Mountains of my life: Forever Soldier

The Story of Alimohkon

I didn't realize I marked my first year anniversary on October 6. I just noticed this when I saw my community recognition the (9) beside my handle Alimohkon. With this I would like to explain the story behind my Alimohkon. The original Alimohkon is dead. He's my uncle who survived his family, through thick and thin, as a school teacher. His salary wasn't enough, and how could it be for a family of more than a dozen kids, I have failed to count my first cousins. Well, these first cousins are now "a bunch of school teachers" themselves, tools of education in that small island "so far, far away". This uncle whom we called Uncle Joe was a story-teller, a "joker", and, of course, an uncle, in the truest sense of the word. He simply looked like my mother, a little taller than 5'6", and always gay. In his lifetime - in our days, should I say - whenever the family was "in a roundtable", he was there in the middle, holding the mike, telling stories.

Moreover, when he wasn't in good terms with school administrators (for him, there were several administrations - private or public), he was out there in the river or in the sea, fishing. He lived a legacy - education. His children became educators. During his wake, teachers and educators flooded his small hut thatched with nipa roof. Though we didn't often see each other when I was already an adult busy with my own career as a uniformed man, Alimohkon left a mark on me. His memory lingers on.

He's the reason why I became a writer, though not yet a full-fledged author.