VICTORIA MANALO
Romance in the Hills
Ang pag-iisang dibdib
Ay
pagpanday ng pag-ibig
Ito
ay wagas na pangakong mag-alay
Ng
panahon at buhay
Alang-alang sa iyong minamahal
Ito
rin ay kasunduan
Sa
iniirog na bayan
Pag-aalay
sa kanya
Ng
panahon at buhay
IT WAS THE HEIGHT of the monsooon season, but the sky cleared and the
rains mercifully stopped that afternoon in October, giving a most welcome
respite to the more than 40 comrades and guests who were gathered that day in a
guerrilla camp in the forested highlands of south-western
In anticipation of the wedding, the different units, including the children who were with their parents in the guerrilla camp, used their free time to practice songs, dances and poems for the cultural presentation.
Even the camp’s kitchen staff was already busier than usual days before the wedding. A cow, which had arrived, was promptly butchered by the guerrilla-cooks and its meat, prepared with various ways. Strips were hung over the stoves and smoked to make tapa (dried beef). Other chunks of beef were set aside for soaking in vats of spices and saltpeter to make corned beef. The food was not to be eaten all in one afternoon, however. It was to last for several days more, and the preparations were necessary to preserve the meat.
Nonetheless, the forthcoming wedding was reason enough to prepare something more special than the usual fare. A day before, sacks of flour were brought in, which the kitchen staff after kneaded to make dough. This was formed into hollow balls, and inside were place small pieces of beef cooked with sweet-spicy sauce. The miniature buns were then laid out on galvanized iron sheets and baked inside makeshift ovens.
The
result—delicious meat rolls, bigger than a man’s fist and tastier than those
sold in most commercial bakeries. The
bread buns were for pamahaw, or
merienda, a treat the hard-living guerrillas usually enjoyed only during
special occasions such as this. For panyapon (supper), there was going to be
dinuguang baka.
A moving ceremony
But the highlight of the affair was not to be in the feasting. It was in the wedding ceremony itself, which was both solemn and moving in its simplicity. Ben was not clad in a signature barong ang neither was Dodie bedecked in something fashionable, white and frilly. They were in denim pants and T-shirts, dressed as they would be any other day of their lives in the guerrilla zones. As they sat side by side on a low, wooden bench, no cord or veil was slung over them to symbolize their union. Instead, a red flag was draped over their shoulders to signify that they were bound both by a personal commitment to one another and by a deeper commitment to the people and the revolution.
Instead of a priest or judge, it was Ka Andres, a senior cadre, who stood before the gathering to preside over the ceremony. Before he began, he called for silence among the assembled comrades and guests, as the revolutionary movement, he said, considers marriage a serious matter. Sure enough, hush settled over the camp, with only Ka Andres and the couple’s voices heard above the timid rustling of leaves in the wind.
Together, Ben and Dodie pledged, as husband and wife, to “wholeheartedly fulfill their responsibilities to each other and to the revolution,” and that “neither of them would cause the dissolution of their marriage except on just grounds, and only with permission from the units.”
To the strains of Visayan ang Tagalog love songs, the couple, together with Ka Andres and six other comrades who served as ninongs, ninangs and witnesses, signed the marriage contract.
As with many a wedding in the countryside, the ceremony was followed by a modest feast and a spirited cultural program with plenty of singing, dancing and merrymaking. The most applauded number, however, was the presentation of a local adaptation of the ismayling, a Waray literary folk tradition similar to the Tagalog balagtasan. Here, groups debate extemporaneously on the merits of two opposing views on the subject, with the arguments presented in verse form, complete with rhyme and meter.
On the occasion, the “debate” centered on the differences between a bourgeois and a revolutionary wedding, with each humor-spiced argument sparking loud and applause and rib-tickling laughter from the audience. The celebration was capped by cries of Mabuhay ang bagong kasal!” And a stirring rendition of the International, which everyone sang while standing at attention with clenched fists raised.
How love bloomed
Dodie and Ben’s wedding in the countryside was the culmination of a relationship that slowly developed over the years.
They met
in 1982 while attending an educational course for activists in the
countryside. Dodie, then 23, was a
student activist working part-time in the city.
On the other hand, Ben, a former industrial worker, was already a seasoned
cadre assigned to a district under the revolutionary front in south-western
The educational course, which lasted a few days, provided enough opportunity for the other comrades to good-humored pair off B0en and Dodie who were the only unattached man and woman in the group.
