Purísaw

Uni na naman an banggi. Alas tres pa sana gayod nin maaga, pero ako giraray mata na. Pinukaw mo na naman ako kan saimong kahâditan— kadto ika an handal sa satong kaaabtan, ngonyan, ako solo na man.

Hilinga, Manuel, an anom tang kabuhán— tururog, tuninong, nakatarampad ngonyan. Si Emmanuel, an satuyang matua, kadto baga garong lapsag pa sana, ngonyan, halabaon na. Si Romano, satong panduwa, hararom an hukragong; iyo, ta grabeng higos sa eskwela sagkod sa harong.

Si Alex, kan sadit pa baga, nagpupurong- pusong; ngonyan, pirming daing girong, garo bagang nagpaparaisip nin hararom. Yaon si Mente, satong pang-apat, ngonyan an angog iyong gayo na si Lolo niya— si Papá—na arog ko, saimo pûngaw na.

An duwa tang saradit—si Nene bako nang daragián. Dai tulos naghihibî pag nadadapla, mawîwî sana an nguso dangan mapasurog na sako; Dai ko man tulos maatendiran ta si Nonoy naghihibî na man; kaya duwa-duwa an kulkol ko minsan.

Kinakarga ni Romano an saro nganing maumayan. Pinahálî ko na itong huring katabang; garo kaya mayo na akong masarigan. Antabayi man ko, Doy, ngonyan. Tabangi ako sa anom tang kabuhan. Sa ara-aldaw na ginibo nin Diyos, dai ko aram an gibohon kun pâno an kada saro sainda mahipnuan.

Suroga ako sa samong mga katikapuhan. Alalayi kami sa aga, sa otro aga, asin sa mga aldaw na masurunod pa. Ihadóy mo ako sa Kagurangnan— na an kada aldaw sakong malampasan. Ngonyan na mga ngonyan, Siya na sana an sakong kusog asin paalawan.

An Harong Mi

I remember our house. It was a two-floor house that stood tall in an open yard, by the side of the hill, perhaps some 20 meters away from the highway. Going there, one had to pass a rice field lined by trees of palo maria, madre de cacao, and green shrubs. There were days when the house—seen from the national road—was almost covered by lush green vegetation that all you could see was the second storey.

If it pleases you, simply picture a typical Philippine postcard: green farm on the foreground, a two-storey house in the middleground, and a hill of trees and vegetation on the background, where the sun rises.

If one enters the main door in the first floor, there was our living room, where we had a wooden sala set: a sofa good for three average-size visitors, four arm chairs and a rectangle center-table—all draped in red and orange florals. (Let it be added that the sala set was made of a very hard wood—I was too small to ask my mother where she bought it, or what kind of wood it was made of. But certainly, not one of the furniture was broken until all of us could really grow up.)

The living room then lead the visitor to our dining space where a long wooden rectangle table was flanked by two long benches for the diners. Each of the benches could seat three children. There was only one chair or silya which served as the kabisera—yes, indeed, for Mama, the head of our family.

Going further, one was greeted by the kitchen, where cooking was done on stove and later, dapog, and also the lavabo. Further to the left going to the back, the visitor could relieve himself in either of the two comfort rooms—one was the toilet and the other was the shower room.

Our house was cool. It did not have much stuff inside. It was airy inside the house. We had few but very functional fixtures. We had jalousie windows in all corners of the house. In the first floor, there were windows in front by the sala and in the dining area; and a very big window by the kitchen.

To reach the second floor, one ascended the wooden stairs, going to the second living room, where a former platera now stored old books from the school library. There, in the second floor, we had glass jalousie windows fronting the road. At the back, or inside the two bedrooms, we also had wooden jalousie windows. Air from the farm and the mountain entered all corners and sides of the house.

Not just that. From the living room in the second floor, one could see the open view of the highway where the barangay folks passed from the Triangle or visita to Banat, a sitio near the barangay elementary school where our parents served and yes, indeed, made their own marks as teachers and leaders.

But through all those years, I wonder why we had a house in a place that was almost idyllic like the one in Wuthering Heights. It was far from other people or even our own folks in libod (meaning backyard), the compound where the rest of our uncles and cousins lived.

Did our parents see the need to raise six kids even before all of us were born so they sought to establish their own family in  a bigger, wider space, away from the neighborhood of the growing clan—which we call libod, where our grandparents began their own?

Around the house, we made our own toys, we planned our own games, and relished our place in the sun, especially during summer vacations, when we played in the hay in the morning and toward sundown. The house was one of solitude where we children were rather drawn to fend for themselves, or find leisure and life for ourselves.

Bolaobalite, 1976

Ma, pasensiya dai na ko nakapaaram saimo
amay-amay pa si first trip marhay ngani
ta nakasakay ako. Dai ta ka na pigmata
paggios ko ta turog-turog ka pa, pagal-pagal
kakaaling ki Nonoy pirang banggi na man
nagpaparapastidyo; pero kun kinakarga ko,
pwerte man baga, nagsisilencio.

Hilingon ko na sana tibaad yaon na
man ko diyan sa Sabado. Pero sabi mo
man ngonyan na semana tibaad mag-abot
na si Onding ni Jeremias. Marhay kun siring
ta igwa na kitang mawalatan kan mga sadit.

