Our family reached this place on the early part of 1955.
We had no inkling that we were settling in a hostile situation.
We lived with Mama's step-family because we have no place of our own.
Mama's stp-brothers and step-sisters were somewhat glad we came out of the wilderness all in one piece but some of them proved so indifferent and unfriendly especially when they are inebriated.
Our parents managed to buy an eight hectare piece of property in Kihare.
We built our home and a sari-sari store which Mama ran so efficiently that it generated a modest income to augment Papa's salary.
In no time at all, Mama could buy and sell corn and other produce from farmers.
Several delivery vans would come and bring us their products from Cagayan de Oro.
Gradually, our store grew and prospered much to the consternation of our relatives.
The more our financial status improved, the more they hated us for it.
At that time, we did not understand or fathom why.
During vacation, Papa would work on the farm planting corn, cassava, vegetables, sugar cane and anything in between.
From dawn to dusk you would find him in the field, resting only for his lunch break which we'd usually bring in a basket.
Resourceful to the end, Papa devised a sugar mill pulled by carabaos which would go round and round. The harvested sugar cane stalks were crushed to produce liquefied white sugar which we enjoyed drinking.
It was a good thing nobody had diabetes.
The three of us (Nang Nita, Manong Boy and myself) were enrolled in the Manolo Fortich Central Elementary School.
Manit and Nong Boy were in Grade IV while i was in Grade II.
But Manong Boy had to stop school for a year due to his recurrent asthma attacks.
In 1957, Manit graduated from Garde VI and the year after that Manong Boy did the same.
When Manong Boy was out of school he kept going with Papa to Siloo where he was still teaching.
They would wake up at dawn and start their hike along the mountain trails, crossing and recrossing the swollen Tagoloan river several times.
In our time, we don't have the expensive things which seemed so necessary in schools today.
All we have were small empty candy boxes to hold our paper and pencils, wooden shoes (bakya) if not going barefoot to school. Hats during hot days or big banana and gabi (yam) leaves to cover our heads during the rainy days.
Sometimes, in very inclement weather, our immediate neighbor, the Ostreas, would take us to school in their owner-type jeep and we would consider it a great blessing in disguise that it rained.
The Ostreas were very good friends of Papa and Mama.
During their free time they would come to the store and sit idly talking about the way of life, weather, the latest marriages, deaths, births, latest immorality and all the juicy gossips about the lives of people.
Oftentimes, their older children would be left at home.
They were the ones who had a big battery operated radio and at night we would stay under their window and get a stiff neck just listening to a drama being play that usually lasts an hour.
Then comes the town fiesta.
Mama would sometimes buy us new clothes and shoes to wear to church.
But I, in spite of it being my birthday, would not wear my new shoes because it pinches my feet being an inch too small and not used to wearing one.
There would be special food on our table for visitors, never mind that half of our preparation goes to our abusive relatives.
In the afternoon, we would go to the school building and watch a black and white Tagalog movie, then buy ice drop on our way home.
There was one movie shown in the town plaza which we liked so much we never ceased to talk about it for a long time.
It was about a Mexican boy whose cow, called Gitano, was stolen by cattle rustlers and was sold in the city.
He went to seek the help of their President to get it back.
Manong Boy enjoed the movie so much that our cow got the same name Gitano, out of that movie.
At that time and age, Manong Boy was already a movie fanatic.
So evertime there's a movie in town, he would sell string beans, ripe bananas, empty tin cans and bottle or shine shoes so he can have money to buy a ticket.
Then he would retell it to us. On his own version of the movie, a hundred times.
In summer, when May beetles were numerous, we would gather them all from the coffee trees in the yard and fry them because our Lolo Iping says it tasted good.
We would build a fire and put them all in the frying pan without taking off their wings.
The moment they felt the heat they would all fly away leaving us with nothing but the blackened pan.
Or we would gather cashew nuts and eat them raw giving us blistered tongues and mouths.
Summertime would find us climbing the mango and/or guava trees of our neighbors to pick the ripe fruits.
Papa would reprimand us for not asking permission for that would be tantamount to stealing- a behavior he could not condone.
To pass the time away, we would be running around the yard playing war games or "balay-balay" with our cousins.
Mama would be frantic because some of her kitchen utensils would be found out on the yard filled with mud and leaves.
Swimming in the swollen Mangima river was one of our ideas of fun-filled activities.
We would go swimming and be caught in a thunder storm unmindful of the danger of being swept downstream by the swirling torrent.
Those had been long years, the blazing sunsets of our childhood days --- carefree, all frolic and fun without a worry in the world but, a time lost forever to us.
We were children only once for a few brief years, but those were the most impressionable years of our lifetime.
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