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Wisdom Quote #7 6/17/16

One night, I found my wife crying in our living room. I had no clue what could have made her cry. “Why are you crying?” I inquired. Instead of talking she pointed to the thick book she was reading on her lap. “Are you reading a sad story and it made you cry?” Again she pointed to the book, still crying. I took the book from her. It was a human anatomy and physiology text book. Laughing, I asked, “What in the world would make you cry reading a human anatomy text book? If it was the Bible I would not be surprised!”

Then she explained. I was studying the parts of the human ear for my test and I realized how intricately God designed the human body. The complexity of the human ear is so amazing! It shows God’s wonder! It reminded me of the verse in Psalm that says “I am fearfully and wonderfully made.” (Psalm 139:14). All human beings regardless of color or creed, young and old, rich or poor are created in God’s image. They are His master pieces. Every single person is designed by God and therefore must be treated with love and care and respect.” She said with sparkles in her eyes like a little child. Then she continued. “I was praying that if the Lord will allow me to become a nurse, I promise to respect and care for my every patient regardless of who they are.” I knew then that she would be a very good nurse.

My wife shifted career from engineering to nursing. Now she is a nurse–an extraordinary nurse I must say! She loves visiting patients in their homes because in that environment she builds relationships with them that usually opens the door for her to share the love of God. While working as a bedside nurse she always looks for opportunity to lead a patient to the Lord. I am so happy I married my former Sunday school teacher! I’m still learning valuable lessons about life from her.

I’m sharing this story to honor her on her birthday this month of June. Happy birthday sweetheart! I love you. If you missed our love story please read the blog: “The Love of My Life Pt1 and Pt2”.

Blog Post#10 6/4/16Gilary Jasmine Valenzuela is a 20 year old college student. She studied social work and music at Indiana Wesleyan University for one year, and will continue her undergraduate education at DePaul University this fall in hopes of earning her degree in Sociology. A few of Gilary’s passions include singing, dancing, acting, writing, and fashion. While attending Indiana Wesleyan University Gilary was a proud member of the IWU Chorale and had the opportunity of singing at Carnegie Hall in New York City. Gilary has participated in many theater productions from Junior high through college. Some of her roles include Dorothy in Wizard of Oz, Belle in Beauty and the Beast, Phila in A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum and Bloody Mary in South Pacific. Apart from being a full time student, Gilary helps manage her family’s business-Mabuhay Restaurant. She is also a writer/blogger for College Fashionista.

Blog Post#11.                                               Edita was being pursued by many eligible men which made me quite insecure. I decided then that I would ask for a commitment. We’ve been seeing and talking for a while but the relationship had not been formalized. I didn’t want to rush her so I gave her ample time to think and pray about us being together. After all, Christians should include this matter in their prayers.  Some months later when I felt that she had enough time to ponder and she had been comfortable around me, I thought that she would be ready to give me a verbal response. I prepared for that moment .

One day, I invited her to see a stage play I was doing in CLSU. She came early that day but did not stay to watch the play. “I couldn’t stay too late because my parents will look for me and there’s no more bus late in the night.” She said. “I just came here to support and wish you well.” Her thoughtfulness toward her parents and to me was very admirable. Imagine, an adult woman going home early at night in respect and honor of her parents. What a noble gesture! For that, I gave a perfect ten in her score card.  That reflected her good character and sincerity to a relationship. What a good daughter! She would be a perfect mate.” I want her to be my wife!” This I decided in my heart!

I invited her for a walk and showed her some interesting spots in CLSU’s sprawling campus. I took her to the old mango orchard by the main gate. The huge mango trees were teeming with fruits. Some of the fruits had fallen to the ground but they were still good. I was ready to share with her a fun experience so, armed with a pocket knife I peeled and cut the fruits and I produced some rock salt from my pocket for a dip. “Wow”, she exclaimed. “You are really ready for this!” I held my head and chin up to brag on my readiness. “Of course!” I answered. “I know girls like to eat green mangoes”.  It was sheer fun having the girl I admire by my side doing fun things with me. But I had to remind myself: “It’s not official yet until you heard a positive word from her and now is the perfect time. Go ahead Gil, and seal the deal.”

We walked to the lagoon right by the main gate and in front of the infirmary. We sat at the bench facing the pond teeming with lively colored koi fish. Then I delivered my dialogue. “Edith, we’ve been going out for sometime now, I love you and I want to know what’s your feelings toward me”. I looked her straight in the eye. Do you love me too? I asked. I stopped talking having said my piece. I waited for her to respond and after a brief silence, she first gave a decisive nod followed by saying: “Yes, Gil, I love you too!”

Joy immediately flooded my whole being. I had to express and release the surge of emotion. I wanted to hug and kiss her but I controlled myself. First of all, we were in a public place, secondly, I want to show my respect for her by keeping my hands off her. We both know the moral ethics we Christians must observe with regards to dating. And not to forget, we were both youth leaders in our church who were expected to set good examples. But my elevated emotion simply needed a release. I stood up raising my two hands, facing the pond, I let out a loud whisper. “She said she loves me too!”–I said to the koi fish in the  pond swimming gleefully as if celebrating with me! When I sat back down beside her, she gave me a pinch (kurot) on the side of my abdomen which was her signature response whenever I acted silly.

