LAHUG CREEK

I HAVE LIVED ALL MY life beside the Lahug Creek in Cebu City. I have followed its source up and beyond Busay Falls beginning from the waterfront area near Escaño Shipping Lines office. The creek, or canal, have been part of my playground when I was a student at the nearby Tejero Elementary School and I have traversed along its length and width as an escape route from pursuing childhood enemies, playing catch me with neighbors or just gathering gobies – a tiny fish which we popularly called “rainbow”.

In those days the creek was already dirty but living things still inhabit therein and all about. Aside from the fish, tadpoles and toads share the creek with an occasional tortoise or monitor lizard. Rats ran roughshod in the night over the riverbanks foraging on morsels of food flushed down from the houses lining the creek with their population being picked one by one by juvenile pythons. Clumps of bamboo grow along the banks found upriver and is home to avians, reptiles and insects. But not anymore.

And according to my late grandmother, Purificacion Lavilles, they used to wash clothes by the creek during “peace time” - the years before World War II – and her brothers would place two nets across the creek during high tide and wait for the water to subside and then harvest the fishes caught in between the nets. During Liberation my great uncles would play franks with the American soldiers and wait for them to squat at the riverbank after supper their white rumps a perfect target in the dark of their taut slingshots. When I was small, I used to see a small boat with a sail and outriggers traveling up and down the creek every high tide.

As far as my memory could remember, the creek have been dredged of silt thrice, the last time in the year 2000. In the early '90s the creek bed had rose to a few feet providing flood waters to overflow the embankments and denying tide water to gain access to the narrow channels due to the unabated large-scale development in upper La Guerta and Nivel Hills where erosions of loose soil and silt washed down to the creek and it was that time that I have developed the habit of sleepless nights during a rain, even how slight.

The creek will overflow during strong typhoons and ceaseless rains and brought with it silt, clay and mud from the hills which caused inconvenience in my locality. My former house used to suffer from the constant floods as it is located in the lowest part of an embankment and I would find myself waking up at dawn or in the middle of my sleep plugging holes or washing away the filth and the mud before it hardened. Often, I have company with reptiles and varmint dislodged by these floods.

After a flood the water is very clear, the banks swept clean by the current and it is that moment where life appear for just a few hours. Gobies converge on the minute springs that appeared overnight resulting from runoffs of areas inundated with rain and flood water. For just a few hours these tiny spots became the last refuge for this tiny fish after they are forced down from their abode after a heavy downpour. Then, slowly, toxic pollutants and detergents and other filth get to work its way down the current and blacken the creek snuffing all minute particles of life.

The Lahug Creek is ecologically dead! And that is a fact. My neighbors and people living upriver throw their garbage unashamedly placing a strain on the creek bed itself. I have waged a one-man campaign against this practice for many years and my pleas fell on deaf ears among my neighbors and among the barangay authorities. I have created animosity amongst friends back then because of this advocacy and they couldn't blame me for they have seen me cleaning their pathways of weed and litter every month to make life bearable for them en gratis!

Four years ago when the large garbage bin of Tejero Elementary School was closed people looked for an alternative to throw their refuse and they found a convenient place at a vacant area in the southwest corner of the school. The new garbage dumpsite is found beside the road and a bridge and is on the entrance to a creekside path that led to my place and it emitted a foul smell. Some of these waste would find itself falling into the creek and will not be retrieved unlike on the dumpsite itself were it is hauled into a passing garbage truck.

The location of the garbage has caused me severe embarrassment when someone visits me and my family. It is AN EYESORE AND IT STINKS! Technically, it is within the jurisdiction of Barangay Tejero and it is for this reason that they supplied the garbage truck to collect the accumulated wastes and, even with that, it failed to address the hygiene issue. Apparently, Mr. Jesselou Cadungog and his council have tried their best to clean the place and ran out of strong ideas to remove permanently the area of garbage.

In the meantime, another barangay that shared the creek with Tejero – Barangay Tinago (where I belonged, yes) - seemed to be happy sitting on its fence even when the majority of the schoolchildren that passed by that area (and some garbage throwers) came from their barangay. Mr. Joel Garganera never lifted a finger to help address this problem and it took another barangay captain after the elections to solve this eyesore.

