{"id":32067,"date":"2014-11-18T13:59:15","date_gmt":"2014-11-18T05:59:15","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/canadianinquirer.net\/v1\/?p=32067"},"modified":"2015-01-28T11:17:12","modified_gmt":"2015-01-28T03:17:12","slug":"anita-aguirre-nieveras-a-woman-for-all-seasons","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/canadianinquirer.net\/v1\/2014\/11\/18\/anita-aguirre-nieveras-a-woman-for-all-seasons\/","title":{"rendered":"Anita Aguirre-Nieveras: A woman for all seasons"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"Earl<\/a>
Photo by Earl Von Tapia \/ PCI<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Into each life, a little rain must fall.\u00a0 True as that adage holds, some people experience more than what would seem their fair share.\u00a0 While many only know the occasional drizzle or sudden shower, there are those who endure a deluge.\u00a0 A downpour of such proportions\u2014a rain so torrential\u2014that it would threaten to engulf the less stalwart soul.<\/p>\n

Such are the seasons of life.\u00a0 And there is perhaps no one better acquainted with this than Filipino-Canadian teacher-poet, Anita Aguirre-Nieveras.<\/p>\n

To everything, a season<\/h6>\n

\u201cI 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\u2019s life,\u201d Anita said when she penned her poignant poem, Leaves Fall One by One.<\/em><\/p>\n

In this poem, she asks the heart-wrenching question:\u00a0 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? <\/em><\/p>\n

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.\u00a0\u00a0 In this one question lies the essence of our very human condition; our existential dilemma, if you will.\u00a0 And how we respond determines the grace with which we adapt from season to season.<\/p>\n

Anita is well-versed with living life, from one season to the next.\u00a0 She has endured the most bitter of winters, and has reveled in the rebirth at its end.<\/p>\n

The winds of change<\/h6>\n

Anita recounts her journey to Canada\u2019s shores in 1994.\u00a0 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.<\/p>\n

\u201cI was actually teaching, and I owned a nursery school. \u00a0I 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,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

But when her sister\u2014who was already living in Canada with their mother\u2014fell ill, Anita laid everything aside to be with her family.\u00a0 This was one factor in her move to the Great White North.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen 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.\u00a0 But I came through working as a caregiver.\u201d<\/p>\n

The winds of change blew fiercely into Anita\u2019s 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.<\/p>\n

\u201cI went through the caregiver program to get my status because when I came they asked me \u2018do you want to stay for good now?\u2019 And they said \u2018Oh there\u2019s only one way you can get permanent status, work as a caregiver,\u2019 and I said no problem. My mom said \u2018aha, she has two yayas<\/em> (nannies) in the Philippines, how can she do this?\u2019 I said to her, \u2018I can manage, I am a survivor, and I want to learn about things that you don\u2019t know here\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adapting to change<\/h6>\n

And survive, Anita did.\u00a0 In fact, she did more than survive this season of change; she flourished in it.<\/p>\n

\u201cI became more experienced than my sister who came here in 1971. \u00a0Because I had to take the buses\u2014I worked everywhere\u2014so I learned. \u00a0The Canadian experience, I was able to write so many things about my Canadian experience,\u201d shared Anita.<\/p>\n

And\u2014unlike so many other Filipino immigrants\u2014Anita says that she actually enjoys Canada\u2019s cold weather.\u00a0 Truth be told, it was one of the things that influenced her decision to stay for good.<\/p>\n

\u201c[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 \u2018I will stay permanently\u2019,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

A very bitter winter<\/h6>\n

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.\u00a0 It was the bitterest winter of her life.<\/p>\n

While in the Philippines, Anita lost both her sons\u2014one, at the age of 22; the other, at 19\u2014in separate tragedies.<\/p>\n

\u201c . . . 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.\u00a0 I got poems for them here . . . \u201c she disclosed, trailing off as she showed the poetry written for her beloved boys.<\/p>\n

\u201cSome 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,\u201d she added.<\/p>\n

Time of rebirth<\/h6>\n

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.<\/p>\n

This was Anita\u2019s season of rebirth.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen I was 9 years old I already had so much poetry written; but you know, in the Philippines, they said \u2018blah, blah\u2026 you write poetry?\u2019 They were trying to tease me, like poetry is just \u2018like that\u2019,\u201d she said, as she gestured with her finger, making small circles at the side of head to signify someone who had lost their marbles.<\/p>\n

Still, she continued to write, mainly for school publications.<\/p>\n

Fast forward to 1997, when Anita (who was working as a chambermaid in what she describes as a \u201cdilapidated\u201d 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.\u00a0 She revisited her old pieces, and wrote some new ones, as well.<\/p>\n

