of India and Mao Tse Tung of China.
My hyped up ego could have been still with me that I decided to wear
the same outfit when I left for abroad just two days after the party.
Ernie, an employee of a financing company and head of the fly now pay
later plan previously fixed my plane ticket. He owed me big for his
talahib fake driver's license and each time he got caught for traffic
violations.
We were assembled near the big globe display at the departure area
of the Manila International Airport. There were thirty of us, all
Ernie's clients. He called me forward and told his clients that I
was appointed the leader of the group. I was hesitant at first to
accept it because like others, this was also the first time I traveled
outside the country. He insisted that I was most qualified because
of my experience as a police officer. Besides, with the kind of
clothes I wore, I could be easily identified in the crowd. It was
easier for others to follow me. I was not sure of his first reason,
but he was absolutely right on the later. So a leader I was.
Everyone behaved accordingly aboard Al Italia. It was obvious however
that we were nervous. I ordered a shot of whiskey to calm down my
nerves and all the guys did the same. We didn't know that we had to
pay two dollars each. We thought that it was on the house. Written
Instructions handed to us at the airport prior to the flight were
followed well.
We were in one section of the plane. I was able to observe the reactions
of the group. They left home and love ones searching for brighter
future that dear old bayang magiliw can not provide. I was expecting
them to be excited and happy. After all, they finally realized their
dream of going abroad after a very long and tedious process. But
these were not what I was seeing. It was the opposite. They were sad
and some were even in tears looking at pictures and reading letters
from someone they left behind.
My eyes caught a gorgeous lady member of the group. She was from
Cainta. She was sitting alone by the window seat and I moved in to
sit beside her. We were acquainted. She was very accommodating and
even told me a brief story of her life. My mind geared back to college
days while on board MV Escano, from Butuan to Manila, where we
scrambled to select a cot directly adjacent to a good-looking lady
passenger. By literally sleeping side by side for three days, a
lovable relationship was most likely to develop before arriving port.
We were at Tokyo International Airport. It was bigger and more confusing
than our airport in Manila. We walked a fair distance to the
immigration area. The group followed me as planned. When I went to the
restroom, the ladies waited outside while the men went with me. I
was their only hope for not being lost in strange land. It was kind of a
blind leading the blind. I took the role of a present day guide to
Japanese tourists at airports, but without the silly little flag. I
didn't need one. My Nehru outfit was good enough to identify their
leader from afar.
We were a noticeable group. Each one was carrying a huge Manila brown
envelop where in it was their X-ray negative. This was required by
the American immigration. I didn't have this, as Canada doesn't need
it. Looking at them from a distance reminded me of a nature show I
watched on television, where a column of ants each carrying an
oversized leaf marching back to the anthill.
I assembled them in an open area after clearing custom. I gave them
instruction incase someone went astray. I was told by Ernie while at
MIA to go to Bus Station # 3 outside the airport, where a bus would
take us to Daiche Hotel downtown for an overnight stay. I also checked
if each had a hotel voucher from Al Italia counter. All checked out well.
We started looking for the main exit. We walked around the airport and
a while after wound up on the same place where we assembled. Nehru was
lost. We again went around and later made exit through a little door.
We were on the sidewalk outside the building. There was nobody around.
This time Nehru was really lost. We tried to get back inside but the
door was for emergency exit only and won't open from the outside. We
walked along the sidewalk and a while later a Japanese security guard
was bewildered to see a bunch of people each with big brown envelop. He
guided us to Station # 3 where a bus was already waiting for us.
Our rooms at Daiche Hotel were for two single beds. I was instructed
at the check-in counter to pair the group into two guests per room. The
devious mind of a policeman came to work when I tried to be with that
gorgeous lady from Cainta. I was disappointed because she refused me
and instead partnered herself with a lady hunchback from Batangas. I
was compelled to pair myself with an overly homesick doctor going to New York.
It was early in the night and I was baby sitting a homesick doctor
from Pampanga. He showed me pictures and related stories about his
family. I invited him downstairs for supper and he refused. He just
wanted to sulk his loneliness in the room. I did not leave him. I called
for room service. The food was brought in and I was charged twelve
dollars. I gave my airline voucher, but told me that this was only
valid at the dining hall. I was angry. I took the receipt and told
the bellboy that I would arrange it at the counter.
It was late and I was still awake. The good doctor was already sleeping.
This was the first night I spent outside the country and I felt nostalgic.
My mind rolled back to events of bygone years. I recalled my carefree
life in the barrio. I pondered if it was the right move then to get
out from simple rural living and ventured into audacious and complicated
lifestyle in the big city.
I envied the members of the group. At least they had someone who cared.
