SCRIPTUM

Immaculate Heart
of Mary Seminary,
Taloto, Tagbilaran
City, Bohol,
The Unofficial and Unauthorized Newsletter of the IHMS Batch HS 80 and College 84 Philippines

Issue No. 3 1st Quarter 2004

EDITORIAL
SCRIPTUM, I, nt.
Our Timeless Stories something written.
Time boggles the mind.
When we were in high school, in the second half of the 70's,
the “old timers” would tell us stories of how life was during their
time. They said they heard mass in Latin. They toured the city,
walking in their black cassock--and for the minors was it Contact Us
americana? We never paid much attention to those stories which
we thought happened a long, long time ago--i.e. twenty years If you belong to any of the batches,
ago. whether you lasted for one day or eight
This year we are celebrating our twentieth year since our years, please contact us.
college graduation. Twenty long years! And we cannot Email: frsoc@yahoo.com
understand why the young ones would not pay attention to our marcamo@hotmail.com
stories and in fact find it easy to disregard them. For them it E-group:
happened a long, long time ago. Yet, for us, it seems to be just a http://egroups.yahoo.com/group/ihms
few years ago. they are stories of finding one's bearing in his life's journey, of Snail mail:
That is how mind-boggling time is. growing up, of making mistakes, of making amends, of finding c/o Fr. Soc Mesiona, MCPO Box 1006,
At this juncture in our lives, we look at the past and feel how meaning and vocation, of finding joy in life, of friendship, of Makati City, Philippines
fast it all flew by. And as we look forward, anxiety clouds our making lifelong decisions, and most importantly of all--it is a
emotions as we think of the things we still need to accomplish story of hope. And in due time, people will realize the depth of You may get your future copy of
and the miles we need to go before we sleep. For we know that our experiences and the lessons contained therein. SCRIPTUM at:
like the past, the future will be as quick. Our stories are like tiny dots on the tapestry of time. They Libro Bohol Bookstore
Our perplexity with time should all the more be the reason for affirm our existence. So let us continue telling them through this 75 J.A. Clarin St. , Tagbilaran City
sharing them--and sharing them quick! They are treasures that newsletter, and hopefully other people can likewise savor the
we can bequeath to those who come after us. profundity of our simple, mundane stories--ah, as they would
Our stories may not appeal to those who do not share our with a glassful of cold beer. (MSA) Sponsor
experiences. But let us continue sharing them, nonetheless. For
This issue is sponsored by:
Soc Mesiona
something we always looked forward to! activities when we would do our
The Music of my Life Meeting our female counterpart was always vocalization at Taloto Beach, dipping our
! Next issue is going to be
sponsored--by popular demand--
By Soc Mesiona an adrenalin-pumping experience. Even body in the cold sea water. We spent so by Rene Relampagos.
those who were non-members were as much time and energy practicing. Ten ! NB: Oloy asa na ka man intawon?
excited as we were, for it was one of those repertoires including the contest piece were Nganong hilum man ka kayo?
I was retrieving my old personal files rare occasions when we could see and prepared.
when I came across a crumpled paper that mingle with girls of our age. For those who On the day of the contest we thought we
looked familiar to me. I realized it was the were too shy to socialize, they were pleased were the sure winner because other Nota Bene
certificate I got in 1982 as the Musician of enough to watch those lovely ladies from a contestants backed out leaving us as the sole
the Year. It was an award I received more distance. But those who were not contented contestant in our category. But the euphoria ! What are your memories of
than two decades ago--something that had with seeing from a distance satisfied their was short-lived because the judges (who the Vocation Tour? Anybody?
slipped my memory. As I read the certificate, yearnings by looking up from dark, musty were, by the way, all from imperial Manila) Write to us.
flashback of those events occurred. In what nooks at those goddesses perched high on announced that we only got the second ! Do you have memorable
seemed like a fast-paced rewind, memories the pedestal. prize. The experience of dawn faded quickly photos of our batch? Send
were brought to my mind until an image The team up of the two schools was as twilight darkened our feelings. It was a them to us.
settled, surprisingly, on my being a member thought to be formidable. But decision that until now I cannot understand. ! Common, guys! Don't be
of the seminary choir. I recall these four overconfidence ate us up for we performed From hindsight, I think the decision was passive. Just do it. (Sa atoa
instances. poorly during competition day. We were anomalous. For where in the world can a pa, ayaw pagtangã kay
In Second Year High School. The first only third among five contestants. Had we contestant be second placer in a contest gatulo ang imong laway.
