A story in the cemetery; Winning the Story Wars

Last Monday, we decided to visit my late husband’s tomb in La Loma ahead of time. We’ve broken the tradition of going with the crowds on Nov. 1 and 2 when all roads lead to the cemetery. (I think that it is good metaphor for the when we visit the dead. Some go ahead but eventually death comes to all.)

Because there were no crowds yet we were able to visit more leisurely instead of worrying about the traffic. My sister-in-law, Lita Hidalgo who studied in Spain stopped by another tomb and said, “Read this, there must be a lovely story behind this.” The tomb was uncared for and must have been abandoned for a long time now but there was a statue of an angel guarding over it. The tomb was elevated enough from the weeds growing through the years that otherwise would have hidden the text. “I love this inscription” she said stopping for a while.

I don’t know much Spanish so I stood peering from behind her and read with the little I understood of the words. “It is so beautiful” my sister-in law continued. I agree. Spanish is a beautiful language but then even more than the language I wanted to convey to my readers what the words were about. So I asked her to translate it.

It was a father’s lament on the death of his son. The date of  the son’s death was Aug. 22, 1924. That was long ago and presumably the father who wrote the loving words has also died since the tomb looks abandoned and uncared for. He wrote a letter for all to see and read what he felt when his son died. Here it is in both Spanish and English.

Pipung (Agustin Antonio)

Mi hijo falleció en Agosto 22, 1924

Anda hijo mío, vé! Te doy permiso

Para dejar los besos de tu madre

Para dejar los brazos de tu padre

Y marcharte a jugar al Paraíso

Mira allí cuánta luz! Ángeles bellos

Te llaman con tus blancas manecitas

Y sonríen batiendo sus alas…

No es más lindo que tú ninguno de ellos!...

Vete! Iré después! Por  hoy… me quedo abajo…

Aún no se ha puesto el sol. Tengo trabajo

Que terminar aquí…Besa mi frente!...

Adiós chiquito adios! Ruego al Eterno

Que al terminarse mi ímproba tarea,

Pueda tambien subir…y que te vea…

Porque, sin tí, la vida es un infierno!...

Tu Papá

*      *      *

Pipung (Agustin Antonio)

(Translation)

My son died on August 22, 1924.

Go, My Son, Go! I give you permission

To leave the kisses of your mother

To leave the arms of your father

And go to play in Paradise

Look, how much light over there! Beautiful angels

Beckon with their little white hands

And smile, their wings beating…

But not one of them is as beautiful as you!

Go! I shall follow after!  But for now, I stay behind…

The sun has not yet set.  I have work

To wind up here…Kiss my forehead!

Goodbye, my little one, goodbye!

Implore the Eternal One

That when I am done with this arduous task

I too may be allowed to go up, and to see you…

Because, without you, this life is a hell!...

Your Papa

That’s the letter. But the words fall short of the story. We are only given hints of it. It was a young boy, maybe even a baby boy. There is a poignant saying that there is nothing so sad as when the young go ahead of the old or when a child goes ahead of its mother and father. The father speaks of an arduous task he must yet fulfill. Was it just a description of the life he must live without his son? What did the son die of? And now with no one tending the tomb it seems that the story was lost forever except for the letter that was carved on stone.

*       *       *

Having told a story written on a tomb, it might seem I had taken a holiday from politics. On the contrary I have entered at the very heart of it if we go by Jonah Sachs best selling “Winning the Story Wars”. He tells us that stories are the best way to get your ideas into the market. But there is a formula.

“Trying to get your message heard? Build an iconic brand? Welcome to the battlefield. The story wars are all around us. They are the struggle to be heard in a world of media noise and clamor. Today, most brand messages and mass appeals for causes are drowned out before they even reach us.

But a few consistently break through the din, using the only tool that has ever moved minds and changed behavior — great stories,” says Jonah Sachs.

Constitutional reform advocates have a lesson to learn from what Sachs teaches how to convert the multitudes. We won’t get very far if we just enumerate the reasons or principles of constitutional reform. We have to tell stories that are compelling enough to a mass audience that have seen it all before.

He says “social media tools are driving a return to the oral tradition, in which stories that matter rise above the fray.” According to Sachs popular religious sects use stories because “memorable stories based on timeless themes build legions of eager evangelists.”

I have often wondered why “The Untold Story of Imelda Marcos” was a run-away bestseller. At the time it seemed it was because she tried to suppress it. But looking back today, almost 50 years later it is still selling and it is on its seventh reprint. I had not known about Sachs “Winning the Story Wars” until today. But the book unwittingly followed the formula he thinks makes the difference between ideas that fall on the wayside and ideas that remain.

It had a story. It had morals. It had values. And it did say that if only Imelda Marcos had used the potential of her story she would have offered hope to the country’s millions of poor. But she didn’t and that is the difference.  “After all, success in the story wars doesn’t come just from telling great stories, but from learning to live them,” adds Sachs.

We can weave the story of constitutional reform in the Philippines to great success following the Sachs formula for winning the story wars. The story is about leading Filipinos to realize their great potential if only they had the proper tools.