The awesome Haydee Yorac
Lucid Interval
First posted 05:34am (Mla time) Sept 20, 2005
By Rowena V. Guanzon
INQ7.net
SHOCK AND AWE is not something you experience only in war. You would have experienced that if you went to the University of the Philippines College of Law and you had professors like Haydee Yorac, Beinvenido Ambion, Ruben Balane, Myrna Feliciano, Perfecto Fernandez and Araceli Baviera. In those days we had no air-conditioned classrooms, and the toilets were frequently without water. But even if we had no roof over our heads and only the air to breathe, we were only too grateful to be in Malcolm Hall, where giants did not sleep. Where else would one rather go to study law if she wanted to be, in the words of Haydee Yorac, a “good enough” lawyer? If you survived the college of law, and I mean not just the grades but also your ego, then you can be let loose to the unsuspecting public, who might make some good use of you yet.
I think that what makes one’s experiences in law school unforgettable are our professors. Professor Ambion was late all the time, and I mean really late, as in six hours late, and no one complained. If you didn’t want to learn, you didn’t have to wait, but wait we all did. We waited until he came in his familiar dark green double knit loose pants and long sleeves shirt, with a folded newspaper in his hand. Criminal Law under Professor Ambion was no guessing game. It was a game of endurance, to see who would last the longest — the professor or us.
If you were called to recite, you would continue to be asked questions until you could not answer. When Professor Ambion knew that you were no longer competent, another would be called. Some classes ended at past 10 at night, and since he would not take a ride with any of his students, he would walk to the nearest bus station. And there went everyone in the class who had a car, following Ambion in a caravan without his knowledge to make sure he got on the bus safely.
I gave Professor Ambion white handkerchiefs every year for his birthday, which he accepted. But to earn that privilege, I had to study five books in Criminal Law aside from the Revised Penal Code, and all the cases cited there. One time I was on my feet for more than an hour of graded recitation, and I knew which books his questions came from. He finally said, “You may go, Ms Guanzon,” and I walked out of the classroom, into the corridor, like I was walking on air.
Professor Araceli Baviera taught us Sales, and the trick was to learn from her notwithstanding that she was mumbling half of the time. Professor Baviera was a mystery to us, and we fantasized that maybe once upon a time, she and Professor Ambion had some torrid love affair. In the U.P. College of Law, the best way to get even with your professors was to study so that you would always be ready for recitation or imagine some silly stories about them, build a thick plot of suspense, romance and intrigue, until the bell rings.
Ruben Balane believed in the dictum that when you are afraid you will study like crazy. An expert in succession, he no longer teaches in the college. He is best remembered for his first day of class reminder that “freshmen have no kaput.”
Perfecto Fernandez taught us Constitutional Law, and when I had a question I chased him all the way to the elevator of the Law Center. When inside the elevator, he faced me with his gray hair and unshaven chin and, as the doors closed, said, “Think, Ms Guanzon, think!”
Myrna Feliciano who was perpetually shouting “be quiet!” in the library, taught us Statutory Construction, something that we didn’t know at that time would be one of the most useful subjects when one is in law practice.
These were the giants that once ruled Malcolm Hall. Every step they took in the corridors were watched by the students, just in case they would give away a clue, a hint perhaps that they were humans like us who slept, laughed, and were sometimes afraid. I later learned that they were all that when we have passed the Bar.
Of all of them, the most awesome was Haydee Yorac. When she walked in the corridors the students thought that the gods had descended, and Haydee Yorac was the god of punishment. One look, and all your bad dreams would come true. One look and you will be turned into stone. The students who were walking towards her would part like the Red Sea to let her through, certain that if they got nearer than two feet they would burn. When the students greeted her “Good Afternoon” she would glare at them as if it was a sin for a mere mortal to greet a professor.
As a student I always thought that Haydee must have been laughing in the faculty room and fixed her face before she went out to the corridor, to be sure she looked fearsome enough. I mean, no one could wear that terror look at all times and be happy. But since it made the students study harder, Professor Yorac’s unsmiling face had teaching value.
