To the Hills of the Sierra Madre Ranges

I asked Alvin, the second cousin of the mayor of Cabanatuan City,  if he knew Fr. Cesar Vergara but he could not say much except that he was assigned at Nampikuan, Nueva Ecija. He could have well said Timbuktú and it would not have made any difference to me. He suggested making inquiries at the diocesan office where I found out he did not belong to the diocese of Cabanatuan but to the diocese of San José, both in Nueva Ecija. His whereabouts were not surely known so I decided to proceed to Muñoz. Passing through Talavera, I asked the vehicle driver whether he knew the place of Muñoz's former mayor Santos whose mother was a Vergara. He told me he had been dead but at any rate dropped me right in front of a rice mill bearing the surname Santos in the Muñoz town proper but I later found out that it had been sold. I was eventually directed to his place and saw an old lady who I thought was Perpetua, his mother. A smart young lady came from a big house across the road and wanted to find out what it was all about. She turned out to be the ex-Mayor's grand daughter. When she found out about my business, she said she was going away and could not help. Her daughter, however, a young student at the Ateneo de Manila University, was excited and asked whether there would be a Vergara reunion. Keen to meet Fr. Cesar Vergara, I asked if she knew his whereabouts. Having checked with a two-way radio, she told me that he was at Caranglan, Nueva Ecija. I went my way to see the padre but she tried to dissuade me from going there as it would be dark soon. Mumbling quietly to myself "if I do not go now, when will I", I got on a jeepney to San José City. I boarded the last bus trip to Caranglan even though I was told there was no bus coming back. After two hours I found myself somewhere in the Sierra Mountain ranges in the midst of what I was convinced to be the 'Nice People Around' country. The presence of a military outpost was a certain sign, but not a re-assuring one. I felt a bit nervous as I had no intention of becoming a hero or mediator in case there was a firefight between the trigger-happy soldiers and rebels, both my poor fellow Filipinos. A friendly chat with a young teacher going home for the weekend gave me her word that no encounter had recently taken place.

To my extreme disappointment the Padre was nowhere to be seen. He had gone to the neighbouring town of Lupao but I got some details from his henchmen concerning the whereabouts of his father, Alejandro Vergara, who was in Muñoz where I had come from. As I had been warned, I missed the last bus trip back to the lowlands. A lady was kind enough to summon a tricycle the driver of which she knew to make sure that I would not meet any danger to my health and my pocket on way down to the main highway to catch the bus back to civilization. The young tricycle driver was so friendly that he related to me how a fellow tricycle driver of his had been bashed up by some intoxicated members of the military whose outpost was just along the dirt road. I made sure I avoided any eye contact with some of them lazing under a mango tree. Such was my relief when I reached the lowlands with body and soul still unified that I practically doubled the normal fare to the tricycle driver who had safely ferried me across the hills down to the national highway. At exactly 7:00 PM I was back in Muñoz and found Alejandro's place. He had the look of a country gentleman happy and contented with his accomplishments. His wife must have died as he was living with his twin or younger sister, Alejandra. They were very helpful with supplying me with details of their family members but Alejandra insisted that their ancestors had come from Angat, Bulacan and not Pulilan. I, however, insisted that they must have been our 'lost' Vergara relations in Pulilan. I was back in Pulilan by 10:45 PM.

Right Output from Wrong Input
The very next day, Sunday, I went back to Juana, my father's second cousin, and related the results of my investigation. She could not recall exactly whom she meant to be our relations, but when her son, Sixto Caleón, suggested that the names Juana had given belonged to relations on Figueroa, not on Vergara, she was embarrassingly apologetic. What a sheer luck! I went from Anyatam, San Ildefonso, Bulacán to the hills of the Sierra Madre mountains in Caranglán, Nueva Ecija on wrong information. And got very good results! How amazing! My computer training has emphasized to avoid GIGO - Garbage In Garbage Out. This was an occasion where the saying turned out to be false.

'Lost' Relatives in Pulilan
I have now decided to get as many details as I could about the Vergaras outside my branch. During the week my youngest sister, Dolores Vergara Castillo, and I went to Tramo, Sto. Cristo, Pulilan to find the details about the Vergaras we learnt were living there. Mrs. Milagros Vergara Descena had five brothers and two sisters. Her grandfather, Alfonso, was born in Maasim, San Ildefonso. She could not tell where her great-great grandfather, Tranquilino, had come from. He must be related to the San Ildefonso and Muñoz folks I had visited a few days ago.

A walking distance from Tramo is Daang Bakal, Longos where we met Herminio Vergara who has seven daughters and three sons. Two grand daughters helped him recall the names of his 23 grandchildren. Herminio's deceased father, Victoriano, had married at Cabiao, Nueva Ecija and lived at Bahay Pare, Candaba, Pampanga. Herminio could not tell anything more about his ancestors.

Click for The Trek to Apalit, Pampanga...