The honorable Domingo Lopez, the present head of Tinago, did a hell of a job clearing away the area of garbage, reminding people never to throw anymore their wastes there and pursued the clean-up of the Lahug Creek along its boundary with Tejero with so much dedication and enthusiasm. He even installed a wire mesh under the bridge on the side of Barangay T. Padilla to screen out the floating garbage that would find its way downriver and lighted the creekside path with CFL bulbs.

He is always there to supervise his people and monitored his clean-and-green projects every now and then and he never failed to replace a busted light bulb and I am aware of that and I am so glad that I have not wasted my vote for him. He is very different from his predecessor. The creek have never been in good hands under his watch and I take my hats off for Mr. Lopez. He reminds me of my late great uncle, Enrique Alba, who used to take charge of Barangay Tinago with a big stick.

Meanwhile, I walk on the path from my house for work and I am not ashamed anymore to stand on the sidewalk waiting for a public jitney where there used to be a garbage dumpsite or be bothered by the stinking odor. The eyesore and the stink are there no more. The creek, oh, it is dead beyond repair but there are no more garbage placed inside shopping bags, tarpaulin sheets, old tires, broken furnitures and other large discarded items thrown on the creek bed. My neighbors have completely understood the message of Mr. Lopez quite well...and mine too, although a bit belated.

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A JOLLY GOOD TRIP IN BADIAN

IT WAS IN THE morning of June 12, 2009 when me and my office mates left Mandaue City for Badian in the south. Nine of us from Tactical Security Agency and five from Mac II Auto Sales were comfortably squeezed inside a Toyota EX 20-seater air-conditioned shuttle bus driven by Joseph Rojo. The objective: a team-building affair at the Badian Beach Resort in Matutinao.

From Tactical Security were, of course, moi, Joe Patrick Uy, Omar Pace, Marylou Cagang, Eddie Alberca, Grace Villar, Noel Ronquillo, Liza Sesante and Al Albaciete. From Mac II were Tellie Aguilar, Ginalin Guiriba, Juliet Cellar, Miriam Salaban and Danilo Janao. We were in very high spirits and looked forward to a pressure-less, paid, weekend excursion! A perfect diversion in an exclusive beach at that. Wow!

We left at 9:30 AM and the mini bus cruised the south highway until we stopped by in Carcar town to take a leak, stretch our legs or buy their famous chicharon. From there, we went on our journey and saw the very inviting seas off Sayaw in Barili. It was a very “high” high tide. I'm very very sure the sea in Barili is contiguous with that of Badian. I am most certain of that; and it was very clear.

We finally arrived at our destination at thirty past twelve and we were met by our gracious host - Ms. Jonnette Librando-Alquizola – and she was already waiting for us, along with a lechon, a stew of freshly-caught clam and a special hog's blood thick soup of a concoction that is so different from others I've tasted before. The eating was inspired on an empty stomach and in an open atmosphere where sun, sea, sand and sky met. You wouldn't have wished a place and time as good as this. Oh, blessed me...

At two in the afternoon, we started right away our team build-up (or team building). I kept looking over my shoulder trying to calculate the water level if it has abated or not while in the midst of a puzzle to make the best possible package to prevent an egg be broken when dropped from a height of twenty feet! I proposed an idea and Eddie, Al and Liza did the rest copping us the prize of the only team that never laid waste an egg. The ever gracious Ma'am Jonnnette rewarded us each with 500 bucks each. May the good Lord bless her!

After these cross-hairs, we were like wild horses let loosed from our pens as one after the other, dived into the reassuring coolness of the sea. For two or more hours we swam and dove and frolicked carefree aided by endless rounds of Gran Matador Brandy laced with Cobra Energy Drink that we brought over which heated up our bodies and raised our adrenaline to levels where we have never been gone to before inside of a beach resort. We were red-faced, yes, but the drunken and uncivilized behavior are not there.

We were boys again, in that lazy afternoon swimming in the private seafront. A place where, a month ago, was just a vague idea, an unthought of suggestion, a wishful thinking of sort. The girls, after a few hours in the saline liquid, decided to transfer their frolicking in the fresh-water swimming pool just above the tidal line. Eddie and I would take turns in rotating the glass from Omar to Noel to Patrick and us. The bottle would either float or stay in the breakwater.

