BOY SCOUTS OF THE PHILIPPINES 4th NATIONAL JAMBOREE by: Lumad Aloranon

INTRODUCTION The BSP 4th National Jamboree was held in Palayan City, Nueva Ecija on May 10-18, 1969. Though National, several foreign countries sent also their Scouts to join the celebration, they were: US, based in Ryukyus Islands, Okinawa, Japan; Thailand; Israel; Pakistan; and surely some others too; THE COUNCIL The Misamis Occidental-Ozamiz City Council sent a modest-size delegation and among them, from Aloran are: Mr Juan Maghuyop-Scout Master Mr X Leopoldo-Asst Scout Master Mar Baluran Uly Barquin Nathan Leopoldo Lito Mutia Victor Ratilla Alexander Mutia Attached to our team was a Boy Boligor from Sinacaban. These are some of the names that I can recall of the Council Leaders: Mr Ceniza Mr Oligario Mr Pausanos Mr Godilusao Mr Yanez Mr Tubio DRYRUNS Months prior to the Jamboree, we held several campings in preparation for the big event. We had one in Calamba, two in Oroquieta and two or three in Aloran itself. It was in one of these campings that I met Nestor Neri and Rodrigo Calapiz, from Calamba, Eddie Bernal, Alan Pausanos, Edmond Carmona, Willy Ledesma, Nestor Castillano, and Nathaniel Caliao, from Oroquieta, and Patrick Barrica, from Baliangao. THE DEPARTURE I had a pair of khaki uniform, few white shirts, underpants, socks, rubber shoes, my father's WWII canteen, meatcan, spoon, all in the knapsack borrowed from Bebie Herminigildo. We assembled at Oroquieta BSP HQ and from there, we boarded a bus for Ozamiz City. And right at the dock, RPS Panay was waiting for us. Everyone was excited coming on-board. RPS DATU KALANTIAO VS RPS PANAY RPS Datu Kalantiao, the Philippine Navy flagship was originally scheduled to fetch us up at Ozamiz City port for Manila. However, on the 11th hour, RPS Panay was sent on its stead. My first time on a ship, a navy boat, how much cooler could it get? Like all commercial vessels that era, we sleep on tejeras. At the boat's stern was a chute where the crew was everything, from their laundry to kitchen utinsils. That was where one of us stands over for another to spray him with hose water. We take our meals in the galley. (Ships don't have kitchen). To while time, we practice our yells and scout songs. COURTESY CALL RPS Panay docked at Cebu City port to resupply. We had the opportunity to disembark and paid courtesy call to the City Mayor. I remember entering an aircond office and shaking hand of an honorable man. All these years I thought that was Mayor Remotigue, Google, however, says that Cebu City's mayor in 1969 was not Mr Remotigue. ARRIVES MANILA.. NOW.. PALAYAN CITY HERE WE COME!!! Baliwag Transit buses were waiting for us at the port. After short briefings, we boarded the buses bound for Palayan City, Nueva Ecija-the Rice Granary of the Philippines at that time. The buses made stops along the way. At the stops, locals were vending buko juice in shell, delicacies, and countless others. The food looks and smells good, however, we were already briefed against buying anything for safety reason. Our leaders were paranoid. IS THIS PALAYAN CITY? ARE WE IN THE RIGHT PLACE? I was shocked, I didn't see anything that has resemblance of a city. It was all ricefields as far as my eyes can see. Well, at that time, the Central Plains of Luzon where Nueva Ecija is, was the Rice Granary of the Philippines. I noticed uniformed military personnel, and one army tank near the gate of the campground. Later, I learned that the 1st Infantry 'Tabak' Division of the Philippine Army is HQd at Fort Ramon Magsaysay, Laur, Nueva Ecija. Later in the week, the Yukuya Brothers, Salmy and Luthermy and I go around the camp. In a small clearing within the perimeter of the campsite were stores selling all sorts of things: souvenir items, and all sort of food. Salmy's favourite was the one in the corner; halo-halo, sago and the likes. The store-owner's daughter, our age, has an uncanny resemblance to someone back home he likes. Upon arrival, we unloaded our stuff and mounted our tents. Each Contingent was already assigned a section in the campground. I remember being close to the Zamboanga del Sur-Pagadian Council, where later that week I ran into Doree Mutia and fast-forward to early 1990s in New Jersey, where I first met Jun Yamba. I'm almost certain he was the guy I heard yelled 'Mutia', they were honing their drum-and-bugle skills. Everywhere you look, you see boys mounting tents, cooking equipment (abohan and firewood). And soon enough, smoke and sound of plates filled the whole area. When the dust settled, we assembled for the Welcome Party and the announcement of assigned activities, daily. What I saw on