Elsietampong's Blog

Ati Tang

1. Who was Ate Tang?

Who really was Ate[1] Tang? One of my first memories was when I was around 4 years old, staring at a huge cauldron of bringhi. Ate Tang’s mother, Dang Pemya[2], was stirring the bringhi. The bringhi is like a paella, but it doesn’t have tomato sauce. It is yellow sticky rice cooked with turmeric and chicken broth, and some chicken pieces, like chicken liver. Dang Pemya was married to Apung Ildo[3]. Apung Ildo took care of roasting the lechons. Dang Pemya had been cooking for Dad’s mother, Impung[4] Lori. She was a big woman, like any self-respecting cook should look like. ( I never trust cooks who are skinny.) She had big breasts, and wore the baro’t saya, , the style of the 1880’s. That dress was used also by Impung Lori and her sisters-in-law (the spinsters Bentang, Dising and Juli) and Dang Floring, the sister of Bapang[5] Cecing, who owned the “Big House” of the Francos. My poor father, Luis, was the only thorn among the roses. He grew up the only boy surrounded by all these old ladies.

We would have two days of fiesta during those days—the bisperas (the day before the Fiesta) and the Fiesta itself. My other memory of the Fiesta was the Frog Vendor coming with skinned frogs, all four limbs stretched between bamboo sticks, and sold by the kilo.

My mother and father married and moved to Manila. Dang Pemya, Apung Ildo, Impung Lori and all the old ladies slowly died away. Only my grandmother, Clementina, lived on.

In Manila, we had a series of maids who served only awful food, compared to what the food in San Luis was. The only time we would have good food was during the birthdays of Dad and Mom. Those were memorable, because we would have three parties each time. The Gonzalezes had split into two groups, the group belonging to Lola Charing and the group of Tito Rogie, Dad’s best friend. So we always had two parties for the Gonzalezes. The third party was for the office mates of the celebrant. Mom was a teacher in UE and Dad was working in VLuna Hospital. Ate Tang was called to cook for these occasions, and she made sure that she cooked more than what we needed for the three parties, so we could continue to enjoy eating good food for the next few weeks. She always had chicken galantina, embotido, lengua, lumpia. During the Christmas season, it was customary to gift a good friend with an expensive Chinese Ham. Since Mom’s birthday was close to Christmas, one of the things waiting for Ati Tang would be the perennial Chinese ham. The Chinese ham was different from the “Virginia” ham, in that the Chinese ham was salty and dried. The Virginia ham was sweet and moist. Ati Tang had to soak the dry ham in water , boil it for a few hours and throw away the salty water and repeat this five or six times, until the ham started to become moist and sweet. In the final boil, she would throw in six bottles of beer and wine. I think she was not successful one Christmas, when the Chinese Ham was still salty after six tries!

Anyway, Ate Tang was synonymous with “good food.” Even my children’s ears perked up when they heard that Ate Tang was going to cook for a party that was going to be held at home.
2. Who am I in relation with Ate Tang

Normally, after the funeral mass, an immediate family member would go up to thank the congregation for coming to the Celebration of the Mass and to talk about the life of the Deceased. When I heard that Ate Tang had died, I immediately went to the house where Ate Tang had lived during the last few years of her life. Ate Tang never married, and I knew her parents had long gone. When I asked how these people in the house were related to Ate Tang, they just looked at each other, and shook their head. They were descendants of one parish priest Father Lozano who was assigned to San Luis. Ate Tang “adopted/took care” of their grandparents. Their parents were the children of these children, and the parents had either died, left for Manila or abroad. Then Ate Tang took care of them and their children. No one every asked them how they were related to Ate Tang. Like me, Ate Tang had been in their family for several generations, and she just stayed on with them. Ate Tang had sisters who had long passed away. These sisters had children, but the children lived somewhere else. Were Ate Tang’s nieces coming for the funeral? Nobody knew.

It was at this point, Cristan (my cousin) and I decided that we were as related to Ate Tang as anyone in the house where she died. I brought with me money which would be enough to pay for some expenses. Therefore, I plunked the money in the hands of one of the girls, Sarah, who had flown in from Davao after she found out that Ate Tang had died. Yes, Sarah was related to Lawang, who was somehow connected to Father Lozano . Cristan and I decided Ate Tang would be buried on Saturday, after the 3 p.m. Mass. We told Sarah and her relatives that we would scour for money from other relatives to make sure that all expenses that would give a memorable sendoff to Ate Tang, be paid.

