Today marks Brgy. Napsan’s 89th founding anniversary. Immersed in the activities lined up for the celebration, I delved into the wonders that make up the place and its people—tradition, history, culture, legends, and the like. It is at this time that we are brought back to the memorial past, which in the process makes us rather sentimental while at the same time hopeful that forthcoming generations will prove to be an improved version of the previous ones. As it is always said, “Ang hindi marunong lumingon sa pinanggalingan ay hindi makararating sa paroroonan.”
At its inception in 1935, Brgy. Napsan included two other nearby barangays. Located on the West Coast, Napsan is mother to Brgy. Bagong Bayan and Brgy. Simpucan. Up until now, however, the boundary has yet to be settled with finality and legality. For example, Napsan has a claim to an area where Bagong Bayan has the same contention. Simpucan, meanwhile, has a standing face-off with another village, namely Brgy. Bacungan. Be that as it may, thank goodness that our settlers are so peace-loving that any tension whatsoever is simply being shrugged off. Otherwise, wars over territorial disputes such as those between India and Pakistan, Russia and Ukraine, and even our very own version of the Spratly Islands could not be far behind. But then again, when will Father Time give his final verdict on the matter? Your guess could be as good as mine.
The truth of the matter is that these three coastal barangays would now comprise the Parish of San Nicolas de Tolentino. Established in 1977, the ecclesiastical territory extended its jurisdiction from Brgy. Apurawan and Brgy. Culandanum in Aborlan to Brgy. Berong in Quezon. But going back to the three, what is also interesting is how they got their respective names. Napsan, as the narratives of the indigenous peoples would have it, is actually from the word “napisaan,” roughly translated as “had been broken.” It is no surprise, then, that in each cultural performance, the figure of a jar (“banga”) would be shown prominently. What was the content of the legendary jar? It could just be another piece of inquiry.
On the other hand, Bagong Bayan earned its name because it was a brand-new village at the time. While it may appear simplistic, some elder folks here would avouch that there is much more to it. There’s also something more local about it. They said the early settlers in the barrio would have transferred to other places, namely to Brgy. San Jose. They did so on foot! They would be trekking the high mountains, which would take them from early dawn up to sunset, arriving at what is now considered urban. Hence, Bagong Bayan is also about “being left behind”—bago eng bayaan. It was in 1960 that this new barangay saw the light as a governmental civil unit.
Meanwhile, Simpucan has its own problems. If you happen to be in that barrio, take notice of how it is spelled on the road signs and at landmarks. Some would have it as “Simpucan,” others prefer “Simpokan,” and still others like to address it as “Simpocan.” How is this possible? Or, how does this become acceptable? What does this have to do with the standard usage of words and letters in a given language? it goes without saying then that genuine orthography should already be called for on account of the foregoing. Notwithstanding, the said village got its name from the type of weapon made of “buho” (bamboo) that the indigenous peoples used for hunting and as a tool to defend themselves—”supok.””.
Collectively, we have to name them all together as SimBaNa. Isn’t it quite obvious yet? Simpucan, Bagong Bayan, and Napsan, that is. While it could just be a mere acronym, for us, however, the name also connotes an invitation. To what? And to where? Simba na!
Going back to Napsan. In time immemorial, the barrio was still considered forsaken, to say the least. In the distant past, its image was only that of malaria (Hindi ka pari ng Napsan kung hindi ka na-malaria. Lord, have mercy!) and of “pugantes” courtesy of the neighboring barangays of Montible and Iwahig, which house the Bureau of Corrections. And in a not-so-distant past, there was nothing to speak of in Napsan—no roads, no water system, no electricity, and even “walang ulam.” But time has also changed. While still considered impoverished (our parish is classified as Class E), we have what we truthfully have right here and right now. For all its worth, at Mass this morning, I did proclaim, as I would also usually claim, “In my many years of priesthood, I am most happy here in Napsan.”
Happy Founding Anniversary, our dear Napsan!
