The joys of a UP life
Part 1
I started out as a young instructor at the Institute of Strategic Studies at the Asian Center (then called the Philippine Center for Advanced Studies) at the University of the Philippines in Diliman in 1975. Three years later, I decided to transfer to UP Cebu to join its Undergraduate Program in its early days. I watched the program blossom from its initial course offering of the generic Social Science major to five divisions in the 1990s, and now to five clusters.
What began with a faculty of five or six in the undergrad has a tribe of 74 today.
Thank God, Mr. Francis Borres and I took the bold step of starting the Political Science Program in 1983. There were only seven in the first batch of Pol Sci graduates. Based on the latest count, the program has a student population of 93.
When one is in love, time really flies.
What am I in love with? Three things—the campus, the students and the work environment.
THE CAMPUS. During my UP Diliman days, the campus was (and still is) sizzling with intellectual extravaganza; never a dull moment. The library was as solemn as the inner sanctum of the Holy See as the readers’ eyes were glued to reading materials. Students dotted the building steps, reading and studying as if every day was a final exam day. The atmosphere was highly contagious. No one was spared; everyone was a nerd of sort.
I will always cherish those ikot jeepney rides that toured you around the tamed wilderness in Diltown. Those were the days when the Diliman campus was still a nature park, and not full of buildings and parking lots.
No less captivating was the rustic UP Cebu campus. The lush giant acacia trees stood proud and strong, extending their umbrellas to give us all the shade we needed.
Does anyone remember the gazebos? The three or four gazebos were metaphors for our endless quest for knowledge and truth: open, no walls, no boundaries. No furniture, just the bare essentials. Students and professors managed to stay oblivious to the comings and goings in the campus. When it showered, we looked like a herd of philosophers and disciples discoursing in a mini Shangri-La. But when it poured, we huddled in a corner to avoid being drenched like wet chickens.
The tree in the front yard that my son used to climb when he was 5 or 6 years old is still there. Now that Omid is a physician specializing in integrative oncology, he still looks for that tree whenever he picks me up at UP. He has also developed a passion for research, translational research in his case. So like mother, like son. The research fever must be the result of the spell cast by the tree!
How can I forget the Bagong Lipunan classrooms on the other side which were surrounded by tall grass? No wonder the goats nearby strayed into the classroom. In the Arts and Science building today, where the BL classrooms and the multipurpose hall once stood, we still hear the moos of cows once in a while, plus the carpentry work of bamboo furniture mason in the area.
The only monument then was the Oblation, sometimes garbed or draped in black depending on the gravity of the issue. In the 1990s, students lined the campus path to watch mutant oblation men run for a cause or alleged cause. When female students returned to the classroom, some of them confessed: “We have lost our innocence.” I asked in return: “So why do you watch?”
Whenever I have heartaches, I still converse with the Oblation. Somehow, this heart-to-heart talk always restores my sanity and idealism. I begin to see things in a new perspective. Perhaps you should try it yourself to see how it works for you. When the Oblation goes on leave or summer vacation, I have an alternate confidante, in the person of Ms. Ching. Pa-gamay gamay lang, pero lig-on kayo. Mas lig-on pa kay Mike.
Year in and year out, I am amazed by the unconventional art work of our Fine Arts students. What trimmings shall I see next schoolyear, I often wonder. I can’t forget one particular thought-provoking signage: “What is disorder? Too much cleanliness and orderliness.”
Accidents involving pedestrians crossing the street were unheard of in the 1970s and 1980s. In those years, UPians disliked the idea of walking across or rather, going to what we call “Boracay.” At that time, Boracay was not yet commercialized as the Boracay of WOW Philippines. In my recollection, the lot across became sandy and glaring after the BL classrooms and the Multi-Purpose Hall were torn down. Only the High School wing remained. Now with the tsunami of charging vehicles which are fiercer than Spanish bulls, there is no mercy from the headless heedless drivers. When you cross the street, you must run for your life!
The acacia tress? There they are, still. But the once majestic trees are getting bald and handicapped, losing a crown or a limb or two, not because of old age. The ‘barbaric’ barberos from the utility firm simply do not have any artistic sense, mindlessly tampering with the balance and beauty of nature. Will someone out there please do something about this “brutality”?
Nevertheless, the campus is still beautiful as long as the UP icon and the acacia trees remain permanent fixtures, and the students’ laughter reverberates around their claimed spaces within the campus – Batibot, Malacanang, Waterfront, Gaisano and Shangrila. And Manang Lisa continues to sell the best banana-cue in town. (To be continued)
