To Know A Place

The waves sounded like drum beats with sudden, angry movements of a woman's hand. Anger--one that has been kept in. Now it comes out in ragged gasps like buried sobs. Quiet then loud. Clapping one after another like dominoes on sand. "Ruin. Ruin is a gift. Ruin is the road to transformation." Elizabeth Gilbert's words resound in my head. There is no moon. Only stars. Millions of them shone against the curtain of black. The wind blows from the mountains. The colored flags, pale and shadowed in the night danced in the wind.  My bare feet dug into the soft, grainy sand, finding its respite. And while my body can find rest, my mind wanders with the question, "What will I learn this time?"

Miss Ailyn tells me, "Gibutang man ko sa Ginoo diri." God put me here.

Tears in her eyes, heart on her sleeve, she has done wonders for the community here. There is so much more to the story than what the national TV show, G diaries has shown to the world. She tells me pieces of the entire story. What remain in my memory are the pinpoints that marked the make or break of this place now known as Sabang Daguitan Surf Camp-- nights where she would shed tears over conflicts that ensued between the members of the co-op, her struggle in deciding to endure and persevere in fighting the good fight and  the time when they asked for help when private and public entities expressed interest in buying them out.

"Dugay naka waray nakadto diri, Ma'am," Nanay speaks in Waray. My last visit was four months ago. I answer in halting Tagalog, a language to bridge my Bisaya to her Waray. Nanay's smile and warmth, however, speaks both our languages, breaks the barrier. I order our food-- Bam-i, for a mere two hundred pesos that could feed 5-6 people. I order their famous Basil shake. Nanay tells me it is not available as the Basil plants are being replanted. It is still too young to be harvested. Beside the restaurant is their organic farm of tomatoes, basil, bell peppers, lemongrass. On the other end of the camp is their lettuce farm grown using hydrophonics technology.  They are self-sustaining. 

 

Miss Ailyn tells me of the nature of their character. "They would rather their fellow men and women have work in the co-op than have their individual salaries increased." She mentions briefly, her voice breaking,  "To begin to build a place with only four pesos in your hands. Yolanda, wiping out every possible hope..." They built the cottages with their own hands with only a dream and a vision for reward and compensation-- that they will progress as one, all together be in a better place than where they were in the past.  The communal spirit in this beautiful place is what made Sabang what it is, a thriving cooperative where every one helps another and everyone share each other's successes and pains. 

The last time I visited, my notes read,  

"The waves were stronger, bigger this time. The sand bar took a different form. Talisay  trees whereas before had sparse leaves, flourished.  There were more people than usual. Louder than usual. But really, what is usual? I haven't been here long enough or often enough to know what is or is not. Besides, in a place of many transients, there are too few constants..."

We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time. T. S. Eliot
Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/t_s_eliot_109032

I now know what the "too few constants" are in this place. It is their genuine spirit of kindness and community. They are more than a family here. I felt it deeply the first time in the person of our surf instructor, Ronald, who showed us the wisdom beyond his years, the sincerity of his character and the humility of his being. In a world of too many changes, perhaps all we need are only very few constants to ground us to what truly matters in this life. I wonder  too whether their kind and communal character has something to do with the struggles they underwent, their shared pain. Yolanda, or any other name. Ruin, the word comes back to me again. Perhaps it is this. Without struggle, there can be no overcoming. But then again, when we talk about nature, human nature, it is constant, unchanging. In the face of transgressions or defeat, one's true nature is not changed, but revealed.  

It seems as if every time we come to Sabang, I see a different face, find different pieces in the wholeness of her story. And my heart is full realizing this. To know a place after all  is to come back to it again and again. Every time, I learn a few more things.

This was our third visit. There was no moon this time. But the stars were there. Millions of them.  The wind blew from the mountains just like the first time. The singing of the Pacific however, was different, like sudden, angry roars, resonating the lines in my head, "Ruin, ruin is a gift. Ruin is the road to transformation."

I read my notes from before. I wrote, "To know a place is to come back to it again and again. To know oneself, a million times more." I close my eyes, my feet digging into the feathery, grainy sand.

We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time. T. S. Eliot
Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/t_s_eliot_109032