SOMBA K'E/YELLOWKNIFE
She passes through a door made distinct by a white piece of paper inked with the words Mommy Santos, all the while insisting turning 100 years old is no big deal and her life doesn’t warrant an article.
Engracia Delfino Santos holds a frame containing photos of her husband Vivencio Santos and of her younger self. On April 16 Santos will turn 100 years old. - Miranda Scotland/NNSL photo
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Nonetheless, Engracia Delfino Santos agrees to answer some questions and while she shares her memories about growing up in the Philippines and living through the Second World War, it becomes clear the passage of time has had little affect on her mind.
A natural storyteller, she transports her two-person audience to Canlubang, Laguna where she was born April 16, 1913 and spent most of her early life.
Engracia grew up on a sugar plantation, the eldest of five girls and seven boys. Her father worked as a clerk while her mother was a nurse and an active member of the community. Her parents’ busy schedules left Engracia to play the role of “second mother” until at age 12 or 13 she departed for Manila to go to high school and later pursue her teaching degree.
During her time in the city she lived in a dormitory where one fateful morning a young dental student woke with a swollen face from an abscess tooth. The girl’s parents were very possessive and wouldn’t allow her to leave the building without supervision so Santos was asked to go with her to the dentist.
It was there, with her hair tied in pigtails that she met Dr. Vivencio Santos, her husband-to-be, for the first time. Years later, when Engracia was in her early 20s, the pair bumped into each other again.
Engracia was managing a coffee shop back in her birthplace of Canlubang one day when a man came in asking for breakfast after a long train ride. But the business had recently changed hands and Engracia had nothing to give him.
“I said, ‘sir I’m sorry but I’m taking inventory because we just took over. I’m sorry but you’ll have to come some other place,” Engracia recounted.
The aspiring Olympic baseball player then asked her how to get in touch with a certain coach in town. After a call to the operator Engracia handed over the phone with the coach on the other end and while the two men were talking she realized this was the same Dr. Santos she had met in Manila. When Vivencio got off the phone she reminded him of their meeting. Every morning following that she had fresh roses from him.
One day he went to Engracia’s mother and said “I have honest intentions with one of your daughters.”
Her mother asked “which one?” That’s when he pointed to Engracia.
“You know she’s engaged to be married,” the mother said.
“Not all engaged people marry,” he replied.
At 24 years old Engracia tied the knot with Vivencio after breaking off her engagement with the other man.
The couple had two babies together, Benilda and Alfonso, and when the children were about 3 and 5 years old the Japanese invaded the Philippines.
Engracia’s father gathered all of his children together at the family home. It was frightening watching the enemy planes appear overhead, darkening the skies, recounted Engracia. When the invaders took the area Vivencio was forced into a concentration camp in Bataan.
Engracia travelled to the area to be near him through volunteering with a humanitarian group. One day she received a note from Vivencio telling her he had been assigned to cut grass and he wanted her to meet him.
“'You watch for the truck to bring the prisoners to the place where they cut grass,'”
Engracia remembered the note saying. “'You will know me because I will stay at the back of the truck with my white kerchief tied around my head.’”
Following his instructions, Engracia went to the meeting place and sat watching the truck but she didn’t see a white kerchief. She grew worried that the soldiers had discovered his plan and didn’t send him. But then a friend came up and told Engracia her husband was looking for her.
When they saw each other Vivencio embraced her and would not let go. He kept holding onto Engracia even as a guard poked at the sack of grass on his back with a bayonet.
Vivencio paid no attention until the guard directed them to a row of bamboo and into a clearing. Engracia said she was sure he was going to make them dig their own grave right then and there.
Instead, the guard asked Vivencio if she was his wife. He confirmed that she was and the guard motioned for them to kiss.
It turned out the guard closely followed Olympic baseball and he recognized Vivencio from his days of playing. He wanted to save him.
“'Now you can see how you can love an enemy,'” Engracia remembered her husband saying later.
Engracia, Vivencio and their two children survived the war. When Benilda and Alfonso were grown they left the Philippines with their own families: Benilda to California and Alfonso to the Northwest Territories.
Alfonso later petitioned for Engrancia and Vivenio to come to Canada and they arrived in 1987, although Vivencio passed away about a year later. When they first got to the North, Engracia said she thought she wouldn’t survive the crisp weather but nonetheless she fell in love with the area.
“The warm hearts of the Canadians made up for the cold,” she said.
To celebrate her long life a party will be held for Engracia April 13 at the Baker Centre between 2 p.m. and 6 p.m. The community is invited to drop in and wish her a Happy Birthday.
