My Story

This happened while I was in med school.

It was during the end of our second year.

I was hoping I could go home for the vacation. We had a tight schedule since the next school year was expected to start early and our grades weren't released yet. Then it happened.

I was able to go home. Most of us passed. :)

***

The night before my travel back home, I called my mamang. I told her I'm going home, of course. She said Okey.

"Magluto ko'g alimango". She told me, "Dugay na man ka wala kakaon ug alimango no?", of course. I said Okey.

I went home the next night.

The travel was long. This is the usual route I follow going home. From Cebu, we would stop by Dumaguete then arrive at Dapitan Port the next morning. Then I take the tricycle ride going to Dipolog. That's 30 minutes of sitting on a vibrating piece of metal covered with a thin foam and some synthetic leather. Most of the time my butt would feel so numb that I can't even feel I have a butt. It's like Lidocaine drip localized on your ass. If you're unlucky enough you'd end up sitting at a back of the driver with your hand holding on to the tricycle roof, in one position!

Now that would be general anesthesia.

That position was set when the tricycle wasn't traveling yet. It's like playing "P.S. I love You" and no one tags you to say "I Love You" for 30 minutes while sitting on traveling motorcycle, holding on to dear life with a vibrating metal under your ass when you'd start going on your way to another City.

Oh, did I mention about the baggage? Yep, your baggage would be safe and sound on top of the roof or at the back of the tricycle provided it was held secure by plastic rope, and if you're unlucky enough, by a plastic straw. Then it would be like playing "P.S. I love You" and no one tags you to say "I Love You" for 30 minutes while sitting on traveling motorcycle, holding on to dear life with a vibrating metal under your ass while saying please don't fall again and again with eyes focused on your bags as if you have telekinetic powers to keep them from falling. :)

The travel would also be different if you take a hired van going home. It's an air-conditioned van with broken air-conditioner, so all you'll get is a high setting from a broken fan. Can't choose where you'd be seated since you're in a hurry and most travel only when full. That is what we call "alas puno". This is also the time when human beings are equal to baggage. You'd be shoved wherever you'd fit inside the van. Together with your baggage, of course.

Then I traveled home.

I took the bus after the motorcycle ride.

Three hours later, I was home.

My older brother welcomed me literally. He had posters saying Welcome Home! It was a corny day. Then I saw my papang. "Amin ko be" I said. He stretched his hand and I made "amin".

"Asa si mamang?"

"Tua sa kusina". Papang answered. So I went there.

"Hi mamang! Amin ko be"

She smiled and stretched her left hand. "Naunsa man nang imong kamut?" as I was referring to her right hand. "Ay!, nasamad, gamay ra gud."

"Okey. Gidressingan man kaha na nimo?"

"Oo." She said.

I was so tired from traveling so I slept the whole afternoon that day and woke up by dinner time. "Timing":)


***

"Hala, kahumot sa alimango!"

It was dinner time!

I sat on the dining table where my mamang and papang with my brother were, of course, then started eating. I saw the crabs!

"Naay alimango o." my mamang said.

She gave me the best looking piece.

It looked different.

New recipe, I guess. It had dessicated coconut stuck underneath its shell and it was bathed in coconut milk. "Wow!" I took a look at it then shoved it aside.

Then my mamang asked, "Di ka ganahan?"

I replied,"Yaaak, Okey ra unta to kung walay sapal!" smiled and ate the prawns.

I failed to mention, "Lokon" (those big black prawns) was also served.

"Kato lang unta simple pagkaluto mang. Mas ganahan ko ato" I added.
She smiled and said, "Sige ugma, magluto ta ato."

We ate and talked a lot. Well, I didn't eat the crab, of course.
Mamang finished eating first. She always does. I intended to finish last. She silently sat on the chair where she usually sits after a heavy meal and watched T.V. We have cable. Remember?

Then I took my last bite.

The crabs were still there. Untouched.

I sat face to face with my mamang's new recipe. It smelled good, looked delicious, and I was wondering how it tasted, since I've never seen crabs cooked that way before. It doesn't looked like it was cooked with Alavar's sauce or something, but it looked special. Besides the stuffing, it looked like the shell was tied back to the crab. The whole thing was intact- with pincers and all. I even wondered how the coconut get stuffed inside the shell. It must have been a painful experience trying to stuff a live crab with coconut. You have to open it alive and try hard to stay away from those pincers! I smiled at the idea. I was about to take a piece and start eating, again, but I made one big excuse. I was full.

I was about to stand when my brother told me, "Di ka mukaon sa alimango?"

"Ugma nalang, Initon ra nato na." I said.

Then he told me. "Si mamang baya nagluto ana. Wala gani mi nakakaon diretso ana ganina kay gihulat ka nga mukaon".

