By: Ma. Elena C. Cardinez
I am seven years older than my brother Rizaldy. And although I am the eldest and the only girl in a brood of three, I was the most stubborn and had the lousiest temper, even as a child. Rizaldy, whose nickname is Zaldy, was entirely my opposite - genteel, unselfish, beautiful soul, and everyone's favorite grandson, nephew, and cousin.
I went away to college when he was barely ten years old. Seven years later, we have come to a full circle. He went away on April Fool's Day and accepted his appointment as a cadet in the Philippine Military Academy. After eight long, agonizing weeks, we finally got to see him again.
In August of 1998, Zaldy filed his application to join the Philippine Military Academy but was not allowed to take the entrance exams for he was only going to be 16 years old by April of 1999 - still a few months short of 17 which is the minimum age to be accepted as a cadet. However, he was determine that he applied a year later. I thought he was not interested in expousing military life - he had seen the difficulty and rigors his uncles and cousins went through, being army men themselves. Add to that, Papang (my father) and the policeman's life - he knows it is not an easy profession to be involved in.
Zaldy entered the University of the Philippines at Los Banos as a civil engineering student in June 1999. He would spend weekends with me in Diliman where I was taking up my law degree. I promised myself that I will make up for all the years I missed. Together we went to movies, malls, ate out a lot, and bonded well together as brother and sister. It was a conscious effort on my part to be constantly in touch - the first few months even saw me making long distance calls to his dormitory every evening.
We were still preparing to mail his application when Papang called to tell us that Zaldy's permit to take the PMA entrance examinations was received at home. I could sense that Zaldy was a bit hesitant when he took the test. It was apparent that he was beginning to enjoy university life and the dizzying independence that went with it. When he was scheduled to take the physical examinations, he was torn between reporting to V. Luna Medical Center and joining our family in Vigan (it was in time for All Souls' Day when family members would go home to the province to honor their departed relatives and loveones). We had to tell him that everyone would understand if he will not be around and that Papang will be in Quezon City to look after him anyway. By the time he was certain of his acceptance, he already made up his mind to enter the Academy.
I was looking forward to spending a few more days with my brother before April 1st. The schedule of my final examinations ruined it. I had to meet Zaldy and my parents in San Fernando, La Union in the evening of March 31. I didn't have time to go home to Vigan since I still had exams the day before. We stayed overnight at the Prime Hotel.
We woke up before six the following morning. The assembly at Camp Allen in Baguio City was scheduled at 7:00 a.m. When we arrived, a number of parents were already there. Zaldy joined the rest of his batchmates while we just looked on. I marveled at how proud the parents were. All the other mothers were glowing with happiness. Mamang (my mother) was the only one in tears! She never got used to seeing us, her children, leave home - when I left for college, when Zaldy left for Los Banos, almost at every opportunity when we had to go away (even during semestral break). I guess that is her way of letting us know that she is both overjoyed and saddened to have earnest, determined children.
I thought I was doing well and my emotions were perfectly under control. I was smiling at my brother, with Papang trying his best to hide Mamang from view. We were told they needed ballpens so I went to give Zaldy one. I had my mobile phone with me so he was able to make last minute calls to our Manang (aunt) and our cousins in Vigan. He was still on the phone when they announced that they must leave behind all jewelry and cash that they have with them, else they will be confiscated. That broke my composure - I was indeed leaving my brother behind. He gave me a hug before they boarded the gray buses of the Academy.
We joined many other parents on an army truck enroute to Loakan where Fort Del Pilar, the home of the Philippine Military Academy, is located. Had it been an ordinary day, the 20-minute ride would have been novel and amusing. But it was not an ordinary one, it was Reception Day for the Class of 2004. The last time we got to speak with Rizaldy was when they were served breakfast near the Fort Del Pilar Elementary School. He was able to make a few more phone calls and even made me promise to take care of myself and to write and visit often.
Nobody told me what to expect during Plebe Reception. I have never seen one and didn't have the faintest idea as to what it would be like. The "exercise" lasted for more than two hours - sit ups, jogging-in-place, jumping jacks, crunches, and push ups. There was a lot of noise, barking out of orders and commands by the upperclassmen, and the plebes all looked confused and downfounded. Zaldy was grimacing in pain and evidently had difficulty breathing. For a second, I had the urge to rush to comfort and aid my brother. It must have turned out for most of them to be some kind of a shock treatment. Was I glad that somehow Zaldy survived what must have been for him one of the most difficult experience he ever encountered ... and to think that it was only his very first day at the Academy. It will probably be an experience which my brother will never ever forget.
