The Inyam tree

At the start of the second half of the 20th century, an American missionary was sent to Mindanao to scout for a place to build a school based on a 16-point list, which included isolation in the country far from the city, the presence of sufficient arable land and abundant water supply among others. With several colleagues he motored to the heart of the island of Mindanao, and with some locals guiding them, the group found themselves on top of a hill. They checked the area and realized that it satisfied the guidelines in the list. With the realization that they had found the exact spot for the school, the group knelt on that grassy, windswept plateau, under a lone inyam tree and poured out their thanks to God. Never in their wildest dreams would they realize that many years later, in the same spot where they prayed, some unusual events would transpire.

The wild inyam tree that was witness to the first prayer on this hilltop, in about two decades, succumbed to the elements, wilted and died, and so another one was planted in its place. This one was more robust and it boasted a thick foliage even if the configuration of the branches didn't mimic the first one. This was when stories about this inyam tree were spun to the point that it became one compelling reason for some SDA folk from faraway places to come to MVC. These stories were also used in the proselytizing activities of some unscrupulous workers of this sect to prove the authenticity of the connection of their church to divine providence. A method that was deemed effective and fruitful with at least one retired teacher testifying that a dream about a cave sealed her decision to be baptized even when she made a vow not to abandon her Catholic faith before setting foot in the campus.

One story that they say was based on a dream by Mr. Mariano Abesta (a member of the original pioneer group), was about a huge cave that is located under this mountainous area that could hold an unlimited number of SDA church members. This cave they said is supplied with food stuff and water and all the amenities of a temporary refuge to keep this sect safe and fed until after the "time of tribulation," which they claim is the persecution of the SDA church by the Knights of Columbus of the Roman Catholic Church and other Protestant sects. 

As a sun-burnt and hyperactive kid growing up here, I was really fascinated by this story. Much of my unoccupied moments were spent with some friends in search for the opening to this mysterious cave. We had each gully, cliff, crevasse and rocky outcrop mapped out and inspected. We practically knew every nook and cranny of this 1,200-hectare hilly land in the search for the cave. On one occasion we even met Mr. Abesta on his horse in one remote section who warned us about the dangers of encountering snakes among the boulders nearby. His cautionary advice only added kindling to our imagination that indeed his dream was true.

So where does the Inyam tree come in? Well, while the second inyam tree was being planted, some guys decided to add some granite boulders beside it to give it a rugged frontier look. So a couple of large rocks were taken from a different location to complete the landscaping of the inyam pioneer memorial. 

One night in the early 2,000s, during one of those meetings when thousands of SDA church members converge in MVC, I received word that some delegates where planning to meet at the site of the inyam tree. As overall accommodations coordinator for this huge affair I was curious about the plans of this small group so I decided to join them incognito. At about 3:00, in the predawn darkness, people started arriving at the site, all clad in thick clothing since it was cold. When a good-sized crowd had gathered, a man started speaking and he rumbled through the 'history' of the inyam tree and the cave and declared that they were actually standing at the entrance of the cave. He claimed that the rocks were permanent structures here and that previous attempts to move them failed, because each time the blade of the bulldozer touched the rocks the engine would shut off. At that point I could not hold my indignation any longer and so I interrupted his speech and introduced myself while stating that my parents were pioneers and that I grew up here. He tried to argue, but stopped short when I said that originally there were no rocks here, but that they were just hauled from a different location to beautify the place. I then ordered them back to their tents so as not to rouse the other campers who wanted to sleep in peace, to which they grudgingly obliged.

Sixteen years from that encounter the second inyam tree started showing signs of disease and slowly followed the plight of the original tree. To keep the icon of the pioneering spirit alive on that site, three inyam saplings were planted amid elaborate religious fanfare with the participants dressed in their best formal clothes. There is no doubt that prayers for the lasting health of the three trees were said and that the small park would forever retain its significance as an icon of the pioneering spirit, and yet I am tempted to wonder; does the mystery cave and persecution mentality have anything to do with the religious activity that was attached to the planting of this three inyam trees? Why don your finest barong and kneel around in prayer just to plant a tree? Why are so many Filipino SDAs from far-flung places building their retirement homes in the surrounding communities?

