Malaybalay Part 2

While the sickle moon gleams dimly among the leaves, the deafening silence was like a gentle snow fall, soft and hushed, as soothing as the whisper of a summer wind....
as quiet as the passage of the stars.

Some relatives have stayed with us for quite some time and we were just so glad for the company.
But since Sawaga was far from school and the grocery stores, they did not stay long.

It was a torture living there specially during inclement weather.
Our uniforms and shoes would get too muddy before we reach school and would be soaking wet upon coming home.

On the way to school and back we would pass by the Grand Stand where we would take shelter from a downpour, the continue our way down a hillock before reaching home.

Because all of us were in school, we have "division of labor" during weekends.
Mama and Manit would wash and starch clothes the whole day.
I would clean the house and cook lunch.
Manong Boy and Vic would cross the river to gather dry firewood that would last the whole week, then fetch drinking water from a tiny spring wedged among the boulders at the upper part of the river.
Lydia who was still small to help would just play with her paper dolls with paper clothes.
On Sunday afternoons, while Manit irons our clothes I would be sent to Canejos Store where we had a credit line to get our groceries enough for a week.

There was a time that we had no drinking water and we could not cross Sawaga because it was inundated, turning the water murky and brown.
Mama had no recourse but to get water from the river and boil it for hours just so we have something to drink.

Our idea of fun during weekends was swimming and diving with our cousins in Jordan (a part of Sawaga upriver) that runs deep and still.
We would spend the whole afternoon swimming like fish until our eyes turned red and our hands and feet turned blue.

Nights in Sawaga were sometimes coupled with frightening incidents that would make ones hair stand on end.
One early evening we smelt something like broiled dried fish. Later on, we heard a loud noise like something big and hard had fallen under our stairs.
We did not mind it, thinking it was just a normal occurrence of the night.
Then at about midnight, we were awakened by incessant knocking at our walls.
Everyone jumped out of bed and sat huddled on one corner.
Mama went into a panic of fear.
Then all of a sudden the knocking stopped and continued again for another thirty minutes.
It was a good thing we had two grown up male companions from Kisolon aside from Manong Boy, who were brave enough to call out and find the source of the weird knocking.
Finally it stopped and silence reigned one more.
Nobody was able to go back to sleep again until morning came.
Mama told the previous owner of the lot about the nightmarish experience and it was then that we found out that the old man who owned the area, who had been dead for ages, had a habit of knocking on wood as some sort of odd behavior.
The reason why we experienced the nocturnal visit was maybe to let his presence known .
Luckily it did not happein until we left the place.

Once Lydia had just recovered from fever and felt very hungry.
It was in the dead of night and Mama was reluctant to go down to our kitchen to cook porridge but pity won.
While waiting for the food to get cooked, they saw a big white cat sitting on the table as if watching over them.
When they finally went up with the food, the cat also vanished as if it was never there.

Supernaturals have a way of making their presence felt.
On moonlit nights when Sawaga is bathe in ethereal silence, we would hear some kind of beautiful music blending its innumerable notes in an endless changeful melody.
You can hear the blended laughter, voices and the tinkling of glasses and silverware that was borne by the sound of the flowing river and the whispering wind.
As though the enchanted inhabitants of the boulders of the river were having some kind of a party.

Aside from her unwavering faith in God, Mama was also a firm believer of the protection of the Spirits of our dead ancestors.
Every opening of classes, all our school supplies would undergo a "pamuhat, pamalas or gimukod" rituals.
Mama, like a high priestess, would invoke the help of the Spirits to protect and guide us always, even in our studies.

As a way of offering, she would put a plate of rice and hard boiled eggs over our head while calling on the Spirits.
It had always worked.
We never got seriously sick and we had better grades with no failing marks in all our subjects.

Our parents made the ultimate sacrifice of all.
While Papa was alone teaching in Siloo, Mama tried hard to keep us all in school.
She was the one to cross Sawaga river to harvest corn for our consumption or she wold go to the back of the rice mill in Sumpong to winnow the rice shaff from the grains so we could eat rice sometimes.
She would sell coffee beans in the cockpit or raise a pig only to sell it at a much lower price to buy our  uniforms for a playground demonstration.
If not, she would come home to Tankulan and buy crates of lanzones so she could peddle it near the school.
She would also bring back bundles of firewood, which our sarcastic relatives would refer to as "sugnod sa Iningles" or firewood "to cook our English with".
Until the last moment,they, our so-called relatives, still ridiculed our dreams for the future.

Sometimes, Mama would sell "sandfried"peanuts or salted fish just to have money for our expenses because we could not rely on Papa's meager salary.
We could hardly make both ends meet.
As we moved on with our studies, so did our expenses.
Sometimes we have to skip some school activities because we can no longer cope up with the requirements that meant money.
Mama had to engage in a "five-six" loanwith Mrs. Ebora or Mr. Tulang just so we could address some of our immediate school needs.
I had to stop schooling twice, once in high school and once in college because the family coffers had long dried out.

Food consisted mostly of corn meal with sardines often mixed with ginamos hipon, sayote, young marang or jackfruit or rootcrops or a bottle of patis.
To make it tastier, Mama would boil it with lemongrass.
If the going got rough, we would mix salt and water, which we would call "dagat" if not lumps of brown sugar boiled with our cornmeal called "tinughong".
If boiled sayote with sardines is a constant dish on our dining table, Manong Boy would feel queasy about it and will not eat anymore because he would complain of stomach pains.

To warm our stomach we had brewed coffee drunk with any kind of root crops as our merienda but if it runs out, Mama would boil coffee leaves which tasted like tea, better than having nothing at all.
We have never tasted milk, chocolate or any carbonated drinks because we can ill-afford them.
We no longer consider the nutritive value of our food as long as we can appease the hunger pangs that we felt within.

Since we have nothing to amuse ourselves with, not even a transistorized radio or anything, we would eat supper as early as 4pm but before it time to go to bed at 6pm we would be hungry again.
We would have to let go of the hunger pains by pretending to go to sleep in spite of the grumbling in our stomach because we all knew there was nothing to eat anymore so what choice do we have?

We would go to school without a single centavo in our pocket, not even for a small piece of candy.
Then at night we would study our lessons in the uncertain glow of our single source of illumination---a smoky kerosene lamp.

Birthdays or any milestones were never marked nor Christmas or New Year celebrated.
We just considered them as just another ordinary day and sleep it out.
The better for us to cease counting our age.
We just comforted ourselves with the thought that perhaps next time, we will have the money for it.

During vacation, in spite of his being frail, Manong Boy would apply for some low paying summer jobs with his buddy Mulong (Romulo Abunda).
They went to the Forestry office and fell in line along with the other laborers.
Unluckily, when the roll call was done their names were not on the list so they had to go home and ate their "baon" of cassava suman, supposed to be their lunch at the Grand Stand.
The next day they'd go back again and were hired as planters of pine tree seedlings which they carried together in a basket.

One time he joined the survey group of Mr. Canezo and went as far as Lilingayon in Lantapan.
It was a distant place and Papa went after him bringing him provisions and warm clothing.
When he received his pay, he bought a big plate of "pancit guisado" from Chan's restaurant and pieces of brown bread from Little Town Bakery.
For us it was considered a feast that happens only once in a blue moon.

(to be continued)