Extracts from an article by Ceres Doyo

1970, Negros Occidental. Elenita Flores was 19, a senior at the West Negros College in BacolodCity. Nita was not typical teenager who sang about the Age of Aquarius and wore beads and platform shoes. Her concerns were different – teaching catechism, completing her education, living up to the expectations of her big family in the town of Kabankalan.

Nita’s home province was in the throes of social upheaval. The few rich were very rich and the poor, to which Nita’s family belonged, were getting poorer. Nita’s family was struggling but was not the poorest of the poor.

Nita was in her last years in college, majoring in Education, when she felt her life reaching a dead end. She was listless and raging inside. She had just broken off with her boyfriend. Back home in Kabankalan, things were not easy, Nita felt alone with no one to turn to.

Then a man came along, much older and had a family. “I didn’t even know what his full name was,” Nita recalls today, unable to hide her loathing. She does not want to dwell on the details of their relationship, if one could call it a relationship, at all. They were not even friends. But they were seeing each other. One thing led to another. Nita was a reserved rural lass but here she was sleeping with a man she hardly knew. It all seemed so strange. One day, she felt different. “I did not have a test but I knew I was pregnant,” Nita says. By then the man, whose name she now cannot utter, was out of her life. Did she love him? “No,” she answers without hesitation. He did not love her either. But they – no, she – was going to have a baby.

Graduation

It was March 1971 and she was graduating from college. Nita was present at her graduation rites, but her mind was somewhere else. She was three months pregnant. What was she going to do next? Where could she run for help? What would happen to the baby inside her?

The last thing Nita wanted was her parents or anyone else finding out what had happened. She was the eight of nine children. She was never a devil-may-care kind of girl, she was an obedient daughter. How had she come to do this? Did she think of ending the pregnancy? “No, never,” Nita answers boldly. “I had made one mistakes, why make two mistakes?” Did she want the man to know she was having a child? “No.” 

Enter Jalandoni

Nita’s first refuge was the Church. She walked into one in Bacolod City to look for a priest, and so Fr. Louie Jalandoni, then Social Acton director of the Bacolod Diocese. Although his job drew him to burning issues in this province that uneasily sat on restless social volcano, Fr. Louie always found the time to listen to personal problems. Nita had heard of this priest who had come from wealthy family and was working among the very poor, opening their eyes to their oppression.

Options

Fr. Louie discussed Nita’s option with her. In no time, Nita was leaving for Manila. Nobody at home knew about Nita’s condition. She left Negros, saying she was going to undergo further religious instruction or explore job possibilities in Manila with the help of some church people. Fr. Louie paid for Nita’s ticket.

Sr. Fely Villaruel of the Cenacle Sisters took care of Nita for a while. When she was in her fifth month of pregnancy, Nita went to the Heart of Mary Villa (HMV) in Malabon. Run by the Good Shepherd Sisters, the shelter is a refuge for unmarried pregnant girls and women who have nowhere to go and who need to get away while they weigh their alternatives. The sisters also take care of babies awaiting adoption. 

Nita still remembers Sr. Concepta Bellosillo, the sister-in-charge at that time, as well as Sr. Pilar Versoza, a young nurse newly arrived from US novitiate and was assigned to the nursery. (Sr. Pilar now heads Pro-Life Philippines.)

A Baby Named Noel

On Sept. 30, 1971, Nita gave birth to a baby boy. “I heard Christmas songs as early as September,” Nita remembers, “that’s why I named him Noel.” She nursed her baby for almost a month and gave him the best she could offer. She knew she could not be the best mother to him at that time of her life. After several weeks, Nita handed Noel over to the nuns for adoption.

“When I first laid my eyes on my baby, I became even more determined to give him up,” Nita says “I didn’t want him to eat sand.”

End of the World

“Night and day I cried,” she recalls. “When I gave him away it was like the end of the world. A part of my life was gone.” That longing for him she cried with her everyday of her life, even long after she had married a man she loved and bore children by him. Nita never regretted her decision. She knew Noel was in good hands. She did not think they would ever meet again. But she always wondered where he was, how he was.