It was almost sundown when we emerged from the sea and, finding that the sea level have gone down, we prepared ourselves for supper. Sir Wilson Ong arrived just in time for the meal. Yes, a good dinner where (once again I led the prayers) lechon paksiw, sinugba'ng bariles and a soup of anduhaw fish with Valencia rice, plain rice or fine-grounded corn. After the feast, a board meeting, of a small scale, ensued. That was the most serious part of that weekend. Then the dance of the glass began again...

Patrick, with his trademarked boisterous laugh, echoed in the night while Omar, without a beat, gyrated and danced to an imagined tune. Noel, the most legal minded member of the party, dissected the pros and cons of a case while Al, the silent one, just grunted and nodded. Me, of course, held the glass and cast judgment on whom to have that opportunity to down the sacred liquid.

As the night progressed on, it was time to make a beeline to our sleeping quarters. The gentry passed the night in the main beach house; the girls in the guest house; Omar, Patrick, Al, Noel, Eddie and Joseph remained cowboys to the bone (or maybe just plain drunk) and slept exposed to the elements; while I, a true-blue bushman, snored comfortably inside my Coleman tent in a sleeping bag.

I awoke to a perfect morning on June 13 and boiled for myself water on my new Bulin portable stove to savor tea. I tested and became familiar with the stove right there and then. Elsewhere on the beach, I found Patrick's and Noel's place vacant. They left at dawn as what they have planned in the wee hours of the night. Sound, or voices, travel fast in the night, you know. Then, before breakfast, a slight rain showered over the place. The whole area is deserted.

After the shower, the place became a hub of activity again. Tellie cooked her prepared breakfast menu and the others helped her. There was a low tide and we looked for a calendar. Then, it was time for breakfast. Leftover lechon paksiw were served as well as pasta, lumpia and fried fish and rice and ground corn. I, again, blessed the food. Hmm, it was much silent this time. We missed Patrick today!

While waiting for the tide to rise (which never came), I rushed to the sea and swam its shallow deep with a diving mask. I enjoyed the school of fishes below and the seaweeds and the life among and between the islands of solitary rock. Then I found a remnant of an artificial reef wrought of used tires. Submarine life teemed among that remaining refuge. It was a great discovery...until it was time to go!

By now, residents of Gentle Breeze Subdivision began to trickle in at eleven in the morning and we gave way to their presence. Joseph conked to life the mini bus and we left the private resort and followed Ma'am Jonnette's SUV. It led us to her ancestral home in the heart of Badian and we stayed awhile and took lunch there.

Courses of shrimp tempura, calamares, boneless bangus, rice, squid in black soup and the famous native chicken of Dumanjug were offered on the dining table and I let myself do as I pleased and I find it hard to stand erect over my seat afterwards. And so were the others. Then native chicken gizzards and liver and those aromatic spices were added to the served menu and I couldn't say no to them and I bloated out of proportions that noon!

We left Badian, at last, but Joseph made a sudden U-turn for another of Ma'am Jonnette's ancestral home and we savored ice cream in two different flavors! This is a dessert, I think. Believe me, it could have been a great feast when I was a great glutton twenty years ago, but, this time, I raised a white flag and filled my glass in a whimper – just two servings! Not full. We call this in vernacular – hamabaw. My wife would have raised an eyebrow if she sees me in this unfamiliar situation!

Finally, finally, we left at two in the afternoon for Cebu. I took Patrick's place in the front seat beside Joseph. I felt drowsy but I fought it. The passing scene's too good to be missed and I glanced over my shoulder and I saw almost everyone doing a shuteye. By habit, I liked to have an open eye during my travels.

Reaching Naga, I saw a great dark bulge in the sky beyond and lightning flashed in the distance. It was an awful lot of lightning! At the South Road Properties were we passed by, the lightning or them thunder bolts grew in resonance and intensity! My gosh, with that condition, there'll gonna be a great flood in Metro Cebu! I couldn't see the outlines of the Babag Moutain Range either.

We reached in the vicinity of what used to be Kawit Island, the sky burst forth. Great traffic ensued at Plaza Independencia. We took a special detour at McArthur Boulevard, then a left turn to V. Sotto Street and I dropped off at the corner of G.L. Lavilles Street and walked the few hundred meters to my home.

I reached home drenched with rain. I tossed my chicharrones to my boys and it gave warmth to my home seeing them laughing and engage in long conversations. My ever-loving wife tossed me a towel and I finished my weekend in the bathroom. A nice and unforgettable weekend indeed.

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