My Fond Memories ...

Growing-up In Bansalan
by Amado "Madz" Artajo

All my life, Bansalan is the only place I can call my own. I have gone to many places in the different parts of the country but Bansalan has etched an endearing spot in my heart. Bansalan is where I grew-up and acquired a myriad of fond memories which I still treasure even to this day. When thinking of my childhood days in our town, I can't help but smile as I bring back to the fore those memories that were funny and yet some were heartrending. 

Back then, my parents were usually unable to provide me with school allowance. To earn money, I have to sell biko (rice cake) courtesy of the late Nang Beatrice Alejandre. I have to peddle biko all over the town and while on the way I have to shout to the top of my voice, "Ay..biko init pa....biko mo dinha....biko nga kon kaonon lami...biko...bikoooo..bikooo". After the days toil, Nang Beatrice would give me my commission, normally from 15 to 20 centavos. And that was quite a significant amount in those days where a bottle of Coke would only cost 10 cents.

Sometimes, I have to sell bread called Francis baked at Baquiano bakery and following the same routine, I would go around town yelling in all directions, "Francis...francis kamo dinha init pa...francis..francis". After the end of the day, I would end-up with a lot of money. But the price to pay was quite heavy for I lost my voice after that daylong of shouting. Francis bread way back in the mid-60s was popular in our town. It literally "sells like hotcakes", so Mr. Baquiano's business was faring briskly at that time.

During town fiesta time, I have to sell barbecues near the peryahan (the place with carnivals and where all the types of games of chance were present). A disaster happened one night when I went home empty-handed. I lost all the day's earnings playing bingo. My mother was so mad at me for she badly needed the money to buy food for our family. As a punishment, she whacked my butt with a belt, enough to elicit a painful cry.

I still remember a time when my mother asked me to fetch water in Bugak which is one kilometer away from our house. Placing the can in the cart, I drove all the way to Bugak. When I arrived there, a lot of people were already lining-up waiting for their turn. Out of boredom, together with my friends, we went to the Miral river to swim. Then we went to the grassland to gather spiders. We placed the spiders that we gathered in a match box. Later, we put two spiders in a broomstick and let them fight with each other. While the two spiders fought ferociously, we were loudly cheering for our proteges. While our eyes were glued to the action, my mother arrived and went straight towards me like a raging bull.  She pinched me in the ear while I was imploring her to stop for I was terribly hurt. Sensing the gravity of the situation, my playmates hastily scampered away like bees whose colony was attacked. My mother told me later that she was mad at me for they were not able to take their lunch because they were waiting for the water which supposedly I have to deliver before lunchtime. Out of guilt, I embraced my mother tightly and promised not to ever do it again.      

While I was studying in town, my father asked me to go home to our farm every weekend to help him with the farmwork. Usually, my father would assign me to pasture the carabao every morning. I have to wake up early morning for the pasture chores. One eventful day, while I was pasturing the carabao in an open field teeming with verdant grass, the tranquil silence of the wilderness induced me into a deep slumber. Then I dreamed that lots of money fell down from the sky. And voila, I was the only person who was able to amass those manna from heaven. As that fantasy would have it, I was transformed into the richest person on earth (the rags to riches story).

While I was in fantasy land, the carabao intruded into the cornfield where the sturdy and juicy stalks of the corn plants stood invitingly. Then I was awakened by a familiar voice of my father, who was shouting and cursing me. Fearing the consequences, I felt like the blood in my face were drained away especially when I saw that the carabao had consumed almost all the corn plants in the field. My father definitely was not amused by what he saw, considering the backbreaking job that he had exerted in cultivating the cornfield.  I knew that he cannot accept the thought that his efforts were all for naught. His face was marked with outrage, like a serpent who is about to devour its prey. With gnashing teeth, he hastily tied me in a coconut tree inhabited by ants as a punishment for that grave negligence. I cried begging for him to untie me because the ants were slowly feasting all over my body. But my father never relented despite my pleadings and staunchly stood on his ground. My prayers were answered when my mother hurriedly came and intervened leading to my eventual rescue. Yes, I was tied by my father in that coconut tree filled with ants for nearly an hour.

The most touching story of my early life occurred during my school days. I was in my third grade at that time. While my classmates went to the canteen during recess to buy snacks, beverages and other delicacies, I just stayed in the classroom reading my book. My teacher was surprised, and asked me why I didn't go out to buy merienda in the canteen. I told my teacher that I have no money to buy food, so I  just opted to stay inside the classroom and pretended that I was not hungry. In reality, my stomach was already growling with hunger for I have not eaten my breakfast that day. As a gesture of kindness, she shared with me her merienda consisting of pandesal with margarine on it and a bottle of coke. Thinking about it today, I cannot help but felt so grateful for the generosity of my teacher who showed me the value of sharing to an unfortunate child like me. Thank you Ms. Panes wherever you are.

During lunchtime, my classmates and I would climb the santol tree, and up there we would happily eat our baon which consisted mostly of cooked corn grain and salted fish (ginamos). After taking our lunch, we would gleefully play dinakpanay (catch play or tagging game) among the branches of the tree. We were like monkeys, transferring from one branch to the other so we won't be caught by our would-be "captors". While playing vigorously, our laughters resonated around the place, we were having fun and for a moment our innocence shielded us from the harsh realities of life. I cherished our little joys despite our lack of material wealth.  

Well my fellow Bansalenos, those were my real life experiences that I can share with you. These events of my life happened during my childhood days in our hometown. Some are quite funny but the rest represented my struggles and being deprived of the comforts I yearned for during those formative years of my life. Even as a child, I have to fend for myself. But I have no regrets that I have to experience those things even at a tender age, for they strengthened my resolve to work even harder and pursue a better life for me and my family.   

(Amado M. Artajo, Jr. is a graduate from Nazareth High School batch 1968 to 1969. He finished his Bachelor of Arts, major in political science at the University of Mindanao, Davao City. At present, he is employed as a legal researcher at the House of Representatives Electoral Tribunal. He now resides in Quezon City)

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