Romblon

ROMBLON is the island that the late NVM Gonzalez referred to in his little book "Look, Stranger, on This Island Now."

The book remained unread on my shelves for a long time since I find little time for fiction and literature, but I finally opened it when I found out that the "stranger" in the title is Jose Rizal who visited the island briefly in the 19th century. One wonders if the people of Romblon know or even remember that Rizal and Gonzalez once strolled around their town plaza.

Should this matter at all when there are older, tangible relics of the Spanish period in Romblon like the ruins of a fort or a watchtower on a mountain beside a Pagasa weather station and the 17th Church of Saint Joseph that has undergone a well intentioned but badly done "restoration"?

Fortunately, St. Joseph's has retained most of its charm. The doors are intricately carved, its main doors with a cherub and flowers, the side door decorated with a mythical sun of the type seen on tarot cards or old Philippine flags. Beside the church is an old belfry with equally ancient bells. The church interior is already modern but the original retablos and santos are still extant.

I was drawn to the side altar, which was embellished with iconographic symbols of the passion and death of Christ. It was a teaching device used effectively by the friars: a bag with 30 pieces of silver, nails, Veronica's veil with the bloodied face of Christ, a rooster, whip, crown of thorns, dice, the holy coat, etc. All these symbols definitely tell the passion story much better than Mel Gibson. The imagination can be a more potent force than the bloody scenes on a cinema screen.

Outside the church, I read all the election posters and noticed that most of the candidates had surnames that began with "M," beginning with Governor Madrona. Other candidates for public offices were: Mateo, Mallon, Mazo and (if I'm not mistaken) Motolite. If I had my copy of the 19th-century Catalogo de Apellidos, we could probably tell which pages were sent to Romblon when people were asked to choose surnames in 1849. I was told that inhabitants of one island have surnames that begin with "F" and that most of the surnames on Tablas begin with "R" -- all added proof of our Hispanic past.

So much for heritage. My next stop was the Romblon Shopping Mall to browse through the limited array of marble products that are synonymous with the island. As soon as the ship docked at 2 a.m., itinerant vendors were walking through our cabins offering almirez, which I found out later was a simple mortar and pestle, called dikdikan in Tagalog. So the common feature in all the shops were almirez and marble eggs of various sizes and colors. There were also those heavy marble signs usually displayed on the tables of high government officials, screaming their names and positions.

The souvenir I was most tempted to buy but for its weight were tombstones or lapida. As I reached into my wallet, a friend advised me to leave it until it was time for me to die. On a similar note, I was also stopped from buying the numerous cookie jars that suspiciously reminded me of cremation urns.

Weight was a major consideration in picking up souvenirs, so I left the place empty-handed though I did look at some chalices with matching patens that I thought would make nice gifts for newly ordained priests. I was also tempted to buy a marble chess set with matching table, except that I don't play chess. Perhaps one could order dama, checkers, or even monopoly boards here.

There were some crude pieces of sculpture lying about. One that caught my eye resembled the work of Impy Pilapil and it was being sold for the magnificent sum of 350 pesos. I wondered aloud why there were no obscene souvenirs like the famous Baguio "man in the barrel." I guess I spoke too soon, because on the bottom shelf of one store were oversized black marble phalluses mounted on ash trays.

Romblon may be a sleepy town, but it has its own economic indicator on its rest room doors. The sign on the ladies room read "jingle P2 bawas P5." There is a refreshing frankness in provincial life that speaks to cynical city folks like myself.

The male toilet had no need for euphemism. With typical machismo, it read: "ihi P2 ebak P5."

I wish that the Department of Trade and Industry, Citem and the Design Center will provide some technical support for the Romblon marble industry. There is a lot of promise on this small island, and given the right opportunities, there can be a boom in marble that might drive people to quarry so much that the whole island will disappear.

We visited the San Pedro Beach Resort in Talipasak run by the Mingoa sisters. It is not only listed in Lonely Planet, it is also in the acknowledgements of books by Gemino Abad and Gonzalez. I didn't stay in the shade reading but went off to the coral beach and found broken pieces of earthenware and shards of Ming blue and white ceramics on the ground. This is a sure sign of pre-colonial trade and a shipwreck site that we hope can be excavated by our own National Museum's Underwater Archeology Division.

So much history lay open before me on a trip of two days, meaning there is much more waiting to be found.

Comments are welcome at aocampo@ateneo.edu