AND THEN WE SPEAK OF RIVERS

They say: a city's greatness is provided by the presence of three things - a great museum, a great library, and a great river. We may consider: London has The Natural History Museum, The British Library, and Thames; Paris has The Louvre, National Library, and Seine; St. Petersburg has The Hermitage, Russian National Library, and Neva; New York has The Met, NYPL, and Hudson; and, Washington D.C. has The Smithsonian, Library of Congress, and Potomac.

I say: If we examined very, very closely, we will realize that any city's (or town's) inherent need is not a library with its wide catalogue of titles or a museum with its permanent collection of arts but one which Henry van Dyke considered the most human and companionable of all inanimate things: a river.

My earliest recollection of a river's good fellowship was when the family visited a town in Northern Philippines where my dad was originally from. The place was fantastic. It was surrounded by mountains and fruit-bearing trees, my aunt's house was a wonderful nipa hut - a castle of kindness and a pure home by whatever standard - and right across it was that great inanimate thing.

I was already then a water-freak and in no time, with all opportunities, just after we settled our luggage, I did the inevitable and claimed the whole river as mine. I canvassed. It was a narrow but long stretch of flowing water, tummy deep, with the stream probably coming down from the mountain ranges and probably ending up in some sea - which in all probability stayed there until sucked by the sun, I really did not care because what was important was that the river was mine. So I jumped, butt naked, boy that was cool, the river I mean.

A couple of hours, my mom screamed, lunch's ready young man!, but I ignored her, by golly I ignored my mom's maternal invitation, something I rarely did and do, I ignored a bucketful of fried dalag and chopped tomatoes and unsoy, but the magic of the river water lulled me into a true sense of juvenile snobbery. Rivers, after all, were my favorite body of water and I became the most me whenever immersed in the goodwill of this my streaming, flirting paramour.

I vividly remember. I was like Huck Finn or Li'l Abner, the river claiming and covering me from the neck down while my li'l proud head was resting on a rock, ahhh heaven, when all of a sudden my uncle appeared and with sublime authority and a gesturing thumb placed the mandate, in a voice giving no options: you're times up, out you go! And there, in front of my crossing eyes, a host of bulls, carabaos delight, man oh man, they must number about 5 or 6, and right there and then I learned my great lesson for the day, rivers are for everyone, human or otherwise.

The flow of the river is ceaseless and its water is never the same. The bubbles that flow in the pools, now finishing, now forming, are not of long duration: so in the world are man and his dwellings...People die in the morning, they are born in the evening, like foam on the water.
- Kamo no Chomei
Hojoki (An Account
of My Hut)

I like rivers, their character, their color, the sound they make, hey I even like the sound of the word 'river' - with a little roll of the tongue, the stretching of the mouth on the first syllable, the pouting on the second, the sound suffusing a clear sense of authority, a certain degree of eccentricity. I like the name River, as in River Phoenix, and I used to wonder if the intensity of his acting had something to do with the name given him. I love touring the river, reading books about river journeys, and most of all, I give my attention to the politics of the river.

I hate all dams, large and small...
If you are against a dam, you are for a river.
- David R. Brower

We bathe in the river, wash in the river, get our food from the river. The river gives us hymns, poets are inspired by the river, saints are blessed in the river, we dance to the tune of the river.

In the movie Sabrina, Julia Ormond was telling Harrison Ford that the nicest thing to do in Paris was walk the streets and listen to the voice of The Seine. He asked her, what was it saying? And she responded, it is only between you and the river.

It is now between you and me. The rivers speak of us. The rivers are us.

And what is your take on rivers?