Scriptum 2ndissue

SCRIPTUM

The Unofficial and Unauthorized Newsletter of the IHMS Batch HS 80 and College 84

Issue No. 2

Immaculate Heart of Mary Seminary, Taloto, Tagbilaran City, Bohol, Philippines 4th Quarter 2003

From

BABOGA to

SCRIPTUM, I, nt. something written.

SCRIPTUM

You may have noticed the masthead saying Issue No. 2. This is not a typographical error. But where is the first issue? When was it published? You may have forgotten by now that we published the first issue in November of 1998. Yes, that's right. Five years ago. The title of the newsletter was BABOGA. It contained bits and pieces of news, an editorial, and an article written by Soc, “One Fine Rainy Friday.” It was published after an informal reunion at the Seminary, followed by lunch at the Bohol Tropics. This is the second newsletter that Fr. Soc and Mr. Manox have published so far. This is unofficial since they do not have mandate from the class. And unauthorized, since they do not have explicit

permission from the batch to write about, or speak for, them. Starting with this issue, they have decided to change the newsletter title from BABOGA to SCRIPTUM. Why? Because not everyone may be able to relate with BABOGA. Certainly not those who left and didn't reach the high class graduation. Certainly not those who joined them only college. They want to be inclusive not exclusive as much as possible. Thus, the new title. This is a product of their own initiative to keep the spirit of the class alive. They hope that you will enjoy reading this and start to “get the feeling again”, as Manilow (Oloy's favorite) would put it. They also hope to hear from (and read about) you in the future issues. There will be more.

! ! !

This newsletter is for the following batches: High School Entrants 1976 High School Graduates 1980 College Graduates 1984

If you belong to any of the batches, whether you lasted for one day or eight years, please contact us. Email: ! [email protected] ! [email protected] E-group: http://egroups.yahoo.com/group/ihms

BATCH MEMORIES

YEAR 2004

Kanbituon By Manox Arcamo

Summer of 1982. Just for the heck of it, JunTabs and I, for the summer apostolate, decided to volunteer “didto sa lugar nga walay gusto moadto”. It was a protest. We were dis-edified at those who were picky about their apostolate area and went to the extent of demanding to be assigned to the big, rich parishes. It was also pride. We wanted to show that we had what it takes to tackle even the most difficult assignment. It was also youthful idealism. We wanted to live out what we thought a follower of Christ must be and do. We got our wish. We were assigned to Inabanga. No, not just Inabanga but a far-flung barrio of Inabanga called Kanbituon. So remote that to get there, it was easier and faster by way of Sagbayan. It was not only a “bituon”, it was also a “kan-bituon“. We were told that “kan” was attached to names of places that were so far away. In Inabanga, there was news of an encounter between the government troops and NPA. It happened in a sitio beside Kanbituon. It bothered but did not deterred us. We arrived in Sagbayan at a house I vaguely remember now as belonging to either Fr Anana's or Fr Mision's friend. And from there we were transported aboard a motorcycle to a barrio at the edge of Sagbayan. It was dusk when the host, the barangay captain, who didn't seem too enthusiastic, accommodated us. We stayed for the night. We left very early the following day, after a breakfast of coffee and bread, anticipating a long hike ahead. There was no transport to Kanbituon. We had to walk to reach our destination. How far? Nobody could tell except with the “pout” of a mouth. The road was gravel and narrow. There were few houses visible from the road. It was so quiet. And peaceful. The sun was merciless, but the wind was cool and gentle. After an hour, we chanced upon--actually overtook--a pison going towards the direction of Kanbituon. We hitched a ride, proud of having the once-in-a-lifetime experience of riding a pison. It was slow, and it vibrated tremendously. But we savored every minute of it, until it [continued on page 2]

College Batch 1984 20th Anniversary ==0==

High School Batch 1980 24th Anniversary ==0==

And it we want to celebrate our entrance: High School Entrance 1976 28th Anniversary

Tempus Fugit! Notes: We plan to publish SCRIPTUM quarterly starting with this issue until August 2004 when we celebrate our 20th and our 24th Anniversaries. Contributions are welcome.

