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Monday, July 03, 2006
Recognized as born, at last
By Leticia Suarez-Orendain
JULY is full of events wrapped around Independence Day: in the United States (July 4), Venezuela (July 5), Argentina (July 9), and Peru (July 28).
There are also month-long events, like Cell Phone Courtesy Month, National Hot Dog Month (the United States), Anti-Boredom Month, National Culinary Arts Month, National Picnic Month, and in the Philippines, Nutrition Month.
How’s that for dates to write in your little black book to keep you busy fulfilling appointments? I recently had my series of appointments and disappointments, too.
I had to get a copy of my Authenticated Birth Certificate (ABC), a task that I thought would be as simple as writing A-B-C. As it turned out, it was a task that required much legwork, follow-up and the patience of Job.
After three days from the date of application, I received a shocking Negative Certification of Birth (NCB), which is even more complicated than the simple A-B-C. The National Statistics Office (NSO), yet another acronym every Filipino citizen should memorize, told me, in essence, that I had never been born because I was not in its list of live births.
I mean, that’s what an NCB seems to say. “You were never born, kid, as far as the government is concerned.” Sure, I have been paying my taxes and the government has accepted these tokens but, no, no, you were never born. Check out the NCB, kid.
That really made me check my beautiful face (according to my father, may his soul rest in peace) in the mirror to make sure I wasn’t a ghost, a bad scenario because it meant I was a displaced soul; or an angel, a better case but an impossible one because I have my naughty side.
I did have a real angel; Ann, a friend 23 years in the running, who helped me make sense out of my being in the “unborn category” and who calmed me better than a tranquilizer would when I freaked out about the difficulty in getting an identity.
For more than half a century I have been eating, sleeping, laughing, and doing whatever things living people do, but I was in the unborn category.
Not only now do you know just how old I am, now you also know that I had to prove I was born. Pronto, I sought succor from the City Health Office—to please dig up my old files.
It was glorious to see my name and learn I was really born on Nov. 1 at 11:20 p.m. Born near the witching hour, at the “witchiest” time of the year, huh. No wonder there’s a little witch in me at times.
However, it wasn’t as simple as leafing through old files and you could go on with life. It wasn’t the final say, unfortunately. I had to endorse the fact of my birth to the NSO.
I could only ask myself, “What in the world was my little date of birth doing at the health office all these years?”
This is not to find fault in any of these offices I have mentioned. I am just wondering and my twisted mind sees the funny side of it because no one wants to own up to the mishap.
Since it’s neither Tom nor Dick, blame can fall on Flaviano and Araceli, my parents, even if they are no longer here to defend themselves. They should have informed the NSO about my birth.
I do understand why they didn’t do this. It was at a time when legal documents were not that appreciated and considered as important in terms of future investments. So, errors in name spelling and date of birth, for example, were not viewed as that critical.
It’s not easy keeping records and all. I know. I have been a secretary, a clerk, a typist and a researcher. I know what I am talking about. And my point in telling you about my disappointment is not to point a finger at anyone. I simply want future generations to avoid what I had to go through.
After filling up and filing certain information sheets, and some waiting, my ABC finally arrived three weeks later.
I am now officially born, Cebu City. I exist. The joy at knowing I now really count makes me forget the pain of my birth.
Now I am excited as I keep marking the days gone by, little scores on my mental wall, waiting for my Authenticated Marriage Certificate (AMC) to arrive. It was filed at the same time as my ABC and mysteriously it is long in coming.
This is a poetic way of saying that first a person must be born; then, as funny as it sounds, he or she can dare go to school, make lifetime friends, develop a career, fall in love, and perhaps marry.
For Bisaya stories from Cebu. Click here. (July 3, 2006 issue)
Write letter to the editor.Click here.
Join the Sun.Star message board.Click here.
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