time I was selected to the seminary choir was won the first prize we would represent the participated in by only one contestant? By Higupa na ug lihuk dayon.)
during our sophomore year in high school province in the regional level, and then in sheer default, we should have placed first. I
where I was one of the “tiples” of the the national level. We all felt so down. We have now the impression that it was
Jeduthun Ensemble. It was my first exposure ended our team up with an outing at the then deliberately done. Manila must have been
of a choral group. I was so proud then for the pristine Hinagdanan Cave where I saved intimated. The Bohol Sanghimig choir had The same choir performed on February
honor and privilege of being chosen to one of the girls from drowning. won the national competition thrice already. 2, 1983 during the CVRAA cultural night
represent IHMS. Wearing the blue jumper In First Year College. The dream of Probably they couldn't believe that another presentation at the Bohol Cultural Center.
paired with a white shirt, which was one of competing in the national level, however, choral group from an unknown school could It was a whooping success. We rendered
the concert costumes, was a kind of status surfaced again when we were college sing so well. A potential threat. Yes, I would songs that pleased the crowd for the
symbol then. Among the repertoire were freshmen. It was at this time that a special say we sang well. But then we had to come hilarity. We seemed so confident on stage.
“Pipit”, “My Knapsack on My Back”, “Sa choir was formed to compete in the regional to terms with our frustration. We consoled Our smiles were genuine and even
Kabukiran” and “Handel's Alleluia”--songs competition--collegiate level. Deep ourselves by saying to one another that we innocent. In fact we were enjoying the
that up to now have nostalgic effect on me. selection was made from among the student did not lose but were simply cheated. crowd, too. The delegates from other
The first concert we had was at the Bohol body of the college department. Only (Months later, the choir of one of the judges provinces were entertained especially with
Cultural Center. Then another one was held selected individuals were asked to audition. lost to a UST choir led by and composed our moving finale. They asked for an
in Inabanga. From among those who auditioned were mostly of--guess who?--Boholano encore. We received hearty greeting and
In Fourth Year High School. Again I chosen the choir members. I was again so seminarians.Ah, sweet justice.) handshakes afterwards.
was selected to join the choir when we were lucky to be selected as tenor. I felt so In Third Year College. The last choir I It was the last time I joined a choral
in senior high school. It was a mixed choir honored. The practices were rigid and joined was again the Jeduthun Choir. It was group.
composed of high school seminarians and frequent. Smokers were strictly told to for a concert. It was held at the then Divine I miss being part of a choral group. I
students from Holy Spirit School, the only abstain from smoking for the entire duration Word College gym. I was chosen to sing the miss the music practices. I miss the fun of
exclusive school for girls in Tagbilaran. We of the contest preparation. We were told not solo part of the song “We Are The exercising the vocal chord by intoning
were to join in the province-wide choral to drink cold water. Salabat was the Champions” popularized by The Queen.
competition. Oh, every music practice was prescribed drink. There were early morning continued on page 4
2 Scriptum Issue No. 3 1st Quarter 2004
Of Twists and
Turns
By Jun Tabel
As change is permanent, so nothing is
certain except uncertainty.
Time was when it seemed that a vast
array of opportunity was collocated before
us waiting to be explored like sitting ducks
in a “feria” booth. More often though, we
predicted one’s future based on his present
disposition, behavior, standing and stature.
Thus, we remember Baloy Sarigumba
saying, “Ma pari jud ni si Jun Tabel kay
sigi’g adto sa chapel” Or, Ingents belting a
line from his favorite song “Que Sera
Sera”, which goes, “Will I be handsome,
will be rich”--revealing a childhood
question (that was really more of a hope)
that has lingered unanswered until his
adulthood.
But as we moved forward in life--
squeezing through its mesh and
entanglement, inching every twist and
turn--we found ourselves and others, one
day on a ground we had never imagined to
set foot upon. Yet, we become what we are
and where we are now not just by a sheer
stroke of luck, or through a splash of a ninja
turtle mutation, but with the stride of guts,
inexorable determination, and resolute
will. Or, it could be from the lack of these.
