The Fight of the Underdog

The trip from Manila to Cebu was my first ever airplane ride.  This new experience was really a dream-come-true.     Growing up in the farms of Nueva Ecija,  airplanes flying over the central plain were a common sight.  Watching from the rice fields, the air crafts flew on high altitude most of the time, but there were instances when they flew low enough that I could figure out the shape of the airplane and could hear their monstrous roaring sound.  “T

hose are US Air Force planes.”  My uncle Jose would tell me. The airplanes were flown from Clark Air Force Base in Angeles City, Pampanga, close enough for them to exercise in the air space of the nearby provinces.  I remember one particular day when my friends and I were in the fields grazing our carabaos (water buffaloes).  Right above us the airplanes flew in groups and in formation like the migrating birds, leaving trails of white smoke. What a spectacle seeing those planes somersault and move in synchronized motion. As a young boy I wonder how it would feel riding those magnificent flying objects.”I will ride an airplane someday.” I dreamed.

The day I flew from Manila to Cebu was the fulfillment of such a dream. I took a detailed mental note of that experience as that was my first.

At the Domestic Airport, we were taken by a shuttle bus ride to the Philippine Airline jet waiting at the tarmac.  We boarded the aircraft through it’s  giant stairs.  (There were no airport tubes yet in the mid ’70s.)  We were welcomed and greeted with big smiles by the beautiful flight attendants.  On the way to my assigned seat passing by the business section, my eyes caught a familiar beautiful face–someone I saw frequently  on magazines, tabloid news, billboards and movies.  Did I just see Alma Moreno in person?  I cannot be mistaken.  She quickly covered her face with her hand upon noticing that people recognized who she was.  I wished she would just look and smile.  But she didn’t. My being star-struck quickly faded.

Seated on the comfortable, softly cushioned airplane seat, I paid attention to the pre-flight safety demonstration. I listened to the Captains greetings and instructions.  I buckled my seat belt following the flight attendant’s instructions.

The aircraft taxied on the runway.  It’s powerful engines got more vigorous every second.  I heard the familiar monstrous sound, more intense than what I heard before. Then I felt the buoyancy when the aircraft wheels were lifted off the ground.  The airplane was finally  airborne and up,up and away we went.  The pressure in my ears started to build up.

I was fortunate to be seated by the window.  But part of the jet’s wing was blocking the view, so I craned my neck to see outside.  Looking down, I saw the city from a bird’s eye view.  Buildings, trees, houses, roads, smoke from factories,  bodies of water-lakes, rivers-wide greenery, rice fields–beautiful, breath-taking scenery!  Then the scenic view slowly faded–we were now flying above the clouds–the sun brightly shining at the sea of nothingness but blue.  Then I heard the Captain’s announcements. “Good morning Ladies and Gentlemen, we are currently  cruising at an altitude of  33,000 feet, at an airspeed of 400 miles per hour….”  My head was spinning hearing those numbers.

Then all the flight attendants were all over the place looking so busy.  Carts wheeling down the isles, soft drinks cap popping, drinks pouring, food smelling, coffee aroma filling the cabin.  The food smelled so good.  Eating time again?  I just had a full breakfast at the army camp this morning.  I opened my lunch pack.  It was filled with variety of goodness–baked chicken breast, flavored steamed rice, vegetables, fruits, a piece of cake for dessert and for a drink, I asked for my favorite Mountain Dew–because I wanted to  celebrate again!

My CLSU meals were a far cry from what I had been having for the last several days.  My palate had been experiencing a variety of tastes I never had before.  I’ve never eaten so frequently and so much as the last few days.  I had eaten so much that I could feel my abdomen bulging a bit now. This whole new experience of seeing places, meeting people, eating variety of foods and riding an airplane was a whirlwind.

Everyone seemed ready for a nap after the sumptuous lunch, but not me.  I wanted to be awake to savor these new encounters. I closed my eyes anyway, not to sleep but to ponder the events of my life during the last few weeks: How my circumstances transformed from despair to optimism, from poverty to riches (that’s how I felt), from anonymity to being recognized.  “Lord these are all Your blessings and I am very grateful!”

I was about to nap.  My digested food seemed to lull me to sleep but then it hit me.  I realized the reason why I was on this trip.  I was going to compete.Was I ready?  Now I was getting nervous. I was feeling some pressure.  As I mentally reviewed my oratorical piece, I imagined myself wearing my new military fatigue uniform and my shiny, new marching boots.  As of this time, I haven’t tried them yet. The picture of myself wearing my new military outfit gave me a feeling of assurance and gave me a feeling of readiness.  Yes I was ready!

Staying at the Rajah Hotel located at the heart of Cebu City was again a whole new experience. That was the first time I felt a velvety carpet on my bare feet.  The bed was soft. There was a refrigerator with variety of beverages. The bathroom was shiny and clean with lots of towels.  There was a shower above the bath tub.  I had never bathed in a tub before. And there was a telephone.  I perused the phone book curious if there were Valenzuelas in Cebu.  I found a number of names.  What if I call them and invite them to the event?  I would have some relatives cheering for me.  The room had two separate beds and the other bed already had stuff on it, so I knew my roommate had already arrived.

