My writing
I tend to fantasize of being a writing hobbyist. It is just unfortunate that so far none of my writing works came close to half as good as I imagined them before I started putting them together. Titles and expressions just seem corny, conclusions not related to main topic, and there is some tendency to become defensive and biased. In short, I am dumber than many people think I am.
I used to shy away from speaking or even writing in English for fear of being laughed at or made fun by my audience, so cruel. The wrath of karma, as I used to do the same to other people years ago, not sure, but many of us do that during the bad old days.
I just realized recently that expecting too much from one’s own skills is just too harsh. Accepting the fact that we cannot be perfect and accepting mistakes and errors as opportunities for improvement gave me the courage to go out and share whatever little possessions I can share.
My exposure to a multi-cultural environment helped me realize that the essence of speaking and writing is simply to transfer ideas, thoughts, knowledge, or information from the depth of one’s cerebral contents and into the lava-coated brain of another person – communication. Whatever language you use, Tagalog, English, Bisaya, Waray, etc., the main point is to transfer information. Being able to impress or entertain people with your writing or speaking are bonuses though.
Right now I am shouting to the whole world to become shameless like me. Speak up……. write up…...and learn as you go. Do not let misgrammars, misspells, or mispronunciations get in the way of effective communication. People are now showing their butts on facebook! What else is there to be more ashamed of? :)
The Sea is my friend
I would like to exaggerate that I have already touched every grain of sand in the Anahawnon shores with my feet and hold the greatest number of rocks hurled into the sea when playing sagaysay was one of the coolest things I could do on earth as a child. Of course, these are partly fruits of my faint recollection of childhood days and are probably contaminated with my inventive imaginations.
Before the times of Nintendo, I would play toy cars out of small rocks along the shores of Lo-ok and make sand structures the way today’s kids would play with Lego blocks. On some seasons, we would be collecting precious shells we call sigay, katipan, and bulalo. Sigay was the more general term that refers to those shells but is usually used to refer only to the smaller ones. Katipan is the one that we value the most. They are about 2 to 3 times the size of sigay and come in shiny black and white colors. We would laugh at the bulalos as they are the least valued ones. I don’t know how far along the shore I have reached just scouring for these precious little ones but I heard some playmates got as far as Ambao, a barangay of Hinundayan next to Sagbok.
It was a time when fishing and panutsar was the favorite past time among peers. The kids during my time would play in the seas even during seasons of one and half meter high waves. I learned to swim on my own when I was about 4 years old and almost drowned in the process (my parents did not know this :). I can swim on to anchored pump boats as far as hundred of meters away from shore just to play climb-and-dive. I know almost every major tanggapas in the Tagup-on coast. Tanggapas are those big spooky coral rocks undersea which allow us to stand up to hip level and rest mid-sea during a long swim. The average kid during those times could swim twice the distance that I can cover without touching dry lands so I was kind of on the lower end when it comes to swimming skills.
While some kids of today like to boast of how long they can hold their breaths, the kids during my time would compete on how deep they can dive by touching the sea floor and bring sand-in-hand back to the surface to show as proof of the touch-down. That is as much as five meters deep and the kids were as young as 5 or 6 years old.
While some kids of today like to boast of how long they can hold their breaths, the kids during my time would compete on how deep they can dive by touching the sea floor and bring sand-in-hand back to the surface to show as proof of the touch-down. That is as much as five meters deep and the kids were as young as 5 or 6 years old.
I have also heard true stories of world war II shipwrecks in our seas. I know they are true :). They are still there until now.
The Anahawan Underworld
The last time I visited the place, the access to the underworld were all sealed from the outside. It is just fine, as I no longer have any intention of going back down there.:)
As curious kids we would explore even the most polluted creek of Anahawan including its drainage systems. We would go down to those dark tunnels just for the sake of adventure. Sometimes, it would be part of having fun fishing in these creeks. The eel was our priciest catch but isdang gamayon (the name suggests it is small, but it is actually among the biggest) was also a treat. We never meant to eat them though. We were only after the fun of catching them. Some, however, would buy our catch for whatever purpose it may serve them, including probably, as a special delicacy on their dining table :).
Really I have dipped into those polluted rivers up to knee-deep playing with those cute tadpoles. And we would do that even with open wounds on our legs. We never got sick though, nor suffered any infections. By the standards of those days, it was a really really polluted creek. But considering that fishes, tadpoles, some species of prawns, and eels were able to survive on those waterways, I would wonder how polluted is a polluted river. Today, the ones we consider as polluted could no longer support those interesting forms of life and just breathing the air along the Pasig River could already make me sick, literally.
