A loyal Filipino citizen?
Whenever I hear the phrase “loyalty to country,” the memory of my younger brother, Vic (for Vicente) Cruz, revisits my mind. Vic was born in 1941, started to read when he was four years old, and graduated with honors from grade school and high school. He completed a marketing course at the University of the East Manila, but the job he got after graduation was not related to it. He became part of the writing team of the official publication of Esso, one of the big players in the American-dominated oil industry at that time.
As a young man, Vic devoted most of his spare time to meeting up with his close friends and neighbors—Ruben Villareal (who later became chancellor of the University of the Philippines Los Baños) and Amador Muriel (who became a political exile during martial law and was once nominated for the UP presidency by the Filipino-American lawyer and civic leader Loida Nicolas-Lewis). These meetings almost always happened by the banks of the then poetically clean Marikina River.
Ever full of youthful energy and intense idealism, these young men founded The Varsitarian, Marikina’s first community newspaper run by college graduates and students. Though they never completed a college unit in journalism, they could write news reports, feature articles and opinion columns without much effort. When the newspaper management ran out of funds, the Marikina Jaycees took over the publication and changed its name to Ang Malaya. It became the mouthpiece of the opposition against Osmundo de Guzman’s political shenanigans as mayor of Marikina for about 20 years before and during martial law. De Guzman was a good friend and ally of the Marcoses.
By the early part of martial law, Vic’s stinging commentaries had started grating on the mayor’s nerves. Through his column, “Candidly Speaking,” he discussed issues and exposed the truth behind them. One day, Mayor Odeg (De Guzman’s pet name) himself visited our father, Teodoro Cruz, and wondered what it was he had done against Vic: “Mang Doro, ano po kaya ang kasalanan ko sa inyong anak?” Our father was too stunned to give an answer.
When the mayor left, our father advised Vic to stop writing his column. But before Vic could even think of heeding our father’s request, fate intervened: He received a notice of the approval of his application for immigration to Canada, and was told that he and his family should be prepared to leave after a month! The Cruz clan heaved a sigh of relief.
Upon arriving in Toronto, Vic was readily taken in by his former company, Esso, to be part of its publication team in Canada. Not long after landing the job and ever eager to serve his people, he accepted the post of managing editor of Atin Ito, the Filipino newspaper in Toronto. It was published by Eddie Lim, who distributed it for free to the Filipinos there.
Every time Vic had to produce the paper, he would take a leave of absence from his job and hole up in a hotel until the paper was camera-ready for printing. In time Canada’s prime minister took notice of the paper’s contribution to promote better communication among an ethnic group, and presented an award to the Atin Ito publisher and managing editor.
When he retired from full-time work, Vic was happy to devote his time to Atin Ito. There was no more need to file a leave of absence to work on it. Besides, he was able to connect better with his siblings and their respective families in the Philippines. He came home more often to celebrate his birthday and wedding anniversaries and to have reunions with former classmates.
For 38 years (1972 to 2010), Vic never thought of becoming a citizen of Canada. In spite of his wife’s nagging, never did he respond positively to her plea. However, in 2011 when he started to get sick, he felt that he needed free medical treatment which he could receive only as a full-fledged Canadian citizen. With a heavy heart, he embraced the inevitable. He succumbed to lung cancer months later.
But before he breathed his last, he gave his wife firm instructions. He told her to have his remains cremated and his ashes divided—half to be buried in Canadian soil and half to be brought home, to be poured into the Marikina River, by the banks of which he spent many days of his happy childhood.
A year after the cremation, Vic’s wife brought home the urn containing half of his ashes. We took the urn to the church of Our Lady of the Abandoned in Marikina to be blessed and, after a brief ceremony by the river, poured his ashes into the waters.
Had my brother lived longer, returned to the Philippines, and renounced his Canadian citizenship, would he be allowed to run for president if he wished to? Would he be considered a loyal Filipino citizen? What about his wife and children?
Elena C. Cutiongco is a retired teacher who, she says, shares her brother’s staunch adherence to being a Filipino in life and in death.