Vicky Roman, former student and client of Haydee’s, remembers that the staple food for the brain during the first day of class was Haydee’s “It does not matter if you are the son of a king. It does not matter if you have power or money. The only thing that matters in this class is intelligence.” And so the story that went on for years was that Ferdinand “Bongbong” Marcos Jr., who enrolled in the evening class, got his rightful share of “I don’t care if you are the son of god” from Professor Yorac, who taught Succession and Persons and Family Relations. Bongbong Marcos quit in his first semester.
As a teacher, Haydee used simple words to explain complex concepts. Her exams were from six in the evening till kingdom come, and the questions were based on only one story. From that story, all that you know about the subject would be squeezed from your poor brain. And you could not make excuses, because Professor Yorac said that the only thing she would accept as an excuse for not taking the exam was a death certificate. But beneath this veneer of toughness was a compassionate heart.
When Victoria Roman asked to be excused from the exam because she was bleeding and feared an abortion, she saw warmth and understanding on Professor Yorac’s face. She later became Haydee’s client, and when Vicky was in tears while giving her testimony about her children, Haydee looked as pleased as a cat that had swallowed a mouse that Vicky, also a lawyer, showed her emotions in court.
While teaching law, Haydee was already famous for joining protest marches against Ferdinand Marcos and taking on human rights cases. One of these was the case of fellow Ilonggo Behn Cervantes and Lino Brocka, who were arrested for sedition in 1985. Haydee was their lead counsel together with William Chua, Frank Chavez and Arnu Sanidad.
In times like this, Haydee would never have stayed quiet. But Haydee Yorac, teacher, dedicated and honest public servant, Ramon Magsaysay Awardee for public service, died of cancer at 64. The eldest child of the late Jose Miranda Yorac of Sarabia, Negros Occidental and 91 year-old Josefa Bofill from Capiz province, Haydee was a national treasure for the Negrenses. We have had powerful politicians and influential people in government, but none gave us as much pride as Haydee Yorac.
Haydee will be greatly missed by a nation in turmoil, said Pablo Sanidad of the Free Legal Assistance Group. Journalists who covered Haydee in the Presidential Commission on Good Government and the Commission on Elections have only admiring words for her. Journalist Sheila Coronel describes her as a fighter and a believer in the most important things: human rights, integrity in government, clean elections. These are qualities sorely lacking in many people in government today.
Haydee Yorac served the people and the government with unquestionable integrity, a solid character and unmatched brilliance. She made no compromises nor gave political favors. She did not say one thing and did another. She was as independent as independent can be, and if Haydee Yorac were the standard, very few men and women in government will not pass the test. As Pablo Sanidad of Free Legal Aid said, many people who say they serve the interest of the people would not pass the glare of Haydee Yorac.
We will miss you Haydee Yorac, and your pets Bambi, Hancy and Mikey (whom she named after Michael Reisman, her Constitutional Law professor in Yale), who had the good fortune of receiving a lot of your affection, will miss you. You showed us what exemplary public servants should be like, and we are grateful. I can see you raising your fist and shout “Padayon!” (continue!). I hope that future generations of Filipinos will follow your example, you who never got tired of fighting for what is right and protesting what is wrong.
*****
COMMENTS & NOTES ON HAYDEE YORAC:
From Helen Tiu:
your article brought tears to my eyes…
you know what, we should think of doing something for Baviera who is still alive before it is too late. Can we get together a group to specially honor her by giving a dinner or something? Di ba she has a niece na batch ‘85, maybe we can find out what her current pressing needs (financial or otherwise) are and do something for her….
helen
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from lisa shepard:
A moving nostalgic piece…so vivid I could imagine you walking on air down
Malcolm Hall.
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FromJake Irwin Estrada:
Dear Ms. Guanzon: Just wanted to tell you what I think about the story you wrote about Haydee Yorac. It was great. The imagery was very vivid, I could even smell the stink of the Malcom Hall restrooms and the sound with which the ageing elevator shut its doors. Most importantly, your narrative gave a “human face” to Ms. Yorac, which unfortunately the common people such as myself have had less opportunities to witness. I admire very very few other people more than Ms. Yorac, and your story only intensified my respect for her and my desire to try to emulate her, though to the most negligible extent–or at least teach my kids her ways and what she stood for. You have a gift, Ms Guanzon, and I could only imagine how mesmerized your court audience could be everytime you deliberate your case. Godspeed. Jake Irwin Estrada Founder and gen. manager, Qwertyworks.com UP-Diliman stud. no. 94-17902
