By Virginia Jasmin Pasalo

 

TODAY, I flow with the wind sweeping the green fields, enveloped by the mist along NLEX and TPLEX. Sitting by the window, I sense the sun, trying to break through the thick layers of overlapping clouds, and trees, whose identities blur in the speed of the vehicle and the velocity of the wind outside. The images disappear in seconds, faster than we can recall memories, quickly passing through layers of feelings, evoking unique stories and histories, overlapping and random, devoid of any sense of chronology.

Soon, I will be in another window, overlooking Pantal River, a river that hides its turmoil underneath its quiet, serene flow, even during typhoon Carina. Perhaps, underneath, it also buried some joy, ready to be dredged. The river, I was told, is an important part of the childhood of those who live near it, and also keeps the secrets of lovers holding hands, walking the length, breathing the breadth of their passions. The river is a huge depository of words, written in water, upon the rocks.

Seven rivers flow through the veins of Dagupan City: Bayaoas, Calmay, Dawel, Mangueragday, Patogcawen, Tanap and Pantal. How were these rivers named? Bayaoas and Calmay are fruits. Dawel is associated with the weather. Pantal means a lump or a swelling, remembering how my dad used to tell me: “Anto’y agawam? Wala lamet su pantal mo, siopa’y akalaban mo natan?” (What happened to you? You have another swelling, who did you fight with this time?)

Whatever meanings we associate with words goes deep into our psyche. I recall vividly my father raising his fist blaming God when our vehicle got ditched in Angalacan River. Angalacan River is a major river in the province of Pangasinan running through Pozorrubio, Manaoag, Mangaldan and some other towns. Along with Bued River, Angalacan is a tributary of the Cayanga River, a major river in Pangasinan located along the southern part of San Fabian, which flows eventually, into the Lingayen Gulf.

I have written poems as a tribute to the Rivers. These rivers are tributaries to the rivers that run through me. Below is a poem I wrote dated Feb 03 2021:

 

The water in the river

in time, you and I will flow
over stones and on the bends
where we stay as one
or separate ways

on this journey
we leave our conversations
with the rocks
witnesses to the rush
and the gush, and the fire
underneath, giving birth
to pebbles

when we finally reach the sea
and rise with the air
we shall breathe each other
from droplets of rain
become one again,
the heartbeat of the river

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