DO NOT PREJUDGE A HUMAN BEING *
An biography of Morito G. Miravite
(Morito G. Miravite is an immigrant to the US for nearly 31 years and is contemplating to retire in June of 2007. He is an employee of the City & County of San Francisco for over 20 years as auditor in the Business Tax Division of the Tax Collector’s Office.)
I was five when my parents migrated to the Land of Promise, the land of Mindanao situated in the southern part of the country of the Philippines. My father worked as Bus Inspector with the Lopez biographybus Company in Iloilo city, island of Panay. A year after he left his job as inspector, he operated a passenger jeepney between Santa Barbara and Iloilo City. Constant breakdowns as expected on a remodeled GI jeep brought some thought of migrating to Mindanao. That was 1950.
Way back in 1947 President Quirino opened that island to homesteaders and so by then there were already developed lands and one of those rich landlords was known to us. In 1949 my father went first by himself to see the place and set it up for the rest of the family of 7. The whole family followed a year later. I was the youngest in the sibling of 5. The trip to the land of promise was so rough, the sea was rough due to storm and everyone aboard threw-up. Luckily the ship (an old Fighting Ship during WW II converted into cargo and partly passenger ship) . We arrived in Pagadian, the capital of Zamboanga del Sur around noontime. From there we transferred to motorized that took us another half hour trip to Rebokon, a barrio on the other side of Pagadian Bay.
We settled in the farm owned by Mr. Jamillarin, an Ilongo also coming from Iloilo. Since he did not have enough vacant land for us to till, we were referred to another Ilongo native who owned almost similar acreage of land across the river, just a mile distance. That’s where we settled in 1951 with four or five hectares of wetland and upland for both rice and corn cultivation and vegetables and tobacco as well. My father was a hardworking and disciplinarian farmer. I remembered when he had me and elder brother (9 years old) kneeled on the floor with un-milled rice. It never happened again.
In June of 1952 I was enrolled in Grade I in a barrio public school around 2 kilometers away from the farm. I was scared and cried in the classroom when my mother left me there. My cousin Domingo who is 8 months older was enrolled in the same class as I do. At the close of school in March 1953, both of us flanked. Mr. Regalado, our teacher reasoned out that we were not ready for school yet. That may not be the reason. The real one is that my father never volunteered to work in school on some projects that parents are required to chip in. So the following June we were stranded including my brother.
It was on that year when our freedom as kids was put to and end. My father taught us how to plow the field at the age of 8 and my brother close to 11. I was a tiny little boy then and even when I graduated in 6th grade, still I was. People who passed by have to stop and maybe amazed for two tiny boys plowing the field flawlessly. They have never seen such sight before. Early in the morning we take the carabaos (mine neutered, my brother not.) We are only restricted to upland plowing and ------ in the wetland. Prior to that, we played just like other cousins of us …swimming in the river, playing at night during full moon.
It all changed in June of 1953. It was a fruitful year for us because of the bounty harvest not only in rice, corn, vegetables but tobacco as well. The proceeds from tobacco share was used in purchasing a 24 hectare undeveloped, unproductive for decades covered with second growth forest in Lakarayan, Nilo.
In June of 1954, my father decided to send four of us to school in Pagadian. I was 9 when I entered Grade I. My other sister continued her Grade V in Rebokon where she stayed in the principal’s house until she finished her elementary grades. While in Pagadian, we continued to help our parents in the farm. We went home after school every Friday night so that the following day, Saturday, my sisters can January of 1955, a major decision has to be made my father whether to stay working the farm of not. Mr. Pedroso the landlord changed his mind in getting half of the proceeds from vegetable harvest effective June 1955 whereas it was all ours before. This was the result of intrigue and jealousy by the landlord’s cousin Kalaw, a notorious woman who oversee those tenants that are progressive for they worked hard like my father and much more when he sent his four children to school in a far away town where education was much better and also the continuation of my sisters in high school. They all worked as working students in the Library to pay for their tuition.
On commencement day, when I finished Grade I, I attended the School Program and after the numbers, I asked my mother to go downtown to buy the shoes she promised me. It was an El Po shoe. When we came home, the daughter of the house we rented on was telling everybody where I was because the Principal was announcing my name as First Honor in Grade I, Section A. Remember, I was 9 in Grade I, how can they beat that. Although it went on as Second Honor every year on Section A till Grade Five, then First Honorable Mention only in Grade Six.
