CHAPTER ONE

Twenty-one days after the attack on Pearl Harbor, my mother, Juanita Madrazo Lim, was married to my father, Miguel Albaracin Lucero, in the city of Isabela in Basilan (in the southern part of Mindanao). The wedding had been planned rather quickly. Lolo Nicio Lim, the bride’s father, had convinced the couple to marry when it was known that the Japanese army was invading the island. He believed married women would be safe from the hands of the enemies.

It was a morning church wedding. The bride wore a simple dress: floor length, long sleeved, made of a crisp, white taffeta she had purchased in Zamboanga a few weeks earlier, and which had been assembled by a seamstress who lived nearby. She had a new pair of shoes and carried a bouquet of local wildflowers. She was 19 years old. My father, at 26, wore a borrowed white suit. (His best friend Oscar was only happy to lend it to him.) Lola Amparo Madrazo, the bride’s mother, prepared the breakfast reception of fried rice and eggs, chorizo, suman (rice pastry), coffee, and a variety of cakes. The wedding cake came from a local bakery; the proprietor offered the service since the family did not own an oven. The bride and groom’s closest friends and family members attended the reception.

It is strange now to think of such a simple event in the family’s life occurring while the world was at war, and everything was changing. However, the people in Basilan tried to maintain their way of life in the only way they knew…by going on. Mamang (another name for mother), was the seventh child, the youngest of the girls, and one of twelve children. After the wedding, she and Papang (my father) lived with my grandparents, Lola Amparo and Lolo Nicio, in a Spanish style home by the “fuente” (bridge). Lolo Nicio had it built before the invasion, and some of his sons had helped in the construction. The house had three bedrooms, and a large kitchen/dining area where the women gathered each day to prepare food. The outhouse and the bath stall were extensions of the house connected by planks of wood as a pathway. Everyone’s favorite feature of the house was the veranda, which overlooked the water, and was an ideal place to sit, enjoy the fragrant garden of jasmine, gardenias, and orchids, and to watch the sun set.

My mother’s siblings and their children also lived in this house. More than 14 family members, but it never seemed crowded. There was always enough space for all. Of course, not everyone had a bed; in fact, not everyone slept in a bedroom. The daytime living spaces were transformed into sleeping quarters by night. Privacy was not an issue they dealt with. This was comfortable for the family and was a very much-accepted living arrangement. It is customary in the Philippines for extended family to live together and contribute to the household.

My Lola headed the kitchen, and the women of the house took turns helping her. The women attended to the daily chores of laundry, marketing, doing the dishes, and cleaning, while the men dug wells, fetched water, and repaired the house when necessary. Lolo Nicio was a bookkeeper for a rubber company, but the pay was modest, so other members of this large family were compelled to take on menial jobs to help make ends meet. The men did carpentry work, helped in factories, or drove delivery trucks. Whatever they made in salaries went to pay the bills owed to various vendors in the village at the end of the month.

With so many little ones, there were many “hand me down” clothes, which kept clothing expenses down. Most of the children did not go to school, but some of them did attend to the elementary level. High schools and colleges were available to those who were able to travel to Zamboanga City, but the cost was prohibitive, so traveling for school was not an option. There were no vacations away from the island, except for the occasional trip to Zamboanga. However, the desire to travel far away did not really occur to anyone in the family. In the south, where Basilan is located, the bougainvillea, yellow bell, roses, and hydrangea bloomed brilliantly in the yards; and the soft ocean breezes carried the perfume of fruit trees—marang, jackfruit, and guava—and the intoxicating scent of coconut meat that had been harvested and laid out to dry before being transported to factories to produce coconut oil. There were brilliantly blue skies and crystal waters, and a pleasant, warm climate, which seldom suffered major typhoons. This was truly a utopia and the members of the family considered themselves lucky to live in such an island paradise.

Mamang and Papang also helped out the family by managing a small soap factory with Tio Milio, Mamang’s older brother, and Tio Mundo, her brother-in-law married to her sister, Dolores. They sold some of the soap to locals, but its chief use was to barter for rice, sugar, corn, and coffee with the mountain people. Every few weeks, Lola and Mamang made trips to the mountain village of Lamitan and the surrounding towns seeking staples. Their trek on foot in “bakya” (wooden slippers) took them 14 miles each way; occasionally they pulled a cow-driven carriage, loaded with soap on the way up the mountain, and laden with bartered goods on the way down. Most of the staples were processed into baked products such as suman and “poto” (rice pastries) that then were sold at Lola’s “tienda” (store) in the public market. Mamay Angoy, Mamang’s older sister, put her heart and soul into this particular task. The tienda also served coffee that went quite well with the pastries, which greatly pleased the local clientele.

Even more than the local people, though, the Japanese army had a great demand for soap, so a steady supply was necessary. Papang handled the almost constant deliveries to the Japanese installations in Basilan, and with the use of a motor boat, boxes were shipped to the Japanese outposts in the neighboring province of Zamboanga. The little soap business was vital, as it helped put food on the table, afforded the family clothes, and kept them all together.

In this way, my family tried to make the best of the Japanese occupation. The puppet government that had been set up by the Japanese army appointed local officials in various levels and ordered the uninterrupted operation of certain industries. For example, coconut plantations continued producing oil from a raw material called “copra” which the Japanese army needed to run their boats and motor vehicles. Local men managed the production and hired workers from the island, like Papang, who worked as a timekeeper.

The leader of the Japanese army’s seemingly easy takeover was Commander Endo, who was a friendly person of power. He expressed his willingness to work with the Basilenos, but he also demanded respect; the Japanese tradition of bowing was expected at every greeting, meeting, or confrontation. A slap on the face was the consequence when one refused or defied this gesture of reverence. However, since the Commander was eager that the occupation be as civil as possible, he continually engaged in different activities with the townspeople to gain their support. In a surprising move; he decided to participate in a social gathering and requested that Mamang (who at the time was three months pregnant with her first child), along with the other women, form a group to hold a dance session on Saturday nights. As per his request, some women, whether married, single, young, or old, were required to participate with or without their husbands. Commander Endo loved to Tango, and his partner of choice was Mamang. A dance was held every Saturday night at the recreation hall of the Japanese headquarters; Commander Endo and the local attendees strutted to the Tango, Cha Cha, and Rumba. The Commander himself was known to be a relatively good dancer.

Grateful to Mamang’s effort in scheduling the dance sessions, Commander Endo offered to help her out when she went to him in desperation seeking empty oil barrels to increase their soap production. The soap factory, called Limlu (Lim for my mother’s maiden name and Lu for Lucero, my father’s last name), was necessary to keep the family going. Commander Endo ordered the soldiers to deliver eight empty oil barrels to the factory. With the addition of these barrels, Tio Mundo worked laboriously in producing soap day in and day out. He was well built and muscular and was perfect for the job, which required hours stirring the ingredients that made up the soap.

The presence of the Japanese army, and the strict punishments promised for misbehavior, succeeded in keeping the local crime at a minimum. Any locals who committed offenses against their own people were punished; thieves had their hands cut off; murderers were decapitated. As to the war at hand, an extensive guerilla movement, dedicated to resistance and defeat of the Japanese, was very active in the mountains. Commander Endo made some effort to try to create an open line of communication with the guerilla army, attempting to convince them to surrender and cooperate in return for lenient punishment. This goal, however, was not an easy task; the guerillas were determined to uphold the objective of victory. The idea of a peaceful surrender to the Japanese army only meant one thing—defeat—and that was unacceptable.

A few months into the occupation, a public gathering was called to announce the replacement of Commander Endo. Although he was the enemy, somehow the people were sorry...