“Hi I am Cadet Lt. Ramirez (Not his real name) from Pangasinan representing Region I.  And who are you?”  The guy was my assigned room mate.  He was well built and much taller than me. “Oh, my name is Gil Valenzuela and I’m representing Region III and I’m from Nueva Ecija.”  “I mean what is your ROTC rank?  A Sargent?”  “Oh no, I am a Private.”  “Yes, that’s what I thought. Do you know that you are suppose to salute me because I am your senior officer?  You are an underdog!”  “I know that I am suppose  to salute an officer.  But I didn’t know that you are.”  “And so now I’m telling you. I am the Corp Commander of an ROTC batallion.  I am your officer.”

That was one of the most uncomfortable conversation I’d had. It was a very awkward meeting.  I immediately felt  I was being bullied.   I wish I had a more friendly room mate.  I never really got to know him because he was aloof and quite arrogant.  I did not mind.  I psyched myself not to be affected.  I did not tell anyone in my delegation because I did not want to sound like a tell-tale, cry baby.

My roommate was away on a lunch and I thought it was a good time to brush up some parts of  my speech aloud in front of the bathroom mirror.   When I came out he was there pretending to clap his hands with a mocking grin on his face.   “So you are delivering a Tagalog speech?”  He said with a scorn.  “Oh yes, my speech is all in Tagalog.”  I proudly announced.  “I don’t think you have any chance of winning.  First, our audience here in Cebu does not speak Tagalog very well.  They will hardly understand you because the Cebuanos speak Visayan and they speak more English than Tagalog.  Mine is all in English.”

Then he started his speech.  I could not believe my ears!  He was trying to mimic President Marcos–the intonation, the phrasings, the inflections.  I found it funny.  I could not help but laugh at what he was doing but I did not want to offend him so I turned around and pretended to cough.” You sound good, but I believe you will sound better with your own style and voice.”  I was very honest with that opinion and advise.  Because, really, his regular speaking voice was quite impressive.  His big chest could let out a very commanding sound just like when he was bullying me. But he loses it when he mimics Marcos. “Who could be better than the great orator President Marcos, he argued.”  “But you are not Marcos.” I sighed to myself. I didn’t really say anything anymore.  I already said my piece.

The auditorium at the military camp was huge and packed with hundreds of people.  We were assigned numbers and were called to the stage one by one reading our names and announcing where we came from.  When my name was called, there was a group of  people seated behind the auditorium who cheered and clapped their hands. I knew they were the Valenzuelas from Cebu whom I invited over the phone. It felt good to have supporters even if  I was away from home.

There were more than ten contestants coming from different regions of the Philippines. Everyone looked smart and sharp.  I felt so confident wearing my new military outfit.  They fit me very well.  I wished mother was there to see me.  I had to salute each one of my opponent because I was the only Cadet Private and they were all ROTC officers with high ranks.  Indeed, I was the underdog.

One by one the contestants delivered their speeches.  Then it was my roommate’s turn.  As soon as he started his piece, the audience and the judges seated in front were all smiling.  They knew what he was doing and it got their attention.  I saw some people elbowing each other and whispering to one another.  Whether it was good or not I did not  know.  He was enjoying the audience’s reaction but at one point of his speech he seemed to have forgotten some lines, maybe he was distracted….and then he ended his speech rather abruptly.   There was a loud roar when he finished.  He went back to his seat quite distraught.

Then it was the underdog’s turn.  I don’t remember being nervous.  I was more concerned about the audience than about myself.  I remember my roommate telling me that the Cebuanos do not understand Tagalog very well.  I didn’t believe that.  They may not speak it as good as the native Tagalogs do but I’m sure they understood it.  Having that thought, I adjusted my delivery.  I made sure they could follow me.  With all passion and sincerity, I talked about the role of the youth in the society.  You could hear a pin drop when I was delivering my piece and then a lively applause followed when I finished.  I guessed they appreciated the lone Tagalog orator.

Then the moment of truth came.  They announced  the winners.  They called my name first!  I placed third in the national oratorical contest.  The Valenzuelas from Cebu stood up and cheered for me.  The contestant from the National Capital Region (Manila) got the second place. The first place was bagged by the ROTC Corp Commander, a communications major  from  Xavier University, Cagayan de Oro City (Mindanao). I briefly met with my guests after the competition.  Then the organizers whisked us away for a reception.

Back to CLSU, I brought home not only a trophy but a story to tell.  The CLSU Collegian had me on the front page and I got a courtesy call from CLSU President Amado Campos. I also presented my trophy to my coach  Prof. Tumangan and to Engr. Ricardo Fermin–the Registrar who let me enter CLSU in spite of the surrounding circumstances (See Article Against All Odds). After congratulating me, he asked: “Have you heard about your student loan yet.?  Up to this point my enrollment at CLSU was still on the conditional status.

Yes, I’m back to reality.  Back to my existence of hunting and gathering while grinding the academic wheels.

Note One: I added 2 pages to my blog site: 1) Gems and Nuggets Wisdom; 2) myRecipe. Please visit these pages for more details.  Click the scroll down “Menu” and choose a page.

Note Two: I am collecting inspirational stories from my friends around the world for possible inclusion to a future publishing project.  Please share your story with me.  You can email me at gilvalenzuela@icloud.com