I enjoyed it whenever she pinched me. For me it was an act of intimacy, an expression of familiarity that conveyed a message of  affection. It gave me a dose of electric surge attesting to my physical attraction to her. Then I gently took her hand and clasped it in mine–tight and very intense.  I was surprised she relented. Her soft velvety hands holding mine was a  wonderful experience.  I looked at our clutched hands.  How different and yet how gorgeous they were together! Hers was smooth and fine, made even more beautiful with her finger nails painted in soft pink. Mine was rough, hairy, rugged and popping with veins. In them, I saw a man and woman coming together forming a beautiful and strong alliance.  For the first time I felt like a real grownup man.  We held hands rather very briefly. I gently kissed the back of her hand before releasing it, and we just sat there staring at each other. As we looked at each other tears of joy welled down our eyes. We were both in cloud nine! I broke down the silence by announcing: “I’m hungry, let’s eat.” As we stood up from the bench, I took a hankerchief from my pocket and gently wiped her tears and mine.

The walk to the student cafeteria was one of the most memorable moment of our courtship. It was a march of victory! It was a celebration parade! I felt very proud to be seen walking with the girl of my dream–now my girlfriend. Every once in a while, I would lean close to her and whisper “I love you.”  And she would respond with a nod and a sweet smile. We were two young people very much in love. I thought of Pastor Fernandez who played Cupid in this love affair. I’m sure he would be happy to hear that his effort had a positive result.

Edita and I dated for five years. We had a lot of time to get to know each other. And each day our love for each other grew. Like any relationship, we had our share of troubles.  And resolving those big and small differences served as valuable practice for our future life together. In 1982, when both of us were already professionals enjoying our jobs as engineers, she had an opportunity to travel to the United States. Along with other church young people, she was invited to attend an international gathering called Urbana ’82 in Illinois, USA. When she asked me if I will let her go I said “I will not get in your way to the US.”

But deep in my mind, I had a big apprehension as she told me earlier that her uncle in California wanted her to bring her credentials because it would be very easy for her to get a job in the US. My heart sank and all hopes regarding the two of us started to fade away thinking that we might not see each other again should she decide to stay in the US and heed her uncle’s advise. Edita had a very impressive employment record. Being employed as a structural engineer by MIESCOR, a MERALCO subsidiary, she was one of the engineers who designed the first segment of Light Railway Transit (LRT -Balintawak to Baclaran).

After that prestigious project, she was transferred to Bataan to be part of a team working on the design of the nuclear power plant project in Morong. In addition to these, she lectured on the subjects steel and concrete designs, mathematics, chemistry on the college level. She was also invited to conduct review classes for civil engineering board exams. Working only for few years, she already had significant accomplishments in her profession. A job in America as an engineer would be the next level to pursue and I had no doubt she was capable of doing. For me I thought that to stop her from going to America would probably anger her family and may blame me for losing a rare opportunity. I grieved silently and even cried many nights with the thoughts of losing the love of my life. The day came when the missionary Paul Turner accompanied the select group of young people for visa interview at the US embassy. They asked us to pray for our youth ambassadors but I didn’t know what to pray for because I was very confused.

Later, I heard the news that all the young people who were interviewed passed and were given US visas. I started to mourn. I skipped meals. I cried. Since then, I did not want to go home to Cabanatuan as I used to every weekend to see her. I busied myself with my job. Until one day I received a radio message from her through our farm office. She wanted me to meet her in Manila because she wants to share her good news. “Her good news was bad news for me.” I told myself.

We met at Shoe Mart mall at the Araneta center. She was beaming with the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on her face. And with that, I could not control my tears. I wore shades to conceal my eyes swollen from crying the night before. “Now she will say goodbye.” I don’t know how to prepare for that moment. Then we met. She was even more beautiful that day. Looking so fresh and elegant in her stylish dress and with a huge beaming smile. My heart jumped seeing her again after so many weeks. I didn’t realize how much I missed her.

“Look what I got”! She said excitedly showing me a brand new camera she just bought. “Now, she’s really getting ready for her American tour.” I told myself. “Congratulations,” I said , trying to show a happy face. “Congratulations, for my new camera?” She asked . “Congratulations for getting a US visa.” I answered. “No! I don’t have a US visa.” She said smiling. “You’re confusing me, I thought everyone got it?” “Yes, everyone who went to the interview passed, but I decided not to go to the interview.” “What? Why? ” She looked at me intently with a grin, her beautiful eyes smiling as well.  She held my arm and started talking with a serious tone, just like what she used to do when emphasizing an important lesson when teaching Sunday school.  I immediately read her cue and so I listened attentively.  “I don’t want to go to the US without you.”  I paused for a moment trying to understand what she just said. I looked at her eyes with wonderment, then she nodded again.  I finally got it and I did not know how to react. The next thing I knew, I pulled her toward me and gave her the biggest hug. Laughing and crying at the same time, I said “Thank you!” repeatedly.  This time I don’t care if we were in public. This occasion called for it. I held her tight and she embraced me too… Both of us in tears! Again I asked “Why?” And she emphatically answered: “Because I chose us.” I embraced her even tighter saying “I love you!”  “I love you too!” She responded. I felt the sincerity in her words. She made a choice and she chose me!  I was the happiest man in the universe. “You will not regret choosing me.” I promised her. And she answered with these prophetic words. “Someday I’ll see America, you and me and our family!” Now she’s talking about family. This girl was ready to marry me. I saw it in her eyes. I felt it with her embrace. I heard it in her voice. And I was more than ready to propose a marriage.

