This is a collection of eulogies for Obay. When people heard
that I was going to deliver the eulogy, a number of people sent me some materials to include here.
His real name is Oliver Rojales. His young wards like to
call him Obay-Wan Kenobi, as they learned from him how to play with words, to
crack puns, or what has become legendarily known as Obayisms.
My sense is that Obayism is not just a funny way of seeing
things. It is a whole way of life that Obay personified.
Based on the recollection of his siblings and mga kababata (childhood friends), Obay
was matalino,
intelligent, a scholar, an excellent student.
But among all the descriptions, one word stands out: Mabait (good and kind). One said: Napakabait (most kind). His relatives explained
that his original nickname was Obey. Because he was so obedient.
He was mabait, but
I believe we have to understand his kabaitan
with one caveat. One of my earliest remembrances of Obay was the fun moments he
would share with Hernan Reyes (may he rest in peace too). I can imagine both of
them right now chuckling together. I was about to say “chuckling themselves to
death”, but yes we can say they are at this moment chuckling themselves to life
in heaven.
The classic practical joke that Hernan played on Obay and which Obay
would tell us with relish, is their visit to Banahaw Cultural Center at night.
They were both inside the car when they reached the closed gate of Banahaw, and
Hernan who was driving told him to look at the pedestrian gate of the Center
towards the right side of the car. Obay, after looking at the gate, turned to
look at the driver’s seat and saw the face of a big bad witch. After hearing a scream, Hernan felt a big blow
to his face. On removing his mask, he muttered, sounding forlorn, Nagbibiro lang naman ako eh (Oh my, I was just kidding.)
Mabait si Obay, but he was no pushover. In fact
he was a stalwart of Opus Dei in the Philippines. He was trusted to start Opus Dei in other
parts of the Philippines and Asia. He was part of the team that started Lauan
Study Center in Quezon City, where dozens of young people found their vocation
to Opus Dei. He was a pioneer in Cebu, in Singapore, and in Hong Kong, and
therefore in China!
Obay was one of the first members of Opus Dei in the
Philippines, a fact that filled him with holy enthusiasm. Despite the weariness he felt, he told us with zest last May 27, on
the fiftieth anniversary of Opus Dei in the Philippines, about the early years
in the Philippines and how he got in contact with Opus Dei. There we saw how much he appreciated and loved his vocation to the Work to the depths of his soul.
One memory of Obay that I am sure is indelibly imprinted in
the memory of people who lived with him is his personalized poems for birthday
celebrants. He would churn out five,
six, seven stanza poems with de riguer
rhymes that always sounded funny, partly because he deliberately made them
corny: maraming pilit. Alam mong pinilit
niya para tumawa kayo (many were forced rhymes, but you knew that he did it
that way for people to laugh).
But that is not just the charm of those poems. Their greatness also lie in what they observed
about the celebrant. Every stanza revealed the attention Obay placed in the
lives of people who lived with him. He knew what you liked, he knew what you
did, he knew what made you feel good, he knew what made you happy. And that was
his joy.
Dr. John Mesquida, the
Director of the Center where we lived, who followed Obay very closely, wrote
his own eulogy and showed there the great obstacles that Obay had to face in
his illness, Parkinson’s Disease, and how he struggle with them. John recounted
that:
·
Obay’s mobility was progressively affected.
·
His muscles tightened and his balance was
impaired, so that it became increasingly harder to walk or move his body.
·
It was difficult to carry out any kind of
intellectual activity. His mind was always sharp, and his wit never abated, but
he had to exert much more effort than an average person.
·
He had difficulty in breathing and eating caused
by the stiffening of the muscles in the chest and stomach. In five years, he
lost around 30 pounds. He found eating strenuous.
·
Following the doctor’s advice, we tried to keep
him busy, physically and intellectually, in order to delay deterioration. ...
He was handling several talks weekly and had spiritual guidance meetings with
many individuals every week. The effort he had to exert to prepare and above
all to deliver the talks was draining. During talks he had to catch his breath
and take a few seconds rests in order to be able to finish the delivery. What
made him suffer most was how difficult it had become to carry out any kind of
mental work.
·
In spite of these many discomforts he was always
available to help others. And he did it willingly and with a smile. He took
care of the house, performed errands, gave talks in recollections and circles
for members and for co-operators, both young and old. And he really touched the
hearts of so many, who noticed how much sacrifice he demanded from himself.
