Gently Contrary

By Emmanuelle

Choose an adjective from a dangling of modifiers. You may be right on target or you may miss by a kilometer. A very touchy situation, that is, especially if you plan to write about one of the most powerful men around . . . presidential cousin, ear, and adviser; kingmaker, and king of his mighty domain himself – Mayor Ramon Guico, Jr. of Binalonan. 

Stories abound, discreetly whispered or boasted with lavish embellishment, about his person and his family, his achievements, his power and his reach, his capacity to influence politics and the fortune of men.     

He had been referred to as awesome, formidable, overwhelming, etc. – all synonymous to a hushed word in the thesaurus. But, let me introduce a pair of words I just coined, as recently as, hmnn, a breath ago . . .  he is gently contrary.

Brother sun to my sister moon, he is roughly kind, pushily protective, temperamentally calm, harshly tender. Gently contrary ngarud.    

A quandary for the past, hmnn, decades of this writer’s life – how to react upon encountering news, comments, local opinions about the man, his town, his politics, his various enterprises. I never really am sure whether to be vehement or to pay no heed, frown or smile, shake or nod the head, laugh in outright dismissal or burst out in guffaws at the statements or amplified overstatements. Once, I thought of crossing my eyes and fingers and just let go, do all these simultaneously.

In the past, long ago or recently, Monching gave in to almost all of my requests reasonably quick, quietly unceremonious. These requests would range from purely selfishly childish to nationally earth-shaking. If he can’t follow through successfully or satisfactorily, I would know automatically it was not for his lack of trying. The request was not meant to be.

Why does he give in so easily? Kasi, he would say, nakakahiya sa iyo.

Early one morning of this week, he again was too gracious to a fault. He invited me to visit his farm spread out in Sison, before one climbs up to Baguio City. I said: only if I can write about it. He looked at me quizzically, then said: this is one you should write about.          

In the afternoon I was tired and sweaty after caring for my group of abused or unwed mothers, but my curiosity had been tweaked, and gamely we met. In a carload of husky males, I was the only female. I smiled and politely asked the nearest guy to usog over there. Shrapnel still lodge in my skin; an armalite and I are not exactly the best of seatmates. The bodyguard smiled sweetly, and made usog over there.

Contrary to acquired previous knowledge, the farm was not to raise roosters na pansabong! It was an oversized mango farm! Hectares and hectares of land with rows and rows of mango trees marching on their stationary roll across its length and breadth. A gigantic sprawl cuddled in the shadows of craggy mountains and hills.

And right smack at the center, sprawled Module 1 (more or less 20 two-storeys and singles) and Module 2 (16 singles) – solid longhouse structures to house and breed millions of chicken for San Miguel Corporation, specifically Magnolia, from the traditional 45 days to 32-34.   

He showed me the inside of one longhouse. A single can accommodate 25-30,000 chicks, a two-storey, 45,000 more or less. Thousands of plump but scanty-haired creatures peak on mechanized water and grain-feeders, all red in color! Giant exhaust fans bring mercy to the lungs, human or otherwise.

Food production on a massive scale! A million of chicken in just one harvest of a module, the second module to follow in two weeks, to help feed a population burgeoning into the billions! Ahhh! So that is why we nearly never run out of chicken meat even in the most peak of seasons.

As he leaves for more mundane business other than entertaining one dreamy writer, I walk the stony paths abounding. I look up the flowering mango trees. And that endlessly untainted blue sky yonder.

 Not so hopelessly hopeless after all. You know what I mean.

(For past columns, click http://sundaypunch.prepys.com/archives/category/opinion/feelings/)

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