During 1955 through 1956, my father was jobless. Every harvest season he, my mother and my elder sisters got as far as Aurora and Molave to harvest rice for our consumption. My eldest sister who was 23 then was working in the School Registrar’s office of Southern Mindanao College. In June 1956, Mr Maravella, the school Registrar, mentioned about his four hectare of land in Bokong, Tawagan del Norte that has been untilled for five years. She consulted my father regarding this and my father did not hesitate to accept and visit the place. An agreement was made and starting in December, during biography vacation, the first to go with my father was my elder brother. They wake up at 4 AM, go the area and while my father started to cut the second growth trees, my brother was left in the tree house warming the coffee. The following weekend was my turn. We were alternating. I was 11 then. Towards the end of April 1957, a sizeable area has been cleared and burned. There were several roots to be uprooted still.
In March 1957, my father attended our school Commencement Exercise where I got a Second Honor ribbon in Grade 3, Section A. After the pinning of ribbon, he whispered that we go home so we can start plowing the field. From the summer of 1957 (April – May) to every summer thereon through 1960, that was my routine and my elder brother. Every Saturday morning we took the Jeepney to the town and walk around a mile to the farm to do whatever our father has something for us to do, oftentimes it is plowing, pulling of weeds from the rice field (upland) and tending the carabaos. This time my carabao was a female with a young. On Sunday afternoon, while preparing to go back to the town, I scout the neighboring creek for chili tops that I can sell for 5 cents a pack of two. I usually manage to make up six packs for 15 cents. Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday are my happy days for I have five cents to buy steamed banana at that time was selling for 5 cents for five.
I went to school in the elementary as well as in high school WITHOUT a regular allowance. While my elder brother was in Grade 5 & 6, after school he went direct to Polar Ice Drop, get a box of ice drops and sell them inside the theater. That was his routine and his commission was our source of income to buy a hand of sweet banana and “oyap” fried in a few pieces of pork for our regular dish. While in the elementary grades, our class is either morning or afternoon. I was in the afternoon class, so I have time to sell pop rice in the morning. I earned commission of 10 cents and sometimes 20 cents. When I was in Grade 4, I learned to sell ice drop myself. Prior to that, I pushed cart from the wharf to the market on weekends for a few cents until one day, I picked up a wet bill I could hardly recognized the denomination. When I got home, I had it dried in the kiln and how amazed I was when it was a five-peso bill. I bought a jean (maong) out of it.
I finished elementary grades in March 1960 as First Honorable Mention. I went to high school, Southern Mindanao College in Pagadian where my eldest sister was the school Registrar. I was 15 years old then. Turbulent years of a teenager have already started. I was in sophomore year when I rebelled against tight parental control over your movement. (In June 1960, my father and mother decided to quit farming. My father then was 50 and my mother 55. We were all under one roof then in a small house in Sta. Lucia District of Pagadian. My other sister was in Manila finishing her BA degree in Business Administration)
At the age of 17, I got my independence from full parental control when it comes to going out of the house such as going downtown etc. But the price was one year as school custodian in the high school I went to high school annex of Southern Mindanao College located just a few blocks from the house. Every night after everyone has left class, I sweep the floor and wipe the desks and table. The dust could turn your hair into brown and Sikobong like. (Sikobong is a Muslim tribe who live in the sea on their small boats.)
Despite of that I still maintained in the top of the class, best in all subjects from First year to Third year high school. I graduated Second Honor when the combined main and annex campus. The Valedictorian was a female, so it’s just okay. One eventi recalled during my Senior Year in high school was that our Physics teacher who was teaching in both main and annex campus was reviewing the top bets in the main campus for a scholarship in the State University in Marawi City, Lanao del Norte. On the day of the exam, she never told us even a week or two before.
I accidentally learned it from my classmate who stayed in the school still as property custodian when I went to the Barber Shop that was very near our school. It was Saturday afternoon when he heard over the radio about the examination to be held on Sunday following. It was February 1964, two months before graduation. It was announced that those who were interested to take the exam has to present a certificate from their school principal that they are sure to graduate in April. It was almost twilight time when went to our principal’s home. Luckily Mr. Marcelino was home. We obtained the required documents. The examination was held the following day, Sunday. We were not prepared whatsoever, no review, no idea what questions to expect and no notice at all from anyone teacher in school regarding the upcoming date of the examination. Why our Physics teacher did not even mentioned to us about the examination date, I have no idea. I can only speculate that she wants her candidates in the main campus to excel, hence she even reviewed them. We took a one-day tests and got the results two months later. My classmate whom I was lucky to have learned from about the date of the exam was not fortunate to pass. I did pass for full scholarship at the Mindanao State University. Not one of the candidates in the main campus qualified for full scholarship although they all passed but just for partial scholarship, which means that they have pay their board and lodging or work in the school campus such as the cafeteria to pay for it. I did not finish my schooling there. I enrolled in the engineering class which was not my line. I was just influenced by my sister. My ambition has been to be a CPA. In short, I did not maintain the required average. I stopped the second semester and enrolled in the University of the East in Manila and took up Business Administration majoring in Accounting.
