My cousin Kuya Bongbong was born under mysterious circumstances in January 10, 1971. I say "mysterious" because very few people in the family, at least in my generation, know who his father is. He is the oldest of my cousins in my father's side of the family, and he spent his early years raised by my late paternal grandparents, and those of my father's siblings who were still living with Lolo and Lola in Dos Castillas Street in Sampaloc, Manila.
(From the small bits that I gathered, my theory is that he is the product of an illicit relationship between a priest and his mother - my aunt - during her time as a nun in a convent. I've once dared ask Kuya Bongbong himself who his father was, but it seems that even he didn't know.)
Perhaps because of the absence of a permanent father figure, Kuya Bongbong grew up with an astonishing lack of personal discipline. At the same time, growing up in the streets of Sampaloc made him street-smart and self-reliant. Although he was not a very violent person - in fact, he is very respectful of elders - violence always found its way to him. Joining petty street gangs honed his fighting skills, and he soon after developed a strong and tough physique that was very far removed from the sheltered, slender bodies that we, his younger cousins, all had in common.
For a long time, he was the big brother of us all - of whom much was expected, but was also the one who disappointed the most. Academics was never one of his strong points, and his initial forays into football to stay away from the streets was soon overwhelmed by his freespirited nature. He changed schools often, and was always the subject of disciplinary action ranging from something as harmless as using
kodigo during examinations, to more serious offenses like being involved in rumbles between warring school "fraternities".
He never finished high school and for some years spent some time doing odd jobs just to get by. Finally, a family conference was called to discuss Kuya Bongbong's future. To make a long story short, my father took it upon himself to take responsibility of Kuya Bongbong in order to reform him and set him to a better path. In the past, Kuya Bongbong spent some time with us and other relatives on a piecemeal basis which never bore any fruit. My father intended for Kuya Bongbong to stay for a much longer time under his direct supervision with the goal of making him finish high school at least.
By this time, Kuya Bongbong was already 19 years old and had a son with a woman whom he impregnated when he was 17. (Last I heard, the woman and the child were already exiled to an outside country by the woman's parents, partly in the hope that the child would never be influenced by Kuya Bongbong.) In hindsight, it was a very bold and risky move by my father because he actually exposed me and my siblings to the possibility of being influenced by him.
To make a long story short, I and my siblings never got influenced by Kuya Bongbong (thank God!), and my father's plan never really worked. Kuya Bongbong never took his studies seriously, viewing school only as a means to set up his own gang, with himself as the resident alpha male. Soon after, it came to a point where he was committing petty theft in order to have some cash to spend with his new friends. Here in our subdivision, he also gained some notoriety because he tended to group himself with the rowdier cliques. Eventually, the plan was abandoned and Kuya Bongbong was left to his own devices.
For a decade, we didn't hear anything about him until one day he showed up, married with a newborn son who eventually became my godson. For those of us who were hoping that married life will force him to settle down and take responsibility were very badly mistaken. Kuya Bongbong was apparently into more serious offenses now. A few years ago, he spent some time in a drug rehabilitation center because he got involved in the drug trade. He was both a user and was also involved in trading drugs. Only the intervention of my uncle, who is a retired military colonel, made him escape imprisonment on very serious charges. (We later on learned that he has done jail time anyway in the past, based on the tattoos on his arms.)
He once confided in me on how serious his involvement was in the drug trade. He was something of a paramilitary who assisted the police in doing drug raids. The problem was that the police themselves were corrupt - they confiscated drugs in order to sell them later on. If there was any doubt as to whether Kuya Bongbong has breached the "hopeless' mark, then that conversation with him erased it.
On the domestic front, he proved to be a very twistedly devout Catholic by having a total of 5
legitimate children. I seriously don't know anymore the names of his three youngest children because I lost track of his manifold irresponsibilities. Since he and his wife are of very limited means, our family also undertook to help raise the children in any way we could.
What disappointed me was the fact that I really thought despite everything, he would be a loving father to his children. I've seen his dual nature of being tough on the outside but warm and tender on the inside. My godson was particularly very well taken care of by him, and did not exhibit any signs of being remotely similar to him. That was until I heard that he cast off his wife AND five children to fend for themselves. The reason apparently was that he got tired of married life and decided that he wanted the affections of another woman. This other woman he brought home one day, over - of course - the strong objections of his family, whom he promptly dragged out the door.
Perhaps the lesson in all this is that if there's a black sheep in the family, you'd have to take every precaution not to make him feel that he can abuse the kindness of those around him. My take on it is that Kuya Bongbong never changed because he became so secure in the fact that whatever happens, there's the extended family - led by my father - who are always ready to bail him out. His mother obviousy spoiled him, and that was the start - tolerating his infractions with very minimal discipline. This mutated into the very ugly sin of abandoning his family presumably because he knows whatever happens, there's always us to help them out.
The day after, it was interesting to observe that my legs did not hurt, but instead, it was my shoulders that did. The part of my shoulders where the straps of the backpack dug into hurt like hell and I had to apply Salon-Pas on them to kill the pain.
First, my Nike ACG shoes. I've purchased the pair early last year for no other reason than the fact that it was on sale and it looked like it would go well with informal wear. ACG apparently means "All Conditions Gear" and the pair served me well in getting a firm foothold in the slippery and muddy terrain. I owe it to these shoes (and years of squat-ups that gave me strong thighs) that I never once fell during the climb. I did come close to losing my balance a few times, but good thing the traction of the shoes helped me fix my footing.
Second, my Maui heavy-duty rain jacket. This is an old jacket I've purchased before the new millenium, and which I've always regarded as a mistake. It is oversized, too bulky and too thick. It wasn't designed for the tropical climate because it always caused me to produce an undue amount of sweat whenever I use it. During the Batulao trip, however, it kept my backpack dry, thanks to its tough outer layer that was virtually waterproof. In fact, I left this jacket outside the whole evening while the storm was raging outside. The morning after, I saw it on the ground muddied and drenched, but when I inspected the inner cotton lining, it was DRY. Amazing isn't it?