“Are you hungry?” She asked. “Very much!”I answered. As we walked to the food court I put my arms around her shoulders and I guided her hand around my waist. I felt it when she held my body tight as we walked. We did this for the first time and it felt so good. At the food court, I ordered the best food I could see, and for drinks…what else but my favorite Mountain Dew. Now, for the first time while enjoying our meal, I brought the idea of marriage. Her eyes lit up and so did mine!

Stay tuned for the “One of a Kind Wedding” in the next issue of myJOURNEY.

CLSU Collegian was a big part of my college life. I took writing very seriously that it had taken a toll on my academic studies.  I remember missing some exams, quizzes and project deadlines because I was at the printing press in Cabanatuan proof-reading so that the newspaper could be printed on time to beat the circulation date.  My social life was also sidelined while prioritizing my Collegian responsibilities. In my five-year residence at CLSU, I don’t remember attending any of the social nights and dance parties organized by men’s and women’s dormitories.  I used my potential party time for writing or editing articles.  I enjoyed the silence in the dorm when all the other guys were away partying!  My only involvement in the social gatherings would be assigning a staff member to cover the events for a news release. “I think you’re in the wrong place”, teased a friend who observed my dedication to the student newspaper. “You should have pursued journalism in Manila”, he added.

I liked what I was doing.  I found great satisfaction expressing myself in written and printed words.  I worked my way up the Collegian editorial rank every year.  I started as a contributing staff, then feature editor, associate editor and finally two term editor-in-chief.

Dr. Gem Soriano, the Faculty Advisor of the Collegian played a major role in my journalistic endeavor.  He did not only share with me the rudiments of journalism, he also taught me valuable life lessons.  I remember him seating me in his office one day when we were having some deadline issues.  Commenting on the staff’s perennial delay in putting together the publication, he had a rather strong message about the problem. In essence I remember  him saying: “It doesn’t matter how good your newspaper is, what matters is how timely you can release it to your readers.  Old news is no longer news. Procrastination has no place in the newspaper business.”  The grain of salt I gathered from that preaching proved to be very valuable  in my own personal life.  The lesson learned has been instilled in me until now!  Thank you Dr. Soriano—that was one “Gem” of a lesson Sir!!!!  Ms. Nancy Rayos who joined the Collegian during my last term complemented my creative writing skill. She deserved my long overdue gratitude for her patience and care. Ms. Rayos, thank you Ma’am. She cared that the student writers not only excelled in what they did in student publication but also in their academic pursuits.

Although  our Collegian advisors emphasized responsible journalism, they did not interfere with our freedom of expression.  As far as I was concerned,  I wrote my heart out and expressed my beliefs and conviction without restraint.  The CLSU Collegian during my term was able to publish contentious ideologies without undue censorship.My journalistic involvement gave me a good deal of training outside the classroom. The many workshops, conferences, seminars and conventions helped challenge my thinking and hone my writing skills. They widened my horizons. I traveled far and near, met and interacted with like-minded students, and became aware of social, political and economic issues.  I was once elected as Vice President of the College Editors Guild of the Philippines on the national level.  I also won first place in United Nations sponsored essay writing contest.  The article was published in the maiden issue of GENRE–edited by my SENSE brother- the prolific writer Nicanor Soliman.My journalistic engagement had taken another level when I was invited by Mr. Gerry Domingo to write a regular column in his province-wide publication, The Nueva Ecija News Profile.  This led to my radio stint.  Ms. Jenny Santa Maria, station manager of DWAR Radio in Cabanatuan City, sought for me upon reading my articles.  I was invited to her office and inquired if I would be interested working as a radio commentator/announcer. “I read your articles in CLSU Collegian and I follow your column in NE News Profile. Can you TALK the way you WRITE?”, she asked. “Yes Ma’m, I like to talk and I like to write”, I eagerly replied. She then gave me some topics to talk about and before I knew it, I was hired.  That was during my last semester at CLSU when I had fewer academic loads.

I had fun in radio. The  early morning talk show was aired  from 5AM to 8AM.  It
included news and commentaries on various issues interspersed with music. It didn’t pay much but there were a lot of perks which included free copies of music recordings–single and LPs–movie passes and restaurant vouchers usually given free by the program advertisers. Not to mention the recognition and a level of fame inherent to media people.

