Friday, July 24, 2020

Digging Deeper into Childhood Memories




Of waving green balili grass undulating with the wind.  Of quaint nipa huts with dirt floors.  Of bitter-tasting rain water as drinking water from an earthen banga, fed and replenished by rain flowing from the nipa roof.  Of dusty rolling streets where noisy kids paddled their rickety rubber wheels, up and down.  Of a decrepit panaderia at the bottom of the road.  Of an old lady named Inoria resting in her creaky lantay, selling the most delightful bread and pastries a child could hanker.  Etc.

Of these are the itchy splinters that keep resurfacing, as I recall distant time of youth in the bosom of then enviable Cebu City, in the colorful milieu of my mother, her mother, and their relatives.  Mostly of renowned birth, but quite simple and unpretentious in living style and quarters.

My mother originated from old Cebuano families with roots that dated back to early Spanish times. My father who was himself from old Cagayanon families married into that.  Thus, as kids we had spent time in both Cagayan de Oro and Cebu.  While I was already born in Cagayan de Oro, my elder siblings were born in Cebu.

As such, part of my early youth was spent in Cebu and these recollections partake of that part of my growing years.  Of times when we vacationed in Cebu in my grandmother’s house located close to the intersection of old Sikatuna St. with D. Jakosalem Street., a rather quaint section of the city with narrow lonely streets then as now.  We lived intimately nestled close to relatives of my mother.  That meant most of our neighbors then were close relatives, and thus we lived in a small community of extended families.  All this spelled happy and lively times of camaraderie and laughter for the many kids around there.

Thus I reminisce of cool afternoons, just roaming around with other kids inside my grandmother’s homestead which was essentially an empty lot save for the two diffident huts, blanketed by tall green balili grass waving in cadence with slow breezes of the afternoons.  And we kids would just romp and play, tumbling and horsing around not really minding that later on our bodies would get itchy from the grass.  But as kids we frolicked in gay abandon.

My grandmother’s house was situated closer to the lower end of the road downgrade which originated from D. Jakosalem St., set back a bit from the road.  A little bit up but closer to the road was the even smaller house of my grandmother’s little sister, Lola Pepang Ramirez.  Both houses were close enough for conversations to be carried with ease between the two places.  And these modest homes paled in comparison to the size of the lot that grandmother owned.  And she also possessed more real estate in other parts of the province.


My grandmother’s house was a very retiring nipa hut with dirt floors, though the bedrooms may have been a bit elevated and thus had wooden or bamboo floors.   I do not recall our having electric lights then, nor indoor plumbing.  We had drinking water coming from a banga that was fed with rain water coming from the roof.   My grandmother being widowed early, I do not have any recollection of my grandfather.  Similarly, her little sister was also already widowed when they lived close to each other.  One significant thing I do remember what my grandmother busied herself with after her prayers which spanned throughout the whole day was that she was so attached to sewing and darning clothes.  And she was so good at it in detail and symmetry, that the result looked like they were done by machines.  This I can easily recall because I used to watch her often.  And this experience I believe may have also gotten me interested and into sewing and darning clothes.  And this acquired skill has done me good up to this day.

In this rustic environment, we spent whatever little time we garnered during our not so often vacations to the land of my mother, embraced by a tiny neighborhood of good-looking relatives, a welcomed result of an admixture of different ethnic hues obtaining in that place. From Spaniards, to Chinese, and other mestizos.  Grandmother’ stock was considered Mestizo Sangley, and her husband was most likely with Spanish blend.



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