Since the two hardly knew each other, they reacted to the teasing with deep blushes and embarrassed smiles. But unknown to Dodie, Ben was already nursing a crush on her. On her part, however, whatever Dodie felt for Ben other than comradely feelings, she momentarily brushed aside. “I wanted to concentrate first on my revolutionary work because I was still adjusting to conditions in the countryside,” she said. Nonetheless, as new-found friends, the two agreed to write each other and share developments in each other’s line of work.
A year later, Ben joined the NPA and was assigned to an area not far from where Dodie worked. At this point, he overcome his shyness and decided to formally court her. But his request was not approved when it was learned that another comrade was already wooing Dodie at that time. To avoid misunderstandings and petty quarrels, it is a policy in the revolutionary movement to allow only one comrade at a time to court another. Ben was advised to wait, and for at time he and Dodie stopped exchanging letters.
An unusual engagement
For a year, they heard little from each other. But in February 1984, they met again, and decided to have a long talk.
Her relationship with the other comrade had already ended, Dodie confided. This was welcome news to Ben. But he was distressed, just the same. His unit was about to be sent to an even farther guerrilla front, he told her. They were to be parted once more. This time, they could no longer hold back their feelings for each other. “Nagtapatan na kami,” said Dodie.
Pending approval of their respective units, however, they agreed not to build up their relationship. Instead, they decided to keep in touch with each other through letters.
At first, they tried their best to be business like, and only wrote about their political work. But their feelings won out in the end, and soon, they were exchanging love letters as well.
Eight months later, while Ben was on a short leave from his unit, they both decided to present their relationship formally before their respective collectives. After carefully listening to the bases for their request, their units gave their approval. They were now officially engaged.
In order to help them get to know each other better, comrades in the higher units assisted Dodie and Ben in making arrangements on how often they should see one another. It was necessary to plan ahead, because Ben was again about to be deployed to another far-flung area, and the only way the couple would meet during the engagements was for Dodie to visit him.
At first, Dodie felt uneasy about having to be the one to visit her fiancé. In the city, such a advance by the girl would be frowned upon, she thought. But the comrades explained to her that for their relationship to grow, she had to overcome such feelings. Also, the demands of revolutionary work meant that she could only take a two-week leave at most every months to see Ben. And even then, they could only be together for two of four days at a time, since traveling on foot to reach Ben’s area and returning took up the rest of her two-week leave.
“There
was also a time,” she recalled, “when I was not able to visit him for a span of
six months. When I finally had the
chance to do so, he was glad to see me, pero
nagkaroon ng konting tampuhan.”
But even if they could not see each other very often, their letters more than made up for this. “Because we rarely saw each other, we cherished each other’s letters even more. We saw to it that we would write to each other as often as our schedules would allow,” said Dodie.
Their relationship, nurtured during a year-long engagement, later led to marriage. The date set for the wedding was also chosen to coincide with the time Ben was to attend a cadre training course in the southwest that was to last for several weeks. This way, they would be able to spend some time with each other before Ben once more left to resume his work in another guerrilla front. At the camp, they shared a tiny hut made of wood and banana stalks which other comrades built for them as modest wedding gift.
Planning for the
future
Like any other newly married couple, Ben and Dodie are anxious to make their marriage work. “When we met with senior comrades to review our relationship and receive pre-marital counseling, we were especially advised to be careful about two things. First, we were asked to avoid subjectivism; kung mayroon kaming hindi nagustuhan, dapat maglinawan kami kaagad para maiwasan ang tampuhan,” she said.
“Second, we were to avoid liberalism in our relationship. If we had any problems, we were advised to consult our ninongs or our higher units. This is why we chose sponsors whom we can easily confide in. Also, we chose those who, though similarly situated, have successful marriages.”
“We were also advised to respect and treat each other as comrades and not to allow feudal relations to se in. And they reminded us to plan our family.” Ben and Dodie intend to have two or three children, spaced at least three years apart. They would also prefer to raise their children in the countryside, although Dodie’s parents have offered to care for them in the city.
But more than all this, their units have asked the newlyweds to make an added sacrifice, since both are right now badly needed in their respective collectives. They will thus have to continue spending long periods of time away from each other.
“Thing s would’ve been much simpler if we belonged to the same unit,” said Dodie. “Once I integrated with the NPA and joined them in one of their operations to see if I had the stamina to become a Red fighter. But it proved to be physically exhausting for me, and I collapsed after a few days,” she said. “So for now, we are making the best of our situation in the hope that later, we could at least be assigned to the same area.”
Ben’s and Dodie’s love for each other has transcended the barriers of class, time and physical distance. With an area deepening commitment to the revolution binding them, it cannot but endure.