The original inyam tree. It is very clear here that there are
no rocks in the vicinity. (photo courtesy of coach Kenji)

The second inyam tree. the rocks are now present (photo by Michael C.)

Bible reading and prayer while planting the third tree.

Note the big rock and the dried up trunk of the second tree.
(photo by coach Kenji)

Three inyam saplings! now this story is taking a new twist.
Why three? ensured survival... representation of the Trinity...
third planting... etc??

Old school memories: MedSch fraternity

A few weeks into our life as freshman in medical school, the class was taken over momentarily by some guys in the higher years who introduced themselves as a fraternity and they extolled the benefits that we could have if we joined them. After they left someone in the class stood up and asked the class what they thought about the invitation. Some nodded their heads and said that it was a good idea, but there were others who wanted to know how it fared with the classmates of these frat guys who didn't join them. It was like we wanted to check on their identities and background. In a few days the idea came out that it would be better for us to organize another fraternity/sorority with some guys in the batch ahead of us, and the rest is history.

My medical school class - 1983, was the third batch of students in the newly founded medical school of Ateneo de Davao University. Our school's name was and still is Davao Medical School Foundation, and in the first years of its existence classes were held in the rooms of an old wooden building behind the San Pedro Hospital while the buildings of a new school in a campus at Bacaca was being constructed. Our teachers were a motley bunch of doctors from all the hospitals in Davao city and we discovered later that they were the cream of the medical practitioners in Davao city then.

With the goal to organize another fraternity beckoning, we had to devote some precious time for brainstorming and planning. There were some fratmen in our midst and a lot of wisecracks, which guaranteed that our plans would come to fruitage, and in a few weeks we had the name and a rudimentary constitution.

Hazing was an unforgettable experience for all of us. We divided ourselves into two groups and then devoted one day for each group hazing the other. This was held in the vacant house on the hills by the diversion road near the present crocodile park in Maa. A carabao wallowing hole was conveniently situated in the same lot and it was the scene of some gruesome activity.

This fraternity would eventually lead in scholastic and extra-curricular activities while multiplying with additional batches every new school year. However, with the incidents of hazing deaths in the universities nationwide and the subsequent order of the government to ban fraternity activities, this fraternity wrapped up on itself and stopped growing.

The most cherished and endearing moments in medical school were made with these friends and there is no doubt that life in those difficult years was made easier with the support of the fraternity. 

The original and pioneer batch of Socci Omnium Medicorum confraternity

during one of the hazing sorties in a coconut plantation by the Times Beach. 

The hillbilly is the guy in shorts in the foreground.

Childhood dreams: Why a doctor?

The community where I grew up was served by an American who was a medical doctor and a pilot. Dr. William C. Richli was in and out of MVC during my pre-school and primary school years. He had a yellow piper cub airplane (if I remember it right) that could seat 2 people and I was told back then that he had frequent crashes, but still managed to salvage and rebuild the plane and of course his body as well.

He spoke with a deep drawl and sometimes I found it difficult to understand him. He dressed like he needed some ironing and tidying up with an occasional greasy spot on the elbow or chin and a mismatched button to buttonhole, and I was more attracted to him as a pilot than as a doctor. At that age I was dreaming of having my own wings and soaring across the sky. I wanted to be a pilot and frequently bugged my mom about my plans of being one. She was adamant about my following in the footsteps of her brother who was a pilot for Menzi corporation, but died in a crash, and she insisted that I would make a good doctor instead. I don’t know if she had anything to do with Dr. Richli trying to persuade me to be a doctor, but what I could remember is Dr. Richli passing by our house in a few instances and instructing me to get dressed so I could accompany him to the clinic.

