Dividendazo

Those who have ever placed a bet or watched a horse race would know what Dividendazo means. For those who think this is a designer label or a stock market lingo (e.g., it means “big dividends” in the Spanish language), this is the published schedules of horse races. For the races in the San Lazaro Race Tracks in Makati and Carmona, it is often sold at 7 pesos (or sometimes 10 pesos) per piece. This is considered the main “review document” for karera (race) aficionados.

I grew up in Paco, Manila and karera is a favorite past time of the men in my neighborhood. My Dad, for one, was a regular customer. He was not what others would consider a professional gambler but he enjoyed this Sunday pastime when others would down bottles of cerveza or quarto cantos in corner stores. I grew up enjoying how my Dad would shout and laugh in triumph whenever his horses and favorite hinetes (jockeys) won. He has this unique laughter that most people would describe us contagious. Contagious it was because I cannot remember a moment when his laughter didn’t also make me laugh. I think my laughter even has a resemblance in the way he laughs (to some of you who may find my laughter ‘crazy’, well, you have my Dad to blame!

Anyway, the moment we entered the racetrack, I was already bitten by excitement. I then bought my first ever Dividendazo! I looked around and didn’t care that the people there were about 95% male. 🙂 The place smells of testosterone but I was too happy and excited to even care. Our group got a table with a good view of the track and almost across the finish line of the oval track. We ordered food and drinks (and the usual beers for the men) and by the time we took our first bites and gulps, we were already thinking of what horses to bet for.

It was so enjoyable! I am not a gambler (and don’t promote gambling) but a trip to the racetrack was sort of added in my bucket list because of Dad. It’s a part of my childhood and somehow, the memories bring back the old days when Dad’s laughters will fill the air. (Yes, I get sentimental when I think of my Dad.) Anyway, while I didn’t win on the first game–my bets won in the next two games! Of course, my “consultants” (the men in the group) should share the credits as they also helped me in deciding which horses to bet for. We only watched 4 games and winning 2 games out of the 4 is a good batting average, right? And truth be told, I didn’t care if I win or not. The experience of having a piece of my Dad’s weekend pastime was truly priceless.

For those of you who are curious, I only placed 10 pesos (as bet) for each horse so that only meant winning about 50 to 200 pesos each time my bets won. In horse racing, you must guess the first two horses who will reach the finish line. Therefore, that means, I paid 10 pesos each for the 1^st and 2^nd lead horses. One unit of bet is worth 5 pesos so if you bet 10 pesos, you have 2 units of bets. That means, if your horses win, you get double of the winnings assigned to the winning horse. For example, if you win a particular race and the amount of win is 70 pesos for that horse, your total winnings is 140 pesos.

Usually, those horses that have good standings would have lower prize or pot money because more people would instinctively bet on them. They are what aficionados would call llamado bets. One has higher chances of winning on them but the prize would be lower. The opposite of this is called dehado–they are bets that a lesser number of people would vote for because the probability of their winning is lower. But when they do win, the prize is so much higher. The winnings I had from the two games were both llamado bets, ergo, lower prizes.

Win or no win, I surely felt like a winner that day. It was time well spent, reliving a time in the past where things felt simpler and slower. Back then, the voice and laughters of my Dad were part and parcel of a home–no matter how imperfect it was–that shaped me into who I am today. What more can I ask for?

One thing I learned, too? Well, I must review the Dividendazo one week before I even go to a horse race again! 🙂

[Special thanks goes to “F” who helped us by placing our bets with the Leisure Park betting counter whenever we were done writing them on a piece of paper! This is a repost of a blog dated November 17, 2006, published in my previous site.]

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In Loving Memory of Dad

29 December 2018

Yesterday (and 14 hours ago), I lost you, Dad. The grief is so deep that I could not even describe it. Ours is not a perfect relationship and we both know, I lost you several times. Once, when you began leaving our family by not coming home anymore, sometimes a day, then two, three days, until you never came home anymore; twice, you just suddenly disappeared from our lives (not leaving an address), and then again, years after l found you (through fate, a lot of help from people, and yes, some sleuthing!), you began changing, it felt you were no longer the Dad I used to know. Maybe because you have a new family already, a new partner, a new home…

But still, I loved you up to the very end. I held on.

