Scribbles Abroad

When the Philippines came into the radar of a potential stop on our sojourn I realized that we might have the opportunity to see where my family originated.  Roughly 90 years ago my Great Grandfather, Fransisco Suan Pacarro, emigrated from the Philippines, boarded a Ferry from Larena Harbor in Siquijor and headed for Hawaii.  What would have been a two week journey on an overcrowded ship rewarded him with safe passage to the land of opportunity, America.  What he was looking for I am not sure, but looking upon us now I think he would be proud of his decision and the resilience of the Pacarro clan.
At our family reunion this past July I inquired with my relatives where we had come from in the Philippines and whether they had any knowledge of surviving relatives. I was saddened that very little was known.  Yet intrigued and excited by the possibility of adventure.  The only Pacarro’s from Hawaii that had been back since Fransisco left were my Great Grandmother, my Aunt Dori (a cousin of my father) and my Great Uncle Rudy.  From the reunion all I could garner was that my family name is from Siquijor in the Visayas and that if we did still have family left they would be there.  I also had heard that it was rumored that our family had brought the first kalamungay tree to Hawaii.

Lastly, we potentially still had family land in Siquijor and to be careful when letting people know who I was for fear of owing taxes.  Our families and friends tried to dissuade Louise and I from going to the Philippines but our persistence persevered.  Once they knew we could not be dissuaded, the tone turned to, “be careful, be very very very careful, and don’t get kidnapped!”  When we call our relatives and friends still, they continue to belabor, “don’t get kidnapped!”

In general most Americans, myself prior to traveling, and probably yourself think that the Philippines are an extremely dangerous place.  Perhaps you also think that if you don’t have an armed bodyguard with you the chances of being kidnapped are very high.   We were there for almost two months and never once felt threatened.

The people are kind, warm, and inviting.  Their curiosity sometimes comes off as shy, but once you engage them infectious smiles shine through and you feel welcome.
The stereotype of the Philippines derives from a small majority of locales in the South in an area called Mindanao.  Our time in Mindanao has been short and adventuring in the deep South has not been included in this trip, yet there is a ton down there to offer.  But while a quasi civil war continues, the risks for us are not worth it. The problem is that the stereotype gets extended to the rest of the Philippines
Siquijor is in the middle of the Philippines and is a part of the Visayas right next to Mindanao.  Although its proximity to Mindanao is close, the threat is nil.  The island is small and you can drive around it in about an hour.  It is known for its healers, witchcraft, werewolves, vampires, but mostly its beauty.  When locals outside of Siquijor have asked me where my family is from as soon as I say Siquijor they give that look of “cool, scary, interesting!”  Even this stereotype has slightly tainted the true Siquijor, yet the curiosity brings tons of tourists every year to see for themselves.

not really

not really

really
Louise and I caught a ferry from Cebu and landed in Siquijor town at around 8 at night.  Upon exiting the port gates the trike drivers were immediately haggling starting at over excessive prices, but I have come up with a new line that is currently working very well.  When we get somewhere new I just tell them that I have been here before and that I know the proper rate.  With this approach we were able to secure a trike for a good price.
The next day we hired a really nice motorbike.  While we waited for the bike we ate at a local restaurant.  The owner of the restaurant was a sweet lady and also a bookie.  We sparked up conversation while she recorded the bets being made and waited for winners to claim their winnings.  After a while I felt that she could be trusted.  I asked her if she knew any Pacarro’s and she did.  I asked her if she knew where they lived and she did.  She pointed us in the direction of Barangay Bagacay.  She also let us know that she had gone to High School with Panchita “Ma” Pacarro who was now a retired school teacher.  Louise and I now knew that some of my family was still around and we made it our mission to find them.

Mrs. Cruberta Maghari and her husband.  She was the lady that lead us in the right direction towards my family.  Those are her books in front of us.

The next morning we set off to find the family.  We knew Barangay Bagacay was near Larena about 2 km out of town central.  Once we were around 2 km out of Larena we began pulling over and asking people where the Barangay was.  This perplexed them and us as well.  We learned shortly afterward that Barangay means village, hence the confusion, no matter where you were on the island you were in the Barangay, just varied which Barangay it was.  But when I asked them where the Pacarro house was they understood and pointed us in the right direction.  Villages are small, everyone knows eachother, and the vast majority are eager to help.  We kept doing this until finally we stopped at a little hut and asked the lady there.  She pointed to the house right next to her store.  We had made it!
As we walked down the dirt road to the humble unfinished concrete home the butterflies in my stomach began to flutter. Would they be happy to see us?  Would they speak enough English?  Would they want to even talk to us? Would they want money?
As we approached the front door Louise pointed out that they were sitting at the kitchen table.  I walked up to the open window in their dining room and introduced myself.  With a huge smile Ma Pacarro invited us in immediately.