Since 1964 I’ve been away from home. When I went to school in Manila, my sister was committed to spend for my college education and she is only responsible for four years, after that, whether I finished or not I was on my own. My monthly allowance she sent me then was P120. One half of this goes to my board and lodging and the balance for personal expenses such as transportation and other daily personal expenses. For four years in the college campus of the University of the East I’ve never stepped inside the student canteen. Allowance is just enough if not even short at times.
Three years passed and it was the start of the first semester for school year 1968-69. My sister and her family were forced to leave Pagadian and stayed in Valenzuela, Bulacan for some kind of “hiding away” for whatever reason I don’t know. I was 23 then and still in college, senior though. I was pulled out from my boarding house in Kalimbas, Sta. Cruz, Manila and opted to stay with them with her first boy. Her husband was able to land a job at the Jeepney Assembler in Valenzuela. We did not stay long there, maybe 3 months and then moved to Del Monte, Quezon City where they rented a house with an extra room. My sister placed a billboard advertising Room for Rent, hoping to have someone share the rental. It was Saturday when a guy came to the house and made a deposit for 1 month rent to my sister and said he needs some help in bringing his things because his wife is pregnant. My sister asked me to go with him and help carry his things. We boarded a bus to Grace Park. While on the way he started to talk about his several checking accounts in the bank maybe to gain my trust and confidence on him. Later he shifted his attention to my Tugaris watch and asked me if he could try it on his wrist. When we got off the bus with my watch on his wrist he went to a laundry mat and asked me to wait in the door. After a few minutes talking to a guy inside, he walked to my direction in the door. At the door he asked me to just wait for a while for he’ll just be back in a moment. After he was gone, I had that funny feeling inside. I rushed outside to the bus stop area to look for him He was gone with my watch. He never claimed back his check he issued to my sister. That was it.
My brother just got his promotion to Second Lt. In the Philippine Constabulary (PC) at Camp Crame in Quezon City. Though he was assigned in Jolo but left an allotment order for me to draw a hundred pesos every month from the Camp. It lasted until February of 1969. I was graduating in March of that year when I left my job at my uncle’s accounting office in April for not paying an allowance. It was a bit of luck when I got a seasonal job at Consolidated Tobacco Industries of the Philippines (CTIP) in June. For over two months I barely ate rice, I sold all my accounting books to buy food but not enough. I have to skip dinner most of the nights. Although I stayed with my friend’s place but I still have to dole out for water and electricity. For over two months I was hungry most of the day. On graduation day while my co students marched on graduation I was in the bowling alley lying on the bench hungry, imagining the joy in the faces of those who were marching and receiving their certificate of completion of their courses. It was the most terrible months of my life, without the knowledge of my folks in Pagadian City and Zamboanga City, until now!
My temporary job at CTIP lasted only for two weeks after I passed the exam at General Electric Appliance Co. in Paranaque in June 1969. I have to leave my friend Benny in Rosario, Pasig for unfortunately he did not make it at GE. Mt accounting career started at GE but lasted only for two years because of an incident where I was forced to resign in September 1971. I started looking for another job and I got an interview with Esso Philippines for Accounts Payable position but because I deferred my medical exam due to an unfortunate event, they hired somebody else. I continued hunting again but the funds are getting low. I was forced to go home in Pagadian City after I took removal exam in CPA exam a year before. Also I have to leave behind the application I made for an immigrant 3rd preference in the US which was already approved and just waiting for visa availability.
In Pagadian City, I got nothing to do so every two weeks I went to the farm and walked a mile and a half to our farm crossing two rivers and climbing steep hills. For ten months this was my activity: two weeks in the city then two to three weeks in the farm. I even had an idea of planting rubber trees but only a handful grew. Then in November 1972 good news came out. I passed the CPA and my father even brought a copy of the newspaper to the farm to announce the good news for me. That changed the whole outlook of my life. I began making plans to get back to Manila and in February after a simple celebration both for my brother who was awarded a Gold Cross medal for bravery in action and for saving a company in Lamitan, Basilan from total annihilation by the Muslim rebels numbering over 500 while there were only 21 of them, on December 31, 1972, I decided to go back.