Ate Tang’s name was Constancia Tuason. One of my ancestors was Eugenio Tuason. He was the parish priest during the time he brought forth my grandparents. He even had two wives, one Basilia Vicente, from which came the Franco branch, and another Maria Angeles, from which came the Elizalde branch. Yes, my father, Luis Franco, was the second cousin of my mother, Eglantine Elizalde Gonzalez, but their grandmothers were different. And while we are at the Family Tree, there is a High School in San Luis named “Augusto Gonzalez-Sioco High School.” Augusto Gonzalez-Sioco was the brother of my grandfather, Fernando Gonzalez (Sioco was their mother’s family name, and the Spanish always put the mother’s family name after the father’s family name. It could get confusing, sometimes.) But the High School did not belong to the Gonzalez family, but to the family of Cecilio Franco, the first cousin of my father.

So, since my great grandfather was a Tuason, it is highly possible that I was related to Ate Tang.

Why do I think that Ate Tang was related to me? She lived in the house where the Francos lived when she was growing up. When my father went to Manila to study, he lived with his half-brother, Aquilino “Kili” Sison. Kong[6] Kili was a policeman in Manila, and he lived in Tondo. Tondo was the largest settlement near Manila, for the working class. (The upper class lived in Malate, by Manila Bay). Ate Tang was there in Kong Kili’s house with Dad’s niece Swinda and his nephews: Gabeng, Floren, Lauren. Ate Tang went to a private girl’s school, La Consolacion College in Manila. This was why Ate Tang was very smart. She was schooled. I noticed during one of my parties that Ate Tang could hold a conversation in English with one of my American guests.

Ate Tang took care of Dely when she was a little girl. In Ninang Vi’s last years, she asked Ate Tang to share her room. Ate Tang was already debilitated by that time. Since Ninang Vi was staying on the second floor, one of my lasting memories of Ate Tang was of her sliding down the stairs, her bottom hitting every step, from the second floor down to the ground floor, to get something. This is why I had to make sure to leave my street shoes at the bottom of the stairs, so Ate Tang’s bottom would not get dirty.

3. LESSONS FROM ATE TANG’S LIFE

I have five children of my own, and none of them live in the Philippines. After I came from Ate Tang’s wake, I went into a panic. Is this the way I will meet my end, surrounded by people who are not related to me by blood? I was with Diana, and she told me of her mother’s spinster sister. The spinster decided to insure herself against loneliness and dying alone by adopting a boy. When the boy grew up, he sold all the property she gave him, and migrated. Diana’s mother asked her sister to move in with her. But the spinster didn’t want to change her surroundings. She let her driver and his family move in with her. So Diana had do make all the important decisions regarding her aunt’s life—to operate or not when the aunt had a fracture? and similar instances. The Aunt died surrounded by her driver and his family.

I thought, it is not enough to have blood relatives, to have someone to be with you in the last years of your life. One has to build relationships that one can depend on in the sunset years. We have to work on loving and being loved by people, who will want to come to our Final Mass, if not share our last years together. Ate Tang lived her life doing precisely that…

4. GOOD-BYE, ATE TANG

This was a fitting day to go back to The Creator. It is Ascension Day, the day when Christ finally went to Heaven and left his apostles and Mother. Ate Tang, thank you for all the things you did for each member of our family. Thank you for all the things you did for these people who are sitting in front of your casket, whom you have loved, and who love you.

Ate Tang, When you go to heaven, say hello to my Mom and Dad, my grandmas and my aunts, all your friends who have gone before you. You won’t need to cook for them anymore. Maybe they will cook for you, this time………..

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[1] “Ate” pronounced “ah-the” strictly meant “older sister.” This had Chinese origins, since the second girl was called “di-che”, (di meaning second), then the third was “san-se” (san meaning three). It could be used for someone who was older than you, but not old enough to be your parents’ age.
[2] “Dang” comes from “inda”, meaning “mother”. It is a respectful term for a lady who is in the same age as your mother, but is not related to you. “Pemya” must have been taken from “Eufemia”.
[3] “Apung” is also the same as “Dang”, but can apply to males who are old enough to be your parents. “ildo” must have come from the name “Hermenigildo”, which was popular during those days.
[4] “Impo” means “grandmother”. “Impong Lori” was the mother of my Dad.
[5] “Bapa” means “uncle” You add an “ng” to Bapa to make it sound more fluid. Bapang Cecing the first cousin of my Dad.
[6] “Kong” is a term which is a short-cut to “Koya”, meaning “brother. You use it for people who are older than you, but not old enough to be your

Retirement

Mom garnered three degrees under her belt, just waiting for Dad to finish his Medical degree. She wanted to take up Medicine, just to be near him. But her Father, Lolo Papa, told her “It’s a waste of time, energy, and money”. I wonder what he finally said (to himself) after she spent all those years in college. She might as well have become a doctor. She finished two Bachelor’s degrees — in Science and Pharmacy, and a Master in Science degree in Botany.