My case was different. I didn't have their purpose. Nobody even knew
that I was leaving. No one sent me off at the airport. I left the
country for one single reason. In fact, I was running away. Maybe from
myself. I thought deeply about this at the Cursillo House in Los Banos.
I decided to put some distance from so-called comrades and from the city
where my ethics began to wane.
It was life with lesser meaning. We relied on bent authority to afford
a lifestyle. We just lived from sunrise to sunrise. We had no defined
direction. Honesty was no longer a virtue but a weakness. I didn't
want to share it anymore. Perhaps, sudden awakening just ripened in
my conscience that my rural parental pedagogy and spiritual prudence,
which were carelessly overlooked for years finally emerged. I came to
realize the evil of greed and somehow, leaving Gomorrah was a chance
to a new and upright beginning. I had not yet gone far beyond the bend
and with love's efficacy, through a compatible lifetime partnership
in a different environment; I still could make amend to raise a family
and be honorably useful. This was my quest.
We were together again at the lobby dinning hall for breakfast early
the next morning. My college activism may have come into play when I
encountered an argument about social issues in the Philippines with
an American businessman. He was criticizing and badmouthing the country
I just left behind. He walked out on me when he sensed that I was
irritated. I was supposed to go to the counter to pay my bills from
last night supper in my room, but I was still in a bad mode that I
changed my mind. I deemed it to be unfair for the hotel to refuse my
airline meal voucher. I decided not to pay.
Our flight was scheduled in the evening and we had time to gallivant
around. We left our things in storage and off we went. We didn't go very
far from our hotel. Finally, we were at Imperial Garden. It was few
blocks away from the hotel. There were a number of people in the park.
We only saw the green roof of the Imperial Palace a mile away. Some
group members were playing around with the school of big goldfish in
the pond. We had marvelous time together.
We were at the foot of a huge bronze samurai warrior statue. It was
resting on a ten feet high concrete platform. We were looking up and
admiring the artwork when suddenly, the huge shield of the warrior on
horseback fell and landed just few feet away from me. Nehru was almost
killed. People gathered around. It took me a while sitting on a nearby
park bench to regain back my composure. We went back to the hotel after.
I was at the middle of the line when we checked in at the airport.
Everybody was on high spirit. The loneliness and nervousness they had
during the Manila to Tokyo flight was changed into gleeful intimacy in
friendship and fellowship. It was virtually amazing how relationship
quickly developed in a short period of time.
I handed my travel papers to the immigration officer. Immediately, he
stood up and led me to the adjacent office. The group thought that I
was arrested. So did I. My first impression was the twelve dollars I
left unpaid at the hotel. In the office, an officer was asking me in
broken English as why I overstayed in Japan. I reasoned out and language
barrier swallowed unintelligibly our conversation. He made a phone
call and a Pan-American Airline steward came. They spoke in Japanese
and after set me free. She escorted me to join the group at the
boarding area. Apparently, there was a mixed up on the flight number
on my plane ticket. The group applauded by clapping hands when they saw
Nehru coming.
There was an emotional huddle at Seattle Airport late in the afternoon.
After clearing immigration and custom, the group got together for the
last time to say goodbye. There was weeping and hugging. From Seattle,
each would take separate connecting flights to final destinations. They
thanked Nehru for leading them to the promise land. This was also the
end of my role as their leader. I wished them luck and I also went my
way. I winked goodbye to the lady from Cainta. She came near and gave
me a hug. I was thrilled. An airline employee kept my travel papers
and drove me to a nearby roadside motel for the night. My flight to
Canada was for the next morning.
Early that evening, I was at the motel restaurant. I was sitting alone
and a waitress came to take my order. I ordered steak. Then she gave
me a choice between soup and salad. I said soup, but I changed my mind
to salad. Everything went well. But not until she asked me about
dressing. I had no idea what she was talking about. I ignored her first,
but she was insisting about my dressing. Then it flashed in my mind
that this dressing she wanted to know could be the outfit I was
wearing. When she asked again, I looked up and said,"Nehru." She left
me and came back later with a bowl of chopped lettuce and a little cup
of vinegar.
I was sitting at the right window side of the plane. We began to
descend and the flight steward announced that we were landing in
few minutes. The plane was already flying low. I looked down and
what I saw below terrified me. It was all white. The whole place
was blanketed with snow. There was no sign of life.
From the plane we walked on the tarmac to the terminal building. Though
it was early spring and the snow was beginning to melt, it was still
very cold for me. My Nehru suit failed to protect me from shivering.
I thought that our pilot took a wrong turn and landed somewhere in
Greenland. It never occurred to me that the forsaken place I came
into would be my home for the rest of my life.
I have no regret. I found my quest.
