The umbrella was
a luxury when it rained in the islands. Most of the time when we hiked
the barrios, we just cut banana leaves. Held over our heads, it would
conveniently shelter us from the downpour. Most of the time though,
we just ran among the greenfields and enjoyed the splash. It was a
time to get wet and wild!
I swore after college I would get two things on my first job: a typewriter
and an umbrella. I got a used portable typewriter after my first month's
pay; the umbrella came six months later - in January on the Santo
Niño's feast in Romblon town.
The Candidate for president and his lovely wife came to crown the
fiesta queen in the town plaza. I had read and admired the Candidate
and his lovely wife so their coming to grace the coronation was indeed
very special. Golly, I've never seen so beautiful a politician's wife
that night! Her rendition of "Dahil Sa Iyo" mooned
me in my thoughts. But when it was the candidate 's turn to speak,
I swore I could hear a pin drop!
Ah, but suddenly there was a sudden downpour. The queen's entourage
sought cover. The candidate eyed me from his podium - me the little
guy with an umbrella! The Candidate edged beside me - me holding my
umbrella over him. The Candidate extemporaneously finished his coronation
speech and the people stayed on with the pouring rain - thanks to
my umbrella.
That year, the Candidate won the presidency. I felt good about it.
Years passed, there was martial law. There was turmoil, there were
fear and anguish in the islands.
I hate umbrellas.
