Yesterday, we went to San Rafael, the barangay where my maternal clan started.
Back in the days, my grandparents in my maternal side were famous because my grandfather was a barangay captain and he was so for 20 years. They also owned a wide piece of land. Back in the days, as far as I could remember, they had the biggest house in the area.
My grandmother was a teacher, and a frugal one.
So both of them together acquired properties during their prime years, and I respect them for that. Because of their hard work and values, they were able to establish properties that later on were passed down to their children.
Both of them have long been gone, but we always remember them. To be honest, I don't reminisce my grandparents to be showy with their feelings of fondness for us. They were neither sweet nor caring -- but well, they were caring, but not just in a way I thought it should be. However, nearly becoming 40s now, I've come to terms in what kind of parents and grandparents they were. And I respect them on a different level.
They were not touchy - no hugs or kisses. But my grandmother trained me to work hard and to know how to make money. My grandfather was a man of iron hand, but he always provided, and when he gave me money, he would tell me not to tell my mother so that she would still give me school allowance.
And the harvests we reap today, are still a product of their hard work and investment. The land that their children tilled, they owe it to them.
So why I am telling this?
Because yesterday we went back to San Rafael, the barangay where my maternal clan started.
And it made me miss the past. Growing up here.
The house now.
The house used to have a second floor. But it was made of wood. When my mother retired, she had it renovated and removed the second floor saying that it would be difficult for them to go up and down the stairs as they are aging, so a second floor is useless for them.
The road now.
The road before was still bumpy, not concrete yet. There were only a few trips of tricycles before from this barangay to the town proper. And if it rained hard? Transport was impossible because there's a river that easily floods. Well, untill now, the bridge is still an overflow one so if there's flood, people still cannot pass. But imagine, it's worse in the 90s.
No electricity. Light source came from lanterns and from what we call "kingke," a torch made from a piece of old cloth and empty bottle with kerosene inside.
No TV. Only radio, and when the radio is turned off, you'd hear the noise of the crickets.
Oh how the radio entertained us! Or scared me?
Because of a radio show called "Orasyon" every 6PM. It featured scary Filipino stories. Imagine my horror my young heart endured that time! There's no escaping from it because my grandparents liked it.
Oh I can only smile remembering those times.
And at night, more often than not, an ant would find its way to one of my ears. I would wake up my grandparents and tell them my predicament. Tatay (my grandpa) would then pour oil in my ear, we'd wait till the ant dies and I'd lie on the side of the affected ear so that the oil and dead ant could exit my ear.
Can you see the part where the thick trees are?
Under that is a pond, and it used to have many kangkongs or water spinach that we fed the pigs with.
I'd go there and gather some kangkongs from morning till midday. I was soaked with sweat and I remembered people asking me if I have just taken a bath, to which I proudly answered no and explained it was just all sweat. That was a proud moment for me as a young, hardworking, and brave girl. It was scary to go to that area because at those times, we watched the movie Anaconda. I had a very active imagination. While I harvested kangkong, I was really feeling scared that an anaconda would go out and eat me from the thick bamboo or from the pond itself. SCARYYYYY! Haha!
Although we have aged and the place has been developed and far from what it used to be, there are still things that remained the same. That includes my love for my family here, and my family's love for farm life.
Here's my mum with our sow.
She was a public school teacher.
May this sow will bring us more piglets and blessings.
This is my eldest uncle in my mother's side. He spent his prime years in the city, but when he got a stroke, he came back here.
