Pacifico Calimbas

My father was a very quiet man. He is very intelligent and spends his leisure time reading math books and solving algebraic problems. He had a high forehead with sunken eyes which only Fred from his children inherited. He had a mole on his right eyebrow and I inherited that. His features are more like Spanish rather than Filipino. His complexion is fair, black hair and a non-Filipino nose. He is about 5’8” like Fred and I am taller at 5’10”. He likes to wear boxer shorts around the house. When people come knocking at our door, he would scurry up the stairs. If Ma Nelly hollers at him to come down, he would be coming down wearing pants.

We Called Him Pa
My father’s full name was Pacifico del Rosario Calimbas. He was fourth from a family of seven. His father was Donato Calimbas and mother was Emilia del Rosario. I never saw Donato but Lola Emilia was still alive when I was growing up. We used to visit her in Mandaluyong where she lived. She was a kind old woman, fair skin, frail and skinny and has a lazy right eye. She is always kind to me and I remember her smiling at me whenever we went to her house. Donato died during WWII when the folks in Orion, Bataan evacuated to the mountains to escape the Japanese. Being old, Donato could not weather the hardship in the mountain. He probably died of typhoid. The other siblings were Federico, Agrifina, Lope, my father, Banoy, Iking, and Carding. Federico died very young in his twenties. Tiyang Agre had a large family. Notable here is Ate Linda who is well-do-to in Orion and Balanga, Bataan. Tiyong Lope used to visit us in Hermosa from time to time. At first I would mistook him for my father because they look alike. Tiyong Banoy is well to do. We used to visit him at his house on Christmas or Christmas day. Tiyang Santa is his wife. Carmelita, Ray, Beth and Armando are his children. I stay in touch with Carmelita in Facebook,  email Beth who lives in California. Armando is hard to find and always away somewhere. Ray is the closest to me and I visited him last time I went to the Philippines. He has a nice house in Quezon City. Tiyong Iking entered the Philippine Military Academy and was on his way to a career. But he got sick, became violent and at that time the only cure is lobotomy. He had this and he was not the same again. Tiyong Carding the youngest never work in his life and was a vagabond.

Father Works in Bureau of Public Highways

My father works six days a week, half-day during Saturday. He worked at the Bureau of Public Highways which is across the Sta. Cruz bridge but beyond that I don’t know where it is. He once took me to work and I saw that he has a desk and on the side is a drawing board. There were rows of engineers working there. They have a hepe or chief. He takes a jeepney going to and from work. Getting on a jeepney is not an easy task. There are so many people wanting to get on one and a jeepney can only take 12 passengers.  He always come how with the afternoon newspaper and he always initialed it with a “P” which is his initials. He also taught at Feati University an engineering school in the evening. Since my father is so quiet I wonder how loud he talks in class.

In those days they do not have computers or calculators. They used slide rule for general calculations and logarithmic tables for accurate calculations say to the fifth decimal point. I have seen a drawing of a bridge where loading figures were made for every foot up to four decimal places. It must be the Del Pan bridge that their group designed.

I saw a technical magazine put out by the bureau. My father has an article in it. The title of his article was something like A Stress Analysis of the Door Hinge. It was full of equations and technical discussions which I can not understand. But this is what my father is fond of doing.

 

The engineers working for the Bureaw of Public Highways in Manila. My father is in the red circle.

When my father came home I would come up to him when he is changing with my hand stretch and palm up. This means I am asking for some money. He would tell me to go get ten centavos from his pants which are hanging by the closet. I would dip my hand in there feeling that there are plenty of coins but I only take ten centavos. I later learned that he gets one peso as a daily allowance. Since he only spends this on jeepney drives since he brings a brown bag to work, one peso is sufficient.

Backyard Work

He had a shed built in the backyard right after we moved to Hermosa. The only thing I remember in the shed is there is always a bag of charcoal or uling. And this is always use when cooking is done outside. The shed is made up of black tarpet. So it’s waterproof but easily tears. It did not last very long. My father did not work in the backyard very often. When he does I tag along. He would gather all of the loose wood and pile them behind the house. That is just about it.

I like doing something in the backyard. So I asked my mother to have a chicken house built. And so it was. There were individual spaces for four chickens. I grew chicken. One of the chickens laid eggs and had chicks. They disappeared one by one. Probably due to rats. I also had ducks which did not last very long. Rats again. We had two cats. Both disappeared. Some people in the neighborhood eat cats and dogs.