2

EDITORIAL

Something Written We all have stories to tell. We never tire repeating them nor tire hearing them. For days on end, and then years on end, we added to our collection of stories that have grown part of the living “mythologies” in IHMS. We have known why “patok” or “kingkong” got his name, or how “maru” or “ igit ” replaced an otherwise unique nickname. We remember how Baston Bobitch Gang became Baboga, although we may have forgotten why we called our class that name. For in fact it did not mean a thing. It was simply a wild thought devoid of meaning. Oh, how we loved those stories. We always found time for them. After meals we congregated under the avocado tree near the canteen, in what is now part of the mini zoo. We spontaneously assembled under the mango tree or the talisay tree near the pathway leading to the auditorium. And towards the end of our college days, we even sought refuge under the shade of pines and mahogany that lined the sea wall in front of Baclayon church. If only trees could talk, then we would have found the best chronicler of our stories. But they could not. The longing to leave something behind, however, even if they be stories, runs deep

within. Thus, we left a photo album of our “exploits” in college. We even passed on our stories to those who came after us. But, as in any oral traditions, we know now that stories will live only as long as the storytellers. It has been 28 years since high school entrance, when we started telling stories. It has been 24 years since our high school graduation in 1980. And it has been 20 years since our college graduation. Those who knew of, and retold, our stories have all moved on too. Those in the seminary today belong to an entirely new generation. They haven't heard of us, nor do they know our stories.

Kanbituon...continued from page 1

was time to proceed on foot again. The land was flat, though it definitely was on high elevation. There were no trees by the roadside to offer us shade. But we walked with leisurely abandon, unmindful neither of the sun nor of time. We enjoyed sharing their dreams and aspirations. The serenity of the place must have prompted us to dream of missionary life or even of monastic life. We exchanged stories along the way, expressing our deepest hopes. Juntabs wanted to be a writer. I wanted to travel to remote and distant places. We both wanted the solitude. Finally, we reached a sari-sari store that, although it was open, looked deserted. We asked for directions from an old woman, who was sitting a dark corner of the store. She told us that we had reached Kanbituon. It was almost noontime. There was a small clearing with around five houses around it, including the small kapilya and the barangay captain's house. The clearing was deserted. Soon, we settled at the captain's house, which was entirely made of wood and nipa. It was clean and decent. From Kanbituon, Bohol Channel and even Cebu island could be seen from certain spots nearby. Houses were widely dispersed, but probably within hearing distance from the kapilya. People would gather when they hear the bell. Rarely had they experienced a priest visiting them, we were informed. And they would tell of those rare visits the way they would tell of myths told by their grandparents. “Sa una pa kadto. Bata pa ko.” The people were excited to see two sotana-wearing seminarians in their midst. So on few occasions, JunTabs and I gathered the people and conducted adult catechism sessions. Sessions were also conducted for the children. The rest of the time we spent enjoying the serenity of the

This is the reason we sometimes feel alienated at the IHMS today. We always say that things have changed at the IHMS. We have become a stranger to the place, yet deep within remain strangely familiar. The stories we hear are no longer recognizable. The jokes and jargons are different. Yet somehow we feel at home, for we have tucked within each of us stories of this place that we weaved with our friends. As we grow old, we can leave those stories as they are--hidden in the fading memories of each participant. Or, we can put them on paper and retell them one more time . . . for posterity. Once written, they stand a better chance of persisting in time. This newsletter--unofficial and unauthorized this may be for this is started by a couple of balding alumni who have other things to do in between--provides you that venue. We do not have the luxury to meet and talk, as we used to do. But we can continue telling our stories through this newsletter. Share with us your memories, your stories. Turn them into “something written”. (MSA)

Remembering an Important Date

place, visiting people in their homes, even attending mañanita on cold Question: mornings. When was our High School graduation? A special occasion it seemed to be to Answer: ________________ the people for having a couple of visitors from the city. Taga-Tagbilaran. Mga city boys. Until it was time to leave. March 1980 S M T W T F S When we left one early morning, it 1 was still dark. There were no people to 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 bid us good-bye. In the same manner 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 when we arrived, we left quietly. We 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 stopped by the same sari-sari store that 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 greeted us when we arrived. We paused 30 31 for a moment to reflect and wonder: “Anus-a kaha ta makabalik aning lugara ha?” We smiled to each other and in silence started walking on the lonely road stretched in front of us. ooOoo It has been almost 22 years since that time. It was more than ten years before one of us, JunTabs, could return to Kanbituon for one brief visit. By then, married with family, JunTabs penetrated the remote place to deliver brandy in his delivery truck. He asked around if any seminarian had visited them. The people he asked recalled: “Wala na sukad niadtong mianhi kadtong anak ni Tabel ug kadtong si Arcamo. Memories of that visit have lingered. And they told tales of that visit in the same way as they would tell of myths told by their grandparents. They didn't even recognize JunTabs who was asking them the question.