all faces, was excitement, could be apprehension to some. A bit chaotic, overall it was lively. I didn't even hear most of the Announcements because we went around shaking hands with other Scouts from all over. OUR DAILY OUTDOOR ACTIVITIES The Activities, among others, were: Swimming Archery Hiking Shooting Fishing Tree planting Plowing A SAD DAY AT THE CAMP My Activity that day was Swimming. On my way, I noticed commotion along the river some hundreds of meters downstream from where I was going. I learned later in the afternoon after that a Scount was drowned. I also learned that afternoon, one of us, Boy Acle, figured in a 'sumbagay' also while in Swimming, though not where the scout was drowned nor where I was in. SO IT WAS A HAIL STORM, NOT JUST AN ORDINARY RAIN This day, it was Hiking. We were a Team of seven. The Leader was a tall Muslim scout from South Cotabato, I was the Compass Reader. We were heading home just before noon when the weather went south. Strange, I was walking in the rain and I felt the pain in my arms and neck. The droplets were the size of a corn seed. I later learned in my adulthood already that that was 'hail'. Then it got worse. Rain was so hard, and from a distance I saw a tiny nipa hut blown away by the wind. The campsite was already flooded by the time I got to our tent. It was all chaos. All you see are Scouts, in war footing, helping each other save their tent-home. Nothing could break The Boy Scout Spirit. We went on for two more days! AULD LANG SYNE Like any get-together, the hardest part is saying the goodbyes. Nine short days went quicker than a school recess. No more outfield activities, so everybody was in the campsite center. Don't know how many we were, just many. In the ceremony, we were singing scout songs and jingles. We exchange souvenirs; t-shirt, neckerchief, cap and even coins with the boys from International Delegations. We share food too. Auld Lang Sayne, beautiful, yet sad. We started dismantling our tents and implements and load them to our chartered buses.. Heading HOME, at least that's what we were told. The navy boat RPS Kalantiao which was designated to bring us home was diverted for the Iloilo Contingent. While our Leaders were looking for alternative transportation, we were housed at Mapa High School in San Miguel, close to the Malacanan. If I remember it correctly, we got the entire top floor. It didn't take long for some of the boys senior to us that we were just a binocular-away from a girls-only college dorm. With a borrowed telescope, we took turn enjoying the scenery. With each day that passes one thing became clear, some of us were not sons of lesser gods. Barely a couple of days into our two-week ordeal, they started complaining about our food: smoked galonggong (first time for me too), dried fish and tangkong, virtually every meal, everyday. In every cloud, there is a silver lining. WAS IT TRUST? There's this Brothers that I'll never forget. Francis Militante and his younger brother were among us stranded. The father was a board member of the lone district of Misamis Occidental at the time, from Calamba. Francis was probably two or three years younger than I am. I was fourteen. Though we belong to the same Contingent, it was only at Mapa High School that we were acquainted. We became buddies instantly. Into our third day, while we were having lunch, both brothers asked me if I could keep keep their money for them until we get home. I didn't think it was a good idea, fearing that I might lose it. But the worry on their faces outweighed mine. We went to where no one was watching us, they took their money from their pocket, we counted it, folded them and placed it in my short's secret pocket. That shorts never left my body until were told that we were going home. This never fades in my memory. I have always wanted to hookup with them, at least thank them for the Trust. Recently, I learned from a common friend that Francis has passed away sometime ago. May your soul rest in peace and I'm extending my left hand for a boy scout handshake. OUR BELOVED CONGRESSMAN WILLIAM L CHIONGBIAN When the Council was advised that we have to stay behind until a navy boat is available to bring us home, the Leaders requested Hon William Chiongbian, then the Representative of the lone district of Misamis Occidental for transport in one of his several vessels. The answer was NO, it's passenger season, he said. That's why we were stranded at Mapa High School. The following Election, William Chiongbian ran for re-election. The opposition, knowing of the incident, hired Doming Sacote, a mid-level scout leader in their campaign. The incumbent prevailed.