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Saturday, November 05, 2005
Crossing over to Camiguin
By Chic Reyes Nery
SINCE the eruption of Mt. Hibok-hibok in 1951, I have made the crossing over the channel to Camiguin countless times. Shortly before my father's death in 1960, we made the late afternoon crossing aboard a large pumpboat, which sprayed all of us with the splashing sea water, adding to the pounding of our hearts as we thought ahead about our father's condition.
My father, Papa Titing, had felt unwell soon after he accompanied me on a second piano recital I had with Vicky Paz Gamido, in October 1959. So, he went home to Mambajao, to live in the house behind my grandfather's, where my brother, Dr. Roberto "Bob" Nery, could visit him as often as he could. Bob was then the director in charge of the Camiguin Emergency Hospital, then situated in a building facing the parish church's side, and on whose left side was the balay sa kokok he lived in with his family.
Bob had began to worry when he found out that our father had mixed up the medicines he had been left with, resulting in an overdose of Digitalis, a highly potent medicine for the heart.
No wonder Papa Titing had started complaining about his "white tongue."
Suddenly, he started slapping his left upper cheek softly, and then fell into a coma. Bob immediately concluded he had had a coronary thrombosis, and sent my mother a telegram.
Having done the dangerous crossover, my mother was now face to face with Bob, who told her the truth. A look at my father showed him lying prostrate in bed, and breathing loudly through a noisy machine.
My mother began bawling and bawling, until Bob had to give her a sedative.
When we had our picture taken after Papa Titing's funeral, we were all dressed in black, with doleful faces. Mama Chata swore she would never be seen in black again.
The crossings over the channel, before and after that, were different. Many times, particularly in the summer, even the smallest launch we rode on would be followed by sharks. These would be seen in the wake of the launch's waters, as though warning us of their presence. The flying fish would be everywhere.
But, whenever we noticed that the sharks were not around, we would keep our eyes peeled toward the launch's sides, getting ready to shout a happy "Haaayy!" greeting to a friendly dolphin that would suddenly jump above the water to give us its own greeting. This made the passengers smile, even laugh, and their moods lifted. Dolphins are so friendly and communicable that, if you could, you would want to hug them.
Perhaps their friendliness with people is what makes sharks steer away whenever they're around. (To be continued)
(November 5, 2005 issue)
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