Journey to the Philippines

After Ama passed away, passed away, there was no one to hold us back in China. So, when my father sent for us, we joined him in Manila. We packed our clothing and some personal items that were precious to us. We could bring only what we could easily carry because the trek to Xiamen (formerly Amoy) was a long one. It took almost one night to reach there by sedan chair. We were accompanied on our journey by my adopted cousin, Co Ching Ho, and my maternal grandmother, Ang Wu.

My father was ranked the fourth among four cousins. The second cousin had died without any offspring. So, in keeping with Chinese tradition, my mother adopted a boy to be his heir. Ching Ho was from Un Chew in Jekang Province. We brought him to Manila with us.

We stayed in a small hotel for travelers in Xiamen. There in that seaport, my maternal grandmother, Ang Wu, bade us farewell. We did not know if we would ever see her again, but it was not a tearful goodbye. The Chinese of my time were stoic, even fatalistic, about such things.

After going through a quarantine check imposed by the British who controlled the ports in China, we boarded a British-owned ship, the Anne King, which was bound for Manila. There were many passengers on board, most of them Chinese who were fleeing the hard life in China. Fortunately, we had a cabin that had bunk beds for us to sleep in.

I had an inkling that it was a momentous journey for me and that my life would surely change. Like any young boy with a sense of adventure, I was excited by it. I was equally excited to finally meet my father.

First Meeting

When our ship docked at the harbor in Manila, my father was waiting for us at the pier. My mother recognized him. After we disembarked, he came to meet us. Our meeting was very formal. We did not hug each other after my mother presented me. Perhaps our Chinese upbringing did not permit us to be demonstrative of our feelings.

My father took us to live with him in an apartment on Fortuna Street in Pasay City, near Dapitan Street. At that time, Pasay City was considered a prime district, a commercial area second only to the Quiapo-Divisoria area. Makati was only swampland, which the Ayalas later converted into the country’s premier financial district.

The apartment block was owned by my granduncle, Vicente Gotamco. My father worked for him as the manager of Hap Him Lumber Company on Harrison Street. Hap Him was a branch of Vicente Gotamco Hermanos Company, which had its main office on Tanduay Street in Manila. I still remember the address of my first home in the Philippines: No. 11 Fortuna Street, Pasay City.

My first days in the Philippines went by in a blur. Everything was very different—the people I encountered, the language they spoke, the environment—all these were strange to me. Even the Chinese food tasted different, but I was not homesick for China.

Visit to Relatives

After a few days, my father took us to visit our relatives. I remember Dy Kim Po, Sa Kim Po, Sy Kim Po and Go Kim Po — or Second Grand Auntie, Third Grand Auntie, Fourth Grand Auntie and Fifth Grand Auntie. (First Grand Uncle and First Grand Auntie lived in Davao so I never met them.) The four aunties were the in-laws who were living above the store on Tanduay. It was a memorable encounter because they made us feel welcome.

Slowly, I adjusted to my new environment. I learned Tagalog by making notes of the meaning of the words and memorizing them. After a few weeks, I was able to communicate already, but it was years before I could speak Tagalog fluently.

The adjustment was not difficult because, along Fortuna Street, we had Chinese neighbors among our Filipino neighbors, and we circulated in the growing Chinese community. So many of my former compatriots were escaping first the hard life in China and later the communist regime of Mao Tse Tung and starting new lives here in the Philippines. I recall in particular a certain Mr. Lo, a very rich man who had three wives all living in the same house on Fortuna Street, a circumstance that amuses me even today.

How I Got My Name

Sometime after our arrival, my father had to register our presence. In those days, the government granted some people a “quota” that allowed them to bring in a certain number of relatives from China. Chinese families that did not have an allotment usually bought slots from those who had the “quotas” and used their surname when registering as “family” members.

In our case, we didn’t have to buy our slots. Since my father was working already and had a good position, he was allowed to bring in relatives and we were able to register using his surname Co.

At the immigration office, I was given the name Co It. In Chinese, “It” means No. 1. I was the first of my father’s line. My cousin, Ching Ho, was Co Sam. He was the third Co to register. That’s how, many years later when I was naturalized, Co It became my surname.

My Baptism and Education

The year after I arrived, my father enrolled me in a Chinese school, Pasay Chung Hwa, on Harrison Street. It was walking distance from our home. Because of my formal education in China, I was placed in the secondary level and the subjects I took were similar to those of other local high schools during the American regime. That was when I started to learn English, which would provide a very lucrative livelihood opportunity for me later on.