3

NOTA BENE

March 26, 1984 was a memorable day for the college batch. Following are two accounts of the same experience.

A Summer to Remember By Soc Mesiona

Summer was starting. The temperature was beginning to rise. Most schools were already done with their commencement exercises. But the humidity and heat of the afternoon could not dampen the eagerness of the party of five to order 1 beer grande each at Rose Restaurant along CPG Avenue. For after all it might be their last time to be together. They just had their college graduation the day before. There were six of us, survivors of Baboga Class -- Manox, Kriss, Marjal, Ingents and myself. But Oloy was not around that afternoon. There was so much emotion in each of us, heightened by the spirit of the beer we gulped like water. Our lively discussion was interrupted several times mostly by boisterous laughter, as each one would recall funny experiences in the seminary. First round of beer, second round…third round. It was too much perhaps, but not to the six of us who would be parting our separate ways. The clock seemed to tick faster than usual. But no one was minding it. It was like eternity as each one reminisced the old gold days. But the more we talked, time seemed to move even faster. One o'clock, two o'clock, three o'clock, four o'clock, four thirty…Marjals could not help but had to bid goodbye or else he could not catch the last trip to San Miguel. Each one was teary-eyed as Manox shouted to raise our glasses. Each one felt a hollow space in the heart as Marjals walked slowly to the direction of the entrance door of the restaurant. There was a short silence, then followed again by staccato of laughter. Not long enough it was my turn to also say goodbye, for there were then only very limited jeeps going to Sevilla. We left Rose Restaurant

bringing unforgettable memories of our life together in the seminary. That afternoon happened in 1984. It's almost 20 years now. And true enough it was our last time to be together, the five of us who were remnants of Baboga Class. It was indeed a summer to remember. Since then we charted different directions of our lives. Sadly though, not much have been heard of the others. Only some sketchy second hand information. A newsletter like this may be a good one to keep in touch. Not only for the six, but also for the 42 original Baboga members that started in 1976. As we grow older we become interested in recalling the past. We want to tell the story of our lives. Maybe we want to say that we have lived life to the full. But as we tell our own stories we cannot help but also tell each other's stories because each of us has become a part of our individual lives. Maybe another round of beer is needed; perhaps not a grande anymore but just few bottles to arouse the consciousness to tell and retell our own stories. We need to make another afternoon of remembering and someday be remembered!

A Final Batch Outing By Manox Arcamo

March 26, 1984, Monday afternoon.. The sun dawdled for a while, close to the edge of antenna-studded roofs. The last streak of light that managed to filter through the iron-grilled curtain-less window bathed one corner of Rose Restaurant at the mezzanine with yellow cathedral-like glow, forming linear shadows on the white linen. There were five of us, the best of friends and batch mates, sitting around a square table. (Oloy had excused himself since he had to supervise a high school commissioners' outing.) There was nothing special about the occasion really. It was just one of those “outings', except that it was our last outing together, after having lived under the same roof and rules for eight long years. The day before was our graduation. We remembered how we started eight years ago in High school. There were more than forty of us in the batch. But as the years rolled on, the number dwindled. There were 24 of us by the end of High

School and was further whittled down to 4 by the end of College. Soc Mesiona, Mario Jala, Oloy Malanog and I came from the original batch in High School. There were two, Cris Abs and Mario Ingente, who joined and completed our batch in College. Eight years seemed too swift and short from hindsight. We practically spent most of the eight years of our lives together--through the crests and troughs, the pains and joys, of growing up together like brothers. We had followed the same routine, used the same precis, ate the same blend of “floured” scrambled egg and dried fish, played the same game, ran the same 3:00 AM jog, and agonized under the same Latin and Greek classes. We fought and made friends again. Yes, we went through the tumultuous years of adolescence and the monotonous de more of seminary life together. We lived a sequestered but contended life together and never confronted the specter of life outside the four walls until that late afternoon when the realization loomed forbiddingly. The realization caught us all unprepared, although on the outside it was a celebration devoid of emotions. There was nothing sentimental about it--or so it seemed on the outside. That was the real character of our batch, detached and undemonstrative. Or perhaps that was what we tried to project to other people, but which we were not too good at. Thus, it was as it had always been in the past, an afternoon of beer, memories, and vain attempts at concealing anxiety and emotion. Soc and McAbs were applying for theology

