Tuesday, January 8, 2019

In Quest of the Secret of Youth: Santiago Ortega





 It is almost 3:00PM of December 17, 2018 as I walk into the huge hall of the UP Bahay ng Alumni at the University of the Philippines in Diliman, Quezon City. After a brief coordination with the Registration table in the foyer of the hall, an usher quickly brought me to a table assigned to delegates coming from Region 5. This table is nearer the entrance but farther away from the impressive stage of the hall. As I sat down, I could see the other 4 people seated in the far end of our 12-foot long table quite engrossed in listening to activities currently taking place on stage. A 5th gentleman sat quietly to my right.

“Good afternoon, I’m Perry Auxillos”, I greeted him, as I extended my hand. “Hi, I’m Santiago Ortega” he retorted, as he took my hand in a firm handshake. He flashed a boyish smile that highlighted the squint in his eyes, making him look much younger. Later I would learn that he is in fact 80 years old. “I’m late because I drove all the way from Sorsogon” I said, to which he shot back: “Me, too. I’m late because I came all the way from Iriga, and I over-slept.” This got us off to an exciting conversation and to one of the most amazing chance encounters I’ve ever had.

The event where we now sit is scheduled from 2:00-4:00PM. It is the Signing Ceremony on the Memorandum of Agreement (MOA) between CHED-UniFAST and Private Higher Education Institutions (PHEIs) for the Tertiary Education Subsidy (TES) and Student Loan Program (SLP). It seems the schools invited to this ceremony have students that were pre-qualified as recipients of grants from UniFAST, acronym for Unified Student Financial Assistance System for Tertiary Education.

I am surprised, however, at the levels of protocol the administration instituted to ensure the safety of this government fund. This event was strictly by invitation only. Only the President/Head of every qualified PHEI was invited, and he must register online prior to the signing ceremony. UniFAST allotted only 1 slot per institution. There is no need to send a representative because only the President can sign. HEIs who have campuses, satellites or other forms of extension may send their School or Campus Directors, but they will not be allowed to sign.

Back in our table, Santiago and I engaged in animated conversation that removed the sleepiness I was feeling. “How old is your school?” he asked. When I told him I had established it by my lonesome self 27 years ago, he replied: “We have some sort of a similarity. My dad put it up by himself 72 years ago”. His kind of wit is what fueled our lively discussion.

From what I gathered, it appears Santiago’s dad was one of only 2 doctors in their locality. He had a fulltime medical practice, and performed most of the surgical operations in the community until he decided to establish a school. Santiago, after finishing law at the Ateneo, said he never had the opportunity to go into law practice because, being an only child, his dad asked him to attend to the family’s other businesses. His dad focused on the school. As fate would have it, their school grew to what is now University of Saint Anthony in Iriga City, with a population of around 6 thousand.

Santiago told me that as Chairman and President of his school, he no longer attends to many of its functions, except that this event is so strict. When I asked him if he can still drive all the way from Bicol, he said he used to, but not anymore. He may drive part of the way, but would rather enjoy the ride when his driver brings a car in for Manila check-ups every couple of months. “I like European cars”, he said. “Do you have a BMW?” I asked. “Yes, I have one, and 2 Mercedes Benz, and one Audi” he replied, with a boyish grin and the wide, round eyes of an enthusiastic kid rather than the stoic indifference of a braggart.

We talked of other sorts of similarity. Santiago has 2 kids, a son; and a daughter who is a dermatologist living abroad.  I have 1 kid, Sorgi, who is currently finishing her residency, also in Dermatology. We talked about succession in our schools and I told him he is lucky, his son is now helping him run their school. I intimated to him that I have doubts regarding my own school’s transition. I felt my only kid, whose husband is a doctor of internal medicine, would probably put up their own practices and won’t have time to run the affairs of my school later on. For a moment he turned silent, seemingly gathering his thoughts. When he spoke again, he was serious as he looked at me and said softly: “your school is ‘1st-generation’, it shouldn’t stop. You have to make this your life’s legacy”.

Our spirited exchange was interspersed with fun, whispering, and controlled laughter. It is evident throughout our talk that Santiago idolized his dad. It also became clear to me that his dad was ‘1st-generation’ who established their school; and he is the ‘2nd-generation’ that grew it. Here is a man who missed the opportunity of pursuing a career in his chosen field because he had to help his dad. Nevertheless, he ran successfully the affairs of the family’s businesses. He has a ready smile and a firm handshake. He did not take himself too seriously. He is not preoccupied with stature, nor did he show any feeling of entitlement. He has this wide-eyed amazement and enthusiasm of an 18-year old. He was in awe of every conversation, which showed his interest in people, as well as a deep motivation to continuously learn from others.

We were soon requested to stand up to take our oath, and with outstretched right hand, we altogether pledged to preserve the Fund, or some such commitment to act upon it with honesty. As we took our seats, designated ushers for each table handed every delegate a neat document of about 12 pages, which we signed on every page. After this, Santiago and I exchanged MOAs and affixed our signatures as witnesses to each other’s document.

It is almost 4:00PM and the Signing Ceremony is winding up. There is no more time to eat the prepared snacks, so the Max’s boxed meals are given to us to take home. As we stand up, Santiago and I once again shake hands. We walk towards the door to have our picture taken. This gentleman, about 5’11” tall, cuts an imposing figure as he places an arm on my shoulder and we both smile for posterity and the camera. He pulls out his wallet and requests me to get his name card because he is having difficulty with his eyes. “Visit me” he says, almost simultaneously as I blurt out: “I will visit you”. We shake hands firmly for the third and last time before losing sight of each other in the cacophony of people and vehicles at the hall’s driveway.

In the past 60 minutes I was privileged to view the history of a 72-year old school from the perspective of an 80-year old gentleman who has the passion of an 18-year old lad. Indeed, Santiago looked so much younger than his years. Surely, he must have found the secret of youth.


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