Weygan-Allan: Undru Ab Abiik–Uno

I WRITE today as a tribute to my brother, Andrew; we are eight in the family and he is the first to go back to the Creator and meet Mom and Dad in the great beyond.

Andrew was born when I was six years old, he was the “paspasurot” of my mom, on her back, on her lap, always with mom. But dad saw something special in him as a toddler. We had picnics in Burnham Park because dad thinks Abe (that’s what we call him) needs to go and ruin the greens. It turns out to be a family race, where dad will space us, Andrew in front followed by older siblings. Dad will be a goal and give a signal and we run as fast as we can. Sometimes Andrew will go around in a circle and when he sees he is along he goes to Mom, who is sitting beside our picnic baskets cuddling baby Marlene. We enjoyed running in the green grass of Melvin Jones.

He was easy to stop when he cries as a pre-schooler. We give a stick and a can, which he beats like a drummer boy or a gong player. He prefers to be bared down after using his shirt. So many times, he will be running around beating his can half-naked.

A vivid memory in Easter School graduation, me in Elementary and he as a kindergarten. We both had medals that Mom had to pin, he was brilliant at a young age, as medals were not that easy to acquire during those times. Then when Special Education (Sped) started in the Department of Education, he was one of the first to attend. At that time, Sped was for mentally advanced brilliant pupils.

He was sent to the Philippine Science High School, where he rubbed elbows with the rest of the best Philippine youth. Unfortunately, he did not find it to his liking as a 12-year-old left to his own in a place where no family was with him. So, after two years, he was sent back to Baguio at the University of Baguio Science High and later to prep high. He said his teachers cannot teach him something new.

He had a colorful wild adolescent life. Wilder than most of us who think our times of youth was the celebration of our invincibility. He had much to say, much in his head, wants to defy authority, drinks, and not afraid to join a riot for a cause or just for the thought of doing it.

We were already in martial law days and if the young of today think that Martial Law is a great idea, I assure you it is not. Andrew values freedom and says Martial Law is hell on earth. I remember an incident when the police called up my dad because Andrew was caught peeing on the police car. At one time, he went to dad’s office, stand by at the door along Session Road and the police suddenly accosted and slammed him on the door and nearly beat him, but he was quick to recover from the shock and told them he was waiting for his father Galo Weygan, who had an office upstairs.

One time, he got involved in a gang war in Shoppers Lane, beaten and bleeding; my sister Marlene saw him and got the market boys to the rescue. He did not go home but took a jeep to Aurora Hill and stayed with our cousins and in the woods of Busol watershed until his wounds healed. The wildness of a free spirit, communing with nature in the mountains or beating the stench of concrete jungles.

He reads a lot; writes a lot and discourses a lot. In college, his bedroom and mine were divided by a wall. And in those times, we would be discussing what we were reading or writing about. And we would pass papers and books through the window... “kitam kadi daytoy,” it was a mental exercise that fed both our minds.

But now, he bid us goodbye. He willed it. As early as October 2017, he made a slide, “it has been an amazing journey, a life-wide and deep, and perhaps short. I am not my own creation. I feel the blood of my ancestors racing through my clogged arteries and their stories and collective memory roaming deep in my impaired memory, waiting for a retelling to my grandchildren.”

He had a stroke then and last year, he was bedridden. During my last visit to him last month, he was already saying goodbye, but I just ignored it.

So, my dearest brother – so long Undru Ab Abiik.

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