What a great surprise it was,  when one day a jeep-load of young people–mostly young girls and their mothers–visited me unannounced at the radio station. They even had a hand-printed poster that said “Gil Valenzuela Fans Club”.  Their leader, one of the mothers I suppose, came inside the studio. The radio technician signaled me to get out of the radio booth and meet our guests during a commercial break.  “Nandito po ba si Kuya Gil?” (Is big brother Gil around?), she inquired.  I must admit that I was caught flat-footed.  I was in my PJs and my long thick hair was unkempt. We did that in radio, especially the ones who had early morning shows.  After all, no one saw us because  we were just inside the radio booth babbling. “Sandali lang po.” (Just a moment  please.), I answered.  I instructed the radio technician to play music while I was away.  I rushed to my sleeping quarter, quickly changed, combed my hair, and sprayed some cologne.  “Kumusta po kayo, ako si Gil Valenzuela”.  (How are you?  I’m Gil Valenzuela), I said  when I came back.  The lady was visibly surprised.  “Ha? kayo pala….akala ko…..” (What? so it’s you……I thought…..) She did not finish her sentence.  She covered her mouth with her hand while talking and laughing.  I did not take any offense, instead I joked and finished her sentence.  “Akala ko……tall dark and handsome si Gil Valenzuela…. noon pala bansot na pangit pa.”  (I thought….Gil Valenzuela is tall, dark and handsome….I didn’t know that he is short and kind of ugly….) She quickly replied, “Hindi naman… Pogi nga kayo eh.” (Oh no! Not at all….actually you’re handsome.) And we both laughed.  When  I saw all the other girls outside with their poster,  I had an idea why they were in the studio. I needed to go back to the radio booth, so I invited the lady inside and did an impromptu interview to everyone’s delight, especially when my alter ego Bitoy batted into our conversation. Bitoy was a young boy, a character I made up to help me engage in conversations.  It aided me to fill up a four-hour talk show. According to my guests, it was Bitoy and my nightly music program that enamored me to the young girls who called me Kuya Gil.   After my program, we all gathered for a picnic under the shade of the mango tree in the radio station grounds and enjoyed the food they brought.  The girls sang “G-I-L the one that we love” to the tune of Air Supply’s hit song  “Here I Am”. Before they left, I managed to pull some strings and surprised them with passes for Sharon Cuneta and Gabby Concepcion movie.

“Your morning program is getting very good ratings,” announced my station manager. “We’re getting more advertisers as a result. Keep up the good work.” She then handed me an envelope. That was my very first bonus working as a professional broadcaster.

I was doing radio concurrent with Collegian and News Profile. As I progressed in mass media, I was becoming more and more militant in both writing and broadcasting.  Once I had a radio assignment to cover an event in Palayan City. I was wearing a press vest and a name tag for easy access to the venue when a member of the Philippine Constabulary (PC) approached me.  After introducing himself and mentioning that he was an avid listener of my radio program and reader of my column writing, he gave me friendly advice. “Payo ko lang  sa ‘yo mag-iingat ka sa isinusulat at sinasabi mo” (My advice is for you to be careful about what you’re writing and what you’re saying).  He gave me a firm handshake and left.  This encounter became clear to me when one of my friends came to meet me at church and gave me a warning. “Gil, mag-iingat ka nabasa ko ang pangalan mo sa surveillance list ng Philippine Constabulary”(Gil, be careful, I read your name on a surveillance list of the Philippine Constabulary).  “Please don’t tell my mother,” I pleaded.  “Naku, nasabi  ko na” (Oh, I told her already), he said. Mother was very distraught when she heard the news.  Crying, she pleaded to me to stop my radio and newspaper involvements. “Anak, ihinto  mo na yang radyo at diyario.  Hindi naman yan ang pinag-aralan mo ah.  Mag-review ka na lang para sa board exam mo.” (Son, please stop your radio and newspaper connections.  After all, that’s not what you studied about.  Just attend a review for your engineering board exam.) She was very fearful that I might land in detention for subversion as the fate of many student activists.

Immediately after graduation in 1981, I went to Manila to attend a board review in preparation for the rigorous engineering board examination.  After the review, I had another opportunity to practice  my journalistic interest. My sister Babbeth’s friend Ate Mila got me a job at the Manila Stock Exchange as a writer.  I was part of a team that prepared annual reports for big corporations. My colleagues were journalism students from different private universities in Manila.  Most of these urbanite apprentices who spoke Tag-lish were wealthy and spoiled kids of influential people.  At work, they just talked about their escapades the night before and their plans of partying the following night. I found their  Tag-lish rather annoying because I couldn’t stand how they were corrupting both Tagalog and English languages. I was sure my Pilipino and English professors, Mr. Tumangan and Mr. Roberto Ocampo, would also be slighted to hear these language corruptors, I thought to myself. I cringed hearing them converse in a less than respectful manner to our bosses.  They did not only talk back, they talked behind their backs.  Often, I heard whining whenever they were corrected and complaints if given difficult tasks.  I was criticized for being the ever obedient, respectful employee having addressed the bosses “Sir” and “Ma’m”.  I overheard one said I was “sipsip ” (licker). That did not bother me because I simply wanted to do the right thing. I wondered why they behaved the way they did. Had status and wealth made them arrogant, boastful and undisciplined?

I am sharing these things because what I experienced and witnessed among the rich young people impacted my life. I made a resolution not to be like them, that I would be different….that if the Lord would bless me with some wealth and fortune, I would remain humble and grateful.

On the last day of my summer job at Manila Stock Exchange, I was summoned by the big boss. “Gil, thank you for your services. You did an excellent job here. We really appreciate your talent and your dedication.  You have a very good attitude and work ethic. If you ever need a job we have a place for you here.”

At this juncture, my place under the sun had yet to be explored. I knew it wasn’t journalism or broadcasting. These experiences were simply a preparation for a bigger task ahead.  I was excited about practicing my degree in agricultural engineering.  Where would it take me?  What future would it bring me?   No, I did not worry. I was just curious about what the future held.

I knew it would be good because that’s what God promised in Jeremiah 29:11. “For I know the plans I have for you declares the Lord.  Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

PROSPERITY, PROTECTION, HOPE, GOOD FUTURE are in store for me! Praise the Lord.

