cruising through time at himogaan river

mr espina the writer here gives us a peek to the kind of stories that i loved to listen as a child, especially when relatives and our parents’ childhood friends came to visit.

i’d sit, quiet as a mouse,  beside nanay inday felicing or either of our parents,  creating the images that their stories evoked.  i had to be still and behave, tho i was itching to ask a gazillion questions - because then children were meant to be seen but not heard - else be shooed away. rather too, be “strongly encouraged” to sing or dance, recite a poem or declaim while parents beam with pride. hah! 

it won’t be long when all our elders will be gone.  as it is, like it or not,  my generation is almost there or perhaps already there — becoming the “elders”  ourselves.   its up to us to keep their tales and memories alive so as to keep the bonds  through time and through generations. 

From the Center
with Rolly Espina

OPINIONS [The Visayan Daily Star]

Memories of bygone days

Saturday’s Himogaan River Cruise was both enlightening and nostalgic. While it brought memories of bygone days, it also showed me and brother, Bert plus spouse, Edith, that the topography has changed.

Familiar landmarks to Sagay City Mayor Alfredo Marañon Jr. and Councilor Beethoven Fuentesfina had mostly disappeared. They were now replaced by houses and other changes in subdivision living.

The start of the Himogaan River cruise was at the former shipyard of the Japanese Imperial Forces. That has disappeared, the place had been silted and the old forestry bureau building which used to house the “Imbais” is no longer there. Hardly a trace of its remains.

I suddenly realized that today’s young generation have lost the meaning of words we (our generation) had so easily bandied about.

For example, “Imbai” was the term used to describe the sex slaves of the Japanese who were housed in that forestry building. We were living just about 200 yards from them and could hear the brutal treatment of the girls by their Japanese clients and their screams.

But Wilton Roxas, Visamin Ledesma, Nong Manual Roxas, Ned Orleans and my younger brother Dodge managed to befriend the “Imbais” who often played softball with us, using balls enclosed in silk pumps.

Freddie Marañon and Beethoven, who used to stay in “Takas”, the former name of the Japanese barracks, recalled how the Japanese workers of the Insular Lumber Company used to build wooden boats like batels.

These were used to ship out lumber from the ILCO stockyard to the Sagay “bocana” mouth of the Himogaan where they were loaded on board ocean-going vessels. The same with the Lopez Sugar Central sugar bags which were taken up by inter-island barges.

One thing we noticed, though, the river is much clearer now. “Local residents have apparently become more conscious of solid waste management,” commented Mayor Marañon.

As we drifted down the Himogaan, we saw the silting of channels which used to be deep. The former log pond has expanded to Uko, across the river to Paraiso. And the place can now be forded across by foot. This was the place where an alert classmate in Grade three rescued me from drowning after I had sank twice.

My brother, Bert, also recalled that the Japanese had set up a floating bridge across the river from the site of the Japanese shipyard. We both reminisced having seen the hardy Japanese swimmers braving the floods as they dragged the empty drums across to serve as floater for the wooden bridge the Japanese put up later.

We all searched for the “pantalan,” the ILCO wharf. It has disappeared. And from its previous site, Beethoven and Mayor Marañon pointed out to us “Takas.”

We saw the effort by the Lopez Sugar central to shield its baggase stocks from sliding down into the river. Later, we glided our way downstream. We passed by Hda. Maria and Hda. San Agustin. This latter was the place where Papa brought our family for evacuation. This was the place where I first met Maj. Morga and Capt. Cafe, bosom friends of my father. And Maj. Morga handed Papa his first gun, a .45 caliber grease gun.

We drove downstream. Then we saw other familiar places like Tubli, Himogaan, and others.

We were especially thrilled at the sight of an island, built by accretion and now planted to mangroves. It has been declared by Sagay a bird sanctuary. And we saw a Kingfisher and lot of other hitherto “lost” bird species which we had not espied for a long time, swooping down the bird sanctuary.

This was one trip where Mayor Marañon, Councilor Fuentesfina, Bert and myself took turns retelling the history of Fabrica and how it once was the world’s biggest hardwood lumber mill.

And we told him so big were the logs brought down from the mountains of northern Negros, one was often enough for a railroad car to bring down.

John van der Zandern and Marion van de Wetering were told about the Fabrica that was before World War II and until after the liberation.

Both were astonished at how accretion built the Carabao island where carabaos are now grazing in the middle of the river.

We decided to land at the rest house of Mayor Marañon fronting the Guimaras Strait. That meant that we had to wade up to our knees. Still, there were no complaints. Somebody commented we could develop rheumatism since we had wet our lower extremities.

It just reminds the younger generation that the old folks believe that “salt water” does not provoke rheumatism.

Before finally recalling our visit and other projects of Marañon, I sat stock still and recalled the stories of the past when we stayed at the residence of the late Tio Ano just beside the Sagay Church, across that, incidentally, was the elementary school which the Japanese used as their garrison.*