I planted a bunch of banana trees in the backyard. The saba variety grows very tall. When a typhoon hits Manila, some of those banana trees fall down. I have to hack them into small pieces so I can haul them away to the garbage dump. I did a lot of things in the backyard. I cooked in there. One Sunday I told the family that I will cook lunch. And I did. I barbecue a chicken in the backyard. I planted kamoting kahoy which I dig up to boil and eat.

Killing Ants I Got Spank
We recenly moved to Hermosa and ants built a nest on top of one of the fence post by the backdoor. These ants are big black ants and the nest is about 2 feet long made of chewed up leaves. One nice morning Pa decided to get rid of the ants. I tagged along of course. He got a chair and some newspaper. He rolled the newspaper and lighted one end. And proceeded to burn the ant's nest. Of course all the big black ants came out pissed off looking for the intruder who is my father standing on the chair. I saw several ants coming up the chair. I ran to the kitchen and got a long sharp knife. I saw this ant running up my father's leg. I got to kill this ant. I stab the ant with my knife. My father yelled and got off the chair. And he gave me a great whack on the butt. I don't understand why he got mad at me. I was just trying to help. When he stood up again, I saw a small cut where I stabbed and a little blood.

Pa's Pistol

I was fascinated with his pistol. It is a semi-automatic pistol probably 9mm. He was cleaning it one day and I asked if I can play with it. Pa removed the magazine and gave me the pistol to play. I ran around the house shooting everything. It felt heavy in my small hands. Then he took it away from me. He said I should never play with it again. He put it in its box and put it away in their bedroom cabinet.

Watching Billiards
My father walks from house to Avenida Rizal where he took the jeepney. It's about half a mile long. He walked with a straight head and never look around him. I would be approaching him and he never sees me until I am right next to him and would tugged at his pants. Then he would noticed me.

One day I saw him stop by the billiard pool place at the corner of Limay and Hermosa. There must be a big game going on because there were several people milling around watching the game including Pa. I stood next to him. He was talking to somebody next to him. He said something that billiards is a difficult game to master because the slightest deviation makes a lot of difference. Little does he know that I have been playing billiards around and know the game quite well.

Pingpong
Pa bought a pingpong (table tennis) table. It was made of a 4 x 8 plywood and two wooden stands. We also have wood paddles with sandpaper for surface. I became proficient in playing pingpong. The board is quite heavy and it is stored in the back of the house. It's always an ordeal to bring it to the front and back afterwards.

Many people came by to play. Once in a while we would have a good match from pretty good players. The front of the house is paved with concrete and there is plenty of room to play pingpong.

After a while new pingpong paddles were introduced. These were made with rubber surfaces instead of sandpaper. The grips changed too. We can not afford the new paddles. I still enjoy playing with the neighborhood guys though.

Ma Nelly’s Stories

My mother told me some stories about them before WWII. Pikong as he is called went to Mapua Institute of Technology the same engineering college school I went to. He graduated with a bachelor’s degree in civil engineering. My mother told me that Pikong expected to get the highest honor in the class but he did not. He took this seriously and was upset that he did not get the honor. He became depressed for a while but was able to get over it by going to church according to my mother. He also took the Civil Service exam and got the highest grade in the country. He then went back to Bataan and started working with the Bureau of Highways designing and constructing roads. He had this job during the war. I was told they conducted blackout patrol where all lights must be out because of Japanese bombing. My mother finished her schooling in Manila also and finished with an educational degree. They probably met in Dinalupihan, Bataan where my mother and her family lived. The war created havoc and destruction and people moved about. When they were married they settled in Manila where my father was working in the same place, the Bureau of Highways and my mother was teaching at Albert Elementary School in Sampaloc.

Pikong Had Tapeworm

I was told that my father when he was young had tapeworm. In the Philippines at that time, this is not uncommon. And that they gave him some medicine and the tapeworm came out. And that it was quite long in length. My father had peptic ulcer. Not until recently that it was discovered that peptic ulcer is caused by a bacteria called pylori and it can be cured by antibiotics. It’s too bad that medicine technology did not catch up with him. He probably got peptic ulcer from a combination of being infected with pylori and stress. My mother said Pikong got ulcer from not eating regularly when studying.