My first semester was going smoothly. I was slowly catching up with my classes with the help of my new-found friends and sympathetic professors.  But the feeling of uneasiness grew day by day as I anxiously awaited the approval of my student loan.  The lady at the Department of Education and Culture office said it would take at least three months for my application to get approved.  July….August…..September….1975– these were the longest months of my life. I checked my mailbox everyday.  I needed my provisions ASAP.  But while waiting, I learned some valuable lessons about life:

I had to MAKE DO of what I had;

I had to be CONTENT with the very little there was;

I had to be FRUGAL and THRIFTY;

I had to be CREATIVE and RESOURCEFUL;

I had to PRACTICE these virtues in order to SURVIVE!

But above all, I had to be POSITIVE and OPTIMISTIC, lest despair and discouragement brought by material want would overcome me, imperil my morale, and lead me to give up the fight.

At night when I settled down, I would think of my desperate state only to end up pitying myself for wanting and not having.  I worried to the core. And I experienced deep sorrow.

Many a tear had fallen from my eyes.

Many a questions have I asked.

My spirit groaned, lamented and sighed and begged.

I worried, I became paranoid;

I envied others, even resented them;

For THEY HAVE and I DON’T!

Then a gentle nudge from the Spirit restored my waning faith.

I felt like Jesus was directly talking to me when I read Matthew 6:25-33:

Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear.  Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes?  Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your Heavenly Father feeds them.  Are you not much more valuable than they?  Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?

And why worry about clothes?  See how the lilies of the field grow.  They do not labor or spin.  Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these.  If that is how God clothes the grass of the field which is here today tomorrow is thrown to the fire, will He not much more clothe you?  O you of little faith. So do not worry saying, “What shall we eat?” or “What shall we drink?” For the pagans run after all these things and your Heavenly Father knows that you need them.  But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.  Therefore, do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.  Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

And so, I acknowledged my guilt of not trusting enough–the sin of worrying.  I also asked forgiveness for allowing the spirit of envy and resentment to cross my mind.  I learned how to FORSAKE WORRY.  I learned how to LIVE BY FAITH, and to HOLD ON to the belief that:

My God will supply all my needs.

According to His riches in glory,

He will give His angels charge over me

Jehovah Jireh cares for me!

I decided not to go home some weekends because schoolwork was piling up on me, but there was serious repercussion in doing so:  I began to run low on food supply and starve.

I was constantly on a survival mode, and my dire circumstances pushed me to indeed become creative and resourceful in my struggle to survive.

My zoology class gave me an idea on how to put food on the table.  Our laboratory teacher required the class to bring frog specimens for dissecting.  I had a plan:  I will catch frogs and sell them to my classmates.  Then I will have money to buy rice and maybe some fish and some meat.  And I will catch more— for food!  Frog is a Filipino delicacy.  The white meat of this amphibian tastes just like chicken–even better. Take it from the Parisians; their fine-dining restaurants rave about their frog leg delicacy on their menu.

Bagong Sikat where I lived was a farming community.  There were rice paddi
es all around and an irrigation canal running across the sitio. And where there is water, there are fish and frogs!  I spent my vacant hours catching frogs–and I always had a good catch. I made some cash peddling frog specimens to my zoology classmates. And as a result, I had food on my table. I cooked frog in many ways–tinola (stew), fried, grilled, adobo, sinigang. When I saw the neighbor’s papaya tree teeming with fruits, I asked if could have some.  “O sige amang mamitas ka lang hanggang gusto mo.”  (O yes, young man, just pick as many as you want.) Tinola is best when there’s green papaya in it. Yummmmy!

One day while walking to the site where I caught frogs, I noticed an abundance of different edible plants by the way side.  There were saluyot, kulitis (wild spinach) and kangkong (water cress). Various species of mushrooms were also abound, but I had to be careful to know which ones were edible or toxic or I could die of mushroom poisoning!  Now my food source had expanded.  I had frogs for my protein, and a variety of wild greens provided me much needed vitamins.

My situation reminded me of how God sustained the Israelites while they were in the wilderness.  God sent manna everyday–the source of their carbohydrates, and quails which were their source of protein.  God indeed is Jehovah Jireh.. the great Provider!

Curious about what was on the other side–south of CLSU campus–I decided one day to explore the area around the old rice mill.  There was an irrigation canal running across the area. The canal  was equipped with a dam in order to control the water flow, creating  a man-made waterfall. I noticed there was a pocket between the waterfall and the vertical wall of the concrete structure. Shedding off my school clothes except for my shorts, I swam into the cold irrigation water to venture behind the waterfall.  I immediately noticed some shiny moving creatures clinging on the surface of the wall.  I carefully investigated, and to my amazement and great surprise, they were shrimp feeding on algae!  The entire wall was filled with shrimp! A school of shrimp!  I made sure I did not disturb them or they would all swim back into the water, making them difficult to catch.  The plastic bags I always kept in my pocket came in handy for holding the freshly caught wild shrimp.

I carefully scraped the tiny shrimp from the wall catching them in my plastic bag. They were jumping like crazy, making a squabbling, whizzing sound in the bag.  I could only catch so many, as their instinct was to dive back into the water once disturbed.  What a treasure of food I discovered that day!!!

