WELCOME TO MY CHILDHOOD

When boredom strikes, anyone could do anything to start on some endeavor. You see I took the plunge now and I feel like there are 10 pounds on my shoulders and a few so right now I am bound to blog again so, I am game on! The end of March is finally here, and it’s really queer having rainy days in summer. This would add joy to some because, in summer, when the heat is intense and hot winds blow, we wish to have a cool breeze that blows and a refreshing rain falls. But other people like the farmers in my place would rather wish that the heat of the sun will stay for long, especially for their planted tobaccos. At present, tobacco-growing is one of the principal agricultural industries in the Philippines. As I grow, I become progressively less interested in the pace of urban living and increasingly return to my childhood experiences of rurality. I was raised in a rural farming community. My late grand father Joaquin,”Akkin” as he was known in our place never failed to wake us up to ask assistance and help him in the rice fields. Bleary-eyed from lack of sleep, I trudged off to work, together with my siblings to mow hays with the use of a fodder. I have even tried harvesting rice by hand; it was labor intensive and back breaking. Well let me tell you, it's back breaking work! I have a respect for everyone that works in those rice paddies. It was two of the more uncomfortable, difficult, backbreaking days of work I have ever experienced in my life. The cutting ritual was not repeated, I just tried it. So when I was 10, a first-time harvester, my job was simply to cut the stalks and leave them on the ground for others to process. I have my sickle which I borrowed from grandpa, or “Tatang” in Ilocano, I would gather the rice plants into my hand and then slash the stalks just centimeters away from my fingers. I would repeat the process until my hands were full. Twice in the first hour, I cut clean through my glove taking skin off of my hand. That was tough but at least, it was a great experience. Those farmers, who work everyday, some seven days a week, are generous, hard working and fun loving and I respect them deeply.

As I saw our old house in a picture, flashes of my childhood days were conjured in my mind. I suddenly recall the day when my sisters and I were selling ice pops, ice cream stick, banna que that was cooked by mama and so with ice candies during summer vacation. We have to go house to house by the neighborhood until all of it is sold. In my romanticized memories, mornings were used for climbing trees, and when feeling deserted during summer, swimming was our past time. Another unforgettable feature in my life was the day when I and my playmates were satiated from playing. When the novelty of playing wears off we decided to look for a job at an early age. haha! So we tried bottle washing with the exchange of five pesos a day. I worked only during weekends, so after our so-called mini job, as youngsters, this little treat have brought smile on our face. After rewarded with a measly income, few coins and I could put them to my “alkansya” or a canister or a jar. I couldn’t call it a piggy bank, because it was made of a bamboo. I put the coins inside it and the contents were counted before another school year starts. It was enough to buy myself a nice shoe back then.

It is disheartening to know however that our country has one of the lowest savings rate in the Southeast Asian region. Savings are also important to shore up the economy. Perhaps we should teach and encourage future generations to save money. Although some kids do save money they don't usually keep it in banks but use it to buy things they want.

My memories during my childhood taught me a lot of valuable life lessons, I admit it. I must say, I miss old school, movies now will never be good as the classics.

Childhood is the most beautiful of all life's seasons.

-dyoyzee-