Hail Britania!

It was a rainy, misty and cold morning but even then the panorama before me was still spectacular and breathtaking. A deserted beach, a few small boats sitting on the sand, the calm, blue-green waters of the Pacific below the pale haze of thinning, milky gray rainclouds, and in the distance a couple of small islands set like green encrusted jewels on the coastal waters.

That was just a couple of days ago and I was standing on the seashore of Barangay Britania in the municipality of San Agustin some twenty or so kilometers north of Lianga. Directly in front of me and some fifteen minutes by motorized boat from the shore was Boslon, the first of the already well known Britania islands, with its dazzling white beach and crystal clear waters.

There are several other islands, each with their own unique attractions and between them are pristine waters teeming with magnificent coral formations and exotic marine life. A boat ride where you go island hopping would be, without a doubt, the highlight of any visit to this tourist destination.

For someone who has visited the islands many times. I have always felt that the islands were not just geological formations of exceptional beauty. They have a mystical hold that went far beyond mere sentimentalism. They are akin to sentient, living and breathing organisms that have existed since time immemorial and whose constant brooding presence provided a reassurance and an affirmation of Mother Nature's benevolence and abiding generosity towards man.

Over the past decade or so, the rampant quarrying of sand and pebbles from some of the Britania islands have saddened many who wanted the government to exert measures to preserve their pristine and unspoiled nature. Dynamite fishing and the use of chemical poisons have caused widespread damage to the extensive coral reefs that made the area a haven for fish and all kinds of marine flora and fauna.

There is, however, a continuing albeit protracted and seemingly half-hearted program by both the San Agustin municipal government and the Department of Tourism to develop the entire Bretania area into a tourism destination. Much of it has been rhetoric but there is some optimism that something may eventually be accomplished if the residents of the barangay can get their act together and decided what they really want to happen to their village by the sea. All it takes is a deep appreciation of the priceless natural treasures that they have in their islands on the sea and the acceptance of their obligation and duty to preserve and protect these treasures for the future.

It was raining when I took this pictures but the images in my mind were not of the islands appearing like green, ghostly images wreathed in mist beneath the overcast sky. I saw the islands as they should be seen, like green, shimmering emeralds on blue baize gloriously bathed in the blazing hot rays of the midsummer sun, their white beaches glinting like ivory teeth in the distance.

Then I remembered the boat rides there, the clean and transparent waters hissing and bubbling in the boat's wake, the islands like green gems in the near distance and around and beneath the shadow of our sea craft the wide, table-like outcrops of living coral seemingly close enough to touch in the glassy clear waters, so clear that you can see up to more than twenty feet below you.

Then there are the islands, the bleached white, powder like fineness of the sand on the beaches, the exotic, dark green vegetation that covers most of them, their splendid isolation and pristine nature and the dark, cool and refreshingly clean comfort of their waters as you plunged into them. Truly natural treasures of the most intoxicating kind.

Britiania may be just another impoverished barangay in this part of Mindanao, a small agricultural and fishing village one hardly sees noted in local maps and travel guides. It seems to be one of those places where nothing really happens and where there is nowhere to go. But with the islands and their exceptional tourism potential, it may have the last laugh yet.

Flying High

When I was a boy, getting the chance to go by passenger plane from Mindanao to any point in the Visayas or Luzon and vice versa was the ultimate in traveling luxury. Air fares at that time and until recently were prohibitively high and only the lucky ones with the extra money to spend could afford to plunk it down for a plane seat while the rest of us had to content ourselves with uncomfortable, overnight passage on the slow, smelly and notoriously unreliable inter-island passenger and cargo ships of those days.

The ease with which one can buy a plane ticket nowadays and proceed to the airport, jump on a passenger jet and be, in an hour or so, in Cebu or Manila never ceases to amaze someone like me who was brought up to think that flying was only for the rich and whose first plane ride, way back in the early 1970's, was on a lumbering, turboprop aircraft of dubious vintage flying off a dusty, dirt runway in what is now the city of Bislig in Surigao del Sur. In many ways I was even luckier than most of my less fortunate contemporaries whose experiences with air travel was confined solely to what they saw on foreign movies and eventually television.

