My Brother Joel, in Memoriam

work in progress...


He was fifth of six children. Willed perhaps to be the last, but pushed by destiny to make room for another one. And that was me.

He carried my father's name. In fact, he was the only one in my family with a single-name first-name when all of us had two.

I came six years after him, when they were all on their way to being teenagers. The six-year gap was the closest I could relate to, most especially with the games I wanted to play, which were much to close to child's play as far as everyone else was concerned. So naturally, I gravitated towards him.

Childhood games weren't too fun when you live in New Manila, where neighbors rarely see beyond 10foot tall walls, so I was pretty much left to my own devices most of the time. The few moments I could convince my brother to play with me, I would almost always be at the losing side. One such instance on a lazy saturday morning while we were at my mother's garden, he picks up two pieces of chili and invents a game where we would chew one each. Of course I was too intelligent to fall for that, as Philippine chili is known as one of the hottest in the world. So he went first. He popped a red one in his mouth and chewed with gusto. Mesmerized, I too popped the other chili and cried my eyes out on the first bite. He breaks into laughter as he sticks his tongue out with his chili still whole. That is what I meant by being on the losing end.

We had a huge fishpond which housed dozens of Chinese Carp and Goldfish, bought wholesale from a grower in Bulacan. We also had guppies which we caught from the drainage canals around New Manila. I remember it was a Sunday when my brother and I decided we wanted to go net-fishing. Going around the house, we spotted the curtain in one room and my brother decided it would work as well as a fish net. He took it down, and we jumped into the pond. We would dredge the pond from here to there and more often than not the curtain would slip from my grasp as it became too heavy with muck and my brother would get upset at me. Eventually we were able to pull up all the guppies we could, which we then kept in 4 mason jars. aquariums then were not as popular as fishbowls, which were in turn not as popular as mason jars. My mom came home shortly after that. And while she probably noticed the missing curtain, we never got heat from her. I do not know what the occasion was but we had ice cream at dinner time that night. In those days, ice cream came with a stick of dry ice, as refrigerators were also not yet that plentiful. While I was ogling my guppies in one of the mason jars, my brother casually suggests that we drop a small chuck of dry ice, which we did. Dry ice dropped in water produces a low lying mist which made my mason jar of guppies even nicer to watch. After a minute the dry ice was gone, so I ask my brother to drop a bigger chunk. Bigger chunks of dry ice produce more intense mist. They also cause water to swirl around faster and faster. For the first few seconds, the effect was spectacular; and I was enjoying the show! after about a minute, i notice that my guppies were starting to be disoriented and were going belly up. I pleaded to my brother to do something as the fishes were apparently dying. He got upset as he felt I was blaming him for the situation. I remember crying my eyes out for my guppies. Fish in a fishbowl and dry ice do not mix. I was probably 7 then.

My brother had a way of always making his experiences, mundane if it were anyone else, seem like it was the best thing on Earth. When I was in grade 7, the in thing in public transport was the airconditioned LOVE BUS. These were among the first public transport buses that had airconditioning, in the time when cars were offered for sale without airconditioning; it was an add-on option along with a push-button A.M. radio. The Love Bus routes were Ali Mall in Cubao, Alemar's in Makati, and Escolta; which were the business districts back then. Ortigas was virtually a ghost town in 1979, having only 3 buildings, Philcomcen tower and Meralco on Ortigas Avenue, and SMC along Julia Vargas. I would tell him about my first few times on the Love Bus, and he would respond that the "in" thing were the baby buses that plied the recto-crossing-cainta route. These baby buses were equipped with black lighting, wooden "lawanit" windows, and KP400 eight-track cassette players blurting out the latest rock music from Queen, Led Zep, Nazareth, Pink Floyd and Deep Purple on the loudest tweeters around. keep in mind that the baby buses were eventually pulled out from the streets for not being road-worthy a couple of years later, but he told it in such a way that I wished that my school was somewhere in the University Belt just so I could ride in what he was riding. That was my brother. Everything was always magical.

Speaking of Love Buses...did I mention that they had buzzers per row, per side? And curtains too! Two of my memorable Love Bus trips come to mind...
1) it was a saturday afternoon and my other brother Julius brought me along to Ali Mall; he bought me an entire box of Daisy fresh strawberry milk! They were 250ml tetra packs, 24 or 27pieces per box, costing 1 peso each. I was sooo happy.
2) my dad brought me to Escolta on a Saturday lunch for a 35 course chinese buffet!

Now, back to my brother.
There were several stories I have heard about him when he was in his heydeys in high school. these stories seem to be too good to be true, but I am telling them as I remember it.

