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Childhood memories
Everybody has a share of childhood memories. For some of us, we are lucky to have happy ones which we will always treasure.
Some of my unforgettable memories were spent in my mother's humble ancestral home in Inangayan, Sta. Barbara. Me and my siblings used to go there every weekend when my father was into farming. We would drop by at my mom's house and sometimes spend the night there. Or when it's summer vacation, a week.
Our favorite chore was putting dried leaves and cut wood in the 'pugon' in order to create fire so that grandmother could cook 'suman.' We would look in amazement as she stirs this sticky concoction with her small but strong hands. Anyone who cooks 'suman' knows that one has to have strength. Also, we would help in wrapping 'ibos' or removing the chickens' feathers before the poor animal is cooked. In those days, you make your own food. There was an abundance of live chickens in the backyard.
Another chore we enjoyed was fetching water from the deep well. At that time, water does not come easily through the faucet. In fact, there was no faucet at all. So, if you want to take a bath or wash dishes, you fetch your own water.
We would watch our grandmother take a bath near the deep well. At that time, it was okay to take a bath outside the house. The women would wrap themselves in 'patadyong' and we would always marvel at how fair my grandmother's skin was.
In the middle of the day, we would go to the orchard at the back of the house. It was filled with so many fruit trees and plants that it looked like a forest. So, we pretended to be girl and boy scouts. Remember the training on leaving trails behind? We did that.
After that, we would walk many kilometers, passing through farmlands until we reach the Iloilo Golf and Country Club. There's one house there that when we pass by it, we would run in fear. Grandmother said that it was the house of an 'aswang.' These days, it's pretty easy to be an 'aswang.' Just put on a lot of dark makeup, frown a lot and stab people at the back.
Anyway, we would go to dad's farm and help pick Indian mangoes. Or he would teach us how to drive in rough roads and valleys onboard the Scout. That was my first taste of driving. Dad said I was reckless and did not concentrate (like him). Sometimes, I wonder where the Scout is now.
We would also spend time at the swing that my grandfather made. My grandfather passed away but when I think of him, I remember two things ---- the swing he made and my mother's story of how he would carry my grandmother on his bicycle when he was courting her. She had a really bad temper, smokes and plays mahjong like crazy, but he saw her beyond that and loved her anyway.
At night, light was provided by a kerosene lamp. The next day, my cousins and I would compare whose nose had the most soot.
Now, we seldom go there. But when we do, I still search for the taste, smell and sights of my childhood days there. Ever felt that way when you visit a place of your past?
We're truly happy that our parents exposed us to life in the farm. It was there that my siblings and I learned about simplicity, a relaxed life yet filled with hard toil as well as what a real family is all about --- supportive and loving to each other.
Despite assimilating the culture of the city, I'd like to continue being a farm kid at heart --- all my life.
So, every time the complexities of city life is getting into me, I would hie off to my favorite spot --- that part where I tuck away my childhood memories. Like today.
(What's your unforgettable childhood memory? E-mail to katvillalon@yahoo.com or SMS to 0928-5057-824)