The opening up of domestic air routes to competing airline companies and the resulting reduction in the cost of plane fares has wrought a minor revolution in the way many Filipinos in my part of the world now travel. More and more people can now afford to fly since that alternative has become more practical and affordable. Commuting by aircraft for many in Lianga has become a viable choice.

While on the Butuan City to Manila jet service recently, I happened to be seated across a family of three, a tiny girl of four with her young parents, all on their way to pay the child's paternal grandparents a visit in the nation's capital. It was the first plane ride for all of them.

The young parents were understandably nervous, the father was fidgety while the mother kept fiddling with her child's seat belt. But the girl was lost in the wonders of the miracle of flight that was unfolding before her.

Her face was pressed against the glass of the aircraft window, eyes drinking in the panorama of the land and sea peeping through huge gaps between wispy, white, cottony clouds that floated lazily below us. It was clearly the high experience of her short life and for a moment I sat back and empathized with her and remembered how exciting too it all was for me the first time when I, then a naive, small town boy, got to fly and see the world from on high.

But that was a different world world back then and a different time. The world was much, much larger then, traveling long distances was long and arduous, and the lure and romance of flight was for a privileged few.

The world has moved on and circumstances have changed making air travel within the reach of more and more people. For that I am, like so many of us here in our small part of the world to whom flying as a means of regular travel used to be merely a pipe dream, extremely and thankfully glad.

What Now?

Upon arriving in Lianga after being absent for over two weeks, the first questions I asked my contacts here all concerned the status of the military offensive in the hinterlands of Diatagon, a large, populous barangay or village just nine or so kilometers north of my town. In the weeks before I left, the government operations against New People's Army rebels were going full blast inspite of the then approaching Yuletide season and evacuees from the mountain barangays were streaming into temporary evacuation centers in Diatagon and in two other villages belonging to the nearby municipality of San Agustin.

The Philippine government's unilateral declaration of a cessation of offensive operations against communist insurgents nationwide in deference to the Christmas and New Year festivities has clearly been instrumental in the lowering of tensions in the areas affected by the conflict. Most if not all of the evacuees have returned to their homes as government troops have stood down and assumed their habitual defensive positions in the military encampments and population centers.

The big question in everyone's mind here in Lianga is what is going to happen as the period of the holiday truce expires. Is there going to be a resumption of hostilities which could lead once again to the problems sired by the pre-Yuletide offensive or has the military offensive been effectively halted and stopped for the immediate future?

The feedback I have been getting from various sources is ambivalent at best. There are those who say that a resumption of the military operations is inevitable because there are economic interests close to the political leadership eager to seize control of the timber and mineral rich areas currently under the sway and influence of the rebel insurgents. They also say that the military is also keen to avenge the casualties it has suffered in the initial phase of the offensive and is blaming local human rights groups and left-leaning organizations for waging a very effective propaganda campaign in the local and national media in support of the NPA that has cast government soldiers unfairly as the villains in the conflict.

But many also claim that the military and the government does not have the resources and the political will to push through and complete the destruction of the heavy rebel influence in the area. They cite the example of the military offensive in the nearby Andap valley in 2005 which was stalled and halted prematurely after about a month or so of intensive military operations which resulted in heavy casualties for both the government and the rebels.

The air of uncertainty that hangs over the remote mountain villages of Diatagon is something its people and the residents of the Lianga area can definitely do without. It is positively not doing the local economy good or contributing to the development of what is already one of the most depressed and backward areas in the whole country.

The ball is now, therefore, in the government's hands. What's next? What now then?

Antipolo Mornings

Waking up early in Antipolo City in Rizal province, especially on late December mornings, is like getting up to a blast of cold wind from the frigid north. It is cold enough to rudely wake up what is half asleep in your body and mind and jerk you to full wakefulness by the time you sit up in bed and your feet touch the chilly bedroom floor.

I should know. I was in Antipolo City from December 21 to January 7 after deciding to celebrate Christmas and the New Year with Mari and her family. Two weeks away from family and friends and, of course, Lianga, and something I have not done for a really long time.

