Batanes : Triumvirate

Buddy you're a boy
Make a big noise playing in the street
Gonna be a big man someday.
You got mud on your face,
You big disgrace,
Kicking your can all over the place...


It all started with a simple question:
Am I (or had I been) a good boy?
According to Francis, Kert asked him this about me.

Do I not look like one?
Am I not acting like one?

Easy enough to answer at an impulse.
But when you think about it, you find that you want to re-examine some things. I gave an unconvincing affirmative answer. Whether he was satisfied or not, I do not know. But it has earned me enough time. Wherever we were, together we shared our answers to such simple (yet to me seemingly profound) questions.

Sitting on top of the jeep moving at a decent speed,
looking at the breath-taking sights around us,
feeling the blows of the cool sea-breeze,
while carefully trying to avoid the dangling coconut leaves and branches
from leaving zebra stripes on our faces ;

buried in the gray, moist sand---on the beach behind our hotel---
listening to the sound of the waves crashing,
feeling the force of each grain, til it starts to tickle or get itchy,
while waiting for the horizon to slowly grow dark,
and the night sky to be literally sprinkled with stars all over ;

gathering fallen dried leaves and dead wood,
carefully trying to avoid the poop mines scattered all around,
using a borrowed lighter, lighting them up to build a bonfire,
feeling---basking in---the warmth it provided against the cool, windy night,
while making sure that the flames don't get fanned out ;

taking dinners way past after everyone else has had them,
each one with his own preference in food,
but all of us thankful of our blessings,
enjoying the delicious repast prepared for us nonetheless,
and delighted of the company each one provides.

What does fire remind you of?

Or of rain?
And hearing answers like:

It's the tears clouds shed for their fellow clouds that have died.
or
The sun reminds me of a father... God.

Our topics varied a lot.
From turtle food,
to color analysis,
to the details of World War (I, II, the aftermath, and possible follow-ups).
Deep inside, my mind was working overtime trying to remember all that I have learned from my history teacher (ma'am Myke).
Whatever the subject was, one person directed the flow: our unproclaimed leader Kert.

Conversing with a child present can be tricky.
You have to be careful with what you answer and how you do it, while at the same time retaining the honesty.
I tried to see to it that the words used are understandble to a "young" mind. And that the thought or concept does not incite cynicism this early nor destroy the innocence still in possession. Rather I was hoping our answers would spark him to further seek out answers on his own.
Francis calls this being considerate on my part.
I call it nothing.

On Day 4, our last day, all day long we prepared for what would be our last night together.
A great, big, final bonfire was in the works.
We gathered wood from each site we went to that day (the previous nights we simply made use of what was around at the time).
As early as after lunch our leader has even set what was to be the main topic of the night:
"What does Batanes remind you of?"
But he was also quick to "warn" us not to think about our answers til later that evening.
That was how our talks always went.
Quick.
Spontaneous.
From the heart.

Francis and I were also thinking this would be time Kert would give his verdict on the first question we began with. Was I (or had I) indeed, been a good boy?

But, as with life, things happen inspite of all your plans.
As soon as it grew dark, drizzle started to fall.
We decided to wait it out.
Took our dinner and viewed the pictures taken since we arrived.
By the time the last slide was shown, it was time to sleep,
and the rain was still falling outside.

Come dawn the following day, the sun was getting ready to rise and shine.
The rain has stopped sometime during the night while we were asleep.
Breakfast was spent pretty much in silence.
It was time.
Time to leave.
Time to go home.
Time to go back to our own respective worlds.
Nobody was looking forward to it.
We shared the same sentiments and have said so in not so many words the previous day.

At the domestic airport in Basco, we played a little gameboy while waiting for the plane to arrive. Upon landing in Manila and claiming our baggages, a simple wave of goodbye was exchanged. By that time, no words needed to be said (or perhaps nothing could be said anymore).
It's not that we have ran out of things to talk about.
Or that there were no more answers to be shared.
Most certainly questions abound.
But maybe enough has been said for now.
Time to review the lessons learned from each one's answers.
So that we can be ready for the next one.

And the answer to the question?
I don't know yet.
He made me a friend.
So maybe he's already convinced I am one.
Or has hopes that I can be one.

Just the thought, makes me want to be one.


We will, we will ROCK you!
We will, we will ROCK you!
We will, we will ROCK you!

(drum beats slowly fade)