Crazy
Ma. Lizbeth J. Baroña

"I really need a psychiatrist".

Sabtang: chosen by the Philippine Department of Tourism in 1994 as one of the twelve best destination in the country.

My sister let out a howl of laughter, saying it's got to be the only thing I said to her all day that made sense. She quit laughing though, when she saw my face all red from efforts to keep myself from crying. On my hands are pictures of my homeland. I have been staring at them as if in a trance before my I-am-crazy declaration.

It has been eight years since I left Batanes for college, and I feel homesick everyday, every minute. If I am not openly bawling about it, it's always in the corners of my mind and heart, throbbing, like a fresh wound.

I have long concluded that something's got to be wrong with me. My friends think so, because I have this 'chronic homesickness' that I have never gotten over with.

I was born in a place where time seems to stand still. I grew up in a place where everybody knows everyone, where everything seems to be just within reach, where God playing favorites seems most evident.

What pains me is that I never realized how extraordinary special my home is until I left it for college and beyond, until coming home is a rare opportunity that we have to fight for - literally. Batanes can only be reached through plane - a transport that gives you no guarantee. Especially during holidays, Ivatans who want to spend the holidays with love ones in Batanes have to fight for bottleneck plane seats.

Setting foot on the islands is unlike any arrival one experiences when visiting places. Aside from the "vacuum" it leaves in your wallet, you have to cry, scream, and pray your way to a plane ticket. I have experienced being stranded on a strange place because the elements seemed bent on keeping the anticipation up. Once, by keeping my brother and I stranded in Laoag Airport for 5 days and 4 nights. Even though my vacation has been cut short by 5 precious days -on board the last flight landing late in the afternoon on Christmas eve - setting foot on Batanes soil never felt more magical.

You see, that's what makes my home special: its almost like heaven. So literally and figuratively far, that I long for its skies and sacred landscape almost in a way my lungs need air.

The skies are bluer, the hills greener, the sunsets more magical, the moon bigger and brighter, and the stars? - there's got to be a million more of them if you look at them from Batanes.

And so, staring at a picture of my family frolicking beside the royal blue sea during one of our family outings last year was too much for me, I cried. And that's when I quipped I need professional help. My sister joked that unfortunately, Filipinos have never really been open with seeking counseling through a shrink. I might be branded as one whose mind has gone somewhere - maybe. But I keep asking myself: is it I? or is it my homeland?

I concluded: it's got to be my homeland.

I figured out it's too beautiful to leave behind, and my not being there - seeking my material dreams in strange, far places - is what's driving me crazy.

Everyday, I long for those sunsets, the setting sun sprawling its orange rays on the Plaza, where children, newly freed from their prisons otherwise known as classrooms ran free; where mommies walk their babies, and toddlers bask in the warmth of the sunset; where my Dad plays tennis like he always does for more than half of his life (my Mom watching, silently celebrating every passing shot my Dad unleashes on his hapless opponents); where tired students chatter about Math and boys while slowly inching their way home; where the scorching summers drive you mad, and the winters boast a 12 degree Celsius bite even through three layers of clothing.

In the past eight years, nothing that has taken place in my life has ever taken those pictures away. My heart both breaks and soars whenever I think of home. It makes me cry and laugh at the same time. Crazy? No. Just in love with my homeland. Just in love with the Batanes Group of Islands.

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Ma. Lizbeth J. Baroña, 24, Development Communication graduate from UPLB.
Currently works as a Writer at the Bureau of Agricultural Research, Diliman QC