EAFROLIT Afro-Asian Literature

The Lost

GE N E R A Re porte d by : Ang eline

T IO N
Dela Cr uz

Donna De Guzman Alilin- Carreon & Renato De Guzman Rosales

WHO ARE THE AUTHORS?

CARREON & ROSALES

The original author of the and books This story was also co- written by the
story "The Lost about her. Spanish translator, Renato De Guzman
Generation" was written Rosales, there is no indication that the two
by Donna De Guzman authors are related to each other due to
Alilin- Carreon, there is no their middle name.
available information
showing on the internet
Unlike Carreon, aboutcriticism, academic theses, and
the works of interpr biographies.
Rosales are mostly etation,

Memory of a Deprived Childhood

EAFROLIT

The Lost Generation

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

RENATO DE GUZMAN
ROSALES
The following are the works of Rosales
that were published:
World literature: Asian, African,
Islamic, and South American
Reconsidered Literary criticism
Vida y obra de Jose Rizal (1861-
1896) en la literatura Hispano-
Filipina
Afro-Asian literature: a tapestry

THE LOST
GENERATION
This literature was a description
and narration through a story of
the Philippine-Japanese war which
serves as a memory of the deprived
childhood of the narrator's father.

Memory of a Deprived Childhood

EAFROLIT

The Lost Generation

WE ARE ALL VULNERABLE CREATIONS of
Another aunt, a lovely woman who was in
God. No matter how strong we are, we each
or 19 in her blooming years, almost
have some sort of weakness that we cannot
became a "comfort woman' during that
face. Instead of confronting these realities,
period. Thanks to my Yarner's strategy of
we bury them somewhere far away --- as in
hiding her rolled up inside a hat in one of
a lost memory.
the corners of into house during one
The story of my family isn't one of those particular day when some Japanese soldiers
heirlooms that get handed down from madison ocular visitation of all houses in
generation to generation, so I don't know the neighborhood.
much about the time before my beginning.
I can't perceive living that way. I never had
Maybe it's because I don't really initiate the
to run for my life, worry about a roof over
questions that hold the keys necessary to
my head, and most importantly I never had
unlock the door of the past.
to search for my next meal.
What I do know is that my grandfather on
Those days of struggling are over now, but
my father's side died in a Japanese prison
the imprints created in war's path remain
camp in the Philippines during World War Il.
an unseen battle. My father is a strict man
My father, six years old, along with his
who doesn't settle for anything less than
brothers and my grandmother fled from the
perfection. He doesn't believe that there is
Japanese. They hid wherever they could,
anything that cannot be done. I never
enduring rain, cold nights, and hunger. Of
understood his ideals, until now - Now that
the five of my father's brothers, only three
I can see beyond his visage.
are alive today. The other two died of
dysentery during the desperate flight from My father, Vincent, is the youngest.

the Japanese. They had no means of getting However, the effects of war took that title

medicine or money even if the means were from him. There is no childhood in

available. struggling to survive. Though Dodong, the

eldest, was responsible for providing food,
The war left my aunt a widow after her
shelter, and as much safety as he could,
husband's death during the war. As a
each brother had to learn to provide for
widow, she became to be a mirror of life;
himself. I remember my father's story of
she never got married again and she never
telling my brothers how my uncle was
abandoned her obligation of taking care
caught by the Japanese and almost killed.
and nurturing her only son who lost his
It's an intriguing story of survival,
father during the Bataan March of the
something my brothers and I have no
Philippine- Japanese War.
notion of.

