Into each life, a little rain must fall. True as that adage holds, some people experience more than what would seem their fair share. While many only know the occasional drizzle or sudden shower, there are those who endure a deluge. A downpour of such proportions—a rain so torrential—that it would threaten to engulf the less stalwart soul.
Such are the seasons of life. And there is perhaps no one better acquainted with this than Filipino-Canadian teacher-poet, Anita Aguirre-Nieveras.
To everything, a season
“I love to write about the seasons, not only because there is so much beauty in them, but also because the seasons are symbolic of the stages of man’s life,” Anita said when she penned her poignant poem, Leaves Fall One by One.
In this poem, she asks the heart-wrenching question: Is it a sacrilege to mirror / the season of grace, of passion / Now that the leaves are falling one by one / and the first cold breath of Winter is imminent?
Those of us who have truly lived life, with all its hills and vales; its triumphs and trials, can surely relate and find ourselves pondering this philosophical query. In this one question lies the essence of our very human condition; our existential dilemma, if you will. And how we respond determines the grace with which we adapt from season to season.
Anita is well-versed with living life, from one season to the next. She has endured the most bitter of winters, and has reveled in the rebirth at its end.
The winds of change
Anita recounts her journey to Canada’s shores in 1994. It was a year of change for the woman who already enjoyed a career as an established teacher (with an MA in School Education) in Manila.
“I was actually teaching, and I owned a nursery school. I was teaching English and Literature at the Philippine State College of Aeronautics and the PATS School of Aeronautics in Pasay City, as well as the Karilagan Finishing School in Makati,” she said.
But when her sister—who was already living in Canada with their mother—fell ill, Anita laid everything aside to be with her family. This was one factor in her move to the Great White North.
“When my sister had a kidney transplant in 1994, and my mom was here (In Canada) and nobody will take care of them, I had to resign from my job and come here. But I came through working as a caregiver.”
The winds of change blew fiercely into Anita’s life, and this professional molder-and-shaper of young minds found a new line of work as a caregiver in order to gain her immigrant status.
“I went through the caregiver program to get my status because when I came they asked me ‘do you want to stay for good now?’ And they said ‘Oh there’s only one way you can get permanent status, work as a caregiver,’ and I said no problem. My mom said ‘aha, she has two yayas (nannies) in the Philippines, how can she do this?’ I said to her, ‘I can manage, I am a survivor, and I want to learn about things that you don’t know here’.”
Adapting to change
And survive, Anita did. In fact, she did more than survive this season of change; she flourished in it.
“I became more experienced than my sister who came here in 1971. Because I had to take the buses—I worked everywhere—so I learned. The Canadian experience, I was able to write so many things about my Canadian experience,” shared Anita.
And—unlike so many other Filipino immigrants—Anita says that she actually enjoys Canada’s cold weather. Truth be told, it was one of the things that influenced her decision to stay for good.
“[In the Philippines] the hot weather, the dust and the gas, three days in a row, sometimes in the faculty room, I would lie down on the couch, and I would throw up; terrible headache. When I came here I lost the migraine because of the weather I think . . . so I said ‘I will stay permanently’,” she said.
A very bitter winter
As agreeable as she finds the cold, Anita has had to endure a different kind of chill; one that proved so biting, it gnawed through the core of her very being. It was the bitterest winter of her life.
While in the Philippines, Anita lost both her sons—one, at the age of 22; the other, at 19—in separate tragedies.
“ . . . He was in Far Eastern University, and he met an accident; it was an accident. And the other one had a brain aneurism; he was taking Veterinary Medicine in Araneta University. I got poems for them here . . . “ she disclosed, trailing off as she showed the poetry written for her beloved boys.
“Some people say, I should have been crazy already! But me, my poetry is my outlet, so you can write something beautiful out of something ugly or bad,” she added.
Time of rebirth
This attitude is what kept Anita from succumbing to despair and hopelessness. She sought to create beauty out of something so hideous by picking up her pen once again, and immortalizing her emotions through words.
This was Anita’s season of rebirth.
“When I was 9 years old I already had so much poetry written; but you know, in the Philippines, they said ‘blah, blah… you write poetry?’ They were trying to tease me, like poetry is just ‘like that’,” she said, as she gestured with her finger, making small circles at the side of head to signify someone who had lost their marbles.