Boy Paguio’s Father Worked With Pikong

A friend in Houston named Boy Paguio also hailed from Orion, Bataan. His father and Pikong worked at the Bureau of Highways before the war. His father came to the US and I had the chance to talk to him. He said they worked on the roads and bridges of Bataan. And that my father is the engineering supervisor. Pikong worked hard and he just wants to finish a little bit more before taking a break. And that one time Pikong wanted to buy pants called patadyong which is a traditional pant worn at the period of time. He was going to wear the pants to court Nelly from Dinalupihan.

Working 9 to 5 Monday to Friday and half a day on Saturday made him quite scarce at home. When we moved to Hermosa in Manuguit, I started remembering some bits and pieces about him. He liked to read technical books at home on his off days. He also pattered in the backyard cleaning small stuff here and there. He had a storage shed build in the back. The small shed covered with a black felt contained various stuff. All I can remember it that it contain a sack of charcoal which we use very seldom to cook something.

I Got Bitten by an Ant

One Saturday afternoon an ant bit me in my genital area, precisely in my scrotum. It was painful and got sore. I was crying a bit and I went to my father. Without any word he took a bottle of Vaseline, asked me to pull down my pants and applied the ointment. To this day I use Vaseline for any kinds of bites, inflammation, etc. Nicki always kid me about this.

Ma Nelly and Pa Spanks Me
Ma Nelly spanks me. My father rarely spanks me. But when he does it is just one hit and it's very painful. So "Whack" there you go. No word, no admonition. Just a simple whack with the open hand and I am done. I would hurrily scurry away before I get hit again but there was only one whack.

My mother has a ritual whenever a spanking occurs. She would tell me to get prepare because I will get spank. Then she would ask me to lay facedown. She would then give me a lecture on why I am to be spank and that whatever I did to not do it again. Then its followed by a whack. Her favorite tool is that duster made of rattan and feathers. She used the end of the rattan which really stings. One day I was told that I will be spank. So I put a lot of newspaper under my pants behind my butt. It did not work. When she hits me, the newspaper made a noise and she told me to take it off.

I remember the very last spanking I got from Ma Nelly. She hurriedly grab the duster and came to me and started whacking me hard. The problem is it was not me who did the deed which I don't remember anymore. I just stood there staring at her while she keep on hitting me with the rattan rod. I did not cry, I did not whimper, I did not move. I just stared at her. She stopped hitting me and saw that I was staring at her. She never spank me again after that.

The only family picture we had. This was taken in the early '50s. Ma Nelly dressed everybody nice. Fred and I got the same Red Ryder t-shirt which is brand new. Noticed we don't have socks on. It must be a Sunday because Ma and Pa are busy on Saturdays. We rode a jeepney and I don't remember any crowd on the street. The studio was along Avenida Rizal close by Scala and Opera House Theater. Left to right is Wilfredo, Cynthia, Thelma and Leopoldo. Ma Nelly and Pa is behind.

My Father and the Bernoulli Principle

My father seldom talks to me but one Sunday morning he did. He was making something and beckons me to come over. He had a piece of string and two ping pong balls. He made holes in the balls and pass the thread thru. Then he held the string on both ends with the two balls about 4 inches apart. He then started to blow into the middle of the two balls. And the two balls came together. He was trying to explain to me the principle behind it. But I just couldn’t comprehend what he was talking about. Later when I was in college I remember this. It was the Bernoulli Principle. By blowing between the balls, air passes thru faster in the middle creating a slight low pressure in the middle pulling the balls together. The Bernoulli Principle is one of the important theorems in chemical engineering governing the laws of fluid flow dynamics. I have a degree in chemical engineering.

Once we were playing in front of the house and my father brought out his sextant. This is a device that sits on a tripod that is use by surveyors. He was explaining to me that the device is so sensitive that it can measure the curvature of the earth. I pretend to be impressed but I really did not understand what it is all about.