We left when the new cadets were led to their barracks and had their very first haircut. I remembered that was my first visit to the Academy. But the lush greens and manicured surroundings, and yes, the dashing cadets, were inconsequential as I cannot remember any sadder day than that particular April Saturday. It was April Fool's Day, but to laugh would be sacrilege.
My family and I will always be grateful to a couple we met during the reception. They had a son who is also a plebe. They constantly kept us abreast of how my brother was doing. Without them, I was certain that we would never have a decent sleep in those two long months.
We sighed with relief when we learned that Incorporation Day was just around the corner. We felt that probably things would be much easier on Zaldy by then. I can still recall the rush that I felt that day - I will see my brother again!
Our second visit to the Academy was for the open house. The whole clan left Vigan for Baguio. Zaldy's high school "barkada" was in complete attendance. We had our rendezvous at the Vacation Hotel where all the families of the plebes assigned to Bravo Company were billeted. From the edge of the grandstand to cadet "beast barracks," I found myself progressing from a walk to a faster gait until I was running the whole length. I was frantically searching for my brohter's bunk. I was so close to calling out his name when I failed to find him in the barracks map that we were provided. And there he was standing in his cadet gray uniform - more handsome than I ever remembered. In moments I ran to where he stood. During the six-hour bus ride to Baguio, I kept psyching myself that I should not cry, that I have to put up a facade of strength for the sake of my brother - all these were forgotten. I was unabashedly crying. So did Mamang and so did our youngest. We were just so happy to see Zaldy again.
"These are my things, Manang," he said as he was pointing at a small open cabinet with neatly folded shirts, towels, underwear, socks, and belts - everything all in its proper places. I had to smile when I recalled how chaotic his room at home used to be before - guitar on the bed, a keyboard underneath, songbooks all around, his school stuff substituted for a carpet, his toiletries on top of the amplifier, sheets all tousled. It was a dramatic change to see how orderly he now put his things together.
He introduced us to his squad leader who seemed quite busy. I managed to smile. I had a thousand questions on my mind to ask his SL but restraint took the better of me. I failed to catch his name, but he appeared to be a very responsible and sensible young man. I said to myself that my brother was in good hands.
As the parade started, I have never seen my father stand prouder than he did as my brother marched into view. Paternal pride at its purest. My brother has finally earned for himself the privilege to be a member of the Cadet Corps of the Armed Forces of the Philippines. It was another proud moment for all of us in the family.
The new cadets were allowed to go out on privilege starting at 2:00 p.m. and ending by taps at 10:00 p.m. - we were made to understand that Rizaldy and his other classmates would be allowed to spend time with their respective families who came to visit them. Suddenly, those eight hours felt so swift and too fleeting. There was so much to be said. Indeed, life's most poignant moments always find us at a loss for words.
Our young cousins never left his lap - they knew how to make up for the eight weeks they missed their Manong Zaldy. Papang was massaging him. Mamang and our aunts almost spoon-fed him. I only sat there marveling at how the eight weeks of summer camp has remolded my younger brother. Amazing! Gone were the bad posture, the extra ten pounds, and the wild hair. Above those extrinsic transformations, I was looking at a young man brimming with confidence and vitality. He animatedly recounted to us their daily grind (bedtime at 10 p.m., up by 3:30 a.m., runs, exercises, marches, and drills), the friendships he was blessed with, upperclassmen who were truly officers and gentlemen, their foot marches, and how he is already better than me in ironing and sewing.
I could tell that the two months have been grueling and that fully adjusting to military life would still take longer. When I had the chance to talk to him, I couldn't help but ask if he wanted to resign. He smiled back, kidded me about how much I missed him and how I worry too much, and said, "No" - that was all I needed to know. My brother is made of tougher stuff than I am after all. All too sudden, it was 9:00 p.m. and it was about time for him to return to Fort Del Pilar. Unfair - is a night spent watching over your kid brother while he sleeps too much to ask? Apparently, it was. The privilege was over.
All my life I have always felt that I had control over my emotions, that I knew perfectly well when to hold on and when to let go - in any aspect of my life, be it relationships, professions, or academics. But my 23 years did not prepare me for the onslaught of sentiments that I never knew I would be capable of. Love, pride, regret, anger, hope, pain - all in a chemistry I could not fathom. Our family, as all the plebes' families are, still is in the dark as to how we can grasp the reality of my kid brother now being a part of the Academy.
I read somewhere that whenever we come to the edge of the unknown, only two things are certain: there will be something solid to stand on or we will be taught how to fly. This is the threshold of the unknown. For my little "Ading," I prefer the latter, and the Academy, I trust, is in the midst of giving him his own pair of wings - not for him to merely fly, but to soar.
