One early Saturday morning, my classmates in Environmental Communication and other seniors who are interns at DYSR and I met at the American Cemetery located at Dumagueteí¢â‚¬â„¢s Chinese Cemetery. This was going to be one of the activities of the Kapunungan sa mga Mass Communicators, our College council, to mark the 45th year of the SU College of Mass Communication.{{more}}
Making our way up crumbling stone steps, past mausoleums filled with bright plastic flowers, photographs of their dearly departed, and marble tombs polished to shine, we were disheartened at the sight of the weed-covered gates that led us to the grave of Dr. Henry Mack, builder of radio station DYSR, and therefore, one of the founders of Silliman Universityí¢â‚¬â„¢s media institution.
Over the years, creeping tendrils had grown over the ground of the American Cemetery, nearly covering every inch of exposed surface. Because no families of the Americans buried there apparently came to visit regularly, it seemed like it had also become the dumping ground of most of the tattered plastic flowers, broken glass, huge and brittle orange and blue trapal.
Stepping past the dirty white gates was akin to walking into a miniature jungle, a clash of wilderness amidst neatly-trimmed bougainvillea hedges and gleaming stone. A group of about 10 tombs lay smothered by foliage within the American Cemetery walls, and tall mahogany trees lined the perimeter, casting a shadow of gloom over the lot.
Rolling up our sleeves, we set out to work on the daunting task before us: cleaning up the American Cemetery grounds, and restoring dignity to the hallowed remains buried there of the American missionaries who helped Silliman University at various various points since it was founded in 1901.
Armed with a couple of rakes and a solitary grass clipper, we hacked at weeds, and dragged them away to clear the ground. A good many of us were unequipped with proper tools. Or who would have thought the í¢â‚¬Å“yard of tombsí¢â‚¬ had actually grown into a forest with weeds up to our knees?! I myself had brought with me a laughably tiny trowel which proved utterly useless, and had to help by tearing the unruly greenery out by the fistful.
I am quite certain we would have broken out in tears of frustration were it not for the (perhaps, divine?) intervention of the bunlay-wielding men who arrived for reinforcement. For this we thank Prof. Irma Faith, Pal, our teacher and adviser, Silliman alumnus Benjamin Bokingo and SU Masscom alumni Ruben í¢â‚¬Å“Bobotí¢â‚¬ Bokingo and Alex Pal for their support and generosity.
Without their farmhandsí¢â‚¬â„¢ assistance, and at the rate of our clean-up attempt, the weeds would have likely grown faster than we could clear them; and left to rely on the kind strangers stumbling upon our outstretched hands and muffled cries from under the foliage, weí¢â‚¬â„¢d have to wait to be dug out by people more proficient at wielding gardening shears than we were.
Progressing much faster with the help of the workers, we had the American Cemetery neat and clean in no time.
Taking a breather, I glanced around, and was astonished by the remarkable difference. No longer did the space feel cramped and claustrophobic, but light and airy. The tall trees that seemed so ominous at first, now cast a gentle shade over the area.
We stood by the enormous mound of weeds and garbage we had collected, sweaty and grimy and with itchy calves, and surveyed our handiwork. We listened to Mr. Ben Bokingo talk about Dr. Henry Mack, the man we had come to pay our respects to, and looked around in awe as he pointed out the trees they had planted in his name about five years ago.
We left the American Cemetery and the grave of Dr. Henry Mack tired to the bone, but with our spirits light. We had just paid homage to one of the most tireless pioneers of communication in Dumaguete, a man who was an institution in himself, and an indefatigable contributor to the College of Mass Communication, in the best way we know how í¢â‚¬” hard work and dedication, following the example he led.