Memory of a Deprived Childhood

EAFROLIT

The Lost Generation

During that period, World War Il, the
Still, no wood was sent down as their arms
Philippines was a war-torn country. Food and
tired underneath the weight of the stones.
other materials necessary to sustain life were
Worried about the situation, Vincent made his
very scarce. Somehow my family managed to
way carefully upstream, sneaking through the
live day by day...
bushy grass on the banks of the river. As he
And nature showed her kindness for drew near, he could hear the shouting of the
disillusioned children as she stretched her Japanese tongue. Aware of the dilemma, he
golden arms lovingly to caress the gently tried to make himself believe his brother was
flowing waters. A glowing sun was shining on not caught.
the gently flowing stream. Rays were
Through the thick brush, he watched
dispersed in a sparking burst of prism-like
helplessly. The desire to jump from hiding and
light. Tall grasses coated the banks of the
help his brother twitched in his nerves, making
stream. She called the boys and beckoned
his hands quiver. The thought of a huge blade
them out of hiding. Four small, thin boys
ready to fall on Dodong's head almost made
inched their way into the reassuring sunlight,
him faint. Instead, he began scheming in his
rolled in the tall grasses that coated the banks
terrified mind for a way to save his brother.
of the stream, and fell into the cool water.
His thoughts wrestled with each other as he
They stood in the waist-deep water, lifted
imagined blood, the small band of five
smooth, round stones out of the water, and
Japanese soldiers, the pain his brother would
listened to the "plop!" as they tossed them
feel, his mother waiting at the shelter, and
back in, giggling at the splashes the stones
Ben and Roger still standing in the water.
made. In the distance, the rat-tat-tat of
machine gun fire echoed. The boys listened for The blade was raised high, ready to slice
a painful yell then continued with their play. anything in its path. Vincent shut his eyes to
avoid the grim sight. An eternity could have
One day, Dodong went searching for firewood
passed as he waited to hear steel on bone, as
and whatever else he could find to benefit
he imagined the mad rush of blood spouting
them. To get firewood he would travel
like a fountain. To his surprise, a roar of
upstream and send the wood floating down
laughter thundered in his ears. He opened his
with the current. The others, Vincent Ben, and
eyes slowly and reluctantly. There, standing in
Roger waited to collect the driftwood. On this
the water was Dodong, wavering with fear still
particular occasion, Dodong was spotted by
alive and in one piece. His arms dangled
some Japanese soldiers. They began
straight at his sides, motionless.
threatening his life with unfriendly gestures.
My father stood downstream with Roger and
Ben waiting for wood to be sent to them.

Memory of a Deprived Childhood

EAFROLIT

The Lost Generation

The Japanese soldiers mocked him, poking him
I don't know what happened after that. My
with a stick and waving a blade in his face.
father only told the story to impress on my
Sweat heads that formed on his forehead and
brothers how valuable food, clothes and
temples trickled down his cheeks and dripped
other things we take for granted really are.
from his chin. But still, he stood facing them,
He wanted them to know that wood for the
silent and prepared to meet his Father in
fire was the price of life.
heaven if that be the case.
Though my father appears to be an
The handful of soldiers surrounded him and
unmovable man, stiff in stature, serious-
pushed him back and forth to one another. He
faced, and strict with his ideas and
could barely keep his balance. Fearing giving
expectations, the past is his frailty. He tries
them any ideas of drowning him, Dodong
to bury the tracks of that episode in his life
fought to stay on his feet.
by avoiding it. The war is no longer a
As the game of "catch" began to lose its struggle to survive, but a struggle to forget.
interest to the Japanese soldiers, the leader It is no longer around him but inside him. I
stretched out his left arm and with a vice-like respect him more now that I realize this. I
grip yanked Dodong by the hair. His right arm can understand the long hard road he has
rose high into the air, a mighty blade paved to get where he is now. I know it has
reflecting a sinister blinding light. been a harder struggle to pave this road
with the memories of a deprived childhood
Vincent, who was unprepared to shield his
behind him.
eyes from the fated disaster, almost screamed
as the blade fell through the air. Instead, he
froze on the spot, eyes wide as saucers. The
blade groaned an unsatisfied groan as it cut
through Dodong's hair. This time Vincent did
faint. His tensed body dropped with relief.
They spared his brother. Dodong ran
homeward without hesitation. The soldiers
laughed as they watched the almost bald boy
speed downstream as they set him free.

Memory of a Deprived Childhood

 EAFROLIT Afro-Asian Literature

The Lost

GENERATION
Donna De Guzman Alilin- Carreon & Renato De Guzman Rosales

ABOUT THE STORY

A STUDY GUIDE
1. As a Filipino Citizen, what is your honest reaction to what happened in the story?

2. What does the story would like you to understand?

3. Do you agree that "a piece of wood for the fire could be a price of
life"? Can anything be a price of life?

4. Are there good and bad effects of colonization in our country?

5. If you were born during the Japanese War, what do you think you did for yourself or for
your family?

ABOUT THE LECTURE

REFERENCES
35AhUEmFYBHTSrCJI https://www.canva.com/photos/MAC8TLc2ddY-surrender-of-
port-arthur-during-russo- japanese-war/

https://books.google.com.ph/books?
id=wbu68fPr9ygC&pg=PA38&lpg=PA38&dq=The+Lost+Generation+by+Renato+Rosales+and+D
onna+Alilin+Carreon&source=bl&ots=3fWvX6VgLh&sig=ACfU3U1OnNFXncol2ciAfQnFUZ0ENZ4
aDw&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjXrNWcx-

Memory of a Deprived Childhood