Nostalgic in New Washington

No matter how stressed or tired I am, the lush trees that paints the hills and mountains green has its way of calming my senses. I am at peace. And the fields show promise of producing a bountiful harvest by October. Will the farmers then say “Hallelujah!”?

It’s Independence Day and I went to New Washington in Aklan with my aunt Nene and Father. We reached Aklan at around 10.30 am and we were all hungry so we looked for Ramboy’s. There’s a branch of it here in Roxas, but people say the pork liempo there tastes different—and better. They cook it a little salty here but in Kalibo, the ingredients are prepared just on the right amount to leave a satiating appeal to the palate. By the way, the original Ramboy’s Lechon is in Numancia, Kalibo’s neighboring town.

After filling our tummies we headed to New Washington to visit some relatives. Then came the more exciting part… strolling the town plaza.

My aunt turned a little sentimental when we reached the town plaza. The good old memories of the past ushered in—it was just like yesterday. Her uncle, Salvador, was the parish priest of the town before World War II erupted. My grandfather served as his sacristan and he was with the priest when the Japanese arrived in Ibajay. Now, Fr. Salvador visited Ibajay every now and then to hold mass then would go back to New Washington. It was because the Japanese captain who was my grandfather’s childhood friend that the townsfolks were spared from harm. I do not know if there are any historical documents to verify this claim, but my grandfather told me this story time and again when he was alive.

Lola Nene told me that the church that sits at the heart of the town was made only of bamboo and nipa. Now, it’s a sturdy structure. The church’s wooden door has carvings that I presume dates back decades ago. I think it’s one of the oldest pieces in the church. Sadly, I forgot to take photos of it. But it’s intricate details can tell that it was created in a time when artisans were keen to details and when works of hand were valued as a testament of an individual’s reputation.

Across the church is the statue of Jaime, Cardinal Sin, New Washington’s foremost son. The leader of the Catholic Church was born here. He was instrumental of toppling down the Marcos dictatorship during the Edsa Revolution in 1986. My grandfather and his siblings would tell me that Cardinal Sin was a sacristan of Fr. Salvador and a godson of my great grandmother, Feliza. In fact, lolo’s brother told me that Lola Ising helped send the Cardinal Sin to school when he was still a boy.

I felt nostalgic as I stroll the plaza. Only the leaves rustling to the whisper of the wind make the relaxing noise. I wasn’t yet born back then but I can sense a carefree and genteel life that I yearn to have. And in New Washington, time seems to remain still. Sunday afternoons are always lazy and the streets are nearly empty. The shops are closed and I gather dozing off at noontime is a sacred task the locals religiously do—next of course to hearing the mass in the morning. After all, it looks like the rush of the river nearby washes everyone’s care away. Or so I think. 

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