Nita went home to Negros shortly after she gave birth. Nobody knew that she had given birth to a child. She worked in a pawnshop for awhile. In 1974, Nita left for Canada.

Michael Angelo

Federico Vigano, an Italian-Filipino, and his wife Beatriz Andregg, a Swiss citizen who grew up in the Philippines, were a childless couple who wanted to have a child to call their own. He was into cars, her family was into real estate. Both belonged to upper-class Caucasian community that had grown roots in the Philippines and established business here.

When they first saw the four month-old Noel at the Heart of Mary Villa, the baby reached out to them. Noel chose them. They named him Michael Angelo.

Happy Kid

“I always knew I was adopted,” Michael says causally. He does not remember when or how he knew but being adopted did not seem like a big deal to him then. Certainly he looked different from his fair-haired cousins and their friends – but he was one of them. He was doted on by his grandparents and aunts and uncles. “I was a happy kid. I had everything. I was close to my mom but I was surrounded by yayas,” Michael laughs.

Michael spent his early childhood in Manila and also in Davao, where his grandparents’ business thrived at that time. When Michael was 3 years old, his parents separated and he was left in his mother’s care. His father went back to Manila. Michael studied at the Ateneo de Davao and at the Colegio de San Agustin in Makati.

In 1981, when Michael was 10 years old, his mother Beatriz decided to go back to Switzerland and raise her son there. Then sometime in 1992, she was diagnosed as suffering from Lou Gehrig’s disease, which causes progressive deterioration of the nerves. Beatriz came back to the Philippines to spend her last days here.

She stayed at Rosario Apartments which her family owned in Malate. There the Columban Fathers of Malate Church visited her often to give her Holy Communion. Beatriz died on July 16, 1997. She lay in the state at the Malate Church were Fr. Michael Martin is parish priest today.

Paths that Cross

Strangely enough, Michael’s two mothers – Beatriz and Nita – could have easily crossed paths. And Michael could have been a mere arm’s length away from Canada. Just like Beatriz’s family, Nita’s family was also close to these Irishmen who served in Kabankalan, her hometown.

Michael’s Search

When Michael’s mother died in 1997 he became even more decided to look for his birth mother. It was Michael’s godmother (his mother’s aunt whom we shall call “Tita Ritz”) who had been keeping Michaels birth adoption papers all those years.

“I went to see Tita Ritz and she showed everything to me,” Michael recounts. She was there when Michael was first placed in his parents arms. Looking for his birth mom was like a suntok sa buwan. Would she want to see him? Where is she? Michael decided to call Heart of Mary Villa. Sr. Mila Santos answered the phone. When Michael told her about his search for his for his birth mother, Sr. Mila said: “I will write to your mom.” Michael had made the first step. “I was very excited,” he says.

The Letter

Then one day, now happily married in Canada also to a Swiss man, Nita received an extraordinary letter more than a month after it had been sent:

Dear Nita,

Peace! I am Sr. Mary Milagros Santos, the new superior of Heart of Mary Villa. Why I am writing you? Last September 8, 1998, I got a call from Michael Angelo (Noel). He is 27 years old already and inquiring about you. I told him I’ll write you and ask your permission if you want to get in touch with him. I got your address from the letter you sent in 1981 to Sr. Concepta, sharing with her how you are inquiring about Noel. I don’t know  if Sister responded to it for after that there were no communications between you and the Sisters. I hope you will receive this letter and can write me back and advise me what to do.

Noel is Michael Angelo, still single at 27. His adoptive mother died last year and the adoptive father is sickly. He has a stable job. At this point of his life, he wishes to complete a missing piece in his heart even though he was loved very much by his adoptive parents. Getting in touch with you will help place this missing peace. He told me he is very grateful to you for giving him life and for your decision. There are no regrets.

I shared with him some description of you without revealing your name since I can do that only if you give me the permission to do so. Please write at once as his birthday is coming. God bless you and regards to Bob, Anthony and Cindy.

Love, Sr. Mila

Nita received the letter at 4 pm of November 1998. She was talking to Michael at 6 pm of that same day. But that is getting ahead of the story. It was Cindy, Nita’s 18-year-old daughter, who first opened the letter. Nita says she allows Cindy to open her letters for her. It was probably not mere coincidence that Cindy read the letter first, for in some indirect way, Michael, the half-brother she had to meet, had saved her life.