Look at the transformation of not so few
of our dearest friends whom we once
shared laughter and tears with, and you will
realize what I mean. Seeing them for what
they are now or in the recent past seems
unbelievable, for while we still relished
with our antics, we never had a pigment of
imagination that they would become what
they are now.
Let me rattle down some of our
UNPREDICTABLES:
1. Fr. Oloy - now a singing priest, but
who once took a dodge to escape Fr. Ites
furious slipper for having sung
“do,re,me,fa,so,la,ti,do on a descending
scale during a solfeggio class.
2. Gov. Rene - became a governor,
though he never won a position as a class
officer, not even as prince charming
(maybe because he was neither charming
nor a prince).
3. Kag. Marjals - now “runs” for Mayor
in San Miguel town. We never saw him run
before. He moved veeeery slowwwwly
with awwwwkwwward gaaaait thaaaat’s
whyyy he aaaalways caaaame laaaate
except for every meal.
4. Engr. Maglente - he was more
inclined towards the artistic side, as a
sculptor, as he carved his name in every
table and wall he can lay his hands on.
5. McAbs - earned the moniker “Iron
Man” for his frail health, and now he is
flexing his cute muscles (naa ba?) as he
heads the secretariat of the Vice-Mayors’
League of the Philippines.
6. Fr. Soc - was taunted as the “slow
motion” man, but now he seems to be a
leader in a hurry, positioning himself to the
higher echelon of Mission Society of the
Philippines.
7. Manox - courted the ire of Sir Eronico
for striking the drum in an off-beat tempo
during a YDT drill march, now plays piano,
guitar, and what else?
The list is long. But I do not have the
luxury of time and space. I still have to
feature myself too. Please keep in touch
until the next issue.
View of Elley Hill from my Window
By Manox Arcamo
On my final year in IHMS, I was occupying room #3 in
Dorm A. It was a narrow and elongated room on the second
floor formed by the angle of the protruding façade of the main
building. It was the only room with two sets of windows, the
front window facing the residence of Nong Banong and the
side window facing the wooded area leading to the grotto. The
front window extends right down to the floor.
And where the floor almost touches the glass panel there
was a space enough for my hand to pop in. It was a good hiding
place underneath the floor. I even found a ball pen inscribed
with the word, “Doblas”. I placed it back, for the future
occupants to discover and wonder. I wonder if it is still there.
Below the window was the road that led to the main
gates. There was a steel light post near the mushroom-shaped
waiting shed. It was in my line of sight, and in fact served as a
good shooting target whenever I wanted to unwind with my
tirador. A sharp clang would echo on direct hit. I was not a bad
shooter, I remember.
Also from my window, I had a good, unobstructed view
of Elley Hill. I used to set my bed right beside the window so
that I could see the stars when I closed my eyes at night. And I
swear several dreams were formed during those moments
when “lights off” forced everyone to bed.
I enjoyed sitting on the window sill. I remember that day,
October 16, 1983. It was a Sunday, the start of semesteral
break. The seminarians were excited to leave for home. I
wasn't. It was past 1:00 PM when everything was calm and
quiet, except for the sound of a tricycle and the shouting of
some kids from a distance. Most seminarians had already left.
Torculas and Stephen would not be coming back next
semester. I felt bad for Stephen. He was advised to take
regency. An innocent juvenile prank must have led the
administration to decide against him. I felt sorry for Torculas.
A different future seemed to unravel in front of him that day. It
would be different from what he had hoped. That evening, only
Soc, Vale, MarJals and I were left in Dorm A. Around 9:45 PM,
everything was still. A piano could be heard from Nong
Banong's place across the street. There was a social gathering
going on I supposed. There was occasional laughter. I listened
to the music as I watched the stars from my window.
Room #2, which was a lot bigger, was occupied by
McAbs. It used to be occupied by Jones Dumaluan who
meticulously spun the available space with silvery cobwebs
and even experimented with giant mosquitoes. What took
Jones months of painstaking work took seconds for Ping to
destroy using only a tukog. McAbs was a lot more
conventional compared to the other occupants of that room.