I prepared some “jumping salad” when I came home.  I shared some to my host Kuya Boy who ate them while drinking his San Miguel Beer.  “Masarap ito a
h!  ‘San ‘to galing?”  (This is good! Where did it come from?)  I softly mumbled an answer which he did not hear.  And it’s good he did not ask again.   Should I reveal my discovery? I debated with myself. Since then, the waterfall became one of my frequented places to visit….alone. I decided not to tell my discovery to anyone. I didn’t want the public to flock to CLSU’s property.  Knowing about the shrimp colony might potentially create disturbance.

My creativity and resourcefulness kept flowing after the waterfall discovery. One night when I came home late from the library, I noticed the street lamps just outside my boarding house teeming with moths (gamu-gamo) or winged termites–the edible kind.  These bugs come out only during the rainy season. They are attracted to the light, which was why they were swarming the street lamps. As we did when I was a little boy, I took a large basin, half-filled it with water and placed it underneath the street lamp. The reflection of light on the water fools the moths into the basin and once they land in the water, their wings get wet and heavy and they are trapped!  I waited excitedly while the basin quickly filled with the edible bugs.  However, my excitement created some noise which, awakening Kuya Boy. He came out of the house inquiring.  “O ano ba ang ginagawa mo diyan sa labas?   Gabing -gabi na”. (What are you doing there outside?  It’s too late in the night.) “Nanghuhuli po ako ng gamu-gamo, tingnan ninyo po ang dami,” I replied.  (I’m catching moths, look there’s so many.) My excitement fully awoke him. Soon enough, Kuya Boy rushed to get another basin and joined me.

We filled two basins with the winged termites and proceeded to the kitchen to cook some. These bugs are best prepared by stir frying them in a pan. The dish is already cooked when the wings turn crispy and separate from the bug’s body.  A gentle fanning or blowing will separate the meat from the wings and a sprinkle of salt completes the cooking. Voila. Another protein-rich item was added to my expanding unique menu.

Kuya Boy and I sat together around the table and started eating my delicacy.  “Ang bango ah. Masarap pangpulutan yan.”  (It smells good.  That would go well with a bottle of San Miguel beer.)

While seated and eating, Kuya Boy started a conversation.  “O Gil kumusta naman ang pag-aaral mo?” (Gil, how are  you doing with your studies?), he inquired. “Mabuti po Kuya Boy, nakakahabol naman.” (It’s good Kuya Boy, I am able to catch up) I replied.  “Sabihin mo lang sa akin kung ano ang maitutulong ko.  Huwag kang mahihiya.”  (Just let me know what I can do to help. Don’t be bashful.) He continued,  “Napapansin ko hindi ka na yata umuuwi sa Cabanatuan.”   (I’m noticing that you’re not  going home anymore to Cabanatuan.) He paused and waited for an answer while reaching into his pocket.  But I did not say anything.   “O heto,  para sa pamasahe mo pauwing Cabanatuan.  Marami akong kinita kahapon.   May bumili ng malaking lona.” (Here, take this and use it for your bus fare to visit your folks in Cabanatuan.   I made a big profit yesterday when someone bought a big tarp), he said as he handed me a crispy fifty peso bill!

“Ay naku, huwag na po Kuya Boy, nakakahiya naman. Malaki na po ang naitulong ninyo sa akin.” (Oh no Kuya Boy, I am now very ashamed, you have helped me a lot already), I explained as I began handing the crisp bill back to him. Taking the bill and placing it back on the table, Kuya Boy said, “Sige na kunin mo na, huwag ka nang mahiya.”  (Come on, just take it and don’t be ashamed.) He then got up from his chair to proceed upstairs to their bedroom. Before heading up the stairs, Kuya Boy quickly mentioned, “Siya nga pala, merong ulam na itinira ang Ate Nene mo para sa yo, para huwag ka nang magluto bukas”. “By the way your Ate Nene saved some food for you for tomorrow so you don’t have to cook.” 

I was dumbfounded with what just happened.  I looked at the crisp fifty peso bill he left on the table. I got up to check the cupboard where Kuya Boy said his wife Ate Nene had saved food for me. There, I found a bowl of pork adobo with big chunks of meat!  My bowl of fried winged termite tasted very good, but the pork adobo was terrific! My eyes swelled with tears again. These people cared and they felt I needed help. And for me, their help was not just material. They aided my spirit and emotion. What an encouragement I received from these good-hearted people whom I barely knew!

I thanked the Lord for Kuya Boy and Ate Nene when I went to bed that night, and I thanked God for the very special way He was sustaining me.

Kuya Boy had a buy-and-sell business, I gathered.  He traveled to Angeles City  and Dau Pampanga by the Clark Air Base to buy PX goods (imported goods) to re-sell them. Once, he gave me a small bottle of imported cologne and he jokingly said to me, “O para sa yo yan , gamitin mo para mabango ka naman pag natabi ka sa mga dalaga.”  (Here’s one for you. Use it so that you will smell good when you’re with girls.) Kuya Boy’s bread and butter was selling tarps.  He bought small pieces of the special tarp material and glued them together to make a big one.  It smelled of rugby in the house whenever he was working on a project.  Farmers in the area bought the tarps from him and they used these tarps to dry their rice produce.

I never told them about my financial situation, but by then they might have noticed. Sister Nene would see me come home from school with all sorts of non-traditional food items, instead of the ones that could be purchased from the store. I saw her warm smile and wondering eyes whenever I unloaded and cleaned my food gatherings.  But she never asked. This family had become my family away from home.  They were very sensitive to my needs and they acted with sympathy. They supported and cared for me. What a blessing!