When we got into the clinic he would place me on a high chair right in front of him and he would start his surgery on the many native patients who trekked to the campus when he was around. Goiter and breast surgeries were the ones that I could remember and seeing the sharp knife cut into the skin looked pretty cool for me at that age.

I don’t know what my parents and their colleagues were into in those days, but it turned out many years later that almost every family in that community produced at least one doctor. Was it a status symbol or prestige or maybe some sort of competition among their ranks? Or again was it Dr. Richli's influence in our lives?

With our parents’ guidance and our exposure to the medical profession at an early age, it is not a surprise that I and my sister eventually turned out to be medical doctors.

The story of my life: Fun - Definition

How does a boy who is growing up in the mountains of Bukidnon during the late 1050s to the 1970s define fun? Kids of today would find it difficult to understanding our definition of play and fun back then, because apparently the fun that kids are obsessed with nowadays is done within the confines of the four walls of a room. Outings to the beach or theme parks do offer some fun and yet you’ll see a gadget in the kid’s hands while outside. All they have to do is swipe and touch and they can have fun.

If you’re out among the hills with some friends day in and day out, how could that be fun? In a few days with this given scenario a kid could get bored. So what did we do back then? How does a child with ADHD cope with these conditions up in the mountains back in the frontier years? We created fun, and apparently that spirit is what developed my definition of fun: Create your own fun, make yourself happy, think up ways to stay happy and interested. Invent, improvise... be ingenious.

A fun place in our community was the ranch - cows, horses, sheep and goats plus funny cowboys who knew a lot of tricks and never lacked in humor. Milking cows early in the morning so the milk can be served for breakfast in the cafeteria was fun. Each cow was given a name, which corresponded to the beautiful lady students that the cowboys admired, but would not dare approach. I made sure that there was no cow named Ethel (my sis), but I helped milk Jennifer, May Ann, Nely and Lani.

The orchard was another place. We had sweet oranges, pomelo, bananas, jackfruit, calamsi, guavas, and marang. Helping ourselves to the fruit was allowed as long as we first asked the manager of the farm. Sugar-making was also an industry that we had. Tira-tira was something we made ourselves while the sugarcane sap was boiling in the large vats.

There were two rivers and one stream around our community. In those days we could drink directly from the river, because there were no villages yet upstream. The river in the forest up behind the campus had a beautiful waterfall. On some boring day we would surprise our parents with wild orchids that we gathered in the forest. I had a .22 caliber rifle and hunting and trapping wild ducks and pigeons was one of our favorite pastimes.

The tennis, basketball and badminton courts were our regular fun places. Soccer and Table tennis were also some sports that we enjoyed. All of us were into sports - because there was nothing to keep us busy inside the house.

Apparently the ability to create my own fun stayed with me even as a father and a grandfather. Going places in tours that we ourselves designed, cycling through beautiful highways and backroads of the USA, Thailand, Nepal and Cambodia; scuba diving in Bali, Borneo, Thailand, Coron, Malapascua and other awesome sites were done all in the name of fun. It is no wonder that my kids and grandkid also manifest the same adventurous and fun-loving spirit.

The story of my life: Introduction

Before accelerating into of the story of my life, it is only proper that I introduce myself. I am the second child of Eleazar Alburo Moreno and Priscilla Rapacon Jimenez - Moreno. Eleazar was born in Pinamungajan, Cebu and Priscilla in Pasay City, Metro Manila. My mother was a teacher who was sent to the hinterlands of Mindanao - in those days, where she met her lover - a graduating student, at Mindanao Mission Academy in Manticao. Apparently the romance between teacher and student was tolerated in those days or their affair could have been illicit in nature.

I have a sister - only sibling, Ethel, who was born a year ahead of me, but our sibling ranking changed when she got into medical school two years behind me. Ever since that fateful day people thought that I was the older one.

My official name is Philip Eleazer J. Moreno. My dad's "A" in the "zar" of his name was apparently misspelled when the clerk typed my birth certificate so my name has an "E" instead. I was born in the second half of the 50th decade of the 20th century at Miller Sanitarium and Hospital in Cebu City.

