Bienvenido N. Santos: The fictions of his memory

THIS WEEK’S WINNER

MANILA, Philippines - Gabriel Hidalgo Bordado is the vice mayor of Naga City in Bicol. He continues to handle the “Libro Para Sa Futuro” (Books for the Future) reading program. Recently, he supported the establishment of a special Bienvenido N. Santos section at the Raul S. Roco Public Library in his city.

Autobiographies can be a bit tricky, especially for writers who certainly have a way with words. They can burnish the past, embellish it with buntings, suffuse it with light and banter, or delete it altogether.

As Bienvenido Nuqui Santos, acknowledged as one of the great Filipino writers in English, wrote in Memory’s Fictions: “Alas memory knows no logic, follows no definite patterns and tangents; memory is capricious, tarries at odd moments or simply flits by, barely alighting, and moves on, turning over layers upon layers of things past, things completely forgotten. It has no discipline, no direction, no heart. It is willful, with a mind of its own and yet, every so often, mindless.”

The book, which Santos dubbed as his personal history, does read, in some parts, like fiction, reminding one, rather subtly, of the author’s lofty stature as a fiction writer. But this does not interfere with the flow of the narrative, allowing Santos to share with the reader “memory pieces” of his colorful life in a manner reminiscent of postprandial talks. Always self-effacing, he claimed that “there is no puzzle beyond the contradictions and enigmas of any human life, just bits and pieces here and there that sum up a life that happens to be mine.”

According to Memory’s Fictions, Santos could have been a boxer, probably not in the mold of Manny Pacquiao but of his professed idol pre-war Oriental flyweight champion Joe Suzara, had it not been for the timely intervention of a beautiful lady who talked him out of the bloody sport. He also mentioned his American teacher in English who publicly humiliated him, arrogantly declaring that no Filipino could ever write the composition he had submitted to her.

Of course, the incident shook him to the core, prompting him to write, “What I can’t recall is how the class took the insult, or exactly how I felt, what the tears meant. How could an insult like that to the Filipino race be allowed to pass without a protest? In my own way, I was protesting. My tears showed what I felt. That’s all. In those days, Americans got away with practically anything. They were the colonizers and succeeded well in appearing and acting as our masters, playing God.”

Yet, the arrogance of his American mentor did not break his spirit. Instead, it further strengthened his resolve to write on. “I like to think Mrs. Sage did something good for me —inspired me to write and keep writing, as if to prove that indeed, we Filipinos can write in English well enough to excel in the use of the language. I often tell my interviewers that Mrs. Sage was one of the few who really inspired me to become a writer,” Santos writes, summing up what could be the defining moment of his life.

Santos studied at UP (still on Padre Faura then) where he met a Bicolana scholar named Beatriz Nidea who would become his wife. He himself got a scholarship under the government pensionado program. This gave him the opportunity to study in the United States, albeit becoming an exile during the war years.

Gifted with a compelling command of the English language, Santos proved to be a prolific writer, crafting award-winning novels, short stories, and poems in a period spanning more than half a century. At the same time, he won other scholarships, including the very prestigious Guggenheim grant, paving the way for post-graduate studies and teaching stints at some of the top universities in the US.

Aspiring writers will find comfort in the fact that notwithstanding his prodigious outputs, Santos, more often than not, considered writing as a daunting task, saying that “feeling is hardest to capture in words, but when the words are there, there is no ecstasy quite like it.” (A lady journalist would echo this pronouncement, describing the process as “a virtual orgasm.” But that will be another story!)

Despite his success in the US, Santos never forgot his roots. He made regular visits to Tondo and his wife’s hometown of Daraga, Albay. He even accepted administrative posts in local universities, including the University of Nueva Caceres (UNC) in Naga City. Occasionally, he also handled special courses at the UP, his alma mater.

During the martial law years, his novel The Praying Man, deemed to be a scathing commentary on corruption in the government, was banned by the dictatorship. This did not deter him, however, from pursuing what he termed as “the only way I know to come closest to the truth of what I feel life is all about.”

As the nation marks the centennial of Bienvenido Nuqui Santos, the biggest honor one can give him is to read his literary masterpieces. And his Memory’s Fictions may well be a good start.