I know that Lolo Papa complained about her expenses. She lived in a Dorm. Mom said that one time, Lolo Papa commented on her purchase of shoes. She never forgot about this incident, since she still recalled it to me 25 years after the fact. I also saw a letter written by Lolo Papa to her Dorm, allowing Dad to visit her. Apparently, the Dorm was getting worried about his frequent visits to her, and formally asked Lolo Papa whether he allowed it. The tone of Lolo Papa’s letter was a bit whimsical, even philosophical. I don’t have the letter right now in my hands, but he said that if that was her wish (to see Dad all the time), he would trust her decision. It was obvious that to be with Dad was at the center of her existence at this point.

Mom had a rough time all her life. This included the time when she was a Professor of Botany in a downtown University in Manila.

Before Dad was assigned back to Manila, Mom used to commute by bus. (Nowadays, “commute”, is a noun to signify taking a public vehicle.) It was a 10-minute walk to the bus stop in Kamuning, then she would take the bus to the University Belt. The neighbors would always say as she passed by, going click-click-click with her 3 inch high heeled shoes, “There goes Mrs. Franco on her way to school.”

It was hard for Mom to combine running the home with three children and her career at the same time. She was never lucky with maids. Then by the late 1950’s, she started buying property and building on them.

When I turned 18 years old, Dad was already back in Manila. Dad had gotten the hung of the business. He borrowed $67,500 from the bank, and bought Mom a Mercedes Benz. He also used part of the money to construct on one 900 sq.m. lot they bought on the way to the airport, and to renovate the old house where we still live in.

The Mercedes Benz was probably why Mom’s co-teachers didn’t like her. She didn’t “belong”. She also went to a beauty parlor every week (I went with her) to have her hair done. She bought this 3-carat diamond ring from Hongkong and wore it everyday to school. The only co-teacher who stood out like Mom was Mrs. Anson, the wife of movie star Oscar Moreno. She was mestiza and good-looking, but I doubt if she had a Mercedes Benz and a 3-carat diamond ring every day to work.

This Downtown University was a commercial school. Mom taught in classes the whole day. She came home with loads and loads of laboratory papers and test papers. A few years before she retired, she hired someone to check the papers.

I saw her letter to the University asking them to allow her to retire before the mandatory age of 65. She was 64 years old, and had written a Manual on Botany for the beginners. She expressed hesitancy in retiring, but it was something that she had to do for her personal life. Now that I look back, I wonder:– did she find out about Dad’s infidelities? I know that Dad retired at the same time, 1977, after he suffered a stroke. Did he leave for North America during this time, and she felt she should join him?

I never got to ask her that question. I never asked her personal questions.

Mom with Dodo and me 1948

Mom always thought I loved Dad and not her. A few days before she died, she tried to tell me that Dad was not perfect. How she had been hurt by him all these years, not physical abuse, but by her perceived infidelities made by him.

I have a lot of pictures of Mom. When she was in her twenties and throughly in love with Dad. As a little girl consumed by her insecurity of being the “ugly and stupid duckling” of her family. Of her finding professional maturity, writing her Manual for Botany. And her last years as an old woman. I could write a book about her, really, but I just have to write this blog before I go off to check on one of my buildings.

I chose this picture of our family. Mom, Dodo and me just before she went off to join Dad in the USA. She must have had this picture taken to send to him. He must have written one of those mushy love letters he always wrote to her, telling her how much he missed her, and the little ones. This was when Dad went to Johns Hopkins University to take his Master of Public Health degree.

I also have letters written during these times. Mom said that I was starting to feel insecure. She was running an ice drop business with my Ninang Micay (remember Elsie Tampong era?). It was located in Vigan (Ilocos Sur), and Mom had to go with Ninang Micay to check on the profits. She would leave me and Dodo with her mother and sister Ninang Nancy in Pampanga. Dodo was too young to feel the pangs of separation. Besides, he was doted upon by Ninang Nancy. Ninang Nancy had a group of spinsters who were always with her in her (religious) activities, and they found a toy in Dodo. He was always in the midst of them. Their cute Baby.

When Mom got ready to join Dad in Maryland, she wrote him, “I am hesitant to leave Elsie again. Every time I came back from Vigan, I would find her with tears in her eyes. I don’t know how she would feel if I were to go again, this time, for a longer period. She clings to my dress every time I go out, thinking I am going away and not coming back.” Of course, anyone who has had a child, know that when the child is around three years old, it is difficult to leave the house without the child having separation anxiety. But these were in Mom’s letters to my Dad.

