Published February 14, 2001

"God can't always be everywhere: and so, he invented mothers." - Sir Edwin Arnold

This being Valentine's Day, we take leave of the usual topics to share, in part, the stories of love so generously bestowed by six Cordillera mothers. Countless similar accounts can be found throughout time and all over the world, but these have a nicer familiar ring because they just happen to be close to home, not only in the physical sense but also because they have that feel of personal intimacy. (The full article will appear in two Sun Star Weekend editions.)

Being the son of a Bontoc woman myself, I know how special the embrace mothers of these sky-lands give their children. Similar claims will and can be made by sons and daughters elsewhere, but for sheer familiarity, I must claim that the bosom of the Cordillera mom is unique.

But, let's leave the schmaltz and get on with two of our featured mothers:

Dalen (baptized Magdalene in the Anglican Church) was born in a mining community, some three hundred kilometers from her parents' original ili. As a child, she had a weak heart and lung problems. Her family decided she would be a teacher and avoid the m ore strenuous activities of an active social life.

At age 21, Dalen returned to her village to teach in the parochial elementary school. The old ways were a shock to her at first and she could not imagine staying on for years. But, fate has a strange way of intervening and she married the town kandangyan (landed gentry, social arbiters), landed and hardworking but unschooled. A son was born. She clung tenaciously to the teachings of the church, finding solace in the predictability of the school year and the clarity of her Christian faith.

At the same time, having married into the landed class she was expected to lead in the indigenous rites and rituals. (Later, her husband was baptized as a Christian.) Being both kadangyan and educated brought prestige and privilege and, without guile, she bridged the gap between the two men in her life - her husband, a traditional farmer, and her son, a mining engineer.

Year after year, Dalen put her frail self through the test of teaching the children of her kith and kin, cajoled them to finish their studies, presided over countless medal-awarding ceremonies, served as unofficial village hostess, secretary to all village assemblies, informant and translator, guidance councilor and village "auntie." She earned her master's degree in community affairs and finished her doctorate in applied psychology. In her sixty-eighth year, this year, Dalen died of tuberculosis, beloved of her men folk and neighbors and adored by her pupils.

Bugan has no other name. She is sixty-five, married with two children, eight grandchildren and one great-grandchild. The village will refer anything and everything to her. She is the barangay councilor but is called kapitana (captain), an indefatigable busybody, sanitary inspector, truant officer, conflict arbiter, change agent, generous host, fearsome bully, communications expert, and a benevolent despot. Nothing escapes her notice, or participation.

And it all began with the simple realization that her mother died only because there was no help from anyone. That made Bugan angry at the insensitivity of government authorities, the hypocrisy of the local elite, the remoteness of basic social services, the helplessness of the people of the ili. And she made certain that everyone would know how she felt. She badgered the local council, organized the young, the old, the not-so-young/not-so-old in all kinds of associations. She asked questions and was never satisfied with uncommitted answers. She joined all kinds of meetings, training courses and study tours. It did not matter that she could neither speak English nor Filipino. She threw herself into the affairs of the traditional ili, learning and re-learning its ways.

In the course of events, she married the village mumbaki (priest or religious leader), raised their children, sent them to school and helped them find jobs.

Bugan's disillusionment with the local leadership led her, after much confusion, to seek and win public office in 1995. Her inimitable accent, her unabashed curiosity, her desire to learn and unconditional service to her barangay have made her the quintessential Kapitana who simply talks but effectively delivers.

In 1998, her outstanding service was honored by the Department of Interior and Local Government in the Cordillera Administrative Region. She showed up in full native regalia and delivered a short and thoughtful appreciation for the support of her constituents.