A Marriage and A Homecoming

(This essay was excerpted from the draft book, "Spectrum of Being Human." It reflects my views on marriage and home. I married four times. I married my first wife twice. On our first, the priest who married us eloped before signing our marriage certificate. We had to go through a second marriage because we needed the document so my child could enter a Catholic school. My first spouse passed away after 23 years of partnership. I also married my second wife twice. This essay will explain why.)

Back to Roots

It was just after the signing of Peace Agreement between the Philippine Government and the Moro National Liberation Front in 1996 that I was appointed Programme Manager on Governance of the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP). Then, I supported several governance programs, including Human Resource Development for former MNLF commanders, soldiers and their families.

In June 1999, I was in Koronadal City, South Cotabato for a strategic session on the role of cooperatives in local governance, with some eighty participants from various sectors. During the session, I met my future partner in life.

In October 16, 1999, I married again; ironically; it was the birthday of my first wife.

On the surface, my wife and I came from two different worlds, which was a formula for failure. Nonetheless, what kept us together was our kinship as human beings; it was the deeper part in ourselves. In a globalize world, where the barriers of culture, time and space are being eroded, we transcended the barriers between us. Through our partnership, the traditions of Northern, Southern and Central Philippines were united. This was not being presumptuous; we were proud of our heritage.

Neither religion nor cultural orientation was an issue between us. My life-partner was a Muslim-Tausug born in Zamboanga City, with parents from Jolo who migrated to General Santos City. Her dad, fondly called "Ama," was a supporter of the Moro National Liberation Front (MNLF); he sought the blessings of the MNLF for her to marry a Christian. I was born in Baguio City, of Visayan parents, mixed with the Cordillera tradition and a basically Christian orientation. We had a Muslim and a civil wedding (the Catholic faith do not solemnize mixed weddings).The key sponsors to our wedding were peace advocates - the Acting Secretary General of the MNLF- Special Zone of Peace and Development (SZOPAD), the former Governor of South Cotabato (a frat brother from UP Baguio), and the Resident Coordinator of the United Nations.

Age did not matter. At the time of our wedding, she was 26 years old, only four months older than my eldest daughter. I was 45 years old, only five months younger than her mom. We had a nineteen-year age difference between us, the same gap between her mom and dad. During our wedding, my two kids stood by my side, while her mom and dad brought her to the altar. There was nothing that reminded us of our age difference, including music. What she thought was modern music was really a revival from my generation.

Distance was not a barrier. I was based in Metro Manila and Baguio up north; she was in General Santos City, down south. In between those times when we were not together, we communicated everyday through the cell phone and the Internet. During my wedding day, I received a message from my cellular phone. The Globe Company was cutting off my line because I had an unpaid bill of more than P 20,000.00. “Its okay,” I said. “It’s my wedding day. Thank you.”

My marriage may or may not be “made in heaven.” Nonetheless, I was given a chance to relieve my childhood dreams, the one I brought with me into the world. It was like being 25 years old again, the ripe age for marriage.

Coming Home

My generation had been enriched and inspired by the previous generations, by our forefathers and human beings who went ahead. It also adopted the cumulative technology of past and present generations, such as the Internet.

I grew up into this world enriched by the experiences from my interaction with mom and dad, my brother Rudy, and a lot of significant others and situations. Because of my experiences, I have gained insights as to how to live a fuller, but simpler life. On a personal level, this meant a warm body and gentle soul to share life with.

In 2000, when my spouse and I went up to Baguio for the holidays, we were met by an array of sunflowers and pine trees along the way, together with the fresh and cool breeze. When we reached home, a beautiful lavender butterfly took time to flutter about. Then it gently rested on my outstretched palm. To my spouse’s wonderment, it fluttered again and rested on hers. In that fleeting moment, I felt my mom.

In 2004, after retirement from UNDP, I went back to Baguio City with my family. Starting from the indigenous peoples in the Cordilleras, I would trek a path towards peace, harmony and prosperity. My spouse and I would trace back our lineage to the indigenous peoples (IPs) in indigenous cultural communities (ICC). We wanted our children to be proud of our brown race as take off to being human.

Within the country, our pursuit was aptly written in the Indigenous Peoples’ Rights Act (IPRA), Rule VI on Cultural Integrity: “the state shall recognize, respect and protect the rights of the ICC/IPs to preserve and develop their cultures, traditions and institutions and shall take measures, with the participation of the ICCs/IPs concerned to protect their rights and guarantee respect for cultural integrity in order that ICCs/IPs shall at all times benefit on an equal footing from the rights and opportunities which national laws and regulations grant to other members of the population.”

Ultimately, aren’t we all indigenous to the land of our forebears? That land was the whole earth. In the Philippine country setting, the highest peak is Mt. Apo, which rested loftily in General Santos City, South Cotabato, where my spouse grew up. The second highest peak is Mt. Pulag in Benguet Province, where Baguio City, my birthplace, is located. It is paradoxical that the two highest peaks, the highest links of “Philippine earth” to the skies, are also linked through their human expressions. In the world, the highest peak is in the Himalayas of South Asia. On its peak are various flags planted by people who reached the summit. The flags represent the cornerstones of humanity.

Mom and dad did not fail. I also did not lose them. I just learned my lessons and “let go” attachments to a fleeting world. I touched based with the innocence of my youth and the “natural” dreams that went with it. In a sense, I have gone home to where I truly belonged. Mom remained in my bosom; dad was my spark to persist.

In the song “Our House” Crosby, Still, Nash and Young started and ended with the lines: “I’ll light the fire, while you place the flowers in the vase that you bought today.” The spark of life is in the heart and mind; it is what is of nature. Rose (mom) is a rose; the flower of love rooted. Dioscoro (dad) symbolically mean enlightenment; the fire was lit.

Thank you – Mom and Dad. Thanks to all who nurtured Love and Light.