Youngblood : Secret society

First posted 03:28am (Mla time) Sept 27, 2005
By Eduardo M. Tuason II
Inquirer News Service

Editor's Note: Published on page A13 of the September 27, 2005 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer

IT ALL started when I was 10 years old. In 4th grade, my best buddy and I formed a secret society. That was an odd step compared with what other children were doing, which was to form groups based on a popular children’s TV series and naming themselves either “Shaider” or “Voltron.” Our peers usually kept themselves busy making cardboard spaceships or communicating with imaginary space stations by whispering to their wrists.

Our group was somewhat eccentric. We founded it upon the inspiration of a lesson in our Hekasi (Heograpiya, Kasaysayan at Sibika) class. We named our selves KKK -- for Kataastaasang Kagalanggalang mga Kids -- obviously a poor takeoff of the Katipunan.

The success of the society was overwhelming. We were able to recruit almost all of our classmates, except for five students who couldn’t read at the time. We even formulated our own codes for communication (which we also used as cheating codes), a policy for conduct, secret handshakes and identification cards. My best buddy and I acted as if we were reincarnations of Andres Bonifacio and Emilio Jacinto. And we addressed each other as “Ka.”

A week before we could perform our version of the “Blood Compact,” our society was discovered by school authorities. To this day I consider sitting in front of our guidance counselor the most troubling time of my life. All I could think of was finding out who squealed on us. I kept telling myself that traitors come in all ages.

Our principal, who belonged to the Stone Age, and our prefect, who was worse than a Nazi, confronted us in front of our stunned parents and labeled us as “gangsters.” In irritation, I explained: “We were only being patriotic. We were not acting like punks.”

Our principal’s eyes glazed upon hearing such proof of our rebelliousness. We were meted out the appropriate sanctions. Thus at an early age, cynicism began to corrode my sense of idealism.
After a month of depression and lying low, my best buddy and I decided to form another group. But this time we settled for a more politically neutral name: Bioman.

It was not until I was in high school that I regained the spark of idealism. To read and study the “Noli” and “Fili” was invigorating. I broke out of the shell of apathy.
I was fortunate to play the role of Elias when our class did a short film based on “Noli Me Tangere” to fulfill a school requirement. Coincidentally, my best buddy played the same role for his section.

My rediscovered idealism seemed to grow after I watched GMA Network’s rendition of “Jose Rizal” (I have a copy of its script signed by Marilou Diaz-Abaya) and read articles by Ambeth Ocampo. My friend and I swore as we watched the fireworks during the celebration of the Centennial of our Independence never to turn our back on the motherland.

Now it seems almost an eternity since I left the Philippines. My friend is dead-set on carrying on with his cause as a leftist, while I can be considered as a struggling capitalist. But while we may now be pose apart ideologically, we still share the same love and concern for the land of our birth. And every day that passes I thank God for moving me closer to the time when I will be going home.

Call me naïve, but I still believe in the resilience of our race. Behind my pursuit of higher education lies the dream of being able to teach in a university back home. The promise of living in a First World country is tempting. But I ask myself, “How can I disregard my citizenship when I belong to race of great heroes?”

It has been said that idealism gives the youth an edge over their elders. But for me, idealism is what distinguishes the able from the lazy cynic. Idealism is never limited by age, education or social status. Idealism is the driving force for the aspirations we have. It’s the reason for greeting each new day with a sense of hope and, without it, there would be little left for us to live for. A youth robbed of idealism is like a dehydrated body -- just cold flesh.

Cynicism is a cataract that blurs our vision. It is an intellectual pretension passed off as real intelligence.

The constant cycle of political dynasties replacing other dynasties holds backs the rise of genuine idealism. But no matter how tightly "trapo" [traditional politicians] cling to their positions, this should never be a reason to lose hope. It should not stop us from inhaling the breath of life.

There’s a line from “War of the Worlds” that I will always remember, which says: “When my body is ready, it will push (the splinter) out.” The same analogy applies to us. When our people and our system is ready, it will push the trapo out of our lives.

Idealism is tough to handle. Only those who are steadfast in their principles and strong can overcome the frustrations that challenge it. That is why only a few nurture idealism in their hearts for long.

Those who do not believe that things can be done should not stand in the way of those who pursue change. Jose Rizal put it this way: “Give way to the youth, so you will not be crashed.”

Eduardo M. Tuason II, 22 is a room reservations agent at Hyatt Regency International in Guam.