But the problem is I have no money to spend for the return to the city that never sleeps. Nobody wants me to go back to Manila, my father, mother and sisters. The last hope is my brother in Basilan. So in mid February I boarded a bus that took me to Zamboanga City, a good 6 hours trip. From there I boarded a ferry for another 1 hour and another hour from Isabela City to Lamitan aboard a pick up truck. There was no public transportation due to the recent war between the Muslims and Christians. When I got into the PC camp in Lamitan, the camp has a 50 caliber machinegun on top in the entrance. Not a nice scene. In short, my brother gave me P500 for what I need for a one month allowance and a round trip ticket in case I’m not lucky to get a job in Manila in a month.
March 1, 1973 was the first day I started sending out resume and filling out application form with various businesses in Metro Manila, including an auditor exam with Sycip, Gorres & Velayo, the biggest auditing firm in southeast Asia. After two weeks of intense hunting, there was a faint hope nor encouraging responses from the companies I applied for. One evening around midnight, I was awaken with intense emotions of hopelessness, desperation that just lead me to get off the bed with two knees on the floor while I rested my face on bed and with an uncontrollable emotions, I cried and cried until I have no more tears to shed. After a while, I felt light hearted and fell asleep.
The following morning, I received a notice of regarding the results of the auditor exam I took several days ago and invited me to see the results in the office. A day after that, I dressed up and went to the office of SGV to find out where I scored below passing. It was so discouraging but then I was told that they have a client needing an Accounting clerk which is just a few buildings from where they are, also along Ayala Avenue. She gave me a Letter of Introduction addressed to Mrs. Erlinda Gonzales, Finance Manager. I was excited but not that much but still upbeat. When I entered the office of Hilongos Development Corporation, I was asked to wait a while the receptionist checked if Mrs. Gonzales is ready to see me. Later I was told that I could go in now and Mrs. Gonzales is waiting for me. She was a pretty and gorgeous lady like Vilma Santos and she has two lady accounting clerks who just took the CPA exam but failed twice. She interviewed me briefly and in matter of minutes she asked me when can I start and I said tomorrow. That was the beginning of my path to success but before I left for the US I left the company and transferred to Smith Bell & Co. which was the last company I worked for before migrating to the US in June 1976. My visa and a notice from the Central Bank of the Philippines arrived in the same week in February 1976. I was offered the job as Bank Examiner with the Central Bank after my name was reached in the list of successful examinees. I was a hard decision to chose whether to stay and accept the job or go ahead and migrate to the US. I chose the US.
I arrived in the US on June 16, 1976. I started searching for job a week after arrival. One month passed, no good news, two months passed , nothing encouraging. I filled out applications, sent out resume but the response is always “We’ll just call you”. No calls, no nothing. One time I met one of my town mate from Iloilo who was the head waiter at Carnelian Room located in the 52nd floor of Bank of America building where the Towering Inferno was shot. I saw that movie. His name is Carlos Cajilig. He is an Engineer by profession. He asked me if I want to work as a busboy in the restaurant. It’s over two months, penniless except for a few dollars doing inventory taking in stores like Emporium, I. Magnin and Macys. I said I have no experience in the restaurant but he said just tell the head of busboy that I have. I heeded his advice and went to see the head busboy. I was in as a busboy without to much ado. It was exciting because every end of the day we got our share of the tips. The waiters get 80% while the busboy get 20% only. But the job is not easy though. The tray alone weighs a ton, plus plates, saucers, glasses etc my shoulder ached after the first day. No wonder the head busboy walked with unbalanced shoulder because he has been doing this job for over 20 years and he used only one side of his shoulder, the right side. I did not stay long just 2 weeks because I was called for a temporary clerk in a paint company in San Francisco. Then after several days on that job I was called by Toronto Dominion Bank of California, a permanent position for $600 a month. That was the most exciting event because the job was permanent, I can make plans for the future. I was 31 then.
In September 1977, my friend and former officemate at Smith Bell & Co in the Philippines tipped me about a possible opening for an auditor with Western Temporary Services where he was a Tax Accountant. In short, I applied and was accepted due to his influence. Betty Castronovo was the head of the Audit Section. For six months that I worked there, I was not really happy with the kind of audit work they do. Betty has that feeling too. I was groomed to be made a Senior Accountant but before it happened, I lost my job when one morning I was handed my last paycheck and a pink slip. Instead of working that day I was headed home. I couldn’t feel the ground I was walking on while heading towards the BART station in Embarcadero. It was February 1978. My co-worker a Filipina was influential in that fire out because we were caught joking with David, a Vietnamese about the number of time she chews in a minute because she always does that every moment of every hour of everyday of the week. Anyway, when I got home I don’t know what to do first.