But I cannot forget that time when I received a huge analog
clock with two external bells. It ticked so loudly at night when
everything else outside was quiet. McAbs had nightmares
hearing the ticking of my clock He was imagining strange
Hitchcockian creatures and at one point was even frightened
by his own hand that rested on his neck. He wanted me to get
rid of that clock. But I didn't want to since it had an air of
antiquity attached to it. And I liked things old. Besides I didn't
have another clock. The compromise we reached was for me to
keep that clock literally under wraps--under my clothes!--at
night.
A thin ply wood separated our rooms. I used to climb the
wall whenever I was almost finished with my can of beer. And
McAbs would laugh and rant, “Lauga kayo o. Di pa gyud
manghatag. Aku na na 'na bi! Aku na!” And I would let him
curse the night away as I quaffed the last
drop of warm San Miguel.
On the other side of my room was
MarJals. He was eternally quiet. With
his sloth-like movement, I wouldn't
know if he was present in his room or
not. I would only be jolted by his own
sudden interruption of his deep thought,
“Gents, naa ka bay notes sa Philosophy?
Wa ko makakopya ganiha. Pahuwam.”
Ingents who occupied the room opposite
MarJals would simply answer in his
usual somewhat-Cebuano-like accent,
“Wala sad gani ko.”
Ingents seems to have acquired
MarJals' penchant for talking aloud in
the middle of his musings. And I recall
that incident in
the Dorm A
lavatory. It was
sometime in
December of
1983--the air was
cool and the scent of the season was in the air. Ingents was
quietly washing his clothes that early afternoon during siesta
time. I was carrying a guitar, nagging Ingents to stop what he
was doing so that we could start practicing Christmas carols.
He wanted to finish just a couple of clothes. So I waited for
him, strumming and humming a few notes, and once in a while
nagging him, while he nonchalantly meditated on his dirty
clothes.
Then all of a sudden, the big burly Fr Paredes appeared in
the lavatory doorway. I froze. Ingents went on with his task,
not knowing what was happening. “Wala pa gani time.
Gipukaw mo na ba sila?” he blurted out in the middle of his
thought.
Fr Paredes looked stern, having caught me red handed
breaking silence during siesta time. “Unsang orasa naman,
Arcamo?” he asked. But I couldn't answer him. I was shocked.
I also wanted to tell Ingents to keep his mouth shut, “Gents,
Ingents …” But Ingents didn't hear me, “Lawgaw man sad ka
kayo, Nox. Nganong ako man lang intawon ang imong
gisamuksamuk?”
Then from out of nowhere, McAbs appeared squinting
and with a towel around his neck. He just woke up from siesta.
Since Fr Paredes was blocking the way, he said, “Excuse me”,
and proceeded to squeeze in between Fr Paredes and the
doorway jamb. The right side of his face hit the side of the door
jamb in the process, creating a sound that reverberated in the
lavatory. I laughed so loudly and uncontrollably. Ingents not
knowing what was happening tried to reprimand me for it was
siesta time, “Hilum diha masakpan ka gain ni Medio”.
McAbs, not knowing what hit him, was apologetic,”Ay,
sorry”.
The eternally-stoic Fr Paredes was trying to suppress a
laughter as he turned away not bothering to wait for my reply. I
was laughing out loud as I explained what had just happened.
McAbs saved the afternoon for us. We would have been
punished had he not appeared at the right moment. I haven't
thanked McAbs for that incident. Thanks for knocking your
head on the doorway, McAbs! Ha…ha…ha… (I couldn't
resist saying that.)
Room #1, which was directly in front of Dorm A's main
entrance, was occupied by Soc who, if I remember it correctly,
served as the beadle. But my recollection of Soc's room cannot
take away the image of Oloy lying on Soc's bed--laughing his
heart out at a joke while rubbing the corner of his nose.
It was a wonderful time of my life. I didn't know stress.
There was no pressure from school.
That was how I recalled those days when I used to look
out long and hard from my window and I would see the
solitary mound of Elley Hill. It was so beautiful, so majestic,
smooth and quiet. But I knew it was only from a distance. I was
aware that it was steep, grassy, and full of rocks and crags. I
should know for Oloy and I did conquer that hill in search of a
hermit. (But that's another story.)
Strangely though, that was how I perceived my future. It
looked so exciting, so beautiful, and so full of possibilities.
But deep inside, I was intimidated by imperial Manila. I knew
then that it wouldn't be an easy journey
from thereon.