Little Baguio which is located on the east side of CLSU was one of my favorite sites on the sprawling campus. The quaint park was mostly unoccupied during school days, which made it an ideal place for meditation and quiet time. One day I went there not just to pray but also to practice my oratorical piece for my speech class.  Under the small thatch-roofed gazebo on the pond’s island, I practiced my memorized speech aloud with much gusto, with only the chirping birds on the trees, the colorful koi fish swimming, and some beautiful blossoming lotus flowers floating in the still waters of the pond as my captive audience.

When I was done practicing and getting readyto head home, I noticed some kangkong (water cress) by the side of the pond, I pulled some stems toward me to gather talbos (young shoots) for my salad that day.  But I had an unexpected pleasant surprise! Clinging on to the stems and roots of the kangkong were kuhol (snails)–th
e kind that we gather for food.  “Another discovery!” I exclaimed. I went home with a bag full of the delicious snails and couldn’t wait to cook them in coconut milk (ginataang kuhol) just like what my mother usually prepared.

Frogs, moths, wild shrimp, snails, wild plants, and wild mushrooms became my staple food. I had been provided for….abundantly…. and I dared NOT complain!  My Father in heaven had been feeding me well !  And I was very grateful!

God’s given me so much, He’s more than enough

Supplies all my needs from His storehouse of love

He’s brought me this far, but I must confess

The best is in store, I am so blessed!  (Matthew Bowder)

Indeed, the best is in store!.Stay tuned for more stories of blessings from above!

Note: If you wish to leave any comment, please find the comment space below.  Thank you for reading.

 

 

SURVIVAL was the name of the game I had to play very well after I had been admitted to the university.  With no money in hand, I entered a commitment that seemed impossible to accomplish for a seventeen year-old neophyte.

Feeling very excited to share the good news to my family, I rode a Baliwag Transit to go home to Cabanatuan. However, I was overwhelmed with strong, mixed emotions.

I was very excited and yet very afraid.

I had hope on one hand and doubt on the other.

My will to go on was very strong but I felt too weak and helpless to continue.

The needs ahead of me were great and many.  I needed a place to stay. I needed money for food, books, school supplies, drawing instruments, a scientific calculator, bus fare, allowance etc. These were the road blocks that seemed insurmountable for a poor and helpless boy like me.   A part of me just wanted to resign and give up but the will to persevere became stronger.  Again my mind was singing:  Alam kong may magagawa ang Diyos. (I know the Lord will have his way for me.) I knew another miracle would come to pass because God is good to me. And I began humming my toddler Sunday school song:

God is good to me. God is good to me.

He holds my hands and let me stand.  

God is good to me!

Then my hopes rose up again!!!

My wide beaming smile was still there when I came home. Mother wondered where I’d been the whole day.  “Anak, saan ka galing?  Hinihintay kitang samahan ako sa bukid para igayak ang pataniman natin ng palay sa isang lingo”.  (Where have you been?  I was waiting for you to go with me to the rice farm to prepare for next weeks rice planting.)

“Inang, hindi po ako magtatrabho sa bukid at hindi rin po ako matatrabaho sa construction. Nag-enroll na po ako sa college at natanggap na po ako sa CLSU,” I replied.  (Mother, I won’t work in the farm nor in the construction.  I’ve already enrolled for college and I got admitted in CLSU.) Mother thought I was day dreaming again as I always did.  “Ha?”, Mother exclaimed.  “Paanong nangyari yon?  Nangangarap ka na naman”. (What? How did that happen?  You’re dreaming again.) We sat down and told her the whole drama of my CLSU admission.

With tears in both our eyes, we embraced. It was then she said this piece, which I had heard many times before, but with a warning in her voice: “Pero anak, may sasabihin uli ako sa iyo.  Hiningi kita sa Diyos at ipinanata ko na ikaw ay magiging pastor.”  (But, son, I have something to tell you again. I asked you from God and I made a vow that you will be a pastor.) To which I answered,  “Inang, mahal ko po ang Diyos at marami pang paraan para ako makapaglingkod sa Kaniya.” (Mother, I love the Lord and there are many other ways I could serve Him.)

 I saw fear in her eyes.

“Tatanungin ko sina Engr. Sevilla kung matutulungan ka sa iyong titirahan.  Alam ko meron silang kamag-anak sa Munoz.”  (I will inquire from Engr. Sevilla if they could help you with your housing, I know they have relatives in Munoz.  Mother proposed.) The Sevillas were the benevolent family who took me in so I could finish my evening high school classes. I was their houseboy and mother was the laundrywoman.

“Oo mayroong paupahan ang mga kapatid ko sa Bagong Sikat at ang kapatid kong si Ely ay graduate ng Agricultural Engineering sa CLSU.”  (Oh yes! My siblings have a rental house in Bagong Sikat and my brother Ely is a graduate of Agricultural Engineering from CLSU),  Mrs. Sevilla excitedly told us. “Baka merong umuupa ngayon pero subukan natin baka may bed space para sa iyo.” (There might be people renting the place right now but we will try if maybe there’s a bed space for you.)  My mouth opened wide as I heard this possibility.  Another miracle?