Digdi sa eskwelahan, siribot naman kami
ngonyan ta muya kan mga maestrang
mag-Christmas party kaiba kan mga magurang
sa plaza—apwera pa kan sa mga kaakian.
Nahugos na samo an PTA kaya dakulon
gibohon ko digdi. Mga lesson plan ngani
dai ko pa ubos macheck-an. Pero marhay
man ta igwa ako digding masarigan.

Kansubanggi—iparayo nin Dios—
nagralaen naman si pagmati ko. Nagimata ako
sa init; ginagaranot ako; basa-basa si sakong
ulunan, tumtom pati higdaan. Pero tinutumar ko
si bulong na pigreseta kadto sa Naga. Dai ka na
maghadit ta maboot man si May Peling; siya
an kasera ko digdi. Pinapatundugan niya ko ka’yan
sa mga aki nin pangudtuhan o minsan mirindalan.

Nurong semana, makompleanyo ka na baga
kaya maghalat-halat ka ta ako may surpresa.

Pákrit

Kun pákrit ka, tinutuyo mo gayod na magtíos ka. “I’ve been rich and I’ve been poor and believe me, rich is better,” sabi kan sarong artistang Amerikana. Pamoso siyang agít-agitan na minátaram kan nasasaboot alágad habong ihambal kan ibá. Pero tibáad salâ siya. Makahirák man nánggad kun pinapatíos kita kan ibá. Alagad magayonon gayod kun an talagang magtíos muyá ta—mayo kitang gayong problema; mas marhay an salud ta; mas matawhay kaysa kun mayamanon kita. Naiináan an satong mga kahâditan; napaparâ an satong mga kanigoan. Idtong mga nagsurumpâ sa buhay ninda nin chastity, obedience kag poverty—ginpanumdom nindang mangín mas maogma. Ngonyan maogma nanggad sinda. Nungka ka man pagsabihang matios ka ta ngani sanáng makapagsolsol ka. Magdesider kang magtíos ta ngáni sanáng mag-áyo an buhay mo. Dai ka magparápayáman, mas magigi kang maogmá.

Sinurublian sa Hiligaynon

ihambal, sabihon

matawhay, trangkilo

kag, sagkod

ginpanumdom, inisip

mangin, maging

mag-áyo, maging marhay

Susog sa “Frugality” na yaon sa Worldy Virtues: A Catalogue of Reflections ni Johannes Gaertner. New York: Viking, 1994, 15.

Man in Your Life

Nagpundo an garong motorsiklo sa natad mo; yaon na naman palan siya saimo—siring kan bagyong paabot daa saindo ngonyan na mauranon na Domingo. Tumigil ang parang motorsiklo sa bakuran mo. Nariyan na naman pal siya saiyo. Gaya ng paparating na naman na bagyo ngayong maulang Linggo.

Garo ka naman mataranta; dai mo aram an gigibohon ta maabot na naman siya; pakarhay ka naman kan mga gamit nindo; mahimos ka bago siya mag-abot digdi’ho. Para ka na namang mataranta. Hindi mo na naman alam ang gagawin kasi paparatin na siya. Parang hindi mo maayos-ayos ang mga gamit sa bahay ninyo.

Nag-ayos ka na kan sadiri mo; nagpagayon, nagpustura, pwerte an atado. Pagbukas mo kan pinto, yaon na siya; nakangirit saimo na garong kakakanon ka. Inayos mo na ang sarili mo. Nagpaganda ka, nagpustura, ang ganda ng porma mo. Pagbukas mo ng pinto, nariyan na siya, nakangiti saiyo na parang kakainin ka.

Nagkakalâ-kágâ na an tubig na ininit mo; may pambányos ka sa nauranán niyang payó. Kumukulo na ang tubig na nilaga mo; mayroon ka nang panghugas sa nabasa niyang ulo.

Makanoson an lalaki, sabi ninda saimo; saiya dai ka magrani, hulit ninda saimo. Saboot mo: anong labot nindo? Matagas an payo mo. Ang pangit ng lalaki, yan ang sabi nila saiyo. Iwasan mo siya, payo nila saiyo. Sabi mo: anong paki nyo? Ang tigas ng ulo mo.

An kamatangaan kan kabanggihan iyo sana an saindong espasyo; dawa sa luwas na nagsasalimagyo mayo naman kamong pakimano. Ang hatinggabi lang ang inyong espasyo. Kahit sa labas bumabagyo wala kayong pakialam.

Binabayo kan duros an saindong estada; iniidong-idongan nindo pigpaparamúda. Pag-abot kan matangâ sa saindong istaran, nagtatangis garong mga kalag na dai namisahan. Binabayo ng hangin ang inyong kinalalagyan. Ginabuyayaw ang inyong kinaroroonan. Pagdating ng hatinggabi sa inyong tahanan, umiiyak ang ulan na parang kaluluwang hindi namisahan.

Dinudururos an mahamot niyang parong saimo; pigrurunot na mga dahon ining mga kanigoan mo. Nag-uungol na duros an siram kan simbagan nindo.Nagraragaak na sanga an pwersa niya sa kalunuhan mo.