From the bed you stumble to the bedroom door, unlock it and stagger outside, the chill of the morning having no trouble getting through the thin fabric of your pajamas. You then watch your breath condense into vapor, wispy streaks of mist like the low lying fog that covers the tops of the hilly landscape that is so characteristic of the city.

In many ways, I was only occasionally homesick of Lianga during the more than two weeks I spent there. There is a lot of the provincial ambiance of the rural countryside that remains in Antipolo particularly in the suburbs off the center of the city. Even the city itself feels a bit provincial and has the flavor of many of the small yet progressive cities that dot the surroundings of major urban centers in Mindanao like Davao or Cagayan de Oro City.

But Antipolo is only a short distance from the nation's centers of political and economic power. All it takes it a short drive (minus the traffic, of course) and you are in the national capital. It lies in the shadow of Metro Manila and that is what makes the difference.

So as I stood those many mornings outside Mari's house in the outskirts of the city gulping in the cold, wet morning air, I marvel at the panorama of green, misty hills amidst the urban sprawl of houses and buildings. It may sometimes feel like Lianga but that is a delusion. All you have to do is listen to the rumble and noise of the traffic that never ceases outside the main highway outside the main gate and the loud whining of the passenger planes that pass overhead on their way to the Ninoy Aquino International Airport.

That is when I get somewhat homesick and pine for Lianga that seems, at those times, so far away.

Christmas Break

Tomorrow is the start of my Christmas vacation. I will be leaving Lianga for a short time and that means that I may have to take a break from my daily excursions in to the digital landscape of the World Wide Web.

I would like to apologize to those who might be expecting to see some new posts to this blog during the next week or so. That may not be possible. I will try my best to be able to go online and get a post or two published but will make no promises.

But I hope to be back very soon and start blogging again. Merry Christmas to all.

A Life Well Lived

As a physician, he had a formidable reputation. It was said that he had the gift of healing and that this gift had saved many lives singlehandedly plucked by him from the jaws of almost certain death brought about by disease or accidental trauma. But it was as a surgeon, a skilled wielder of the surgical blade, where he would truly made his mark.

In the more than 30 years he had practiced his profession in Lianga, countless stories of his exploits in the hospital operating room have been told and retold over and over again. Most of them have to do with his ability to do his best work even under the most difficult circumstances.

He did surgery under candlelight or with the aid of a flashlight whenever electricity was unavailable. He was often his own anesthesiologist because for many years there was no one else qualified to do that job for him. As a result he was lightning fast and would be finished with a case and out of the operating room in the time it would take another surgeon to scrub, dress in OR greens and make just the first cut in the same patient.

He was also unflappable and did not panic under the most trying conditions. And it was in those times of medical crises when a patient's life was in the balance when his cool head, decisiveness, resourcefulness and ability to quickly think through complex problems that made the difference in the struggle over life and death.

Outside the operating room, he was a brash and forthright man with a rather acerbic sense of humor yet he had many friends and was well liked and respected by all. For beneath the seemingly stern facade, was an idealist with a soft heart that was generous to a fault. He gave always more than he received and never regretted it.

His standing in the community made him an influential voice to be heard but he never envisioned himself in the role of a civic leader. He detested politics especially when his personal integrity clashed with the immorality or amorality of politicians in power. Then his voice could be heard speaking out loudly and fearlessly.

But he was first and foremost a healer and it was for this legacy he wanted to be remembered.

In the 11 years since he left us, there are still people who stop me on the street, either in Lianga itself or elsewhere, to wish me well and share stories about this man who was my father. In the end, they always say the same thing.

Many years ago, either they themselves or someone close to them was seriously ill or gravely injured. Whoever it was, he or she was brought to the hospital in Lianga and my father was able to help them. "Thank God for your father," they would say. "He saved a life that day and we will always remember what he did."

Dr. Jose Y. Otagan was only 66 years old when he died in his sleep on December 20, 1996. It was not his fate to live to a ripe old age. But the quality of a life is never always measured solely by its longevity. What matters most is the way that life is lived.

In Papa's case, it was a life lived to the fullest.