Being jobless is so depressive considering that you have no brother nor sister to run to. It’s embarrassing to let your distant aunties know you lost your job. The first thing that came into my mind was to look for Ding Bituin’s number. Ding was one of the organizer of the CPA of the Philippines, California Chapter in 1976. Luckily I found it. I called him and he was quick to suggest to me that one of their client, City Transfer & Storage Co. was in need of of a professional in their credit department and he gave me the address of the company and the name of the person to see. Immediately I drove to the location just to familiarize myself of the direction and the physical appearance of the business. The following day I went to see Tom Reis, the controller and finance manager, a very humble and kind person. He interviewed me for half an hour then later asked me if I’m interested doing collection job and some accounting assignments. I said yes, so I started work a week later. I was ecstatic, my depression was fully relieved and was overjoyed.
I started work there in March 1978 through April 1980 when I accepted the job of a Chief Accountant with the San Francisco Council of Churches. Mrs. Donneter Lane was the Executive Director who hired me to replace their Finance Manager who was not capable of putting the council’s books of accounts in place. They provide service to seniors, geriatric services, children development and other community services as provider, funded by State, Federal and City grants. The council was in big trouble losing some of their programs due to sloppy bookkeeping. In short, I was hired and started work in May 1980. Just a month on the job, the city controller of the City and County of San Francisco sent a team of auditor to test the progress a new accountant of the council has done. He just pulled out one invoice and trace the status of this invoice. In less than a minute he found where this invoice is, still unpaid in the unpaid vouchers file. He was satisfied. He looked at the Cash Receipts book, Cash Disbursements book and the overall look of a very tiny office that only two tables can squeeze in it, so it has to be well organized to maintain its cozy look.
After a month, a report was received by the Mrs. Lane concerning the results of the review. Partly the report said that even though Mr. Miravite’s office was judged small but organized, the records are well-kept and they think the council will be served well by him. Hoping I will stay long with the council. I stayed there for four years and four months when I applied with the National Council on Crime and Delinquency (NCCD) in September 1984.
By then we have two boys, a 3 year old and 1 year old. I had a problem with council’s new ED who undermined Mrs. Lanes position when she went on Sabbatical leave in 1983 due to an ailment. When she came back a year later, Dr. Norman Leach was already the Executive Director. He didn’t set well with my attitude and temper, so In started looking for one and I was found by NCCD. They have similar problem with the council when I first step in. The Controller gave himself a raise without the knowledge of the Executive Director and when they were audited by the Department of Justice on the program granted to them, some of the expenses incurred did not meet the budget requirements, they were disallowed. As a result, the council owed DOJ over one hundred thousand dollars. The Controller was fired I was in for another life-saving job. Not only does the council owes DOJ 100K, they were placed on probation for six months until they straighten out their books. It was September 1st when I started. In December of 1984 the DOJ granted the lifting of probation, barely four months I was on the job. The Executive Director, Dr. Barry Kriesberg wrote favorably about the progress in the accounting department under the new Chief Accountant. Barry threw a party at Gaylord Restaurant, an Indian cuisine in The Embarcadero Center. His wife came from India, and he liked Indian foods. Everyone was happy aside from being biography season then.
But I did not last long there. I was heading to my 41st birthday and I can feel the pressure of work with private enterprises while I learned from my co-immigrant who worked in the City and County of San Francisco and less work, less pressure, lots of overtime in some departments. I remembered while I was with the council of churches when Mrs. Lane found a postcard on the floor of the elevator apparently dropped there by the postman. That postcard was a notice of an auditor exam in the Business Tax Division of the Tax Collector’s Office of the City and County of San Francisco. I took that exam while still with the council in 1984. In April 1986, I passed that exam. In April 1986 I was notified of a vacancy. I grabbed that opportunity and resigned from NCCD to become an Auditor in CCSF. I started there on May 6, 1986 while in January 1986 I read in the SF Chronicle that the Council of Churches filed bankruptcy. I told this story to Barry such that when I tendered my resignation in early April 1986, he asked me to train for one month my replacement. He doesn’t want history to repeat itself.
The saga continues as I started to work with the City for almost 23 years.
* unedited
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