Fire in Manuguit
One morning there was a commotion. There is a big fire. I can see the orange flames shoot up the sky. It looks like it is so close to us. Everybody is in panic. We need to get the most vital possesion we got and get out of there. Somebody laid down a blanket and stuff is being put in there. Everyone grab something. Thelma was crying. She would ran out to the front, see the flame, hollered and ran back inside the house. Pa got exasperated and whack her in the butt to shut her up which she did. But the firemen came and the fire slowly subsided. After an hour Pa and I walk to where the fire was. It was about 4 blocks away by the end of Limay close to where Mr. Onkingko's house is. Mr. O is an office mate of Pa at the Bureau of Highways. We went up Mr. O's house on the second floor and in the back we can see the smoldering roof of the burnt building.

So we started putting away all the stuff that we hurriedly wrap and brought down. Everyone was laughing because my father for his most valuable possesion has brought downstairs a shoebox. In this box were items like used razor blades, shoe polish, rags, etc. which are a bunch of junk. We were very unprepared for such emergency.

Fred and Pol’s Circumcision

At age nine, my father decided that it was time for Fred and me to have circumcision. The street urchins had told me numerous stories about theirs. The most common is that you go to this guy who will do it for you for one peso. The guy uses a branch of the guava tree whose size is close to your penis. He then smoothes one end of the branch. Next he gets hold of your penis and position the end of the branch in front of its tip. He then pulls the foreskin into the branch. Using a razor, he quickly cuts the skin through. All this time he is chewing on some medicinal leaves. He then spits whatever he is chewing into the wound. And you are all done.

Anyway ours is to be done at San Lazaro Hospital. Our neighbor Mrs. Onkingko works in that particular department. The procedure is free. All my parents did was donate something so my father donated some cottons. On the day there were a dozen kids waiting in line. There were about 4 beds where the half-hour procedure is done. Dr. Supulveda does the circumcision. He is a no-nonsense doctor working efficiently. I noticed that on his shelf are rows and rows of large jars. Looking closely those jars are filled up foreskin that the doctor must have gotten all through the years. The kids lined up were not wearing pants just shirts. So I have to take off my pants and so does Fred. There is one person in there who is much older than the rest of us. The story is that this guy is going to get married and his bride will not marry him unless he is circumcised. I do not remember if he has his pants on or not.

Anyway when my turn came up, I have to climb the bed. They have this bell shaped contraption that they position over the penis. It is very similar in functionality as the simple guava branch that my friends had theirs and it only cost a peso. Anyway they cut the foreskin with an electric driven knife. The smell of burning skin pervades the air. Then the nurse, Mrs. Onkingko sutured the wound. And I was free to go home. Back at home, I took the pill they gave me to ease the pain. It did not work so I was tossing and turning for an hour or two.

For the next couple of weeks I have to dress the wound. I would take hot water into the toilet, dip my penis into it and put in sulfanilamide to prevent infection. Penicillin is not available yet. After a week or so, I went back to San Lazaro, they removed the suture. And I was good as new.

Asking My Father for a Portrait
One day I asked my father to get me a portrait photo because for some reason I wanted to have one. After much asking he finally relented. He took me with him to work. I must be the only one in the family to see his place of work. He had a desk and behind the desk is a drawing table where he did the bridge design. On the drawing table are a drawing board and a sliding ruler. They don’t have computer aided design back then and everything is done by hand. Even civil engineering stress calculation is done by hand. I saw a design of the Del Pan bridge. The bridge was laid out on graphical paper and for every foot, there are stress and loading data. It must be calculated using slide rule and logarithmic table for more accuracy. Anyway, I was wearing my new t-shirt that morning for the photo portrait. My father asked to be excuse and we went out and took a jeepney to Sta. Cruz plaza. I was hoping that we will be going to a portrait studio. However, my father saw this guy on the street with a camera and he called over to him. You see on those days there are people making a living by taking your photo as you walk. If you want to get your photo, you pay for it at the photo store where the guy works. And this is what happened. I did make a couple of poses. After a few days I got the photo. I was so disappointed but I did not complain.



Portrait taken for the FEATI Yearbook where he taught engineering

Pa's Daily Routine
He would wake up and sit on the bed for a while. Perhaps five minutes. Then he would stand up and go downstairs. He goes out to the back where we have a big concrete sink. He has a wash basin and he shave there and then wash his face. My father grows beard and by the evening he would have a 4'oclock shadow. In contrast I can not grow a beard but just a little stubble after a week or so. After washing his face he goes upstair to put on his clothes. Down again by the foot of the stairs where we have the shoes cabinet and he put on his shoes. My mother would have a brown bag for him. I have never seen what is inside the brown bag but it must be just a sandwich. Nothing elaborate like a pumbrera (Filipino lunch box). And no drinks.