In the mid 70's, basketball was the most popular form of entertainment in Manila as virtually everything else had been banned by the Martial Law government. And while institutional gambling was outlawed, personal betting in one form or another were reaching new highs. My brother and his batchmates were also into it. Crispa and Toyota were the two most popular teams playing in the PBA, which had games every Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday at the Big Dome. So, on days where those two teams were playing, bets would be made left and right. My brother, who always sees opportunities, saw a way to tilt the odds in his favor. He had a gangmate who was Buddhist; and while Buddhists do not gamble, Buddhists have easy access to their temples which had the fortune sticks. Fortune sticks are also known as wish sticks. Wish sticks are like chopsticks stacked inside a bamboo tumbler. Devotees who wish to know their fortune shakes up the bamboo tumbler while asking a question. The first stick that comes out is the answer to the question. So, his big idea was to seek the help of the Buddhist fortune sticks in predicting the outcome of the Crispa-Toyota game, and they would then bet accordingly. From what I know, they won all their bets except the last one. And that in itself is another short story.. Apparently, his Buddhist gangmate felt that he was getting the short end of the deal, and so he gave a different winning team from what was predicted by the fortune sticks... Mark Twain'ish right?

In his third of forth year, he was a representative in interschool Karate competitions. As he was good at it, he eventually made his way to the finals, where he was pitted against a fellow brown belter. Already knowing his correct Psywar technics, he swapped his brown belt for a yellow belt and pretended to know less Karate than he actually did. During the match, he let his opponent chase him around, and then baited him before giving a solid blow to the solar plexus. He was champion of that tournament, and a school hero when he came back.

At school he was a legend; playing Mahjong at lunchbreak, in a school that rarely allows students out for lunch, across the main gate at the townhouses where our parking lot used to be, with Alona Alegre. Everybody wanted to tag along with him.

But I think his most legendary exploit was when he organized a cockfight, inside the school premises, during the school fair. In what was a very publicised underground activity (much along the shades of a Mark Twain novel) my brother was going to pit his rooster versus the rooster of a very prominent cockfighting family. Over the course of the next four weeks, he would announce little bits and pieces to drum up bigger and bigger interest into their cockfight. Here is how I presumed he lined up his underground information releases:
1) cockfight inside Xavier!
2) cockfight between a derby winner and his rooster.
3) Joel's rooster is not a fighting cock, but a Leghorn.
4) Joel's White Leghorn has just been bought from the Kamuning Market the week before!
5) 3 days to go before the derby winner goes against Joel's White LegHorn.

You can probably imagine what level of betting frenzy they had by then. Private School boys on their final year, attempting to do something that no one in their right mind will approve; and then betting on an outcome with seemingly impossible odds. Joel, the school hero, organizer of the cockfight, fighting his market-quality white leghorn versus a derby champion line. And if you know my brother, you will know that his white leghorn will win; which is exactly what happened. Like I said, my brother has the ability to weave magic into his existence. And he left Xavier a hero in the eyes of his peers.

He eventually set his career path in the world of Finance, making a name for himself quite quickly. After about a decade, he slowly shifted his priorities towards a simpler life, away from the limelight. His chosen hometown, Antipolo, was where he set his roots.


work in progress...

Running On Empty

My dad loved cars. In his heydey, he had several good marquees. I remember the Peugeot, Triumph, and even a Karmann Ghia. But being such a young child then, I can barely associate any memory with those vehicles. Aside from the badges, I have a faint recollection of their colors. The Peugeot was probably black or dark blue. The Triumph may have been green and white, while the Karmann Ghia was almost certainly gold.

The family business was logging, which, for a while, was very profitable. But like most things, it eventually came to an end. Things ended just as a dictatorship was taking shape. Of course it did not help that over on the other side of the world, a fuel crisis was about to erupt. Over in Asia, the struggle was for rice, which was underproduced that year, resulting in rationing and famine. Everything seemed to be figuratively tight. And this was about the time I started being aware of the rest of the world. I was seven.

That year also saw an onslaught of several hurricane-strength storms, the strongest plunging Manila into darkness for one entire month.

Somewhere around that time, my sister had to be picked up somewhere and brought home. I tagged along for the joyride with the Triumph, and pretty soon, we were caught up in knee-deep water and slow-moving traffic. We eventually managed to get close to the house when the Triumph's fuel indicator lit up. We hit empty with a couple of blocks still to go. The engine died. My brother kept at the starter as if he was privy to a miracle. After a couple of tries, the engine came back to life! And although we were just barely at "idle" level, the Triumph eventually got us home, safe.

That Triumph "running on empty" was a miracle for me, a seven year old. Over the years, I would remember that situation, and that Triumph, that ran on empty because it had to. Over the years, I had to run on empty several times as well, because I had to. Last year, I also had to run on empty throughout the year, because my emotional gas tank went dry sometime before that. Now I face that same prospect again, but this time with regard to my professional future. Let us see how far I can go this time.


Jesus Paul C. Yan
for The Paul Yan Chronicles