Kan Lopez

Originally published via Gahum Weekly Vol. 2 No. 12 May 23-29, 2011

As we all grow older, we try to reach back somewhere to our childhood for moments that could take us away especially from the meanderings of adulthood. We take shelter in them and bask in the ethereal yet so ephemeral familiarity of memories. My share of these moments includes the dusks when my Lolo Medios told stories about Kan Lopez and its enchanted denizens.

With the glitter that only belief could have brought into his eyes, he lyrically swept us away to a world of beings that looked like men and women but with the powers of gods. One of my favorites of them was Bernabe. He was of Kan Lopez but was born to an elderly couple of Bucatutan, Rizal, which is a barrio of Dulag, Leyte. When he was born, he was as tiny as a sardine can; in days time he was a beautiful toddler; and, in a month he was a handsome young man. He ate too much that his human parents became bankrupt in less than a month thus forcing his father to attempt parricide twice. The first time, he was tricked to jump into the Pacific Ocean where biggest sharks waited; but, he smote all of them with his pisaw then went back home with two… one on each shoulder. The second time, he was lured to accompany his father to a forest filled with trees that almost reached the skies and were ten times wider than the Maharlika Highway. His father asked him to catch a befallen tree and when silence ensued he thought Bernabe was dead. An hour after his father arrived home, Bernabe shouted from the libong, “Tatay, where should I put the firewood?” His parents gazed with awe at the gargantuan tree on his shoulder.

Lolo Medios painted with such beautiful words the kingdom of Kan Lopez. When he told us that one of our departed distant cousins was half engkanto; that he was not actually dead; and, that he was just at Kan Lopez, we all wanted his fate. Ate Puji and I were so convinced that every time we walked under the cool shades of the Kan Lopez trees, we respectfully chanted, “Tabi apoy. Tabi mga umurukoy.” More importantly, we never treaded the silent roads of Bucatutan without salt in our pockets because as much as we were so enamored with the fair-skinned tall people of Kan Lopez- we were afraid never again to lay sight on our loved ones.

Amusingly, at 36 years of age… when the ground I stand upon shake, I think of Bernabe. Lolo Medios told us that he made a giant kasing from the tree he carried home and rode on it to Amandewing where he slew the giant who guarded the two rock foundations of earth thus the responsibility of holding them apart rested on him. Every time I feel an earthquake I speak in an almost prayerful yet smiling tone, “Bernabe must be resting…”