I was lost for words. I didn't know what to say.

"Kabalo ba ka gi unsaan na pagluto ni mamang?"


My mamang cooked me a special recipe.

It was prepared that very night after I called I was going home. She asked my brother to buy the crabs that evening even when all the stores were already closed. He had to ask his friends for help just to get the fattest and tastiest crab there is because his little brother is coming home.

My mamang spent the whole night preparing those crabs. She took the shells off while the crabs were still alive and fresh, stuffed the dessicated coconut in each of the crabs shell and tied the shell back. That was just how that dish was made.

I sat down and looked at the crabs.

My tears started to fall. I had no right to hold it back.

My mamang just sat there. She was watching T.V. We had cable. Remember?

I sat beside her.

She noticed me beside her so she looked me.

"Okey ra anak." she said. "Magluto ra ta sa imong gusto ugma."

I held her hand. My tears fell.

There was nothing I can say to take back what I did.

All I could do was hold her hand.

Life and no Letters

I'm from Zamboanga.

After having said that, anyone would think I speak Chavacano.
Well I don't. I'm a half blooded Ilonggo.

Now after having said that, you would think I speak Ilonggo.
Well I don't.

I speak bisaya.

But I'm not from the Visayas since Zamboanga is in Mindanao.

My mamang speaks bisaya, but she's from Dipolog. That's one of the Cities in Western Mindanao and still part of Zamboanga Province.

Papang speaks ilonggo since my lolo and lola are from Iloilo. I just dont know where exactly.

Everytime I say what I just wrote to someone I just met, they would say, Okey. Then they would ask "Muslim ka?".

Well I'm not.

Then I would start telling my life story like this. Okey, sort of.

Im from Zamboanga Sibugay. You can't find that place in the map since most maps sold at bookstores aren't updated yet. Zamboanga Sibugay Province is a newly declared province composed of few towns which once were part of Zamboanga del Sur. I have no clear idea how we eventually ended up dividing Zamboanga del Sur since the only thing I remembered was when I was in high school, we had rallies and campaigns calling for a division. A few years later we had to change our addresses whenever we fill up forms since it seemed like we transferred to Area 51- in Mindanao. The only proof of existence of our place is when I start telling the story of the Abu Sayyaf attack in Zamboanga. But that would be another story.

I grew up in a province where life was very simple. I never thought of being a doctor when i grow up. Unfortunately, I was made to memorize a speech when I was in kindergarten saying -(imagine the young Tantor in Tarzan)- "when I grow up, I want to be a doctor". That changed everything. That also explains why I have a stethoscope on in my profile picture. Still I was happy with it. Some things could be worst.

I finnished gradeschool at a public school, for which I am proud of. I could still remember playing at our schools ground under the pouring rain together with my cousins. A few days later, we would look for mud pools created after the rain since if we find mud pools, we find tadpoles! Who could resist collecting those helpless tadpoles? We would place them in a plastic bag and suffocate them to death. Or, we could pool them in a mud pool where there will be too many of them and they'll die of dehydration.

My childhood years in the province opened my curiosity to almost anything. Back then we were practically able to identify almost all subspecies of spiders- to name a few "taga mais"," taga balay", "taga mangga", and the famous "istar-istar". Skills were developed like "bintot bintot" hunting in the corn fields, not to mention exploring the "baboy-baboy" burrows and pulling them out. We never had computers to surf then. We explore things on our own. Got stung by bees and fell from a number of trees.

My teen years were unremarkable. Well, except for the fact that our urban civilization was introduced to Cable TV. :)

Then came college. My life then became almost the same as those from the province struggling in the city to get a degree. It was no longer simple. But that's another story to tell.

***

By this time I could sense that anyone reading what I wrote would be starting to think If they could still take more of my story. So I will end here.

Honestly, I'd like to tell more. I'm just not sure if anybody would still continue reading. Even I could see this blog going blah blah blah... so I'll stop.

My life still has more stories to tell

I have nothing to say about the letters stuff though.

Have to think about it very hard.

Wait, are we suppose to get a message through here?

Ooops...

Sa Unang Higayon

First of all, I should say, I have never written any formal literary piece. Well, I did when I was in grade school but that was exclusively for the sake of getting pass through my subjects. Formal themes like "How I spent my Summer Vacation" and "My Family" ended more like "my teacher's vacation" and "her family" after the corrections were written in red ink. I am a terrible writer and my teachers could stand witness to that if ever my confession would be challenged. The statement "Out of Context" written in red ink or if I'm in lucky enough, written with a red marker- broad tip- is a regular feature of my typical reaction paper or a poem interpretation. It's not because of my teachers, it's just me. So I guess I did my fair warning for those who will be reading my blogs. :)