By Virginia Jasmin Pasalo

 

WE were not supposed to be there because my sister Emma was very sick, but she insisted on going. She thought that those who organized will take our absence in a negative way, as they have prepared for this event with so much effort. They forgot actually, to send us the details, the time, the venue, how to get to the place until the very last minute.

On the way to Pangasinan, at night, we missed the entry to the TPLEX which would have taken us less time, and my sister Lydia’s husband Dick, got into another highway with less road lights that one could see from a distance, a protruding structure with red lights, juxtaposed against the very dark, dark sky. It was an eerie feeling, looking at this scene, like we were traveling on a spaceship in an unknown territory. We were alone in that route, with no visible sign or direction, and wondered if there was anyone to help us if the car suddenly malfunctioned. Despite the uncertainty, I had the uncanny experience of peace in this deserted highway, the kind of peace that only darkness offers in absolute silence.

Finally, a sign. We were back in the company of lights. It was a reassuring feeling to be back in the company of some cars and the flickering distant indication of habitation. When we arrived, even the crickets and night owls were already asleep, and the spirits in the trees, although curious and welcoming, ignored the intrusion of our presence.

The next day, we drove to Mai Resort, a resort owned by a relative, losing our way again, on the first try, but navigating quickly towards the destination with the help of a tricycle driver. It was a long road that seemed without end, so I looked out to identify the vegetation and the trees, without concerning myself with the road. The car stopped. There was a commotion and a man was being carried out of the resort, with some men discussing where to load him, and where to go. Walking through the crowd, I saw the face of my brother Rod, who came to the Philippines with his wife Tilet for this occasion, and my cousin Ver, whose usual cheery face turned a little pale as he ushered us into the registration area.

“He downed half a glass of liquor that your brother left on the table. Then he passed out immediately after. They came all the way from Bayombong, Nueva Vizcaya. The doctors will take care of him, let’s get inside.”

We were surprised to find so many relatives of the Jasmin clan. It is our first time to gather together from many places here and abroad, with so many still unable to come. It was a good start, the coming together of generations, the thread of my existence from my maternal side. Ver was calling out everyone to listen.

“We are descended from the fragrance and purity of Jasmin. We must all smell good and spread that goodness around. Your fragrance is a must for this reunion.”

Some others smelled of liquor but surprisingly sober. Others smelled of lechon (roasted baby pig). My nose guided me to the lechon which was almost consumed, except for the portion near the head. The “hatchetman” generously gave me what was left.

“Oh, my, this is the best lechon I tasted, who cooked this?”, my sister Lydia exclaimed.

“Yes, it’s really good, can we ask some more?”, Emma agreed.

Then, a plateful arrived from the “reserved” food courtesy of the resort owner’s mother. We almost finished it but recapitulated. We cannot afford to be wheeled out of the resort to another hospital. Moderation is key. We nibbled bits and bits of the crunchy skin, slowly, very slowly, to calibrate our intake. Then, we gobbled up on the salads and the Vietnamese wraps containing crabmeat, shrimps, mangoes, cucumber and lettuce. We wanted to stay for the games but we had to be in Lobong, San Jacinto, where my sister Lydia already missed the baptismal ceremony of my cousin Arit’s daughter, on my paternal side.

We left sooner than those who came from very far away, wearing the fragrance that binds the generations of the Jasmin clan. On my way out, I severed a twig from the lush Rangoon creeper (Indian jasmine), hoping to nurture it with the host of jasmines in my own garden.

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