Plans plans plans

Samar has been recorded as one of the poorest provinces in the country, probably another reason why we, the children weren’t very much interested in its affairs. Blame it on the geographic location, which is directly on the path where most tropical typhoons take during the wet season. Blame it on lack of industry. Years ago, Catarman was only known for rice and coconut and the New People's Army. Blame it on too much politics, which is endemic in any part of the country (the irony is that my family were very much involved in politics). 

Admittedly, we were not fond of our hometown, even in our adult years. However, I had always imagined restoring something in the province. I dreamed of a house where we could keep all the memories of our family. In the late 90s, I had talks with my architect friend Alvin Matias, to design a bahay na bato that would replace the old Moore residence. I also asked him to do sketches for future residential and commercial structures on the abandoned lot. His original plan was a beautiful and grand recreation of our old ancestral home, which I am certain would pop out in the town. But it also looked too expensive (tegula tiles alone for roofing would run in the millions!) and impractical in the future. Besides, the big fire of 1965 already gutted two beautiful ancestral homes down. I couldn’t imagine losing another one.

Thanks to Alvin for his vision and patience all these years. To my surprise, Mama has kept the original designs and I’ve uploaded it here should Alvin by chance get to read this. Sadly, he’s not part of the final redevelopment, which I had hoped he would be.

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The Right Direction

“Ang hindi marunong lumingon sa kanyang pinanggagalingan ay hindi makararating sa kanyang paruruunan”. (If one doesn’t look back at where he came from, he won’t make it to his destination.)   

–  Jose Rizal

It’s a strange adage, Jose. I never really took it seriously but from your point of view, it looks like I’m headed towards the right direction.

Despite several Agrarian Reforms, there is still so much land in the province from both our parents and grandparents. I remember back in college, one my best friends, Caloy Campos, told me that his lola (grandmother), the former First Lady of the Philippines, Leonila Garcia, recounted memories of our family. She said that the Moores were one of the most well-landed families in Samar. It may have meant something to the old folks and to the locals (even till now) but I guess we never really did care for it. 

For one, we didn’t grow up in the province. Papa and Mama moved to Manila in the 60s’ to start a life here with their children. Samar was a destination, memories of which were limited to childhood summers with our grandparents. Admittedly, those were the times when we were able to grow up with and know more about our other cousins. Deaths in the family would also bring us home. I remember that funeral marches of Daddy and Mommy and vaguely Papa, were of epic proportions. Kilometer long black queues, the singing, the wailing.  The whole province practically went on mourning. It was those memories that made me realize that the town cared so much for our family and yet, we really didn’t care much for the town.

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The Mijares-Moore Family

This photo was taken in 1948, at the Mijares ancestral home, gutted down in 1965 along with the house on the abandoned lot.  It is now the old Moore residence, occupied by my mother.  Seated from left to right: Great grandmother Desideria Saldo-Mijares, Auntie Edith Moore-Urgino, Great grandmother Martina Beleña-Madamba (Moore). Standing: Auntie Thelma Moore-Singzon, Grandmother 'Mommy' Julita Mijares-Moore, Grandfather 'Daddy' Eusebio Moore, mother Leah Moore-Mangada. MORE HERE...

Moore residence

The house on the corner of Anunciacion and Moore streets was hastily built after the fire in 1965. My grandfather designed and personally supervised this project. He was a politician and the immediate need then was a place to receive and entertain his constituents.   The design is typical of its time on this side of the world:  a cross between a bahay na bato (utility and commercial spaces on the ground floor and the living and private spaces on the second floor) and peaked roofing typical of modern American homes.

The entire second floor was spacious enough for my grandparents to receive people from all walks of life, from the ubiquitous farmers and tenants to mayors, governors from other towns and even presidentiables aligned with my grandfather. The ground floor was kept for the vehicles and storage for rice and copra from the farm.  When my grandfather passed away in the early 80s', my grandmother moved into one of her properties adjoining that of one her daughter's. During those years, the Moore house was rented out to a government agency.  This proved to be a disaster later on as the house was practically trashed by the tenants.  They did not care that it was the house of  the province's governor of 8 years and mayor of the town for 16 years.  My grandmother was too old to care as well.  We later found out that huge wood planks of stairs that led to the storage room on the ground floor disappeared, room partitions on the second floor were rearranged, ventilation was altered.  It was a mess.  

This house and the adjoining abandoned lot with the ruins of the other house were inherited by my mother when my grandmother passed away in the early 90s.  At that time, my brothers and sister and I had already finished school and were pursuing our careers here and abroad.  So, my mother decided to retire to the province to run her school, the farms and other businesses.  She decided to live in the Moore house and convert the ground floor to commercial spaces for rent.It has been home to my mom for more than a decade with minor improvements just to make her living conditions more comfortable.  But the truth is, the structure support has had problems, the frame of the house seems to be twisting and this hastily built home that lasted 43 years is showing its age.

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Abandoned lot

This property has been neglected since 1965, after the big fire that gutted the whole province. My grandparents built their dream house here, which, according to the old folk in Catarman, was supposed to be the most beautiful structure back then. There were no hollow blocks used at that time so slabs, walls and posts were made of poured cement. 

The house was of the hue close to celadon green, with exterior texture of rough cement and glass mosaic very vogue at that time. The core of the house was a round tower that contained the staircase winding towards the second floor.

Despite the materials, my grandparents' beautiful home did not withstand the ravaging fire 43 years ago. The lot has seen so many stories, despite its state.

A lot of my folks' homeless tenants would set up temporary shacks to live while building their very own. When us kids would visit during summer, we'd play among the ruins. One summer, my brother jumped from the balcony and his foot landed on a huge rusted nail. He had to take anti-tetanus shots for the rest of the vacation. 

The lot has bred its own ecosystem, with beautiful wild tropical plants growing on every possible spot. Mana Nina, our housemaid for the past 30 years is a green thumb and has added orchids, bushes, vines and flowering plants to the foliage. Banana, coconut, avocado and papaya trees were also planted by different people who have moved on, perhaps even to the afterlife.

The property houses the deep well and pump for our water supply, which has become part of my mother's community service, accessible to neighbors who don't have their own pump. My mother also built a garage and a veranda overlooking the lush but sorry state of the lot.

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