Despite the long silences, the distance. And even if you’ve changed, I always knew, there is still that small part in your heart that I still occupy. I will never ever say goodbye to those parts of us, which never parted.

You have left several times that my heart has finally found peace. But, this time, it’s harder to deal with the finality. The final closure.

But, farewell, my Dad. Our happy memories are what will keep me grateful.

There had been a lot of tears but always, the laughters will shine through. The integrity of hard work, I learned from you. Maybe a lot of my sense of humor, my laughter, my love for reading and learning. Most of all, you trusted me. I know I fought hard for my independence after I turned 18. I felt you were already being unreasonably strict at that age! I thought you were bringing me up following a certain formula–a box that I couldn’t possibly fit in. And then, one day, when I came home from school (not going home the previous night because of obligations at the university paper where I was an editor), you were so furious. You said, with an angry tone, “From now on, you will be home before 6:00 in the evening, after your classes!” I thought I am going to burst, too. I was also beginning to get angry inside. We ended up arguing.

Oh, I remember such a tearful exchange; the first time we ever had that kind of conversation (and argument). I knew I have to try even if I wasn’t sure I’d ever change your mind, your ways of doing things. I found my voice and bravely said, Dad, please trust the way you have brought me up. If I fail you, it will be my fault. I will not blame you. And then…I waited. But you didn’t say anything anymore. You just kept quiet.

The next day, I had to attend a party and my friends fetched me. I started walking toward my friend’s car and didn’t notice that you were following me out. I sat at the back of the car, and then I suddenly saw you knocking on the window. I was both surprised and worried–thinking that maybe you will tell me to get down the car now! I slowly pulled the window down, looked at you and hesitatingly asked, “Yes…?” Surprisingly, you simply asked, “Ni, uuwi ka ba tonight?” (“Ni, will you go home tonight?”) I could not believe my ears! I imagined my friends being dumbfounded, too. (They knew how strict you are.) Just like magic, with those five words, you gave me my freedom! My heart almost burst out of happiness. I think we both laughed a little.

When we began driving, my friends, altogether, impatiently, started throwing me questions like, “What happened to your Dad? I mean, he’s a changed man! How did you do it? What dish did you serve so I can give it to my folks, too?”

And so, after that, after an evening that changed our life forever, you began treating me as a responsible adult. You allowed me the freedom to explore, to travel, to make my own decisions, to dream! From then on, in the evenings when you came home late or I was not around or too busy, we’d exchange notes pinned on a cork board, telling you where I’m going and when I’m returning (including telephone numbers or how to reach me). On my return, I will always check those notes to see your signature, which became your way of telling me, “it’s ok”. Sometimes, there were one-liners especially if I had good news. Still a man of few words. Those signatures and one-liners mean the world to me. Because they represent the greatest gift that any parent can give their children: trust. It wasn’t only about you trusting me. It was also about you trusting the way you brought me up.

Thank you so much, Dad. Thank you for the trust, the quality of my education, for not giving unnecessary pressure when it comes to grades in school, the love of reading (which you have instilled in me), the hard work (oftentimes taking on side jobs in the evenings and on weekends alongside your full-time work with Nestle Philippines), the love of life and sense of humor, the sense of discipline, and generosity. I would also remember how you always inspired me to enjoy eating. To savor food. You said, even if I only have the last twenty pesos in my bulsa (pocket) and get hungry before reaching home, buy yourself food. And so, I shared these lessons and snippets of wisdom to my husband, too.

I honor and thank you, today, Dad. You went away several times, and now left for the last time, but for a while, you were there. You were my Dad.

Go in peace, now. Please embrace God-source, and all our saints, angels, and ancestors, and your beloved Nanay (my favorite Lola-Nanay, my most beautiful abuela) and tell them how grateful I am for giving you as my Dad. Rest in peace, Dad. You will always be remembered and loved.

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