Cecil, Me, and Panchita “Ma” Pacarro

Panchita and her Grandchild, Cecils son.

The next few hours were a reunion with family I had never met.  It was truly a special event for both sides.   The language barrier was knocked down as we exchanged stories of our family and made connections to our previously unclear past.   Ma Pacarro ended up being the same Ms. Pacarro that Dori and my Great Grandmother had visited some 40 years previously.  The proof came when we were looking through photos of the Siquijor Pacarro’s and she pulled out pictures that Dori and my Great Grandmother had given her.  The pictures were of my Great Uncles Frank, Harry, and Nole (No-lee).   In addition were pictures of Dori and my Great Grandmother with all the lady side of the family in Siquijor some 40 years earlier.

Looking over photos of the family

Dori is the one in the striped shirt, Panchita is the one to her left and my Great Grandmother is the one to the right in front.

Uncle Nole

Uncle Harry

Uncle Frank/Don

Ma Pacarro sent her son Cecil to alert the other Pacarro’s of our presence but they were in town at the time of our visit.  After a few hours we promised to come back and visit more as there were more Pacarro’s to meet and the time we had spent together was uplifting.  She arranged for us to meet more of them and we returned two days later to a feast.

On the way to the surprise feast Louise and I rode our sporty moped through some treacherous roads.  Cecil had warned us of the dangers as he had fallen a week prior and I tried to heed his advice.  Yet upon one treacherous downhill going roughly 1 km/hr we slipped out a mere half kilometer away from the house.  We were fine.  It was a quick scare that we were able to laugh off.  It was like riding a moped on ice, you hit the brakes and nothing happens, you just start sliding.

This is the road we fell on.  Definitley not to American code and its steeper than it looks.

We showed up to the house quite muddy and were greeted by those we had met earlier, cousin Jesusa who was also a Pacarro, and her family.

Louise has been eating her vegetables!

Jesusa took us to meet her family

Jesusa

Jesusa has been the one that had been taking care of my side of the families portion of land, collecting rent and managing maintenance.  All the brothers (my Great Grandfather and his brothers) each had a portion of land on the main road in Siquijor Barangay Baracay.  It’s not a huge piece of land but its perfect for one or two families.  Each property has a humble residence on it and they are all next to each other.  Never did Jesusa ask for back taxes or anything of that tone, rather she invited us to come back and move in!  But with my Great Grandfathers side of the family reaching somewhere near 300 descendents the future of the property is cloudy.

Pacarro House I

Pacarro House II

Pacarro House/Land III, the one my side of the family owns.

I hope that a relative of mine will see an opportunity to relocate to this lovely island and see a better future.  The American life is great but for all it is not the advertised dream of rags to riches.  Many live in the Philippines with great joy and little money while Americans toil what to buy next yet unable to buy happiness.  Perhaps my family could decide to see the self in the other “kapwa” and realize that the land would do others much more good than ourselves.  Donate the land, how is a monetary amount to be divided upon such a multitude of descendants.
Our breakfast meeting that second time stretched to lunch, then on to afternoon meryenda.  We shared stories, ate, drank, and had a great time basking in our happiness.  We learned that more Pacarro’s were on the island and perhaps some of my Great Grandmothers family as well.  Upon our departure we vowed to inspire other Pacarro’s to return to visit and ourselves to return.  Why wouldn’t we?  There were more to meet and the gracious hospitality of the Pacarro’s was overwhelming.

Before leaving the Philippines Louise and I had a bunch of photos developed for Ma Pacarro and her family.  We then sent them off to her with a homemade Christmas card that we hope gets to her on time.  If anyone else wants to send her a letter her address is below.  In addition I know they would be overwhelmingly appreciative.

Panchita “Ma” Pacarro and Manuling Mamhot / Barangay Bagacay, Larena, Siquijor / Philippines 6226

I know it looks simple but they said it would work.  As I said earlier, everyone knows everyone there and you probably only have to write Siquijor and Ma Pacarro on the letter and it will get there.

Our goodbyes were hard but filled with smiles.