I spent much time brooding on
those hills. I guess I made my decision
there on the window sill to take the Jesuit
entrance test in Banawa Retreat House.
God knows how many times my resolve
was strengthened when I quieted myself
down and looked out through that
window. That view had always reassured
me that life is a continuum, that its final
goal is not in this world, and that
everything is ephemeral, including
failure and sadness. I guess I still carry
that window with me, long after I had left
IHMS.

“Yayo” Was How We Were Called
I was one of the two “Yayo” in the history of IHMS
high school. The other one was Issac Pala from
Valencia. He is now a doctor, and the last I heard of
him he was connected with the Cebu Institute of
Medicine as Professor inAnesthesiology.
Why were we called “yayo”? It all started this way.
During our high school days in Taloto, Isaac and I
were fascinated with airplanes and bombs. We spent
our vacant times flipping over volumes of
encyclopedias and other references in the library. We
read about Alfred Nobel and nitroglycerin,
aerodynamics and propulsion. Isaac was more
intellectually equipped than me, but my fascination
and imagination about those things were as intense as
his.
On weekdays and free days, we would walk to the
airport passing through the barbwire-fence of the
seminary and into the field. Cutting across a cornfield
we exited through a piggery, owned by who-knows-
who, we didn't care. From the piggery, we crossed the
Tagbilaran-Taloto road, which looked more like a dirt
road, and then into another patch of land to finally
reach the end of the airport's runway. We did this walk
in the middle of the day, dauntless to the scorching
heat of the sun, the spiky tips of the cogon leaves, and
the “makahiya” grasses.
When the plane arrived at 11:50 AM, we were
there--ready. When it landed the sound of the turbo-
prop engine would seem to drown the whole
environment of life and the enormity of its aluminum-
colored fuselage seemed to embody the whole of my
dreams and ambitions since I was a boy. We usually
stood outside the barbwire perimeter fence at the
runway's edge as the giant machine, thundering in
front of our face, rushed like a bull charging the earth
below. Everything happened in just a few seconds,
and yet it would leave us speechless and mesmerized
for the next 30 minutes, as we contemplated on the
magic of modern technology. More often, we would
find not only our hands gripping the rusty barbwire
but even our mouths unconsciously biting it, too.
Isaac was always the first to laugh at me for doing it,
although more than once he also did that.
What about the bombs? Yes, we used to scrape
powder from the pospuro (guitar was our preferred
brand, because it was drier than the other brands)
and mixed it with the igniter to create this homemade
firecracker called lubintador. One day, Jones
Dumaluan scraped a good amount of powder, almost
the size of a ping-pong ball. Together, we placed it in a
tin can and compacted it with clay. First we thought of
detonating it in the kalibunan, just beyond the football
field. But as we prepared a hole in the ground, one of
use noticed the downspout (metal pipe) at the side of
the high school building, which ran from the roof
down to the gutter below the school building.
It was Jones who started the conversation and
shifted our attention from the “hole in the ground” to
the metal pipe, “McAbs, adto nato ibutang ning
lubintador sa baba (lower part) sa tubo unya diha
nato pabuthon.”
Isaac, applying his aptitude in physics affirmed the
idea saying, “Bitaw. Ang tubo maoy magsilbing
(long) barrel. Mag build-up na ug pressure. Kusog
jud na'g butu.”
Enthusiastically, the three of us walked back to the
building and prepared the lubintador to be placed at
the end of the pipe near the ground. We were so
engrossed with our project that we never tried to trace
where the other end of the pipe was or what was
adjacent to the pipe. It was only later after the blast
when we discovered that it was attached to the back
wall of the Dean's Office. The distance between the
lubintador and the chair of the Dean was less than
three feet. The Dean during that time was the brawny
Rev Fr. Roberto “Borax” Cajes, who was notorious
for being strict and stern.
by Kriss Abcede
It was around 3:00 in the afternoon. Fr Cajes just
came down from his room still wobbly from a restful
siesta. He was rocking quietly at his big springy chair,
massaging his forehead while staring blankly at the
ceiling. He must have been enjoying the quiet and
solitude inside his office. Mr Hinacay, the Registrar,
was ruffling at some files, at the corner of the office.
