Ave Triumphator! Ave Triumphator Est! Papa!

Ave! Ave! A man of strength, true steel!

Ave Triumphator! Triumphatus est!

The man with loyal heart, with holy will,

The faithful warrior now is gone

To slumber woth the blest!

I chose the title “Ave Triumphator” for my father’s book because his poem “Foch,” written when he was 13, a few months after his father, Benito T. Soliven died, during the Death March, ends with these lines that speak also of him.

Before Grandpa Benito died, after giving a farewell blessing to his eldest Maximo, he strongly cautioned my father never to enter politics for he will only be hurt to find out that some of his “loyal,” colleagues who pledged unstinting support to his noble goals and endeavors would only betray him in the end… but to serve God and country by wielding the one powerful talent God had given him – the gift of writing!

To mark the 2nd death anniversary of my father, the late Maximo V. Soliven today, the City of Manila is honoring him with the unveiling of his statue along Roxas Boulevard (right across the Raja Sulayman Park) at 4 pm. It is also during this occasion that we will launch the first edition of his book, Maximo V. Soliven – Ave Triumphator! A Collection of Timeless Poems.

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So many things have come to past but a daughter’s wish is to keep the memory of her father always alive and forever burning within her heart.

It is very difficult to lose a father – especially one who has served as an inspiration and a pillar of strength. Two years have gone by and here I am still finding myself nostalgic about my father – his life and his works. I guess this is a ‘Soliven trait’ (being such romantics) or it may be a natural tendency that many who have lost a father like me experience.

When my papa lost his father at a tender age of 13, the memory of my grandpa lived within his heart until his death. He kept on writing about grandpa in his columns and talking about grandpa’s heroic deeds during his public speaking engagements. He was very proud of grandpa (and of course Grandma Pelagia) – so proud that I felt the spirit of grandpa very much alive in papa’s heart.

Today, I see myself doing the same thing. I continue to write about my father and echo his beliefs from columns he had written in the past. He was a prolific writer – a true journalist for that matter. He had such a strong appeal to our people. Many loved him because he was toughie but always fair.

Some people try to pin me down by saying, “You’re not Max Soliven, Sara.” Let me tell you, I have never aspired to replace my father. I know, I am not Max Soliven. I am only Sara, the daughter and I know I can never take the place of my father. All I want is to keep his legacy alive because he loved this country and the Filipino people so dearly.

Right now, I am being an obedient daughter who is hanging on to a promise I had made to papa before he died – a promise to write. It was my father who made me write. I remember telling him, “I am not a writer papa,” but he held my hand look straight into my eye and said, “You have it in you, Sara – just write and all your thoughts will flow naturally.” I couldn’t say, “No papa, I will not do it”. I knew his body was getting weaker and I wanted him to be happy – so I did what a daughter would do – I obeyed. A few months after – he died. Yes, it is difficult to break a promise – but right now I am still holding on to that promise.

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As I was going through the poems (more than a hundred of them) which he had written between the ages of 12 to 21, the more I admired my father. I do not want to sound self-serving but his prose and poetry are magnificent. You would be proud to find a great Filipino poet in him.

With the help of my mother and my Tita Mercy Soliven David (my father’s sister who preserved most of his writings from childhood), I was finally able to print his book of poems. It is a beautiful book. It depicts the life of a man who unwittingly wrote about his own life through poetry. It is a book anyone can relate to especially for the hard-working Pinoys who did not grow up with a silver spoon in their mouth. Instead, they worked hard day and night to assist their parents – in the farm, at home, in the markets, in the streets – to augment their family income in order to survive.

One of his poems is so touching it makes you empathize with children like him whose childhood had been stolen away due to poverty. I am sure many will be able to relate to the poem as they read it and look back at their own childhood experience. This is an excerpt from the poem entitled:

TEACH ME TO LAUGH, LORD!

Teach me to laugh, Lord, for it is in laughter

A secret of healing that man has ever sought,

A militant joyousness, shaking beam and rafter

That breeds new life to every word and thought!

Show me the way, Lord, a humble way of life

Yet proud and eager, froth with strength and joy;

Teach me the glad peal of it, the world has known,

But scoffing, and heard too seldom the laughter of a boy!

My father used to say, “soldier on and never lose hope.” This is what we must do as a nation during these difficult times. Amidst all the chaos and disheartening news around us, we must never give up.