The following year, I was baptized in Sta. Clara de Montefalco Church on Zamora Street in Pasay City. I was 13 years old. Jesus “Paco” Sonora, the father of actress Susan Roces (the wife of the late presidential candidate and actor Fernando Poe, Jr.), stood as my godfather. Paco was a collector for Hap Him Lumber Company, where my father also worked; that’s how they knew each other. Paco gave me my Christian name, Gonzalo. All through my school days, I was known as Gonzalo Co.

At that time, the Church did not require me to take Catechism classes before I could become a Catholic, perhaps because I was still considered a child. So I was baptized and the parish office issued a baptismal certificate.

My father arranged for me to be baptized because he wanted me to study in La Salle College, an exclusive school for boys. La Salle, located on Taft Avenue in the City of Manila, was a Catholic school and required the parents to present the baptismal certificate of the child being enrolled. For me, this was Divine Providence at work because that’s how I got “enrolled” in the faith. Moreover, I learned my Christian values at La Salle.

Father's Foresight

My father had the gift of drawing buildings with exact measurements, which the engineers subsequently approved for construction. He built houses on Gotamco, Fukien, Sinsego and Harrison streets, many of which still exist today. While my father was a manager and a contractor making a good living working for our relatives, he probably aspired for something more for me. That’s why he sent me to La Salle, which had only a few Chinese students then.

Although he did not explain his choice of school for me, I know now that my father was forward-looking. My father wanted me to learn English, which was the lingua franca, the language of commerce in the Philippines. He knew that studying in La Salle would provide me with invaluable contacts in business and help me integrate more easily in this country that had become my home.

My father, who was a very traditional Chinese to whom lineage was important, demonstrated his regard for me as his firstborn son by his actions. Sending me to an exclusive Catholic school was one of them. The tuition at La Salle was P10 a month in grade school and P12 a month in high school, which was considered expensive then because the salary of managers working in Divisoria and Quiapo was only P30 a month. My father earned P120 a month as a manager and a contractor, so he could afford my tuition.

When I enrolled in La Salle, I was put in Grade 3 although I was quite big already. I was 13 years old, at least four years older than most of my classmates. After Grade 3, my teachers determined that I could cope with my subjects so they accelerated me. I advanced directly to the 5th grade, which I completed. Then I was accelerated again, so I skipped Grade 6 and went on to Grade 7. I was still older than my peers, but the age gap had narrowed considerably.

Classmates and Teachers

Many of my contemporaries were very bright. Among them were Lim Chai Kee (Alfonso Lim), who became a big shot in Pasay City, and his brother Lim Chai Hun. They owned big plantations in Mindoro. I remember also William de Lange and his brother, and Roberto Jalandoni and his brothers.

The other classmates I remember were Benigno de Guia, Nicanor Jacinto, Jr., Francisco Sison, Melecio Arranz, Jr., Arturo Sinco, Joaquin Ong, Harry Huang, Manuel Go, Fausto Bayot, Charles Lee, Arturo Monzon, Roberto Macasaet, Manuel Ty, Jr. and Jose Oledan.

Among my teachers were: Bro. Gerfried (head teacher), Bro. Hubert, Bro. Archadius, Bro. William, Bro. Lucian and Mr. Ariston Estrada. The director was Bro. Xavier. They were all Germans and belonged to the St. John the Baptist’s de la Salle Order of the Christian Brothers. (Some of the brothers were herded into concentration camps and killed by the Japanese during World War II.)

A Priestly Vocation?

I remember that Bro. Gerfried was very strict, but I learned from him and the other brothers to study hard, work hard and be an upright man. They lived out what they taught and their lives were so inspiring that I wanted to become a priest, but I could not pursue that vocation because of my filial obligations.

All my life, however, the values that I imbibed while at school would govern my actions and would—along with the influence of my mother and grandmother in my early youth—shape my character, as did the books I read.

Japenese Invasion

My first, second and third years of high school were spent in the Taft Avenue campus of La Salle, which was a three-centavo ride by auto calesa (a conveyance similar to a jeepney) from our home.

But World War II was upon us and schools had to close temporarily. The Japanese military eventually allowed La Salle to resume classes under the name Christian Brothers Academy, but they needed the buildings of La Salle for the offices of the Japanese Imperial Army. La Salle was transferred temporarily to the nearby campus of St. Scholastica’s College on Leon Guinto Street. That’s how I was able to graduate in 1944.

The memory makes me smile because of the humor in it. La Salle’s all-boys high school Class of 1944 bears the distinction of having completed its senior year in a school exclusively for girls!