They were totally unaware of a devious plan that was
afoot. Likewise, neither were we conscious too of the
fact that we were setting a bomb so close to the Dean's
office. Our whole attention was focused on detonating
the lubintador inside that metal pipe. For us it was “the
thing” that our hearts desired. And we were anxious to
know how big the detonation and the sound would be.
After we ignited the fuse, we ran quickly to the
kalubihan, a safe distance but near enough for us to see
the flickering fuse. All our hearts and soul, attention
and consciousness were perpetually fixed on the
burning fuse. Today, as I recall that particular instance,
I feel as if it we were in a time warp. Time stood still
momentarily. Even the wind and the clouds seemed to
pause, and like us were waiting anxiously as the fuse
was steadily being consumed by the flame. It was a
momentary eternity experienced by one who is at the
edge of nirvana.
My eyes quickly shifted focus between the lower
end of the metal spout where the lubintador was and its
upper end that was perpendicularly protruding at the
roof of the building. Then, the burning fuse was gone.
From the outside there was no flame. There was a
pause that seemed like eternity. There was a sudden
flash, and then in a split second, it was followed by a
big, thunderous sound. KABLAMMM--sending
shock waves through the pipe. Within the next
millisecond, the pressure building within the pipe's
chamber weakened its metallic strength and the pipe
gave way to the expanding energy of the lubintador.
The metal pipe crumbled, with the cracking noise
adding a sinister crescendo to the thunderous vibration
of the detonation. The bang was huge--bursting the
pent-up desires within our breasts to a resounding
climax as we patted each other in victory.
Indeed, the blast was strong, well enough to throw
the big burly Fr Cajes of his chair. According to his
own account, he felt being thrown up to the ceiling. Mr
Hinacay, on the other hand, scrambled to the floor
mumbling the names of Jesus, Mary and Joseph
together with a sign of the cross as the files he was
holding scattered everywhere.
As quickly as the blast faded, the physical shock
translated into psycho-emotional shock. Jones, Isaac
and I were jumping joyously and by then we were
already at the kiosk (that stage at the back of the high
school building). Our hands were raised to the sky,
feeling that ecstatic “rush” for having successfully
detonated the lubintador--something that was more
than what we expected.
Indeed what was more than we expected was
embodied in the person of Fr Cajes who came rushing
from that little door at the back. He was a raging bull--
nostrils seething and his big bagtak (now looking
bigger) stumping towards us. Mr Hinacay was behind
him. Nang Feliza and Utan came out from the kitchen,
all horrified. At that point, we regained our wits and the
Scriptum Issue No. 3 1st Quarter 2004 3
feeling of elation fizzled out. Our laughter morphed
into an awkward line of smile on our lips.
Fr Cajes, in his anger, appeared like a giant glaring
down at us. Jones, who was always quick on his feet,
was nowhere to be found, leaving me and Isaac against
a formidable enemy. Fr Cajes was furious, his face
flushed like his tiger-painted buggy car. Isaac and I,
the two smallest boys in the class, looked even smaller
than the hobbits of LOTR. The priest in his emotional
state assumed the rage of a tiger, and with his deep
guttural voice shouted in great fury: “MGA
LITSENG YAAAAA ...” he could not complete the
word. Some seminarians had gathered in curiosity at
the scene. He was conscious of their presence. So torn
between his seething rage and his urge to temper it, he
finally said, “ ... YAAA ... YAYO! Mo! LUHOD
mong duha. Hapit ko mamatay sa KALISANG!”
When he left, Joseph Bernaldez--the one with a
perpetual smirk on his face and served like a court
jester in the Cajesian kingdom--came to us, jeering,
“Mga yaaayo mong duha.”
The word “yayo” stuck.
Throughout our high school days, during our free
days, Isaac and I became the two “yayo” who busied
ourselves on playful and imaginative things, while our
classmates occupied themselves in the pursuit of girls
in Tagbilaran. They would come home to the seminary
on a Sunday afternoon with stories of their adolescent
exploits. But for Isaac and me, we always stayed
within the seminary compound--contented with the
imaginations, dreams and visions that boys like us
weaved as we crossed the threshold to manhood.
Bloody Valentines
in 1983
By Manox Arcamo
It was Feb 13, 1983, Sunday, a day before the
much anticipated Valentines Day. It was also a
bad day for us college seminarians--it turned out
to be. We were deprived of our regular afternoon
outing, just because of an egg. An egg!