I don’t know when my affections shifted to my Dad. But it was not true that I didn’t love my Mom. She was my sole pillar when I was growing up, when Dad was always away.

A few days before Dad died, he made me promise that I would love my Mom and that I would take care of her. It wasn’t necessary for him to have asked that of me, because I was doing both. But maybe, he, like Mom, thought I didn’t love my Mom enough, and he wanted to make sure that I would take care of her after he was gone.

Sitting under the Cherry Blossom Trees with the Twins

Cherry blossom time was always special for me. Coming from the tropics, it was almost a miracle for me to see the trees turn all pink. I loved the hanami where everyone went to the parks after work with their barbecue pits and sake, and sang under the cherry blossom trees. The lights in the parks even gave the pink blossomed trees an ethereal feeling. I could never get over this. It was a feeling that I never felt before.

When we moved to Japan, I just knew I had to capture this moment. The three elder children had gone to school, leaving the twins, Lori and Elena, at home. Then Ralph came home for lunch. Perfect! I donned my pink gown that I had used for Cynthia’s wedding, and Ralph put his tripod in front of the tree where the cherry blossoms had fallen. We sat on the ground, and voila!– we had this picture.

Even years after the novelty of seeing the flowers and leaves change during the four seasons wore off, I still got thrilled at the sight of the cherry blossoms. I have to admit that, until now, I still can’t distinguish the cherry blossoms from the plum blossoms. I know the latter are more deep in color.

When we were posted in Korea, I got excited over the sight of cherry blossoms again. In our last year in Korea, when I felt that our days in that City were numbered, I asked Ralph whether we could go to Kyong Buk Palace to take pictures of the cherry blossoms. We chanced on a wedding party where the bride sat under the cherry blossom trees. She wore her white bridal gown, and she was so beautiful in that shot. I should try to locate that picture. It was so special.

We are now back in the tropics, and I miss seeing the cherry blossoms again.

When I was a little girl, my father used to frequent the mahjongg tables of my godfather, Ninong (Godfather) Pedro M. Cruz.  I would go with my Dad and I would watch the players play mahjongg.  It was with strange curiosity that I would hear them say, “Pong”, “Kang” “mahjong”.  Then they would stop and resume their game. I would spend hours and days watching them.

During their breaks, they would ask me, “What is your name?”

And I would answer, “Elsie”.  Then, since I was around them so often, they decided to baptize me, “Elsie-tam-Pong!”  That was the first name that stuck to me.  For a while, in that small friendly community, I became “Elsie Tam Pong!” with an exclamation point at the end.

I liked the name.  It had a cheery tone to it.  “Elsie Tam Pong!” I would answer every time anyone asked me what name I had.

I watched with strange fascination those mahjongg tablets (what did they call them?)  that clicked everytime they were shuffled, thrown, or made into walls. In the beginning, Ninong Cruz had tablets made of real ivory.  Then, as time went on, the tablets became more colorful.  My favorite were those tablets that were almost translucent. I remember that translucent white tablets with shocking green covering.

I didn’t know that my father’s spending time playing mahjongg was causing a lot of friction between my mother and him.  Many times,  my father would be called to play when one player was missing. You had to have four players in each table.  He was just the spare guy and I think my father was just humoring my Ninong Cruz because my Ninong had helped my Dad position himself in the army during the war.  So it was sort of a pay-back work.

Well, things started to become bad at the home front.  I found myself being dragged by my mother to movies to kill time, waiting for my Dad to finish his “duty” at the mahjongg tables.  When it became very late, there would be no more public buses to bring us to the house of Ninong Cruz. I remember sitting on the gutter of the main road near the Quiapo Church while my mother searched for a bus.

The fights between my father and my mother started. Then they escalated. They made sure we didn’t hear them fight.  They usually went to a small  room for their clothes that was attached to their bedroom.  Their clothes muffled the sounds of their fights.  I knew that I was asked by my father with whom I would go, in case they separated.  It was a difficult decision for a four year old to make.  I had no doubts that I loved my father more, but he was always stationed outside Manila. Who would take care of me?

I don’t remember now what happened.  All I know was that my Dad and I stopped going to my Ninong Cruz for my Dad to play mahjongg on a daily basis, and  for a while, people stopped calling me “Elsie Tam Pong!” I also know that my parents decided that their marriage was stable enough to continue their marriage.  So when I turned 6 years old, we had another child in the family, and then another one the next year after that.