The writing on the walls<\/h6>\n

Anita saw poetry everywhere, in the most ordinary of places.<\/p>\n

\u201cI saw poetry on the walls; I began writing. \u00a0One 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,\u201d she shared.<\/p>\n

\u201cPoetry is one of my outlets for the pain; you see the pain is gone! Voice it out!,\u201d Anita emphatically shared.<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

\u201cI am the oldest member of the group,\u201d she confessed; a fact that does not hinder her audience from enjoying her poetry, whether written or read by Anita before a group.<\/p>\n

Golden age<\/h6>\n

Anita, who describes herself as \u201csuper retired\u201d at the age of 76, is not one to let life pass her by.\u00a0 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.<\/p>\n

\u201cI do dancing you know; we entertain in the nursing homes.\u00a0 Like, I do the hula, I do the Filipino dance, and then I do the castanets . . . Yeah, we entertain, we sing,\u201d Anita said.<\/p>\n

These, too, are Anita’s outlets; as her sister has once more fallen ill, and she has again\u00a0 assumed the role of caregiver.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m good, because it keeps me going, you know.\u00a0 When I\u2019m doing my dancing, my singing, I\u2019m letting off the steam,\u201d she noted.<\/p>\n

These are some of her secrets to living her golden age to the fullest.<\/p>\n

Words of (and for) inspiration<\/h6>\n

For those wishing to try their hand at poetry Anita gives these words of inspiration: \u201cI think . . . everyone is a poet in their own right.\u00a0\u00a0 When you cry, when you say words . . . poetry is only composed of words.\u00a0 So it\u2019s not that difficult,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe (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,\u201d Anita added.<\/p>\n

Poetry is Anita\u2019s lifeline; it is what keeps her going and inspires her to keep on keeping on.<\/p>\n

We leave you with Anita\u2019s words.\u00a0 Let these inspire you, too:<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

Leaves fall One by One\/Isa-Isa, Ang Mga Dahon Ay Nalalagas<\/h6>\n

Poem and Tagalog Translation by Anita Aguirre-Nieveras<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The diary of summer memories long gone<\/em><\/p>\n

Blotted ink on parched, yellow paper<\/em><\/p>\n

Now, the autumn wind blows the leaves<\/em><\/p>\n

away from the sky<\/em><\/p>\n

the moon is free to roam the bare garden<\/em><\/p>\n

with only traces of summer sun<\/em><\/p>\n

kissing the lilies in the pond.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

Is it a sacrilege to mirror<\/em><\/p>\n

the season of grace, of passion<\/em><\/p>\n

Now that the leaves are falling one by one<\/em><\/p>\n

and the first cold breath of Winter is imminent? <\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

In my autumn, I still feel<\/em><\/p>\n

The warmth of Summer on my skin,<\/em><\/p>\n

and in your autumn, <\/em><\/p>\n

still, you summer me- <\/em><\/p>\n

gently\u2026softly\u2026gently<\/em><\/p>\n

***<\/em><\/p>\n

Nalumua na ang aklat ng alaala<\/em><\/p>\n

Ng isang Tag-init,<\/em><\/p>\n

Kupas na ang mga talata<\/em><\/p>\n

sa naninilaw na papel;<\/em><\/p>\n

umihip ang hanging Tag-lagas<\/em><\/p>\n

at isa-isa, ang mga dahon ay nalaglag.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

Malayang naglakbay sa halamanan<\/em><\/p>\n

ang ulilang buwan<\/em><\/p>\n

at dumampi ang halik<\/em><\/p>\n

ng manipis na sinag ng araw<\/em><\/p>\n

sa talulot ng mga bulaklak.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

Kasalanan bang aninagin<\/em><\/p>\n

ang nagdaan panahon ng ibyaya,<\/em><\/p>\n

at damhin ang init ng silakbo<\/em><\/p>\n

ngayong ang mga dahon<\/em><\/p>\n

ay isa-isang nalagas sa mga sanga<\/em><\/p>\n

at ang unang simoy ng hanging<\/em><\/p>\n

Tag-lamig ay nalalanghap na?<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

Sa Panahon ng ating Tag-lagas<\/em><\/p>\n

ang init ng Amang Araw\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/em><\/p>\n

ay patuloy na gumigising,<\/em><\/p>\n

dumampi, at humahaplos<\/em><\/p>\n

sa ngayo\u2019y malamig nating pisngi.<\/em><\/p>\n

***<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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