Remember that incident? Somebody took the
hard boiled egg from the plate of an absent
seminarian, before the grace before meal was
said. The Prefect of Discipline wanted to know
who took it. But nobody confessed. So the entire
body was punished. “No outing this afternoon.” I
could still remember that voice as my world
crumbled.
But we had our way of coping. In psychology,
it was called sublimation--we joked to
rationalize what we were about to do. With an air
gun, we scour the surrounding for stray chicken.
There were around 7 of us who we tried to coax
the chicken to flee from the coop. What a grand
time it was chasing chicks--we teased. We
hunted them with stones and air gun. We trapped
a couple without firing the gun, by trapping them
and grabbing their neck. Just like that. But I
remember Bobong Morgia aiming the gun with
one hand. The muzzle was 2 inches from the
trapped chicken's temple. The chicken didn't
stand a chance. All in all there were 3 chickens
that were hastily and expertly dressed by
Ingents. These were washed with water from a
couple of coca cola bottles. We built a fire among
the shrubs and like pre-historic cannibals
feasting on a game, we dined our Valentines
outing way.
4 Scriptum Issue No. 3 1st Quarter 2004
SCRIPTUM
Newsletter
SCRIPTUM is published
quarterly by the IHMS HS
batch 80 and College Batch 84
for the purpose of continuing
the “storytelling” that we
always loved to do. It is given
free to all members of the two
batches. It is also open to
contributions from its
members. If you want to
sponsor an issue, please email
us. It will not cost you much.
We can even feature your baby
picture, if you want. (Kay
matud pa ni Alcala, mas guapo
man ta niadtong bata pa kuno
'ta) We will publish our next
issue, Issue No.4 2nd quarter of
2004, most probably in May--
unless, no one volunteers to
sponsor that issue. Any takers?
Who would you like to
volunteer?
EDITORIAL BOARD:
By the power we vest upon
ourselves, we hereby appoint
the following as
Circulation Managers: Juntabs,
MarJals and Arnold Cespon
The Music of My Life
(continued from page 1)
“Ma-Me-Mi-Mo-Mu.” There may
be frustrations for not being able to
win in the competition, but over
and above I felt a sense of
fulfillment because I--and I believe
the feeling was also shared by
many--sang not only to win but
simply to satisfy my desire for the
love of music. As I put my award
back in my old personal file, I felt
like singing old songs again--songs
I learned while I was at the IHMS.
I may not be in the mold of
Arnold Zamora or TQ Solis, as far
as music is concerned, but I know
IHMS has taught me not only to
read musical notes and sing songs
but more importantly to follow
rightly the rhythm of everyday life.
Thanks IHMS!
“Without music, life would be an
error.” (Nietzsche)
Asa Na Man 'Mo? The formidable IHMS College batch of 84
ni Soc Mesiona (Sa ato pa gikahadlukan ba.)
Asa naman intawon mo? Kami ra ba diay ni Manox ani? Ug ni Bay
pa sa DZBB “Pukaw na mo!” Bisan tuod og wala mi ninyo sugoa apan
gapa-alig-alig intawon mi kay aron dili malubong sa kalimot ang atong
mga kagahapon.
Nindot baya gyud nga maghinumdum. Matud pa adtong guwapa
nga taga-Madre, “It's nice man gud.”
Naka hinumdum ko adtong first year high school pa ta nga gipasaka
ko og butong ni Quiñones. Una wa ko mo sugot kay di man intawon ko
anad mosaka og lubi.
Bisan tuod ug taga Sevilla ko pero di man ko tig-saka ug lubi. Gawas
pa, kawat man gud 'to! Apan napugos ko kay gigulat man intawon ko.
Gamatoy man ko kaniadto.
“Di ka mo saka kay suntukon ta ka?”, hata ni Quiñones nga dako ra
ba gyud intawon ug kumo. Pastilan beadle ra ba unta siya apan mao
man hinuo'y nag una'g binuang! Pero mikaon pud ko sa butong…
syiempre. Clockwise from left: Mario Ingente, Manox Arcamo, Oloy Malanog, Kriss
Daghan tag kasinatian nga angay hinumduman. Mga kasinatian nga Abcede, Mario Jala, and Soc Mesiona.
bisan gibalikbalik na'g estorya apan nindot lang gihapong paminawon.
