By Rex Catubig

 

IT was as if a little God had thrown his jackstones up in the sky and these had fallen down deep into the belly of the ocean, then after a storm surge were disgorged and washed ashore by the tide of time.

Around the bend that leads to Tondaligan, the shore of Bonuan, erstwhile code named Blue Beach by the American Liberation forces led by Gen Douglas MacArthur, is littered with these giant six-pointed concrete objects that resemble the toy children love to play with.

Extraterrestrial comes to mind easily.

Could these have been left by creatures from outer space somewhere in time?

Our imagination easily conjured the image and related it to the otherworldly, as our juvenile fancy was fired up by sci-fi movies and comics that abound with tales of flying saucers and life in outer space.

So it seems all too real. Until we looked past the urban legend forged by childhood fascination.

As it turns out, they are not celestial detritus. There is a more mundane reason behind these mystery objects. In reality, they are pilings that formed the base of a shoreline dike and promenade that ran across the length of that portion of the beach renamed Tondaligan in the 80’s, meaning “a place to stop by and relax in the meantime”.

The breakwater was built during the mayorship of the late Cipriano Manaois as protection for the beach park that he created, because rampaging current regularly carved out the shoreline during typhoon season. But the concrete dike and the asphalt road were no match to the fury of the storm surge that smashed the concrete barrier and exposed its innards. The broad dike and its parallel roadway caved in under the sand, and were washed away by the high tide when it receded, leaving the “jackstones” in their wake.

Nowadays, these remnants of engineering marvel lie motionless in random disarray along the beach, looking like abandoned toys of the Gods. Already, they have become touristy curiosity, and befitting subject and background for photo shoots. Considering this, the cultural tourism of the city would do well to keep the mantle of mystery around them. Without purveying fake news and twice-told tales, they should become a folk treasure, and form part of our coastal heritage with their tale of seasonal defense and destruction.

Meanwhile, even as the city toys with the concept of nautical tourism, the giant jackstones of the Gods lie cozily on the “blue beach” enjoying quietly the splash of frothy waves that playfully slither through the crevices between their craggy limbs. Unperturbed, they are oblivious of sunrise and sunset, of the rise and ebb of tides, of the fancy and wonder of their being.

And, thus, the secrets of the universe that they are witness to day in, day out, that they are heir to, are tucked safely within hidden crannies of their interlocking tentacles—to be revealed some time, in the burst of afterthought.

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