WHAT WOULD you say if someone asked, “Who are you?” It seems to be a simple question, but it actually demands a deep answer. It is perhaps the most important of the existential questions, along with “Where did I come from?” and “Why am I here?” So, to try to answer the question, who am I?
To my relatives and neighbors, I am Onyok. To my grade school classmates, I am Phernie. To most of my teachers and high school batch mates, I am Buncab. To most of my friends, I am Pers or Perci. To my church mates, I am Bro. To Ms Saleslady, I am Sir. To Kuya Kundoktor, I am Boss. To Manong Barber, I am Boy. And to strangers, I am merely “Hoy!”
Formally speaking, according to my birth certificate, I am Percival Lagda Buncab Jr. But that’s not who I am. That’s just my name. So who am I, really?
I was born and raised in Makati, where I also currently live. During school days, I travel on Edsa and transfer rides in Cubao to go to Sta. Mesa where I study. But this is far from who I am. This just says where I stay and go.
On holidays, I usually write. On school days, I am a journalism student (still, I usually write). I am a bibliophile. I love reading and collecting books. I am even passionate about covering books. Perhaps thrice a week, I go to bookstores—mostly not to buy, but to just enjoy being able to stare at the merchandise.
I am also a drummer. People love hearing me play, except my neighbors, because what is music for my soul is noise for their ears. So, yes, I am a writer and a drummer. I know: Those two seem to be opposites—one is too loud and the other is quiet. But wait, these are still not who I am, just what I love to do. So who am I, really?
“If what you have is who you are, then if you lost what you have, who are you?” This is one of my most favorite rhetorical questions. It reminds us of our tendency to base our identity on mere material things. Indeed, if my identity is based on things, stuff that can be lost, then who am I, really?
Such a difficult question. I cannot think of anything else to define or even describe myself. I am left with just one more thing about me.
Did I say that I am a Christian? Well, yes, I am. And no, not because I am a good person, but because of the exact opposite. I am a wretched man, like all of us, who is desperately in need of a savior. So, perhaps, in the end, the most important question is not who I am, but whose I am. And as a Christian, I know that I am God’s. On that, I am pretty sure.
Percival Buncab, 18, is a journalism sophomore at Polytechnic University of the Philippines.