The Kipping House
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The old Kipping House stood on the same lot that Silvestra Bauson’s house used to be. Lola Bitang’s house was twice as long as this house. On her birthday, Lola Bitang celebrated with a dinner dance; after which the guests trooped to church for New Year’s Eve mass. This is the house to which our grandfather, Carlos Kipping, brought his wife , Lourdes Romulo.
The Kipping House in Camiling, Tarlac , is built on the site of the original home of Leonor Rivera, the love of Jose Rizal, immortalized as Maria Clara in his novel, Noli Me Tangere, The house, which was remodeled in the early 1950s by Carlos Kipping, Leonor’s son, is a town landmark.
When Carlos Kipping married Lourdes Romulo, the couple set up home in an earlier house, one in which they raised their children: Araceli (who died as a child); Remedios Kipping Jimenez (my mother); Carlos Kipping Jr.; and Rosalinda Kipping Torres. The Kipping house was the scene of countless family gatherings and parties.
When the family matriarch, Lourdes Romulo Kipping, died, ownership of the house passed on to the only son, Carlos Kipping Jr. and his wife, Visitacion Agana Kipping. Together, they raised eight children in the Kipping House.
As is usual with most families, marriage, work, and ambition have driven the Kipping children to settle elsewhere. The Kipping House, once so cherished, is now deserted and for sale.
The author's grandfather, Carlos Kipping, on the left, with his grandmother Silvestra Bauzon Rivera, Leonor Rivera's mother. She raised him after Leonor Rivera’s death and Charles Henry Kipping ‘s departure for England. (Photo by Michael Kipping)
Our grandfather, Carlos Kipping, remodeled the old house in the early 1950’s. (Photo by Michael Kipping)
Unlike my Kipping cousins, the Camiling House was not my residence, my day-in day-out home, one from which I would leave in the morning and return after school or work. The Kipping House was and continues to be the safe haven of most of the happy memories of my childhood. Although I have said good-bye to many homes in my lifetime, it is different for Camiling. While all the moves have been steps in progression to newer, better places and expectations, Camiling remains a constant. It was always there, a place to which I could escape when things were difficult, no matter how far away I was.
Let me take you on a memory walk.
I arrive through the back driveway and I run up the azotea steps to find Mama Ing in her escotada housedress, waiting for me. She gives me a hug and a once over, remarking that I either looked all right or I was too skinny. The azotea smells like roses because it is lined with her rose collection, one of my grandmother’s many hobbies.
We proceed to the kitchen, dominated by a huge wood-burning stove. It is a spacious room with big windows and a white formica table surrounded by unusual stools, former ticket stub holders from the once family-owned Cine Oriente. The kitchen is a busy place. Mama Ing is almost always found cooking something delicious; her special white adobo, or pancit sotanghon, or bawan. It is this room that is the center of activity for the family.
Leonor Rivera, our great grandmother. (Enhanced picture from Mix Jimenez)
From the kitchen, I peek into the upstairs dining room, a rectangular room with huge windows that overlook the driveway. This is the family dining area, closest to the kitchen and the scene of intimate dinners. Papa Yos always sits at the cabezera, Mama Ing is usually in and out, making sure that the food is hot. As a child, I sit next to Papa Yos, across from Mama Ing. I play with this little crystal dish, wondering what it is, and Papa Yos tells me it is a salt cellar. I remember Mama Ing urging me “to eat some more.”
The next room adjoining the dining room is the altar room. The statue of the Señor Nazareno dominates the room while the statue of Señor Desmayo occupies one corner. In the summer, old ladies in baro at saya come to pray novenas here. During Lent, the two Señors are loaded onto decorated carros, part of the Lenten procession. Before any trip, I pray before the Santos for a safe journey.
I stop by the bathroom to wash my hands and I remember the red and black retro bathroom of old, so chic with black glass tiles and a vermillion red tocador and mirror. It was here that Mama Ing talked to me about being a lady, saying I “should always smell nice.” She leaves a box of Spiro deodorant powder on the tocador for me “to dust on after you bathe.” It is here that I remember putting on makeup for the Camiling town fiestas.
