I am writing this blog because this might be the only time I have to reminisce my childhood years. A lot of things have changed and somehow, I want to share to my readers what I experienced which I know will never be experienced anymore by this and the future generation.
I grew up in a village around eight kilometers away from the town proper. I can still remember I was very young then when I first wondered why I was born in the boondocks. What if God gave a twist in my life and made me born in the city, or in another province, let’s say in Mindanao, or in another country? I could have been enjoying a very different life.
My parents are both elementary school teachers. They teach at the barangay school in the next village. We are poor. We live only in a house made of splitted bamboos and anahaw leaves for the roof. It is elevated few meters from the ground. We have a spacious balconaje where my sisters Ethel and Myra play. Ethel is already grown up then and I seldom see her because she was studying then in Manila. Myra, on the other hand, was my worst enemy. We always argue on everything. Probably because of our eight years gap. My favorite toy then is a duckling with wheels. I inherited it from my cousins in Manila. Lola Loring, dad’s mom, brought it to me one time she went to our province.
I have a few playmates then, mostly our neighbors. We play a lot of outdoor games ranging from bahay-bahayan, taguan, barilan, and the likes. Sometimes, they let me join them in shepherding their carabaos. We ride at the paragos and endure the whippings of bushes in our bodies. My first time was terrible. I panicked because I thought that the paragos will turn upside down. Only when my elder neighbors assured me that it never will because of its design that I calmed down.
During the month of May, all children from our village are instructed to participate in Mother Mary devotion. We search the wilderness for wildflowers and other colorful stuffs to toss to the image of Mary when we parade her to the altar. My most favorite then is the fire tree. I am very amazed with its color – yellow-orangy with lollipop-like pistils.
May 15 is the feast of San Isidro Labrador, the patron of farmers. Our town celebrates it with aranyas at baluartes. My mom always bring me to the town proper to see the sights and wait for the procession. When the image of the saint passed by a balwarte, all stuffs like fruits, vegetables, coconuts, and other agri-products are being dropped from arches, causing a friendly chaos among people who try their best to get their share of loot. One time, my mother got engaged with her tete-a-tete with Ninang Mila that she forgot the time of procession. When we checked the baluartes, nothing’s left except for the trash that the commotion created.
I also remember Nanang Lilia and her stories of horror. She’s our neighbor and the mom of my playmates. Sometimes, when mom doesn’t allow me to go with her at work, she leaves me to Nanang Lilia’s custody. Inihabilin is the tagalog term for that. I usually cry when she doesn’t allow me to go with her but I got used to it after many months. One time, they have a night affair in the school and it’s already 10:00 in the evening. Nanang Lilia prepared my bed in their house and I began my silent cry. Then I saw her and Tatang Sonny put the buntot-pagi and bolo on their bedside. I ask them why and they began telling me stories about mananangggal and tikbalangs. I think I was gullible then that I believed in the stories at least for that night but I am not afraid. I don’t know, but I am just not afraid of them.
Sometimes, when my parents leave me at the neighbor’s house, I wander around our area. I put on the medal of my dad (saw it hanging in the wall and its nice to wear) and walked until I find something interesting. My uncle Johnny then maintains a tupada. It’s a cockpit made out of bamboo and usually illegal. I would peep in the cockpit wearing that medal and rub elbows with people I do not know. Now that I am already old and I realize my stupidity then, I can’t help but smile.
I have a lot of memories and I have to put it in record so I will not forget it. Some are already scattered in the corners of my mind and I know I am in the verge of losing them. But I am happy that I was able to experience it. Not all people were able to catch dragonflies and chase fireflies at night. Not everyone danced and sang in the rain with playmates and went to the river to catch talangka and hito afterwards. Not everyone hiked from one village to another because the road is too muddy for vehicles to pass by (actually I did not hike, I was carried by an elder neighbor in his shoulders).
In the age of starbucks and facebook, these are treasures that only a few enjoy.
