“Whoa!” he muttered. He was up from a
shrieking nightmare. He dreamed of that tragedy—drastic, tyrannical. Mang Romel
was severely sweating. He was squirming in the frantic shadows of that
regretful occurrence. But Juan fully recovered. Mang Romel learned his lesson.
Juan was a sophomore student from
Magsaysay High School in Compostela Valley. He was a consistent honor student
from first grade up to present. He was hardworking. Very valiant in his bravery
to protect and conserve nature, in concision he was a student-environmentalist.
His intellectual capacity was a great help in promoting the ‘No to
Deforestation’ campaign his school supports, but even he himself do not have
the nerve to put a stop to his father’s wrong doings.
Mang Romel was a loving father and
husband. But of all works he was capable of doing, he ended up as an illegal
logger. There’s no other work he could be involved to, especially if one
doesn’t know how to read and write. His son, Juan keeps on provoking him to
change lives. Why not become a farmer instead? He always keeps pursuing his
mother, Aling Sonya to help him stop this insanity, but all Aling Sonya knew
was that it was the only way to sustain their needs.
One day in the midst of November, Juan
and his friends were climbing up the sloppy steps of the slippery hills from
school. The rainy season has begun. Rain keeps pouring heavily from all over
the place. Juan and a couple of students were the last to head to their houses,
which were situated in the next village.
When they almost reached the topmost
part of the sloppy hill, Juan realized that the trees were gone. Stumps were
only left. They were like fingerprints remained as evidences. Juan thought
carefully. The trees were present yesterday. A whisper leaped to his ears. He
suddenly climbed fast. Covered in water, he immediately reprimanded his father
to stop the malevolent action. There could be something happening in the near
future if this agony prolonged.
It was raining more the next day. The
sky was dim. The clouds conjured small thuds of thunder. Students were heading
home from school. As they reached the topmost hill again, Juan observed a lonely
picturesque. There were small falling debris—few rocks, but more roots and
stems from trees cut above.
Juan rushed home. He was angry, very
disappointed. He was wet. The rain grew out of cruelty. He had another
conversation with his father.
“I can’t help it, son,” Mang Romel
worryingly uttered. “You have you needs. I’m your father, and I need to do my
duty. This is the only way I can earn enough money to atleast keep us alive.”
“But,” Juan insisted. “But, what about
the trees? It is crucial to stop this matter because we will be the ones
affected by the calamities.”
“No more buts,” Mang Romel argued in a
hushed voice. “Now, get some sleep.”
It was a sunny day next morning. The
breeze of fresh air wandered upon Juan’s face. He was ready to go to school.
But as he nearly reached the topmost hill as he climbed down the muddy slope, a
huge cliff from above collapsed and Juan was never to be seen again.
A neighbor witnessed the tragic fate
Juan landed on. Aling Linda, panicking, ran to Juan’s residence and told her
kumare, Aling Sonya, that her son was hit by a mudslide on the hill.
Mang Romel shrank from torment the
moment he heard the news.
“My kid! My poor kid!” he cried in
grief. “I’m sorry I didn’t spare my ears to listen!”
He was watching the melancholic scenery
while the people rescued his child. The unending rain started to drop. The sun
began to hide.
Faint-hearted, Aling Sonya’s heart was
pounding. She was in extreme dilapidation. Her soul was wrecked as any mother’s
soul would be if her child will be lost. There was a scarcity of happiness. The
people were devastated.
The search and retrieval operation
continued. It was haphazard for the people to help find the victim, so the
local government put an action to this. The mayor sent a wee-scrutinized team from
Davao.
The spouse didn’t lose hope even though
the longevity of the rain is still very much alive and getting heavier. It was
very dark, but the search and retrieval team didn’t stop. After an hour of
searching, the body was found. And to everyone’s relief, Juan’s heart was still
beating.
Manong Romel cried again, but Aling
Sonya cried most. Juan was rapidly brought to the nearest hospital down the
village. It was a ten-minute ride before he was secured inside the Intensive
Care Unit (ICU). Sonya was praying. Romel was regretful. Both were wet. Both
were in tears of bereavement.
After an hour or two of observation, the
doctor finally got out of the room, wearing a broad grin. It was a sign. Mang
Romel approached and asked the doctor what’s the diagnosis.
“You’re in luck,” said the doctor.
“He’ll recover before you know it.”
Mang Romel told his wife that Juan’s
gonna be alright.
Juan’s third day of admission in the
hospital brought his father tensions.
“Whoa!” he muttered. He was up from a
shrieking nightmare all because Juan tapped his shoulder. Mang Romel shed
tears. He dreamed of that tragedy. It was haunting him. He was sweating. His
eyes were bulging out as he was squirming into the frantic shadows of that
circumstance, protuberant—never to happen again, since he was back, Juan fully
recovered. His father was wailing in apology. Mang Romel learned his lesson. It
was obnoxious to be engaged in deforestation and that it only brings horrendous
misfortune.
Trees are life. We shouldn’t abuse it,
because in the end, we’re the ones who shall suffer all the consequences of
such acts.
I wrote this article sometime in August last year and decided to share it with the readers given the fact that this story is somehow related to the tragic aftermath supertyphoon 'Pablo' has left in Cateel.
Photo credits: Mr. Olan Emboscado of The Travel Teller
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