Visions of the Past
by Lalay Rispens-Noel

During the first half of 1960s, life was simpler then in our town. We had no electricity and running water at home. We had a dirty kitchen and used firewood for cooking, which we gathered from the forest about five kilometers away from our house. Helping in the household chores was a daily routine. West Europeans would think that gathering firewood is a heavy work for 8-year-old children. But in my town, this was just another heavy work we had to do and on the contrary, we really enjoyed doing it. Gathering firewood in the forest was one of my favorite preoccupations aside from fetching water. I did not think it was a cumbersome task at all. It was the fun to be with the other children that I always looked forward to. For us, gathering firewood was just another exciting game we should never miss. Besides, no firewood and water means no food, and this was the harsh reality in life we learned to live with at an early age as simple as that.

We had a neighbor whom we called Manang Conching. She was a tiny but sturdy woman who smoked her cigarette with the burning end inside her mouth. It was quite known in our place that Manang Conching was already chopping firewood a day after she delivered her baby. She bore ten children all of them were strong and healthy. She was our leader in gathering firewood. Every Saturday as soon as the first daylight has broken, I wrapped cooked rice and dried fish with a banana leaf, filled a bottle with drinking water and placed them inside a small basket. I had with me a bolo and a rope to bind the firewood. We assembled near the riverbank. With ten other children and obedient like good Boy and Girl Scouts, we hiked to the forest with Manang Conching taking the lead.

I loved the forest. For a long time from where I stood, I gazed at the towering trees with their crowns almost touching the immense mass of clouds. I enjoyed watching at the tiny birds singing and flapping their wings with carefree abandon and the rhythmic movements of colorful butterflies and dragonflies. I longed to find a bird's nest ensconced on a branch of a tree but there was no time to do this since we had to gather firewood before it turned dark. We had so much fun, laughing and singing while gathering dried twigs and branches and bound them neatly together with a rope. We stopped around midday to eat our lunch while we took turns in telling stories about enkantada, in local folklore, a spirit that enchants or charms people. We also talked about fairies and other deities that lived in the forest. Manang Conching reminded us to gather only twigs and branches that were lying on the ground.

"Never cut any branches or twigs from the trees children," she kept on reminding us.
"But why not?" we asked.
"The fairies will be angry at us because we are hurting the trees and they might charm us. We will never find our way back home again."
"Oh, you are so superstitious Manang Conching," we answered back.
"Try it and your parents must not blame me if you cannot reach your house today," Manang Conching said firmly.

One time, when we noticed that it took us too long to reach the main road, Manang Conching told us to take off our clothes and wear them inside out. It was the belief of the local people that wearing clothes inside out was the only way to break the spell of the enkantada. Believing that we were indeed bewitched, we nervously took off our clothes and wore them inside out while hoping that the trick will indeed break the spell. Coincidence or not, we found the road. We walked back safely to our house with the bundles of firewood which we carried on our head. We learned our lesson to respect nature from Manang Conching.

For our drinking water, we had to hike another four kilometers where the only potable spring water was located. We had to leave the house at 4:00 in the morning, as the queue was very long in Bugak. My father and I pushed the cart where we placed several jerry cans. I could still hear the cacophony of chirping of the crickets and croaking of the frogs as if they performed a dawn concerto. We carried a flashlight with us because it was still very dark but sometimes if we were lucky, the moon shone so brightly that I could clearly see our own shadows following us. I wondered then if it was possible for people to live on the moon. I imagined seeing a silhouette of giant bamboo on the face of the moon. On 21 July 1969, my interest in phantasmagoric splendor of the moon and the heavenly bodies became more intense when I heard over the radio that the first man just landed on the moon. There were times that I looked at the millions of stars hanging in the skies like sparkling diamonds tucked on a black velvet. I continued gazing at the dark skies waiting patiently until I saw a shooting star so I could make my wish.

We had a large clay jar at home where my father stored our drinking water. It was an old jar that it was almost covered with moss, a very small, soft, green plant that grows close together like a carpet, which helped our drinking water stay refreshingly cool.

Life was simpler then when I was in the elementary grades. With fifteen centavos pocket money, I could already buy two boiled bananas and a glass of red gulaman, a mixture of gelatin extracted from weed and plenty of water and ice cubes that was enough to quench my thirst. Sometimes, if I got bored of the gulaman and boiled bananas, I bought fried bananas and a glass of calamansi juice. I thought I was the richest girl in the world when my father gave me 25 centavos pocket money then I could buy a bottle of coke, the most delicious and precious drink I knew when I was still a child. I asked for a bottle of coca-cola when I had a fever like it was a better medicine than any analgesics around. When I had measles, I asked for a bottle of coca-cola and a can of fruit cocktail, which my parents granted just to keep me better. No wonder that I wished to be sick always since I got what I wanted. The world that I knew of was only my little town. We hardly went to the city and if we did only between Christmas and New Year when my father brought his whole family to Davao Coca-Cola plant to watch their Christmas decorations and to get free bottles of coca-cola courtesy from the company which I drank, with much delight.

