I was a resident of Narra dorm from 1983-85. Before that I stayed in Molave (my 2nd year in UP) then Yakal dorms (my 3rd year). Many memories of wild, wacky and other characters in Narra remain vivid in my mind until now, three decades ago. I should write about those memories here in the near future. For now, I am posting a great article written by a fellow Narra dormmate and friend, Fer Cao, originally posted in the Narra dorm facebook group more than a year ago. This is well written, colorful and wacky. Thanks for the permission to post your great memoir Fer.
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THE ROMAN EMPIRE IN DECLINE
by Fernando "Fer" Cao
The thing I fondly miss most about late 80s Narra was the air of pure, unapologetic decadence that must have been like the Roman Empire in decline.
It is something that will greet you immediately while still at the lobby: two old men sitting on ancient chairs acting like gatekeepers to the empire---one a cool, ponderous and word-thrifty Mang Tony while the other, a blustering, cantankerous and full-of-exclamations Mang Willie. They were commanded by a Napoleonic figure---the enigmatic Mr. Bernardo---who would roam his domain with his unsmiling, arrogant glances, stomach out, and one of his hands on his trouser pockets.
In my time, there was a sort of unwritten rule in Narra. If you were a novice, you had to defer to the veterans. No matter how tough you were or how intelligent your opinion might have been, you must yield to the frailest looking denizen of the place. Just like in the outside world, a novice must earn time, recognition and respect. I’ve seen rowdy newcomers given their deserved comeuppance by the mayors of each wing. Unfortunately for the novice, most veterans considered themselves mayors of each wing! So you were The Man in Molave? Go fuck yourself, pussy, this is Narra! Now go back to the end of the line!
Narra was an amalgamation of tribes not mutually exclusive of each other---the fratmen, the basketball guys, the degenerate sugarols, the regional buddies, the Pink sisters, the tropang malilibog, the freespirits, artists and bohemians, the Muslim brethren, the grim-and-determined activists, the plain weird and goofy, the sleep-deprived law and masteral students, the vet students and their horrible experiments, the trippers and their stashes, etcetera, etcetera…
All of which make up the dreaded Narra Gauntlet. Each year, candidates for the various positions of the University Student Council (USC) tour the dorms, present their platforms and campaign for votes. Narehans love to make candidates squirm, fumble with answers and blush with embarrassment with pointed questions and arguments that pierced many a veneer or pretension. In my time, the most dreaded questions usually come from the oldest among us who’ve nearly seen it all. I can’t remember all their names now but one stands out---Clifford Espinosa, presently a famous wood sculptor, he with the infamous smirk, leer and lilt that curses you without uttering a single expletive yet. And this is just coming from the guys opening their mouths! The rest of the gauntlets are as equally bloodthirsty with their sporadic howls of maniacal laughter at something even remotely funny or embarrassing. So what about those decent looking guys over there keeping to themselves? Don’t be fooled--- they’re fantasizing about you right now in a victory joe position! Thus, in all my time at Narra, I rarely saw the prettiest or the sultriest USC candidate drumming up enough courage to face the Gauntlet.
The thing I fondly miss most about late 80s Narra was the air of pure, unapologetic decadence that must have been like the Roman Empire in decline.
It is something that will greet you immediately while still at the lobby: two old men sitting on ancient chairs acting like gatekeepers to the empire---one a cool, ponderous and word-thrifty Mang Tony while the other, a blustering, cantankerous and full-of-exclamations Mang Willie. They were commanded by a Napoleonic figure---the enigmatic Mr. Bernardo---who would roam his domain with his unsmiling, arrogant glances, stomach out, and one of his hands on his trouser pockets.
In my time, there was a sort of unwritten rule in Narra. If you were a novice, you had to defer to the veterans. No matter how tough you were or how intelligent your opinion might have been, you must yield to the frailest looking denizen of the place. Just like in the outside world, a novice must earn time, recognition and respect. I’ve seen rowdy newcomers given their deserved comeuppance by the mayors of each wing. Unfortunately for the novice, most veterans considered themselves mayors of each wing! So you were The Man in Molave? Go fuck yourself, pussy, this is Narra! Now go back to the end of the line!
Narra was an amalgamation of tribes not mutually exclusive of each other---the fratmen, the basketball guys, the degenerate sugarols, the regional buddies, the Pink sisters, the tropang malilibog, the freespirits, artists and bohemians, the Muslim brethren, the grim-and-determined activists, the plain weird and goofy, the sleep-deprived law and masteral students, the vet students and their horrible experiments, the trippers and their stashes, etcetera, etcetera…
All of which make up the dreaded Narra Gauntlet. Each year, candidates for the various positions of the University Student Council (USC) tour the dorms, present their platforms and campaign for votes. Narehans love to make candidates squirm, fumble with answers and blush with embarrassment with pointed questions and arguments that pierced many a veneer or pretension. In my time, the most dreaded questions usually come from the oldest among us who’ve nearly seen it all. I can’t remember all their names now but one stands out---Clifford Espinosa, presently a famous wood sculptor, he with the infamous smirk, leer and lilt that curses you without uttering a single expletive yet. And this is just coming from the guys opening their mouths! The rest of the gauntlets are as equally bloodthirsty with their sporadic howls of maniacal laughter at something even remotely funny or embarrassing. So what about those decent looking guys over there keeping to themselves? Don’t be fooled--- they’re fantasizing about you right now in a victory joe position! Thus, in all my time at Narra, I rarely saw the prettiest or the sultriest USC candidate drumming up enough courage to face the Gauntlet.
