To be over six feet tall during those years in the barrio was indeed rare. Probably due to an over active pituitary gland, Bonifacio Alcon, the eldest in a family of six, grew to be above six foot while his parents, brothers and sisters were of normal stature. Many in the barrio believed that when his mother was conceiving, she was fond of eating the elongated string beans. So, Pasio, as he was called grew almost a head taller than most people in the community, although a foot shorter than the Watussi giants of Africa.
In the barrio of old, inspite of the adoption of family names as decreed by Governor General Claveria during the Spanish Colonial era, individuals ere identified by their trade or characteristics. This was also to identify persons with similar first names. “Pasiong Tangkad” or Pasio, the tall fellah, became his brand name.
Inspite of his elongated frame, Pasio was in possession of vibrant energy. He could endure the freezing rain and long cold nights working, and hiked rugged terrain with seemingly effortless grace. To accomplish these many manual activities, Pasio must have in his lips his trademark, a lighted native rolled cigarette of his staying power, just like the hair of Samson, a biblical character.
“You are past marrying age, Pasio. When will you settle down?” remarked his Tata Tonio while the two wee on their way home.
Pasio just smiled showing his strained teeth as his two eyes narrowed on his thin face. Known to many, Pasio was girl shy, and in view of his height, most of the eligible girls would never reach his shoulders. He would probably feel uneasy walking with lass too short for him as people would stare at them. It would be difficult for him to whisper sweet endearing words to the girl’s ear.
“Pasio is always a hero when chasing made dogs”, chuckled Merto after Pasio had cornered and killed a made canine. “I hope he has half tat skill in chasing eligible women for his future bride”, ended Merto
“With his big strides, he can always outrun us to become the hero. As to courtship, he loses courage”, voiced Carling, Merto’s valued friend.
One morning, Pasio was taking their three carabaos to the big river. Before he could reach the water, he heard screams of women and children wading in the cool and wide river. Pasio jumped from the carabao and dive to the river’s deep section where two small children were being carried by the swift current. To Pasio, the depth of the water was up to his shoulders but deep enough to the small children who could not swim or float.
“Next time you come to the river, see to it that a male adult is with your group”, warned to the women who was with the children. She just nodded in silence with fear still mirrored on her suntan face.
Summer time in the barrio was fiesta and sports festival time. In many sports contests, Pasio could always be assuring of winning the walkathon, climbing the greased bamboo pole with booty at the top, and cane splitting with the use of knives.
“Pasio would make a good volleyball and basketball player given the training” , remarked the physical education teacher of the barrio school.
“Certainly, with his height and reach plus his stamina, I agree with you”, evoked his companion.
Training was the word in sports for Pasio. In softball, basketball and volleyball, this tall fellah was very clumsy, a Butterfinger. In one crucial game, Pasio’s error caused the team defeat, and from that time on, he never wanted to be in sports again. And he did.
During the Occupation period, these tall guys divide his time in farming, caring of the work animals, and doing odds and ends work in their home. The peace and order situation prevented him from farming large areas but whatever area was left, he would always farm tobacco for the family’s smoking pleasure. This tobacco patch was his “Marlboro country”.
“Why didn’t you return last night?” inquired Pasio’s mother for as usual, he would be back before curfew.
“I finished my work late and curfew would overtake me on the way”, replied Pasio as if in deep thought. His mother was satisfied on his reply.
As the barrio was not distant from the Occupation garrison, the commander believed that some of the male population might belong to the underground forces harassing his troops in movement. From the barrio, the residents who could serve as informers to the guerrillas could watch troop activities.
In one late night raid, the Occupation troops surprised the guerrilla groups in their small encampment several kilometres away. There was exchange of fire, and the guerrillas retreated carrying their wounded. The attacking unit had also casualties and many documents and equipment were ceased.
“We are looking for your tall son”, expressed the Occupation Filipino guide who was accompanied by a soldier from the garrison.
“He had not retuned home for the last three days”, spoke Pasio’s father.
“Your son is a member of the guerrilla. He was seen during the firefight the other night running away. Even in the dark of the night, he could be recognized due to his height”, expressed the guide.
The house was thoroughly searched and no evidence was found particularly documents and firearms. The group left, with a word that if Pasio would return, they should be informed immediately. Pasio’s father nodded in agreement.
In the waning years of the Occupation, there were many encounters between the guerrillas and the enemy troopers and the exploits of the tough and tall underground warrior were always mentioned. Barrio people already knew to whom they were referring to. Pasio never showed up in the barrio until news came that Allied Forces were back to liberate the country.
One fine morning, the rumbles of vehicles and armoured truck full of fighting men awakened the barrio. When the convoy stopped in the barrio one of the men in fatigue uniform riding in a half truck jumped out.
“It’s Pasio”, shouted those who recognized him, and this followed by welcome embraces and taps on his tall frame.
“Glad you are back, Pasio. What can you say for yourself now?” muttered a close friend who met the convoy.
“Well”, Pasio stammered, “I felt awkward with my height in the barrio, but to the American G.I.’s, there are so many taller than I am. I thought I was a freak”, he concluded as he distributed candies, cigarettes, and canned goods to the crowd.