Throughout my high school years when the local electric power plant was closed down for several years, I studied my lessons with the help of a kerosene lamp. When I woke up in the morning, I cleaned my nose with the tip of my forefinger and it turned as dark as a coal. When we were young, my brothers and sisters slept in one large mat under a mosquito net. There were no TV sets then so my brothers and sisters spent the early evening inside the mosquito net telling legends and fables like why the monkey is wise, why the cashew seed is outside the fruit and many others. Or we took turns in solving riddles until we all fell asleep.

There was a river near our house where I took a bath since at that time we did not have running water at home. The crystal clear water was very cold and the rushing waters were too strong for my unsteady young limbs. Adults and children alike fetched water from the river for cooking, washing, watering the plants, and practically for everything we did that needed water. There was a part of the river where my father built a dam by piling stones on top of the other until the water was deep enough for us to swim. But the dam had a short life. The stones crumbled down each time there was a flood and it flooded almost every week especially during rainy season. But my father patiently carried and piled stones to build a new dam so children can go swimming again. He also dug a well by the riverbank where people in the neighborhood fetched water for cooking and washing their dishes. The well had the same fate with our swimming pool. When it flooded, the well disappeared completely covered with sand and mud.

My father did not mind at all digging a new well again. We knew that a big flood was coming because we can hear from a distance the roaring sound of the stones and debris swept away by the gushing water straight from the belly of the towering 10,000 feet high Mt. Apo, the highest mountain peak in the Philippines. My playmates rushed to the higher part of the riverbank and bet if there were farm animals swept away by the current. It was not all the time that the flood came rumbling down. Sometimes, we hardly noticed that the water level was gradually rising and its color changed from crystal clear to chocolate brown. We only noticed that flood was coming when our laundry started to float and some familiar stones vanished away under water. In some instances we have to run after our laundry being mercilessly carried away by the current while watchful that we left the river before the real big flood came. Watching an incoming flood was both a horrifying and fascinating experience but we welcomed the flood as it cleansed the river. My father assumed responsibility in taking care of the river near our place like a faithful steward. He gathered rubbish materials and leftovers of careless bathers. He reminded us constantly not to take a bath or washed out clothes near the well to keep the purity of the strained water.

The river formation fascinated me a lot. I was wondering where the river originated and why there was flood when it rained heavily in the mountains. Sometimes, I fancied myself going on a long trek following the course of the river until I reached its source. Finding out where the river ended would have completed my whole journey.

Long, thick bamboos, different kinds of trees and shrubs grew at the opposite side of the river. We used to play hide and seek there but often my father scolded me because he said there were plenty of snakes, scorpions, and other deadly insects in the bush. He was right of course because I saw snakes several times in the river that until today, I am still horrified to see a snake, real or just in pictures. There were hilarious moments when one of our neighbors washing clothes suddenly saw a snake coiled motionless inside her pail, which she was about to pick up. The unfortunate woman turned pale and stood motionless until we shouted at her to stay back. With the help of a long stick, we kept beating the pail until the cold-blooded reptile distracted by the commotion we created was left without a choice but to crawl back to the bamboo grooves as quickly as it could. There were plenty of fish too, especially paitan which only thrived abundantly in our river.

Several years later, I visited my hometown again. Almost all the houses in my town have already electricity and running water. Children hardly play on the street anymore, as they prefer to watch the TV during their free time. Instead of the chirping of the crickets and croaking of the frogs, it was the sound of my neighbors singing karaoke in the early evening that I hear.

The only movie house in our town where I spent a lot of time watching Tagalog movies is closed and will be demolished soon. A lot of people are carrying mobile phones and they sang Cebuano songs during the mass instead of Spanish or Latin. No more Canadian missionary priests. They broke down our schoolhouse and a new modern school building took its place.

I can't wait to see the river where I spent so many happy moments when I was still a child. Choked with nostalgia, I almost cried to see it practically dried and polluted. I did not see any sign of life except pungent stagnant water, a prolific breeding ground for mosquitoes. People do not bother to go to the river anymore not even to fetch water for their plants or to clean their pigsty. There were huge piles of garbage in the river dumped by the residents and the municipality never makes efforts to collect them. They cut the trees and the bamboo in the riverbank to give way to the new feeder road. The forest has been leveled off and was converted into a new middleclass subdivision. Many trees in Mt. Apo National Park did not survive due to many years of incessant logging operations. Floods do not happen anymore to cleanse the river. People do not use firewood as they cook now with liquefied petroleum gas and for those who cannot afford, they use charcoal. Children do not wrap their lunch with banana leaves instead they carried Tupperware lunchboxes and tumblers. I was confronted with another world in another time.

The modern amenities that people could now enjoy to some extent have somehow lightened up the work of the children. Gathering of firewood and fetching water five kilometers away from their homes became distant memories of the past. But the people became careless and neglectful in preserving and protecting the environment that provided them life once upon a time. If this attitude of my town mates persists and unfortunately, there are visible signs that they will, a total environmental destruction is bound to happen in our place.

Some people, and all the places and things that remind me of my childhood are all gone. Fortunately, I still have my memories of the past and hope to remember them all despite the long passage of time. When I feel the urge I just close my eyes, and the visions of my youth happily come back vividly to me once more.

ooOoo