Bagong Sikat is the neighboring community just northwest of CLSU and it is walking distance from the campus…a perfect outside housing location for CLSU students.  With a short note from the Sevillas, I went to meet the Ruiz family in Bagong Sikat. The God-fearing benevolent family gave me not just a bed space but my own private room in their rented house!  FREE!!!  Of course with the kind accommodation of the renter family, headed by whom I called Kuya Boy.

Housing need? Check!!!!

Food, books, school supplies, clothes, shoes, bus fare, allowance?  No check!!! But…. should I worry about those?

I learned later that the certain Ely was Dr. Eliseo Ruiz,  magna cum laude graduate of Agricultural Engineering and later became the president of CLSU.  He was the editor-in-chief of the CLSU Collegian during his days.  God was setting me up for some good connections early on.  When I started my agricultural engineering studies I had Dr. Ruiz as one of my models.

Inang sent me off to school with heavy luggage.  Kuya Freddie, my brother-in-law who was supposed to hire me in his construction business gave me fifty pesos ($6.25 at that time).  He pledged to give me fifty pesos every week!  There was rice, dry pork adobo (cooked a bit saltier than usual so that it will last longer even without refrigeration), tuyo (dried fish), tinapa (smoked fish), some vegetables, few packets of sky flakes and a can of Milo chocolate drink.  What made the luggage heavy were the cooking utensils. I cooked my own food and carefully budgeted what I had so they would last longer.

I felt like floating on air walking to my first class.  I felt good and grateful for the opportunity I had before me. There was so much hope and anticipation in the air. I said a prayer of gratitude.  Thank you Lord!  I groomed myself wearing a clean white shirt and bell-bottomed pants with a flair in the back.  My hair which normally stood up (turo) was neatly polished down with Beatles pomade.  I did not notice the four kilometer walk along the dusty, stony road from Bagong Sikat to College of Arts and Sciences, although it made my elevated leather shoes dirty and scratched .  I did not know anyone, but I did not feel like a stranger.  I felt I belonged there. I walked pass the men’s dorm and dreamed to live there some day with other students.  I passed by the statue of Dr. Jose Rizal right by the registrar’s office and across from the cafeteria.  I made a salute to the national hero as I remembered his word about the youth: Ang kabataan ang pag-asa ng bayan.  The youth is the hope of the nation. It made me more determined. I had a responsibility not just to myself but to the society who was giving me this chance of having an education. I heard the bells from the water tower ring so loud as I passed by it, signaling  me to walk faster lest I be late for my first class.

I handed my class card to Prof Flor Amor Monta.  Everyone knew I was a new student because all of them had given their class cards more than a month ago.  The prof asked me to introduce myself.  Should I make a flash? Should I make an impression? I stood up, flashed a big smile, and humbly introduced myself.  “Hi everyone, my name is Gil Valenzuela. I am with the Study Now Pay Later Plan. You know I’m  enrolled late, so I need your help.”  At the end of class, many approached me and offered to share their books and notes. In all other classes, my classmates graciously offered help.  This solved my problem with books!

Saturday came and I was excited to report to my ROTC drill class.  I reported in my civilian clothes while everyone was sharp in their military uniform.  I was told that I should order my uniform as soon as possible.  “Yes sir!!!” I answered with a salute.  But I wondered, where in the world will I get the money for a new military uniform and boots which would cost hundreds of pesos?  I went home that weekend to attend church and see my family.  Everyone at church wished me well.  I told my Ate (Sister) Fely –whose husband was the construction guy–about my need for a military uniform.  “Mayroong lumamg uniform si Manggoy, titingnan ko baka pwedeng ibigay sa iyo.” Manggoy my brother has an old ROTC uniform.  I’ll see if he can give it to you.  He rushed out of the house and came back in no time.

Kuya Freddie excitedly handed me a paper bag containing the uniform and the boots. “O ayan sige isukat mo nga?” ” Here, will you fit them?”  I came out of the room looking like a clown.  Manggoy was a well-built man who stood five ten and probably weighed one hundred seventy pounds.  While I was small built, thin, stood five three and weighed one-hundred ten pounds.  I was crying and laughing at the same time. ” Hindi ako kasya, masyadong malaki!” (I don’t fit in it.  It’s too big.) Everybody in the house started laughing!! Mother quickly retorted,  “Walang problema diyan, pwede nating i-repair.” ( That’s not a big problem, we can repair it.)  Mother took my measurements and started the repair job that took her the whole night because she knew I needed to travel back to CLSU at five in the morning the following day. Her sewing ability saved the day for her only son, and I was so proud of her.

The repaired uniform looked good on me, it just needed a name badge.  But the problem now was the military boots.  They were three or four sizes bigger than my size 7 feet.  And there’s nothing we could do about it!  But I had a plan: I would just double my socks and stuff the front with tissues. That’s the best solution. Who would
notice?  But one day during a rest time from military drills, the guy next to me noticed something.  “Bakit ang laki yata ng sapatos mo?”  Why do your boots seem too big for you?  I seldom get annoyed by people, but this time I was.  I told him to shut up and mind his own business! But the truth was, the over sized military boots were very difficult to use. I had to be careful all the time or I would fall down on my face, which almost happened a number of times.

But I learned to balance with them as I was learning to balance my unbalanced life.  When would I get a new pair of marching boots?  I could only dream.

 

More stories of survival in my next blog. Stay tuned!