Fr. Jay, Fr. Javier de Pedro, told us about three people he
knew who had Parkinson’s. And invariably, these people had huge problems. They
would be depressed because they can’t do so many things. But he never saw that sadness
in Obay. Fr. Jay remembers that Obay kept on doing little favors after lunch
when just the two of them were left at home, like pushing the coffee cart,
prepare coffee and put it in a little table beside him. He then said that Obay’s
way of handling illness can only be due to “great sanctity”.
For Obay his sickness was something to poke fun of, as all
events of the day were occasions of cheer and humor. When people asked him of late, Oh how are you
Obay?, Obay would reply with a twinkle in his eye (an example of which appears in the picture prepared for his wake):
I have Parkinson’s, so I will be parking soon!
One of his gems sparkled just three weeks ago. It was the
fourth week of Easter, and someone remarked, Hey there are still two unfinished
bottles of leftover wine from the Easter celebration. So I remarked, “Wow, we are so sober in this house.”
And Obay said, “Kaya maraming sobra.”
Over breakfast one day, Dr. Ray Pangilinan asked John what
time he was leaving so he can hitch a ride to the office. John replied: 8:10.
Obay, always reassuring, said: “You don’t
have to rush, Ray, you will have “ate-en” (pronounced as 8:10) by then.”[1]
All this joy, fun, kindness and attention in the midst of pain and
inner struggle: That’s Obay. That is why I can’t help but think of one thing
when thinking of Obay: the Eucharist. Obay
was unobtrusive, but immensely alive. He was silent and gentle, but the daily reaching
out, the daily care for details of affection, the daily cheer revealed a
herculean effort—which was light for him, for it was borne by the grace of God
that filled him, due his constant prayer and intimate sacramental life.
There are two ways of ending this eulogy. One is the way he
ended his poems. These personalized
birthday poems would always end with a stanza that invariably started with the
same line and finished with another classic line. The lines in between would
change per celebrant, and so there was always a heightened expectation on what
the last stanza contains.
There were two persons who lived with Obay who sent me two
poems done in the Obayesque way.
The first one is from Dr. Paul Dumol:
Today, today is
Obay’s birthday.
Take him, Lord,
where the angels play
And keep him
laughing all the day.
Teach him to be
patient as we pray.
Obay, we hope to
join you there some day.
Happy, happy, happy
birthday.
The other
person who sent a poem calls himself the Pseudo-Oliverian: Conrad Ricafort.
Today, today is your birthday.
Oliver Rojales, oh by the way,
You must be feeling a-okay.
Cheerful, peaceful, happy and gay
With Hernan, Johnny, Bob and Ray
Fr Marcy and Fr Luis, don't forget to say
Poems and rhymes and music play,
Singing songs, even "My Way."
We can't find the words to say
Try as hard as we may
To greet you on this august day.
But with joyful hearts we now all say
Happy, happy, happy birthday!
The second way of ending this eulogy is the way my last recital
of Obayisms ended last April. Almost every year since 2010, I have been reading
his most remarkable puns which I collect throughout the previous year.
In the last summer seminar we both attended, the last
Obayism in the list was about a comment of Dr. Jesus Estanislao, who was also present
in that seminar and had a good laugh. Someone commented to Obay that Dr. Jess
once remarked that puns are the lowest form of humor. Then another person said:
Obay, you can’t take that sitting down. So Obay stood up, and said: I will then
take it standing up.
That last recital ended with a standing ovation for Obay, an
applause he received with eyes closed and with great humility.
So may I invite you all to give a standing ovation to the
Master: Obay, the master of kindness and cheerful sanctity.
[1]
Other Obayisms:
- The mother of Naz sent longganisa for the residents. After some time has elapsed, Paul said one day, “Di pa lumalabas yung longganisa baka masira na lahat by the time they are brought out.” Obay remarked: “Oo nga, they might be long gone. Isa na lang ang matira.”
- In Cebu (where they famously pronounce bait or bet as bit, and vice versa), four guys ganged up on the security guard of a school, Springdale, using barbecue sticks. But they realized that the guard was not the person they were after. It was a case of wrong identity. Obay said: those guys made a “mistick.”
- During the EDSA people power revolution, Fr. Bingo went to the crowd to look for somebody called Resty, a spokesman of the army. Fr. Bingo saw a guy there and asked him if he knew where Resty was. He later found out that the person he asked was not an ordinary person. It was Colonel Gregorio Honasan himself, the lead revolutionary! Obay suggested, “So then, you asked him, O nasan?” (where is he?)
- When I was about to get my new car, Jojo asked me: When will you get your Hyundai (pronounced as yun-dei). I mentioned a date. Obay said: Yun day din na yon, ah! (that same day!)