Today, a part of that creek and drainage system was already sealed with concrete and now serves as footing for the newest tiangge of Anahawan.
The Trees Are My Brothers
I don’t know how to describe it, but climbing trees were like a drug to many kids during my time. The guava tree was one of our favorites as it gives the thrill of finding those pricy fruits. We were still unaware of the nutritional value of the guava fruit but perhaps, it was one of the reasons why we don’t easily get sick during those times. In the school, namayabas (wandering for guava fruits) was used to describe kids who cut classes and get the axe grades.
The santol tree maybe was our second favorite but I avoid climbing them. They are just too high. Usually my role was just the picker. Someone would climb up and throw santols down. I would then run to wherever the fruits would fall, gather them and then share among friends later.
One partner kid in some of these crimes gave tip on how to remove evidence of these adventures with the trees. Always remove the mansarikos that cling to your shorts and wash the mud off from your slippers before entering your home's doorstep. Depending on your parent's mode, you may not be very lucky if they find out why they were not able to find you the whole afternoon.:)
By the way, we never knew who own those trees and we just don’t care. Anyway, who does? The lands during those times don’t have boundaries and there just seem too much abundance of all those fruits. Probably, maybe we were just lucky we never got caught:). Panglasik (gathering fallen coconuts) was not a serious crime yet but today people would now settle such offenses at the barangay chairman’s office.
The avocado, tambis, and mango would grow at almost any vacant lot in town. They were very mouth-watering on some seasons but we do not dare climb them as they grow near the owner’s house :). On the way home from school we would try to hit those fruits with rocks or some piece of heavy twigs and hope they would fall as we hit them. By luck we would get our rewards and run away though most of the time it was simply for the fun of hitting the targets high up there.:)
The butong has proven to have more bonding powers among classmates than any other gimiks of today. I guess I could remember entering a high school class one time and found either no other classmates or just a couple of them. The rest were gone. I just found out later that they all went out to have some affairs with the coconut trees somewhere. :)
Where The Rivers Have No Names
I got mystified why the rivers of Anahawan do not have names. Or did I just miss learning about their names? I had fun swimming at Busay sa Lo-ok and Busay sa Dijo but I just know of their names that way. I can't also remember any name that refers to that Tagup-on creek-turned-domestic-drainage-system. I heard of Sapang Mabaho (attaname!:)) before. Is it the creek that lies somewhere along the Tagup-on and Lo-ok boundary?
Okay, Mainit has a name, but it seems it refers only to that spot where the hot spring is. Downstream as it flows through the Mahalo river it is no longer called Mainit, or is it?
Okay, Mainit has a name, but it seems it refers only to that spot where the hot spring is. Downstream as it flows through the Mahalo river it is no longer called Mainit, or is it?
How about Danao? It is lake, of course. It is not a river but I would like to plug this unique Anahawan feature here, nevertheless. I have been there once and I believe every Anahawnon should be able to visit there at least once in his or her life. Try the climb and experience National Geographic in real life.
Dogs Were Not My Best Friends
I got chased by dogs at least twice when I was about 3 or 4 years old. One time, on the way home from the old public market, I was carrying a live chicken with both of its legs tied together. One dog chased me and I was not aware that it was after the chicken I was holding. I ran away with my dear chicken and I think that is what they would call a "chicken run". :) Some adults came to the rescue and I arrived home safe.... with my chicken.
The suckers finally got me a few years later. I got bitten at least 3 times. One time, after beating another kid on a kiddie street fight, I accidentally stepped on the leg of one female dog (I prefer calling it female dog rather than b***h for decency's sake) which, I believe had just given birth to some ugly puppies. I almost fainted not because of the bite, but because of the shock brought about by its sharp barks that sounded like a battle cry in war movies. As if to add more punishment for being a bad kid, the dog owner, who happened to be the parent of that kid I have just beaten, would offer some form of anti-rabies oil that tastes like hell. I could just imagine the laugh on that kid's face when their dog made the revenge for him. They say it contains some parts of snake intestines, some herbs, and then some oils. Anyway, due to some scary stories they told me about rabies, I tried it and experienced hell on earth. It felt like a thousand Hiroshima Bombs going down my throat and explodes in my belly to throw out everything I have eaten for the last 24 hours.
For the record, I never hold grudges against the canine species.:) Anyway, it is already more than two decades and I never experience any of those rabies stories. Well, the morale of the story is: "Never walk backwards when there are dogs around."
"Special thanks to Lanie Luta for allowing me to use these excellent photos of Anahawan."