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March 1984 T W T 1 6 7 8 13 14 15 20 21 22 27 28 29

F 2 9 16 23 30

S 3 10 17 24 31

at the Mission 4 5 Society of the 11 12 Philippines in 18 19 Tagaytay. Oloy 25 26 wanted to p u r s u e theology in UST. Marjals and Ingents were uncertain but nonetheless submitted requirements for enrolment to St Augustine Seminary in Tagaytay and to San Carlos Seminar in Mabolo, respectively. I had taken the exam and was planning to join the Society of Jesus in Manila. The anticipation of parting ways and being on our own from that day onwards started to weigh down on our consciousness as the spirits clogged up our eyes. In between the toasts, laughter and surge of reminiscences, we recalled the names of long lost companions--those who had once trodden alongside our path and then left. We cracked oft-repeated jokes just to break the deafening silence that followed every recollection. And we interspersed long silences with boisterous laughter at every opportunity. Now the day was drawing to close. It was time for Marjals to go. He had to catch the last trip to San Miguel town. “O sige. Mauna na ko kay basi'g mabiyaan na ko sa last trip.” “Unya na,” McAbs protested, holding a bottle of San Miguel close to his mouth. “Nagorder pa ko'g duha ka grande.” [continued on page 4]

4 A Final Batch Outing...continued from page 3

SCRIPTUM Newsletter Supposedly an Editorial Box except that we do have anything to write here except our names. FR. SOC MESIONA, MSP MR. MANOX ARCAMO We hope to hear from you. Really. This issue is sponsored by:

Bohol 75 J.A. Clarin St., Tagbilaran City, Bohol Tel: 411-2164

Soc and Ingents also tried to stop Marjals from leaving. Ingents continued with the task he was so good at tig-tagay. But Marjals was firm. He grabbed his bag and started down the floor, and without looking back, shouted, “Sulat baya mo, ha!” Soc was bound for Sevilla, but getting on the bus was the last thing in his mind as he quietly brooded over his bottle of beer, which he held with both hands. McAbs was seriously absorbed in playing with the tiny bubbles that formed on the side of his mug and which slid down as his finger paved a watery path to the bottom. “Anus-a ka muadto sa Manila, Nox?” Soc broke the uneasy silence that followed. “Sometime in May, kun madawat.” “Ahh, unya na nang biya-biyahe. Imna sa na,” McAbs smirked. “Di ba, Gents?” So I raised my glass for the nth time that afternoon. “Bottoms up ha!” “In vino veritas!” we chorused, gulping down a mugful of beer. That afternoon was a spontaneous gathering after packing all our things in the seminary that morning. We had nothing else to do. It was still early. So we decided to leave our things in the seminary and have one last lunch together. And we stayed practically the whole afternoon talking and drinking. O, tagay pa,” Ingents smilled, pouring my glass until it overflowed. “Daghan pa baya ni, ha. Ayaw mo ka ikog.” “Palahubog gyud ka, Gents, ba!” McAbs butted in in his adulterated Cebuano-like intonation, “Mora ka'g si Oloy.” We laughed and thought of Oloy who couldn't join us. Then, memories poured in once more. Soc recalled that morning, several months ago, right after breakfast when Canete played the guitar and we sang “Softly” for JunTabs at the Seminary gate. He had decided to leave the seminary for good. That morning was therefore a major turning point in his life. We remembered how JunTabs

Quo Vadis Vavoga?

Every issue we will feature at least three batch mates, starting with us, the proponents behind this initiative. It’s not for any reason except that we already have the data to publish.