Catharsis

Four years earlier in 1994, Cindy, then 14, went through a crisis and almost ended her life. Nita got to her soon enough to shake her back to her senses. It was during the explosion of emotion that Nita tearfully blurted out: “I don’t want to lose another kid!” Cindy was stunned. She could not believe what she heard, “I don’t know why I said that,” Nita wonders now. It was probably a moment of catharsis for her and for Cindy as well. The raging storm inside the two of them had forced its way out.

Nita found herself telling the story of Michael. That turned things around for Cindy. Her brother Anthony learned about it as well. Nita’s husband Bob had known about it much, earlier. He understood and loved Nita just the same.

Time Stood Still

At 4 pm of Nov. 2, Nita had her mind on bowling. She was going out that night. Nita was working with her husband Bob at their office when Cindy called. She informed her mother that there was something important she should know. Cindy picked up her mother from work and they went home together.

At home, Cindy gave her mom the letter from Sr. Mila. “We read the letters together and we were both in tears,” Nita relates. Nita gave herself one hour to calm down. One hour later Nita made a call to the Philippines to speak with Sr. Mila. Nita could not describe her feelings. During their conversation Nita gave Sr. Mila “blanket authority to release all information to Michael.”

Sr. Mila called Michael immediately. “I got a call from your mom,” the excited nun announced. “She wants you to call her collect,” Right away Michael called Canada from his office. His friend left him alone in a room to give him privacy. They were just as excited.

Some 10 minutes passed after Nita spoke to Sr. Mila. Nita was waiting. Will there be a call? Then the phone rang twice. “May I please talk to Mrs. Nita Engler?” the voice from the other line said. Michael knew he was talking to his mother now. “Hi mom,” he called out.

“When I said ‘Hi mom,’ it just blew her,” Michael chuckles and rubs Nita’s hands while he recalls that encounter when they heard each other’s voice for the first time.

Mother and son were on the phone for 30 minutes. Time stood still and during that moment the miles and the years that separated them were no more. Neither one could put a name to their feelings. We just kept talking and talking. Asking questions like ‘How do you look?’ and all that.”

After their conversation, Michael emerged from the room and announced to his boss and best friend, Dion Asencio, “Dion, I found my mom!" Dion couldn’t believe it.

Nita was really scheduled to come home to the Philippines for a visit in January 1999 but that was still two months away. “Bob,” she told her husband, “I’m leaving for the Philippines on the 19th of November.” Bob, Cindy and Anthony agreed. They saw how happy Nita was.

The Meeting

When Nita arrived in the Philippines, she went straight to the Philippine Village Hotel where she was to meet Michael. She was accompanied by a friend she met in the airplane. “I was so frightened,” Nita says. She was a bag of nerves. Suddenly, he was there, her grown-up “Noel”, walking inside the hotel lobby, eyes searching, Nita’s friend was the one who approached him and said, “Excuse me, Michael Flores? There is your mom.” After 27 years Nita held her first-born son again.

Michael invited his mother to his apartment and there they talked the whole night through.

Cindy’s Letter

Before Nita flew from Canada, Cindy prepared two letters: one for Michael telling him to accept their mother, how loved she is, how she carried Michael in her heart for 27 years, how excited they are to meet him. And the other letter was for her mother sharing with her the excitement to finally meet Michael and telling her, “I’ve always felt so lucky that I’ve got to be your kid....”

Everywhere she goes Nita carries around the two letters, as well as the one form Sr. Mila – the letter that shook her soul and brought her back to a cruel season 27 years ago, when she was young, frightened and alone; when she gave up a piece of her life for good, or so she thought.

Post Script:

Nita and Michael were inseparable for sometime. There were many things they wanted to talk about by themselves. One of the first places they visited was the Heart of Mary Villa. This was where Michael’s life had begun; this was where a chapter in Nita’s life ended. Sr. Mila was there to welcome them. She couldn’t help but be awed, “It was God’s love expressed completely,” she says.