When he comes home from work in the early evening, he would take off his shoes and go upstairs to take off his street clothes. This is were I ambushed him and ask for ten centavos. Then he would go downstairs with his carsunsilyo (boxer shorts) and read the newspaper which he brought with him. I don't remember many evenings where he join us for supper though. But on Sunday we are all present for lunch including Ma and Pa.

 

Pa Got Sick

When my father comes home, he would drink a glass of milk and sit in the living room for a while. He had one leg up on his chair and he would be massaging his stomach. I did not realize it that time but he must be having some pain. He never eats the regular food that we eat. My mother will cook something like soup or super boiled chicken to make it very soft.

He was at the UP hospital one time for gall bladder operation. It was successful and he returns to normal work. One night they took him home in a taxi. He apparently passed out while conducting a class. His ulcer is bleeding. He is always besieged by a bleeding ulcer making his stools black.

Finally one day he decided that he will have an operation to remove the bleeding portion of his peptic ulcer. He prepared for this for months. I saw him doing sit ups in the living room everyday to condition his body for the surgery. The elective surgery will be around August of 1956.

Pa Passed Away

It seems a long time ago. On a Friday night we received a phone call from the hospital. Our father was operated on his peptic ulcer. The operation was done the previous Sunday by Dr. Diaz who was the chief surgeon at the North General Hospital. On that Sunday after the surgery I remember my Uncle Ser holding a glass jar. He said it contained part of my father’s stomach which was taken out. He has to go to the pharmacy to buy alcohol to preserve it. (I still remember keeping that glass jar in the kitchen cabinet tucked in the corner somewhere. From time to time I would take it out and look at it. At first it was pinkish with long hairs but after a while it because grayish.)

The phone call made through a distant relative because we did not have a phone sounded serious. My mother has been staying at the hospital since Sunday for a week now and she came home once. At first it was hot so somebody provided a fan. Towards the end of the week rain came and the weather got cooler. I can feel that something is not going right since my mother stayed in the hospital all the time. I saw a group of doctors headed by Dr. Diaz visit my father.

On Friday afternoon all of us went to the hospital. There were a bunch of people there. Pa developed a high fever due to lung infection. He was just laying in there without moving with eyes close. When I kiss my father’s cheek I felt that his face is very hot. He was barely conscious.

My father has been besieged with ulcer problems since he was in college. The story is that he skipped eating and was concentrated in studying and that is the reason he developed ulcer.

On that Friday night after we got the phone call from the hospital that we should get there right away, my older brother Fred and I put on our shoes and we took a jeepney to go to North General Hospital. We both knew it was serious. I recited the Our Father prayer one after the other hoping that if I say it many times my father will be okay. We did not say a word to each other (we rarely talk anyway) and the jeepney stopped at our destination. We walk into the rows of quonset huts that were remodeled as hospital wards and came to our father’s. There were about a dozen patients in there. My father is at the very end of the row to the right near the window. I noticed a white curtain around his bed so I can not see him. I have not realized what this curtain means. As I walk nearer, I can hear my Uncle Ser sobbing. I was in front of my father’s bed. He was ashen, immobile with his prominent 4’oclock shadow. My Uncle Ser is besides him stroking his forehead and sobbing. I knew that Papa is dead. My mother was there crying too. There was a priest. Tiyang Ila and Tiyong Lope were there and other people I don’t remember. I automatically started to cry too and so did Fred. The priest made a shhh sound to us as if telling us to stop crying. What is the matter with this priest? Can’t he see our father is dead and we are in anguish? If I were old enough I would tell him to shut up. My mother said that my father’s last word is “Lord please don’t let me die. My children are still very young”.

Pa was not a religious man but in the moment of death he was thinking of the welfare of his family without him. Pa we all turned out okay after all. Fred got sick but that is after he had a family and four kids.

It seems unreal to be talking about funeral arrangements, La Loma cementary, etc. But we did that night. My father was taken to La Paz Funeral Parlor in Ascarraga. There were so many people who came by to pay their respect. The place was full of flowers. Pa was wearing a Barong Tagalog. He looked so young which he is. He was only 45 years old that day in August 1956. And I was 11 years old.