Entered IHMS

1980:

Finished High School

1984:

Finished College (with McAbs et al)

1984:

Joined MSP, studied at Divine Word School of Theology in Tagaytay City (again with McAbs)

1986:

Pastoral regency in Miarayon, Talakag, Bukidnon

1989:

Ordained priest

1990-93:

Parish Priest, Parish of Our Lady of Abandoned, Hulo, Mandaluyong City (sa “labas”, matud pa nila)

1994-96:

Took post-graduate studies at the Pontifical Gregorian University, Rome, Italy (where I ate lots of spaghetti)

1996-1999: 1999-present:

Present Address: Email:

1976: 1980: 1984: 1984: 1985: 1987: 1987: 1989: 1991: 1991: 1993: 1996:

Rector, MSP Formation House, Tagaytay City

1996:

MSP Council Member & Bursar General (Sori, di puede pautang. Try McAbs na lang)

1999: 2002:

Makati City [email protected]

Christopher Abcede

Manuel Arcamo

Fr. Socrates Mesiona 1976:

picked up his bag and started walking towards the junction, alone. He broke down and hugged the gatepost. Then, he continued walking, alone, until he disappeared over the slight mound. Soon it was time for us to go. “Ako na ang mag-bayad, bay,” Ingents offered, catching us be surprise since he never did that before. “Sige lang, Gents, tungaan lang nato.” As we stood outside the restaurant, we were all speechless. Then for the last time, one of us--I cannot recall who it was--broke the silence with a wisecrack which made us laugh and teary-eyed. Soc, McAbs, Ingents and I left Rose Restaurant to get our things in the seminary. From there we proceeded to our house where I dropped off my things. And then we proceeded to Frons Restaurant where the vehicles bound for Sevilla were parked. There, McAbs left us, and soon Soc, until only Ingents and I were left. We proceeded to the Arcade meeting friends and acquaintances, wasting time, unwilling just yet to face the reality of being on our own. We wandered around. We lost each other in the crowd, but somehow managed to meet each other again unintentionally. I met the girlfriend of a friend--I don't know how I got to know her--got into a conversation with her and walked her to her apartment near the provincial hospital. When I got back to the arcade Ingents was there. It must have been after five when we knew we had to be on our way. Ingents didn't have money left, he told me, but he wanted to buy some peanuts. I gave him some coins. And, without looking back, we went on our separate ways. I walked unhurriedly, taking the long way home. I passed by the provincial capitol and turned left on J. A Clarin St. At 5:45PM, I wrote a one-page entry into my diary in bold red ink, summarizing the events that transpired that day. I felt uneasy, “unsettled”, being alone in the house. So I decided to take a walk, tracing the places that hold memories of that day, remembering the faces and

2003-present: Present Address: Email:

Entered IHMS Finished High School Finished College Joined Society of Jesus or the Jesuits Jesuit Novitiate at Novaliches Took first vows Juniorate and Philosophate at the Ateneo Regency at the Xavier University Left the Jesuits Joined PHILSSA, a network of NGOs Production and MIS head of a management consulting firm General Manager of a startup marketing and communications company MIS/EDP Manager of AVIS Rent A Car CIO of Ayala Foundation Took Master in Management at the AIM CIO of Ayala Foundation Angono, Rizal [email protected]

1975: 1979: 1984:

Entered IHMS (kita nako si patenio ug malanog) Finished high school (with mr. rulete, friend of soc) Finished Philosophy at the IHMS (with mr. manox, ingents et al) 1984: Joined the MSP. Took Theology at the Divine Word Seminary, Tagaytay City (classmate ni MarJals nga taga-San Miguel -- where ramir, I, et al played basketball. Pildi gana. Perting ulawa!) 1989: Ordained deacon (d kuno, pero puede pa gud); appointed Treasurer of the MSP Seminary 1990: National Vocation Director of the MSP 1993: Ordained Priest by Ricardo Cardinal Vidal (December 3, 1993) 1994: Assigned to Taiwan in the Diocese of Hsinchu; Took the Mandarin Language at Fu Jen University 1995: Chaplain of OCW's in the Diocese at the same time functioned as Pastor of Yuan Tun Mission, Miaoli 1996: Parish Priest of Tahu, Miaoli, Taiwan 1996: Director, Shin Ai Academy, Tahu, Miaoli 2000: Left the Ministry (changed nickname from McAbs to Kriss) 2001: COO, Canary Travel, Manila 2002: Executive Director Vice Mayors' League of the Philippines (a national organization of all vice mayors of the Philippines, different from a basketball league) (Note: Dili baya ko modawat ug pautang.) Present Address: Diliman, Quezon City