Ug, basin duna pu'y mga kasinatian nga wala gyud nato maestorya pa.
Mao nga namugos intawon mi nga mamantala kining maong High School Entrance 1976
pahayagan aron aduna kita'y higayon nga mag-ambitay sa atong mga (This list is based on the raw memory of our former class
estorya'g kasinatian. monitor, Soc. If we inadvertently omitted your name please
Busa palihog… sulat intawon mo! complain to us.)
1. Adriatico, Cecil*
Class Notes 2.
3.
Akiatan, Rolando*
Alcala, Ramonito*+
Superior Prediction . Fr. Soc 4. Amora, Roy*
Mesiona was elected in January 2004 5. Arcamo, Manuel*+@
as Superior of the Mission Society of 6. Besas, Ronald
the Philippines (MSP) during the 6
th
7. Boncales,
General Assembly. Election was done 8. Castro, Nicanor*+
through secret balloting. As the Fr. 9. Ceballos, Jecebu*
Moderator of the 65-priest missionary 10. Ceballos, Dennis*
congregation, he will hold the top post 11. Cespon,Arnold*
of MSP for a period of 5 years. 12. Cimafranca, Ramir*+
Congratulations, Fr. Soc!, the pride of 13. Cimafranca, Raul
Sevilla. 14. Cuyno, Hector*+
It was the second prediction of 15. Doron, Donald
Manox that came true. The first concerned Yiet Cabahug who is now the 16. Dumadag, Raymund*
Bishop of Surigao. Way back in the early 80's, Manox, told Fr Yiets, “Mora 17. Espera, Manolo
man gyud ug mahimo kang Obispo. Obispuhon man ka kayo.“ And with Fr 18. Jabines, Raul
Soc, in the early 90's, “Mahimo gyud kang superior sa MSP.” His other
19. Jala, Mario*+@
predictions--among several predictions, of course--were: “Maupaw man
gyud ka, Soc” and “Mahimong babay ang imong ngalan, McAbs”. As for 20. Jimenez, Marclare*
Kriss, formerly known as McAbs, his prediction is that Soc will become a 21. Lim, Marvin
bishop. He is not sure which religion though. 22. Limbago, Moises
23. Limbago, Presco
24. Lopez, Julius Glenn
Baptism. Jan Rafael, the son of Christopher and Miriam Abcede was
25. Maglente, Loel*
baptized by Fr Soc at the St Therese Chapel in Cainta last January 17. The
26. Malanog, Jeffrey*+@
baptism was punctuated by the subdued giggles of the officiating priest who
was only too happy for his friend and former colleague. Reception was held 27. Mesiona, Socrates*+@
at their residence in Town and Country subdivision, attended by several 28. Oclarit, Eric*+
MSP priests. 29. Pamaong, Meliton
30. Pateño,Alejandro*
31. Pusta, Edward
32. Quiao, Leodigario*+
33. Ranario, Samuel*
34. Relampagos, Rene*
35. Reluya, Cecilio*+
36. Saclao, Crisologo
37. Sarigumba, Mariolito*+
38. Tabel, Leonardo Jr*+
39. Teloren,Alex
40. Uy,Allan
[Shouldn't there be 42 names in the list? We must have
Spontaneous Reunion. Towards Christmas last year, Soc Mesiona, missed 2 names. Reklamo lang kung wa ka sa listahan.]
Liklik Akiatan, and Manox Arcamo met at Oliver's Sandwich in Glorietta th
for a spontaneous reunion. They had what else but sandwich and fruit drinks
* Twenty-five (25) who stayed until 4 H.S.
st
and talked about the good old days till late afternoon. A good timing it was + Thirteen (13) who entered 1 College
for Cecil Reluya called up on the cell phone. Unfortunately, he could not @ th
Four (4) who stayed until 4 College
join our re-union. He was in Manila to prepare his paper for abroad,
probably to Middle East.
Joined the batch in College:
1. Christopher,Abcede [One year ahead in H.S.]
Milestone. Fr. Soc Mesiona, MSP, will celebrate the 15th Anniversary of
2. Ingente, Mario [Special class]
his priesthood on April 14, 2004. He will lead a thanksgiving mass in his
hometown of Sevilla, Bohol. 3. Ranches, Stephen [Special class]