Somos Hermanos ( Part 2 of 3 parts)

Somos Hermanos
(We Are Brothers)

As we approach the threshold of the next chapters of our lives as mid-aged men, I began to think if time and distance have changed me and my only brother Guilberto. Once young farm boys who had been so identical in so many ways, I asked myself, is my brother still a copy of me or am I still a replica of him…?

My brother’s homecoming decision was long overdue. Mom was happy but it seemed that the old man was happier. He had his two sons back at the farm where he raised them. The farm is his sanctuary. He can’t trade it for the world. He was educated in Manila courtesy of the US Armed Forces because grandfather was once a Captain who fought side by side with the Gringos against the Japanese Imperial Army during World War II. After the war my aunts migrated to the US. My father returned to our hometown and continued the century-old family sugar business, and raised his own family there. Lanie, my sister who is now based in New York wanted my parents to migrate to the US but was unsuccessful in convincing them.

And so when I and Guilberto went home in December, the festive mood was evident in the air. Mom’s old China resurfaced. Brother’s gold and silver plated spoons, forks and knives from Europe were once again inventoried and polished for the festivities. Goats and fowls slaughtered, lechon was prepared. Guilberto’s wine selections from Europe were poured but the old man and his peers preferred to have their old favourite whisky and beer.

Amidst all these, for me no amount of preparations could give me much thrill than being joyful and melancholic at the same time. The sweet smell of the grass, the music created by the wind-blown sugar cane leaves, the chirping of birds, the barking of dogs, the sight of endless greens, the presence of my family, all these brought back sweet memories of my childhood years. Indeed, there is no place like home.

Not only the whole family got excited as December 25 was nearing but also the two warring groups of kids from the nearby communities. One group is composed of sons and grandsons of sugar workers who had been working with our family dating back to the time of my great grand mother who started it all. They live in the place they call “minuro” or a small village. The other group is composed of the children living along the road, most of them are off-springs of migrant sugar workers from the neighbouring towns and provinces. They live in “pucatod” or a community in the higher grounds. These groups only get along well every Christmas and New Year during the annual fiesta I organize for them in our courtyard.

The kids already new that four jumbo boxes containing chocolates, candies, clothes and toys from UK arrived as early as November. News spread quickly that lots of surprises were in store for them. Then the day came. I myself was surprised! Big Bro wore a Santa suit through out the program. I laughed at the sight of a young Santa Claus!

When we were kids, brother and I were Santa believers. One December, he gave me Santa’s address. We mailed by post our letters containing our Christmas wishes. I asked for a toy train. It didn’t arrive.

New Year came. We led the lighting of fire crackers and fireworks with farm kids in the middle of the newly harvested and cleared sugar field. Everybody was happy! Laughters, claps and cheers echoed in the air as we welcomed 2008. It was a wonderful moment for me. This time there was a duo giving children and neighbours a holiday treat just like the old days, my brother and me.
(With part 3 of 3 parts)