I tiptoe to the next room. This is where I slept most summers under a mosquito net on an iron bed painted white. I listen to Lola Ninang tell tales about her past and the parties she attended. I hear santol falling to the ground from the tree outside the window. It is under this santol tree that my umbilical cord is buried together with a book and a sheet of music after my birth 75 years ago. I think of it as my santol tree.
The next room is my grandparents' room: twin beds; a three-mirrored tocador; a desk and a rocking chair. I hear the familiar creak of Mama Ing’s rocking chair as she says her nightly rosary and her snores when she falls asleep.
I exit my grandparents' bedroom and proceed to the balcony. From the balcony, I can see across to the plaza and then to the church. It is here most evenings that I wait for the Angelus bell to ring, and I pray together with other passers-by who have also stopped on their way home. “One must always be home before the Angelus bell,” I hear Mama Ing say.
The author's grandparents, Carlos Kipping and Lourdes Romulo-Kipping, on their wedding day. (Photo by Michael Kipping)
The bedroom next to the balcony was originally my Tita Linda’s room, later occupied by T. Carling and T. Bessie. At one time, it had a half moon alcove that housed a half moon mirrored aparador. As a child, I was told not to enter this room unless invited.
The space between the bedrooms is the upstairs living room. It is not used much as a gathering place but more as a passageway to the balcony from the bedrooms. The balcony and the kitchen are the rooms used most for gathering. I pass through the living room and go down the stairs. Papa Yos’ pride, the staircase is “like a fan, ya singa abanico.” From the staircase, I look down to the side terrace, the scene of the first party I hosted, an all-girl jam session. The guests were the members of Tita Tessie’s summer choir.
While upstairs is more intimate and for family, downstairs is more formal and for guests. The huge living room is tiled in black and white. A piano sits on a raised platform. This is where I would entertain my grandparents with dances on summer nights, my grandmother banging out the only selection she knew how to play.
There are three more bedrooms and two bathrooms on this floor. One room has been air-conditioned since 1951. It was Papa Yos’ attempt to make us more comfortable in the Camiling heat upon our arrival from the USA. There is also a formal dining room and space for another kitchen. The bedroom to the right of the dining room houses twin beds. This is where Papa Yos and I took our siestas, him lulling me to sleep with many kuwentos. Outside the room, Mama Ing and her mahjong classmates play the whole afternoon.
From the downstairs living room, the front door opens into a pebble-tiled porch, the scene of family pictures at Christmas time.
And then the garden!
A Family Photo. Seated : Rosalinda Kipping Torres, Lourdes Romulo Kipping. Standing: Remedios Kipping Jimenez (the author's mother), Carlos Kipping, Jr., Carlos Kipping (Photo by Michael Kipping)
I spent a lot of time in the garden when I was young. On the left, eight kalachuchi (frangipani) trees usually in full bloom during the summer. I would climb the trees and look down on a gazebo-like structure that was my mother’s idea. Further on, stand Mama Ing’s glorious Melendres bushes in pink, lavender, and white. (In the USA, these are crape myrtles.) To one side, there is the little fish pond where Papa Yos and I would use pan de sal balls as bait to catch fish. In the middle of the fish pond is a hill with a village, with tiny houses and a little bridge. I liked to walk across the tiny bridge, balancing myself carefully, fearful that I would fall into the water. Little palm trees stand guard at the four corners of the pond.
While the front garden is ornamental, the backyard is utilitarian. There is the sweet santol tree by my bedroom window. There is an isis tree, the leaves so rough it was used to clean plates and silverware. There is a fruitful kamias tree, its trunk laden with fruit useful in many dishes. Huge pomelo trees line one wall of the back yard. The whole garden is fenced in with grill work bearing the initials CRK, Carlos Rivera Kipping.
Ah, Papa Yos! Ah, Mama Ing! What would you say to us now?
But we must be practical, everyone says….
When I am gone from this life, I will return to this house of my birth and be its gentle ghost. I will make sure that all who rest under its roof will have only peaceful, happy thoughts and dreams.
I bid farewell to the Kipping House!
Rita Maria J. Mata
Rita Maria J. Mata is the eldest Kipping grandchild. She lives in Silver Spring, MD.