I am also known as: ė-boy, sunny boy, sunni, doggie, ñor, doki, sir moring, doc mo and noah. I'm not aware if someone at one time or another addressed me as "love" or "honey," but I would love to be called as such.

I have one wife - Jo ann, and two kids: JP and Kukie. Ten years ago an adorable baby girl was added to my family - Kailee, my granddaughter. Nok - my son's wife, joined us too, just recently.

With the introduction said, please proceed to the next chapter at your own risk.

Thank you.

A doctor's life: Sex change

I had sex change. Actually, I had sex change surgery arranged for a Singaporean lass who wanted to become a man, which was part of the job that I landed after one year and 9 months of joblessness.

YIHospital, a 500some-bed hospital with about 1,500 staff workers on the western banks of the mighty Chao Phraya river in Bangkok City, Thailand was the hospital where my wife and two children found employment after I was cut off from MVC and the SDA church. This is a general hospital which has an international department that is staffed mostly by Filipinos who are hired primarily because their spoken english doesn't have a strong accent and can be easily understood by the international community. My son JP was one of the earlier hired nurses, my wife came next and then my daughter. The position that was offered to me was "International coordinator" and I was in a team of about 15 others who were the connection between the Thai doctors and the international, non-Thai, prospective clients. We each had a computer and there was a phone that we used for answering calls. In short, it was an online job in medical tourism.

Our task as a team was to respond to callers or emails for enquiries about the procedures that were available, which are plastic (cosmetic) surgery for any part of the body, sex reassignment surgery (sex change) for male-to-female and female-to-male, aesthetic gynecology, dental and orthodontics, lasik, varicose vein surgery, all the different types of skin treatments, hair transplant, traditional medicine, hyperbaric oxygen therapy, among a myriad of other treatments. We would profile the patient and check if the procedure that they want is appropriate for them before they can come for the actual treatment. Another function that I did was something like "damage control." Complaints from patients who have gone back to their country would be coursed through me and I was expected to move heaven and earth to satisfy the angry client whose surgery was botched up, didn't produce the desired results or got infected or rejected and they were demanding a refund, which the surgeons were not likely to give even if they were threatened with legal action. Sometimes I imagined myself like the traditional rice cake (bibingka) in the Philippines, which is cooked with fire above and fire below, but this job was interesting and it opened my mind to another world of medical practice.

One aspect that made working here interesting was the immersion into the culture of the Thai. Doctor to staff and management to rank-and-file relationship is totally different from that of the Philippines and also is the work-place ethics. Doctor's can easily wrangle themselves out of legal problems and it looks to me that they behave like they are above the regular masses. One top plastic surgeon - Dr. G, easily has about 2 major surgeries a day and maybe 5 or more minor ones and he doesn't care much about post-op care since he doesn't visit his patients in their rooms. The patients of this particular surgeon can only see him after surgery if they're wheeled or they walked to his office upon discharge.

Before I knew it seven years had gone by and I was turning 60 in a few months. This was when I was informed that I was being terminated upon reaching my 6th decade birthday, because the mandatory age for retirement was 60. This was something that I was expecting and I welcomed the news with an open mind. Joblessness would be my friend - again, and I was more familiar with her now.

One thing that struck me while writing this story was the realization that the obsession of seeing to it that I brought up my kids on a first-hand basis had its rewards down through the years. Holding them as newborn babes, helping them take their first steps, assisting them as they learned from books and teachers, watching them fall in and out of love, hugging them when they hurt, proudly seeing them get their diplomas on stage, working with them in the same hospital while they made their own waves as responsible citizens and other events in my life have transformed this life into one big awesome story, which of course is still a work in progress. Who knows, I might even have a chapter where I'll be forgetting what to write next, because of dementia.

At the moment we're still under one roof with Kukie and Kailee, while JP and Nok are just a few minutes down the road. Jo ann's retirement comes possibly next year and that could mean a major move or jobs somewhere else for both of us, which could yet be the most interesting chapter in the story of my life.