Recently visiting our farm and lands in San Isidro, Roxas Oriental Mindoro brought a torrent of emotions in me. The place has always brought forth a sense of territorial pride. My great-great grandfather, Luis Cusi is one of the Pioneers, if not the first person in Roxas that used to be called Tikling unbeknownst to some people, even to our cousins. He was written in the history of our town. He was one of the people who established Roxas during the late 1800’s. I am a fifth-generation Cusi, the oldest family in Roxas Oriental Mindoro.
I remember when I was a little girl, people would ask me in jest, “how big is your land?” and I would answer tartly, “All around and as far as your eyes can see…” I was an arrogant, little brat ever since I can remember. Today, well, I still give the same reply. But then, I have every right to do so. My Papa was neither like the lofty hacienderos with cowboy hats in movies, shouting at their workers nor was he an absent landlord, only collecting the goods after the dirt. He was in every sense of the word, a farmer. A just, humble and fair man, sometimes too just, for our own good. He tilled those lands with his workers; his toes touched the mud, his skin burnt by the sun. He understood the language of the earth, her many moods. HE OWNED THOSE LANDS. And unlike others with such misplaced sense of entitlement, he owned those lands, intertwining his life, our lives to that very soil.
He owns those lands not just by family name, inheritance or worst of it all, by marriage; but by every sweat, blood and sacrifice.
A sense of pride only my sisters and I and most of all, our heir Joshua Cyrus PEREZ can claim. And understand.
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