Kwentong Hapon

For those who were born in the 50's and the 60's, war time stories were a staple. Neighborhood evening conversations almost always wind up to war-story telling. The movies were also full of them, almost promoting a blind hatred to anything Japanese; and worship of anything American. Ford was the revered auto brand, Toyota was a ridiculed counterfeit. Zenith is the loved TV name and the cheap inferior alternatives are Hitachi, Toshiba, National. Everyone is very conscious of the Made-in-USA vs Made-in-Japan thing. Now, it is altogether different as Japanese technology has caught up and have even surpassed their American counterpart. At the same time, the wartime stories are also pushed to the far side of our consciousness. The story below gives a glimpse of postwar barrio life in Dupac, Asingan, Pangasinan.

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Kwentong Hapon

by icarus

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Having spent my kiddy years in Dupac, I could recall vividly the moonlit summer nights when the folks in my neighborhood gather in small groups and sit around along the then dirt road to San Manuel. Sometimes, they bring out a “bangko” so they can sit comfortably in a row but most of the time they just squat on their haunches on the ground or sit on some big stone, some piece of wood or tree trunk; or on their rubber slippers on the ground.
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Early evenings, generally after supper, before going to sleep are spent this way. There were no TV’s then so these “ummok” or impromptu assembly is a way of catching up with the latest news, gossip or what have you. The day is spent away working in the farms or in some other places and thus, the early evening is a perfect time to relax and socialize with the neighbors. And while us kids are busy at patintero, tumbang preso, or taguan pong, the elders are on with their banters and idle conversations. Invariably, these talks - like we do now – lapse into nostalgia.
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Late in the 60’s and into the early 70’s when WWII was just a mere 25 years behind, people then don’t get tired of talking and reminiscing about the “Pistayem” (Peacetime), the “Bakwit” period (Evacuation), and the Liberation. Invariably, each has a favorite anecdote or misadventure to tell - some poignant, some heroic, and some are really, really funny. Of course, these were oft-repeated tales and we could almost memorize each plot and sequence but we never tire of listening and laughing at the often funny ending.
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Ever the clown, Laki Inong, otherwise known as “Patsara” (grasshopper) because of his tall and lanky frame, is the best story-teller of all – embellishing his tales with exaggerated bodily gestures and pantomime. When he starts telling his “Kwentong Hapon”, we abandon our tumbang preso and gather around him.

None of his many other war tales could bring the house down as much as this one. It goes like this:

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It was January, 1942 and Dupac was a ghost town. The residents were hiding in the Bakwit which is what they call the wartime hiding places on the then thickly-forested bamboo grooves a few kilometers into the northeast portion of Dupac. But to secure the properties and houses that were left behind in the barrio proper, a daily 3-man patrol was organized among the men in rotating shifts. On one particular duty shift, Laki Inong, Laki Pelis (My Grandfather) and Laki Mesiong, the team leader, were on patrol. They are proud to be among the few men brave enough to stay behind. Laki Mesiong was a landed school teacher and had some influence. He brandished with him a carbine semi-automatic. The Japanese have not arrived in town yet and people don’t really know what to expect of them. The trio is therefore in high spirits and they wore plenty of swagger, playing the de-facto sherrif's role to the hilt on the abandoned barrio.

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As they were whiling away their shift hours at the “bantayan” which is a makeshift shed of bamboo and cogon and two benches facing each other, they were boasting among themselves that if ever the japs get into town, they will each capture a soldier to be kept as a farm hand or servant. "Ammo da met la ngata iti agarado, pare?" wondered Lakay Pelis. "Isudan a iti pag-guyod ko iti arado no di da ammo iti aggiggem ti witiwit!" , Lakay Inong boasted.

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No sooner than their laughter died down when they heard the distinct drone of a big engined vehicle accompanied by the sound of metal grinding on stone. It was a military tank crawling slowly from the north... But Laki Mesiong quickly dismissed it as a friendly American tank being maneuvered for defensive position from the Binalonan Camp. Whatever he says, the other two believed and trusted completely, after all Laki Mesiong is friends with the Americans who gave him the Carbine. It was that reassuring to his men when he talked.

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Laki Inong and Laki Pelis were jumping and waving their hats in excitement as the tank approached from the north. But as it got nearer, the emblem of the Rising Sun becomes apparent. “Hapon sa met kaka?”, the two nervously uttered, praying not to get a confirmation from their team leader. “Hapon a nga talaga, Penong…!” came the trembling reply, unconsiously combining the names of his subordinates in his excitement.

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Suddenly, the tanks headlight were beamed on them, and in his shock, Laki Mesiong accidentally pulled the trigger, just missing Laki Pelis’ foot by the breadth of a hair. That started it. The Japs opened fire. “Taray Buatit tayon!” they exclaimed in panic as they were chased by machine gun fire from the tank. As 50-caliber bullets ricocheted in their wake, the three would-be-captors-of-Japs scampered like headless chickens through the thick thickets of prickly shrubs and thorny bamboos and never felt a thing!

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A Japanese soldier for a man servant, eh? That’s the farthest from their mind after that... Hahaha.