I
WELL, HERE we are,” I said, “after years of burning the midnight oil.” Five years to be exact. Five years of sacrifice and hardship.
The final reckoning had come. And barely two hours before the bar exams we were still cooped up in our boarding house, recalling lengthy provisions of the law.
“That’s enough,” intervened one of my roommates, “you’ll only confuse yourselves.” That was Totie, the certified S.O.B. of the group, whose complexion was darker than his moustache. He had seen to it that what each of us knew--which he did not know--must be told to him.
“We must hurry,” went on another, “or we’ll be late for the lecture.” The voice belonged to Jinky, who had come all the way from Ozamis--wherever that unknown place might be (I was told by Jinky that Ozamis is somewhere in Mindanao). Provincial hick that he was, he spent the whole five-month review period gallivanting all over Manila. He had seen to it to set foot on every nook and corner of the city.
It should not cause any wonder therefore that at this very moment, his face was a complete picture of insecurity.
It has been a tradition in San Beda that before the start of the bar examinations, a one-hour lecture will be held on the very day itself to serve as a “refresher” to the examinees.
For a minute or so, memories of my years in the college choked my mind. It seemed only yesterday when I first set foot at San Beda, the first recitation coupled with a tongue-lashing one would get for uttering the wrong answer, the curt that-will-be-all-right addressed to you, the days of cramming for the exams--how time flew fast. And now, here I was, about to face the test of my life--the test of all tests...
[Note: Read the complete story in the book "You Filibini?" Stories and Other Writings by Amador F. Brioso, Jr., published May 2010]
