Dawn Scene

It was sunrise. The sky turned a light color blue with traces of orange seeping into its vastness. A woman sits at an airplane window. As I looked through her thick glasses, I wondered if she saw what I saw – a world of beauty, a world of opportunities, the future.

A woman from Cebu city sits next to her American husband. Her hand slipped upon his. His hand is wrinkled and dry. Hers tell stories of places and people, travels and memories. Things forgotten, things remembered. She had always longed for foreign flesh and the day that she got something old, something new and something blue was the day that she left her country behind. He did not love her and that feeling was mutual. Theirs was a mutual beneficial relationship, almost business –like. He needed a woman who did not ask, did not challenge and followed him in his late night drinking sessions. He needed her to follow his every step which she did. Like a shadow she walked by him. Her children were white skinned. Vastly different from her own skin which she religiously bathed and painted a color white – with no avail. Life was comfortable, for her husband offered more financial stability than she ever could dream of. Her children went to decent schools and her house looked like those in magazines she used to see in shop windows and on telenovela’s.

Yet at every sunrise, every color and every cloud floating by reminded her of the laughter echoing through her old neighborhood in her hometown back in the Philippines. That morning when I looked at her from afar must have been no different. She could see nothing but her past.

- Scenes & Angles -

(C) Anthony Jake Huiskamp Atienza

Graves without Names

His nickname was Momords or Marcial. He got old and sick. He died. He got buried. This was last year, yet until now his grave has not been painted. As I walk around a local cemetery, I notice that it’s divided into “districts”. Among the many graves I notice that many have no names – no identity.

On his grave there is no name, no date of birth and no date of death. The only hint at his existence is his nickname, Marcial, which was written and spelled incorrectly in the cement with a stick. Decades ago he worked as a driver for my parent’s company. During his last years he lived in my family’s compound until he moved out because of personal differences. I have no idea where his family and friends are or if they are still alive.

A grave can be seen as a final resting place – a final tribute to a person. Though it’s more important to take care of a person whilst alive, I see it as a sign of respect to take care of matters once someone has passed away. The emphasis therefore lies in the fact that an untaken care of grave makes it seem as if that person never existed and it seems that it won’t take long before that person is forgotten. It makes me think about legacies and life after death - literally.

Marcial’s case is not uncommon. The cemetery is divided into “districts”. Regular graves are a contrast among big elaborate structures (much like the contrast between “classes” in the Philippines). Walking around the cemetery I see more of the same graves. The unfinished and unpainted graves scattered throughout the cemetery are mere traces of people who once had a life. The contrast in the size of graves is not a manifestation of these people’s character or importance. It’s a mere manifestation of possible negligence within society due to social circumstances particular to a person. Some people’s spirits are kept alive through stories while others are truly forgotten. All these people once walked the streets and had conversations. They once worked odd jobs. They were once hardworking or passive, once careless or caring, once happy or unhappy.

As I look and see the many unnamed graves’ I think that at the end of some people’s lives for one reason or another they are left alone and they make a lonesome exit. It is a mere observation. Let us not forget those who live amongst us in the present and in the future when they pass away.

- Scenes & Angles -

(C) Anthony Jake Huiskamp Atienza