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Friday, March 29, 2024

My Tatang, my idol

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"My father taught me many things, but boy, was he a disciplinarian."

 

Last Sunday was Father’s Day and I could not help remembering my late father, Emiliano Cortez Jurado—Tatang, as we Ilocanos called our fathers.

My Tatang was born in 1886 and died in 1957. He was a victim of the influenza epidemic that swept across Asia. He succumbed to complications arising from his Parkinson’s Disease.

He passed just two years after my wedding.

Tatang retired after many years as a district supervisor of schools in the province of Abra, formerly a sub-province of Ilocos Sur. Abra is now a province in the Cordillera Administrative Region.

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My late father was my idol, but boy, he was a disciplinarian. I recall those days when he would whip me with his latigo. Tatang was known all over Abra as a breeder of pacers. In fact, he taught me how to ride a pacer and how to feed the horses in his stable.

In fact, he taught me a lot of things—catching frogs in the rice fields, skinning them and even cooking them. My mother refused to join us on these occasions because she did not like frogs skinned and eaten. But they were so delicious!

My gulay, other delicacies which my late father taught me to eat were wasis, and the eggs of red ants found in the forest. Abous, as they are known, are still a delicacy in Abra, as are river snails.

Tatang’s specialty was kilawen or half-cooked meat of goats, mixed with the liquid from their intestines. My wife also refuses to eat these things; many Ilocano dishes repel her imagination.

One time when I took my family to Ilocandia during the summer, we went to a restaurant where they served small fish fry. Upon seeing this dish, my wife and daughter went out of the restaurant, screaming. Santa Banana!

My father was an honest man. He took pride in his job, even though he earned only P120 per month. His salary was increased to P250 when he got his education degree before his retirement.

For a long time before he earned his Bachelor’s Degree in education, he spent two months of summer in Baguio, at the teacher’s village, to get his credits. I recall going with him in those days—those were the days when you could still smell the pine trees. Traffic was very light, and there was only one hotel—Pines Hotel. The man-made lake where you could paddle a boat was already there. And I cannot forget riding those small cars.

I would sit on my father’s knees when he narrated his adventures. One day, he came home with a shield, spear and arrow—a gift from his friends, the “alzado” of Kiangan and Kalinga. These alzados were feared by the lowlanders.

He told me a story about these people and their rituals. When a chieftain dies, his remains were placed on his throne for days on end. They had to drink “basi”—Ilocano wine.

In 1935, Tatang had to sell two of his favorite pacers to be able to afford a car. He tried very hard so we could afford to send my sister to medical school. She became one of the first female graduates of UST.

I remember the day we had our family portrait taken at Rialto Studios. My parents looked so proud! By that time, my sister had graduated medicine, my brother Desi had graduated Bachelor of Arts from the old Ateneo de Manila, my brother Willie had just finished high school, and I had finished valedictorian of my grade school class. I still have this photo.

I still wonder how my parents were able to give us a great education despite their humble beginnings.

My greatest frustration is that I never learned how to swim, when my Tatang was a great swimmer.

Much later, when I was already a professional in Manila, some politician from Abra came to our house and asked me to relocate to Bangued to run for mayor, then governor, then congressman. My wife told me to refuse—and I am happy I did. I could not imagine myself as a politician.

To be continued.

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