Learning to Swim

Tugaya, Lake Lanao... It was a lovely sunny day, every kid is going to lake to swim and play. As friends called unto me to join them for morning of fun and playing I was rather timid and slow. At age nine I still don't know how to swim - I've kept it secret for a while I wouldn't admit lest I be the laughing stock. Kids in my town learn to swim as early as 5.

I do venture in the lake to teach myself how to swim but whenever other kids arrive I will always leave and pretend that I am done swimming - little did they know of my little secret. I even collected those tiny insects that seem to float in the water believing that if you squeeze them in your elbows and knees you will soon learn how to swim. Always avoiding playing and swimming with them making all sorts of excuses and lies...

Ah!!! But that day is different from any other day. It was a day when the ray of the sun seems to penetrate beyond our skin and into our very soul. A day when destiny calls and kids build their character... I have decided that day to join in the fun come what may - either I sink in the bottom learning how to swim and be the laughing stock of friends or triumph that somehow my body reflexes will help me float.

As I heard the cheering and shouting of kids playing in the lake - joy in their faces beyond description, the happiness they felt beyond compare. I slowly undress nude - naked nothing there except that tiny thing that wiggle as you run. I suck up all the air I can take and run as fast as I could -- jumping into the water with a big splash and a cheering crowd. I slowly descend into deep cold and realize that the water is too deep. Huh! Panic is upon me. Then as if time froze and my very soul spoke to me saying believe in yourself that you can do it. I calmed and my feet and hands as if they have a mind of their own start moving to send me upward. As a resurface and feel my lungs with air, I shouted with my heart's content.

It was a triumph that I cherish to these days. A slice of life that builds what we are now. Hope I didn't waste a minute of your time reading my blog. Great day to you!!!

Hard Labor

Grandfather's hands are always half-closed, it’s rough as rock and hard like the roots of that old Madang tree in front of our house in Pindolunan, Tugaya. In that sleepy place where you can count the numbers of vehicle passing by your fingers I was sent to learn the meaning of discipline.

But why? I was 11 years old irascible kid that never liked school and hates work. I have my reasons I couldn’t count the time an erasers have been thrown on me during class. Luckily, I was good in evading and my classmates always receive the brunt. I guess that dodge ball game we play pays off. I really hate teachers I tell you - they are bad mean lot. At poor age I know discrimination all too well being Muslim in a non-Muslim community is not that easy. But we do have one advantage children don’t bully us – thanks to history portraying Moro as fiercesome warriors it seems to be ingrained in others kid mind not to mess with Moro. As for work, tsk.. tsk… tsk… they always interfere with play.

The dawn is broken by the loud call to prayer. I wake up when I feel the kick in my butt, it was Grandpa. I stood up like a soldier and the rest of my cousins did too. Our Boss is no nonsense if you have a sticking thing between your legs you are a man. After prayers each are given tools, I get a hoe while the others receive sickle and bolo. We trek to up farmland and started that backbreaking work. My hands were already blistered by the heavy hard work. As kids always do, I don’t want to show my weakness – that I am strong and tough like my cousins. We took some coconut and walk back home. I can barely walk and we are all tired – a sing or two seems to wash away exhaustion, our favorite “Maliit na Gagamba” always cheer us up to walk faster.

After lunch, a cousin shouts its time to tend the fishpond. Huh! I thought to myself does this people ever get tired. The wall of pond was torn by storm – we have to rebuild it back like the Great Wall of China. Our Granpa is there ridiculing those that can’t keep pace.

Night fall and for the first time I understand what is really mean by earning your keep. We ate plain rice with vegetables and fried fish. Oh! Boy it so fulfilling. I took my last sigh and goes to rest – I think I earned it. Ahh! Life its nothing but hard labor.