Still, she continued to write, mainly for school publications.
Fast forward to 1997, when Anita (who was working as a chambermaid in what she describes as a “dilapidated” Vancouver hotel) decided to write again. Inspired by another hotel employee who also wrote poetry, Anita had her old, verse-filled notebooks sent over from the Philippines. She revisited her old pieces, and wrote some new ones, as well.
The writing on the walls
Anita saw poetry everywhere, in the most ordinary of places.
“I saw poetry on the walls; I began writing. One time I was eating something at a restaurant and a crumb fell and this bird comes to take the crumb, I was able to write a poem about that. One time I was sitting on the bus, I saw a Chinese man with a beard like this (as she gestures to her chin) and I already compared it to seaweed on a rock, so I was able to write a haiku about it. And then I saw this old lady, bony cheeks and really old and I tried to imagine how did she look when she was young? So I tried to push back the time and I see a face, a young face, and imagining the eyes still beautiful, so I was able to write a poem about that too,” she shared.
“Poetry is one of my outlets for the pain; you see the pain is gone! Voice it out!,” Anita emphatically shared.
The teacher-poet was more prolific than she had ever been, and this surge in creativity led her to the World Poetry Group, with whom she has stayed ever since.
“I am the oldest member of the group,” she confessed; a fact that does not hinder her audience from enjoying her poetry, whether written or read by Anita before a group.
Golden age
Anita, who describes herself as “super retired” at the age of 76, is not one to let life pass her by. Aside from writing and reading poetry, and giving lectures and lessons in this field, she also finds the time to entertain with the Golden Age group at a home for the elderly.
“I do dancing you know; we entertain in the nursing homes. Like, I do the hula, I do the Filipino dance, and then I do the castanets . . . Yeah, we entertain, we sing,” Anita said.
These, too, are Anita’s outlets; as her sister has once more fallen ill, and she has again assumed the role of caregiver.
“I’m good, because it keeps me going, you know. When I’m doing my dancing, my singing, I’m letting off the steam,” she noted.
These are some of her secrets to living her golden age to the fullest.
Words of (and for) inspiration
For those wishing to try their hand at poetry Anita gives these words of inspiration: “I think . . . everyone is a poet in their own right. When you cry, when you say words . . . poetry is only composed of words. So it’s not that difficult,” she said.
“Maybe (find out) how to get the inspiration, because you cannot write really without the inspiration. But when you are inspired . . . sometimes I can write 3 poems in one sitting if the inspiration comes,” Anita added.
Poetry is Anita’s lifeline; it is what keeps her going and inspires her to keep on keeping on.
We leave you with Anita’s words. Let these inspire you, too:
***
Leaves fall One by One/Isa-Isa, Ang Mga Dahon Ay Nalalagas
Poem and Tagalog Translation by Anita Aguirre-Nieveras
The diary of summer memories long gone
Blotted ink on parched, yellow paper
Now, the autumn wind blows the leaves
away from the sky
the moon is free to roam the bare garden
with only traces of summer sun
kissing the lilies in the pond.
Is it a sacrilege to mirror
the season of grace, of passion
Now that the leaves are falling one by one
and the first cold breath of Winter is imminent?
In my autumn, I still feel
The warmth of Summer on my skin,
and in your autumn,
still, you summer me-
gently…softly…gently
***
Nalumua na ang aklat ng alaala
Ng isang Tag-init,
Kupas na ang mga talata
sa naninilaw na papel;
umihip ang hanging Tag-lagas
at isa-isa, ang mga dahon ay nalaglag.
Malayang naglakbay sa halamanan
ang ulilang buwan
at dumampi ang halik
ng manipis na sinag ng araw
sa talulot ng mga bulaklak.
Kasalanan bang aninagin
ang nagdaan panahon ng ibyaya,
at damhin ang init ng silakbo
ngayong ang mga dahon
ay isa-isang nalagas sa mga sanga
at ang unang simoy ng hanging
Tag-lamig ay nalalanghap na?
Sa Panahon ng ating Tag-lagas
ang init ng Amang Araw
ay patuloy na gumigising,
dumampi, at humahaplos
sa ngayo’y malamig nating pisngi.
***