Lino Brocka was a fan of Kerima Polotan

MANILA, Philippines - Highly-acclaimed writer and fictionist Kerima Polotan passed away last Aug. 19 and it left a legion of literary fans distraught.

In the ’60s, she was my favorite writer in the weekly Philippines Free Press and in the ’70s, our paths crossed in her weekly magazine, Focus (where my first essays appeared) and in the afternoon daily, The Evening Post (where I used to write film reviews).

When Ricky Lo assigned me to do a story on Lino Brocka in the then Expressweek magazine in the late ’70s, I discovered that Lino Brocka — who passed away in 1991 — was an avid fan of Polotan.

“I read her piece in the Philippines Free Press every week without fail,” the late Brocka told me in his then residence near the Pantranco terminal in Quezon City. “From that time on,” Brocka continued, “I was always on the look-out on how I could see her in person.”

When Brocka learned that I was also a Polotan fan, he had expressed hope he could do a screen adaptation of one of her short stories. I recommended to Brocka that he read Polotan’s collection titled Stories and for sure he could find a wealth of stories fit for the big screen.

Since I visited Polotan’s Focus magazine office almost every other week for my contributor’s paycheck, I told Brocka I could be his Polotan contact.

Then we would single out Polotan articles and stories  that we both loved and Brocka would always, “Pablo, there is no one like her now.”

Lino and Kerima have given us a slice of what is good, bad, depressing and redeeming about life — through fine films and fine writing

One time, Brocka chanced upon Polotan who was doing a lecture in Fort Santiago in the early ’70s. In the lecture forum, Brocka said he waded through the crowd to have a vantage look at his favorite author. He looked at her as though she was a living saint and whispered to himself, “Ma’am, I just loved your writings.”

I was hoping Brocka would tap Butch Dalisay to select one Polotan story for a possible screen project but nothing came out of it. For one, Brocka was in awe of Polotan and he expressed reservation he might not be able to do justice to the author’s story.

On the latter part of 1979, I asked Brocka to be a godfather to my second daughter. What’s her name? Brocka asked.

“What else,” I told Brocka, “it’s Kerima.”

The last time I saw Brocka was when he was shooting a kidnap scene of Gina Alajar (for Orapronobis) in a Pasig street.  We were inside a jeepney when he crossed the street, I quickly hollered at him, and pointed to my then 10-year-old daughter, “This is Kerima, your goddaughter.”

The last time I was in touch with Brocka was when he invited me to the shooting of his last film in Palawan. I said I could not make it as we have a family affair in the island province. I learned later he passed away in a car accident near the Quezon City Hall.

The last time I saw Kerima Polotan was when I attended the Mass for her late husband, Johnny Tuvera  (another good writer) in a Parañaque chapel in the ’90s. In the middle part of the Mass where everyone knelt, I noticed Kerima was the only standing.

The last time I was in touch with Mrs. Tuvera’s  daughter, Mariam, I said I’d see if I could invite Cecile Licad to play for  her mother — if there is a piano in the house. I succeeded in introducing Mariam to Cecile but never got around to asking Cecile to play for Mrs. Tuvera.

Flanked by poet Jimmy Abad and writer Jingjing Hidalgo during the launching of Kerima’s last  book published by UP Press

My world crumbled when I learned about her demise last Aug. 21.

“Where do I see her?” I frantically texted her daughter Mariam when I learned about her death.

“Her body was already cremated as per her wish,” answered Mariam.

The more I felt devastated.

Looking back, Kerima was many things in my writing life.

She was the one who led me to writing and I ended up writing for her magazine and evening paper.

When she learned that we were expecting our first baby, she gamely advanced my contributor’s fees in the then Focus Magazine.

But most of all, she taught by example what good writing is all about.

She wrote honestly about her life as writer and mother (and in her own words, as “clumsy” entrepreneur) and the more she became a living inspiration to what remains of my writing life.

But as it was, Brocka’s colorful life was the stuff of Kerima’s first-rate fiction.

How I would have loved to see a Polotan story come to life on screen.

Now Brocka and Polotan have passed away.

There is no doubt that both have given us a slice of what is good, bad, depressing and redeeming about life — through fine films and fine writing.

On this her last wake in a Parañaque chapel, I’d like to echo what Brocka whispered to Mrs. Tuvera while watching her admiringly in a Fort Santiago lecture-forum: “Ma’am, I just loved your writings!”

(Copies of Kerima Polotan’s book, The True and The Plain — a collection of essays about her childhood memories — are available at the UP Press. Call 926-6642.)