BABANCAL, ZAMBALES

Remembering Him...

My grandfather, Mauricio Echon was once mayor of Candelaria in around the 60's. He and many other Echons were active in politics. Even today some of his grandchildren are said to have the Politician in their blood, running for school ASB positions and the latter. The first time I had visited the Philippines was in August of 1996. I had recently graduated from high school and my Grandmother, Felomina Echon had past away a few months back. Pilgrimaging to my roots was a everything new to me. I had never been to another country, let alone the birthplace of my parents before.

Upon arrival, I ultimately realized one thing. That is that this is my country, and these were my people. Images of my father when he was a young bachelor walking the boardwalk of Manila Bay ran through my imagination while signs of American influence and modern times danced past. Everything was new and surprising. Every person or thing I encountered excited me.

One of our very own cousins, the son of my Aunt Helen, Kuya Eric was having a wedding with a young woman by the name of Marie in San Marcelina. That week in order to attend the wedding we took a long bus ride to the province and farther into it to the town of Babancal. It was pitch black when we arrived, and the bus left us on the side of the road. Our Aunts told us of gangs and bandits that lurked in the dark. Yet, what scared us most were the so-called huge bats.

With heavy luggage on one shoulder, we creeped through the dark with the guidance of my Auntie Jing. She had helped us during our stay in Novaliches. Just along the way we came to a clearing of trees and dirt and a few meters away was a little house made of cement and natural materials. It was so dark we grew restless seeking for light. Then my Aunt Pin had pointed out that we were standing in their very first house. Of course at that time, it was just dirt and trees, but with a few swings of a flashlight we got a hold of, were the remains of a old cement foundation. She had told us that the termites had gotten into it a long time ago and ruined the whole complex.

Later that night, we found food and shelter in one of our relative's houses', the Edquilang's. They were considered wealthy. A nice spanish style home, there were two baths with showers and surrounding the home was a farm and mountains. The view was spectacular. As with many part of the journey, these moments had struck me to be amazing. At this time I was becoming to know my family, and most of all my Grandfather with the admiration of the landscapes terrain.

My grandfather has come to the U.S. when I was quite young. He at that time was known only to me as my Lolo. At that age, I was quite naive, and any knowledge of my Grandfather's past was nonexistent to me. I knew him as the man who loved us and cared for us, the one who made us orange soup and grew peas in the back yard. He made us a tree house, and he told us many stories. Despite his short temper, I found him to be very generous and concerned about our futures.

After he had died in 1992, I didn't begin to realize the other side of Mauricio Echon. I had already knew of his political running back in the Philippines, but didn't know it glory until I came to the province. Just travelling about the Candelaria with my Aunts had shot me with a lot of emotion. Every where I looked, I felt like he had shaped this town one way or the other. His family name engraved in many architectures around the town. I felt a respect for him I never did before and realized how important he was to the people of this town.

Those feelings made me very proud of him, and my family. These memories, among others will always stay with me and the values he had taught us also. I'm not sure when I'll be back their again, but I hope soon.