Peace Corps volunteer Karl Nelson had come all the way from Utah, U.S.A. to teach English at the Ilihan Elementary School in the northern town of Tabogon
Echaves: The Bisdak within
By LELANI P. ECHAVES
She almost fell off her chair.
Guesting on Mom’s Radio 88.3 FM last Saturday, Luz Ornupia recalled she was making her lesson plan when she overheard this American propose marriage through her father. Surprise! Surprise! Because she and the American weren’t even going steady.
But Peace Corps volunteer Karl Nelson had come all the way from Utah, U.S.A. to teach English at the Ilihan Elementary School in the northern town of Tabogon. Karl had read up and studied Filipino culture, learning that men first obtained the parents’ permission before proposing marriage to the lady of their heart.
Karl had won the parents’ consent long before she knew of his interest. During his off-hours, he would offer to cut and carry the firewood for the family’s needs. And he cut them, these pieces for firewood, to be equal in length. And he washed and cleaned the pots and pans, blackened with soot, like new.
The dutiful Luz did as her father bade—marry Karl, a Mormon. But when her father suggested that their cousin, a judge, solemnize the wedding, she objected. She could do away with a wedding feast or paraphernalia, but she must have a priest…or else, no marriage. Mixed marriages then were difficult to get Church permission for. But Luz said that if Karl really wanted her, he’d have to find ways. And so, they were married by a Columban priest in Malate, which was the only one then allowed to marry people of different religions.
The Columban priest gave only three conditions: that Karl and Luz wouldn’t try converting each other, that their future children would be raised Catholics, and that Karl would always bring the children to Sunday Mass, even if he himself might not attend these. These, Luz believes, were the cement that solidified their 42-year-old marriage.
Plus, Luz and Karl’s love for and loyalty to Bisdak or Cebuano ways. Even while director of the United States Information Service some years back, he insisted on speaking the language with Cebuano residents. The couple initially agreed that Karl would speak English to their four children, while Luz would use Cebuano. The couple’s medium would be Cebuano. In time, however, Cebuano became the home language. This, even as Karl picked up and learned the languages of 12 other countries where he was assigned.
Where there was some resistance to learn Cebuano, Karl was bent on correcting. And so the youngest child, “Dodong” (Karl Jr.) visited Cebu for three months. His mission: to learn Cebuano very well; until he did so, he couldn’t return to Utah to rejoin the family.
So comfortable are all the four children with Cebuano that they’re now the envy of many Fil-Am homes. Luz says that at many Fil-Am socials, her family becomes a point of reference. Other children ask their parents why they were never raised to speak Cebuano or the language of their Filipino parent. Food for thought, indeed, for many migrant Filipinos away from home.
Did you ever see a tall and smashing beauty titlist smoking the native “linikit nga tostos”? Then Miss Utah, daughter “Inday” (Rima Ann) exactly did that, imitating the native folks roll their own cigars and smoking them. And “Dodong” enjoyed the outdoor bathroom, with the bamboo slats for walls, complete with the “lugod” (pumice stone) and the native “banga” (earthen jar) for storing water.
Nurse “Inday Rima” is an assistant hospital administrator in Utah. Single, she spends her earnings acquiring condominiums. The American in her lives in one such unit, but it’s near enough to her parents’ house. Charge that to the Filipino’s close family ties. No geographical distance can change that. Once, when Karl was assigned to Micronesia, young “Inday” called up her mother, asking how she was to behave during dinner dates with her many suitors. Luz’s advice: “Okay, go. But pay for your own dinner, so that the man wouldn’t ask you to pay in kind.” A wise advice, under any time and clime. One never knows.
