Harassment is something that a human mind could sense. When someone, even if it were a child, is being harassed, he or she knows it. Sexual harassment cases occur among girls and women of all ages.
These were the words I heard from the speaker of an anti-sexual harassment forum I attended when I was in first year college. I think most of these cases are unresolved and are only kept secret by offended parties because of two reasons: some threatened by their offenders and some kept their secrets by choice. I chose to be on the second category.
It all started one morning, when my parents were out doing the usual pamalengke for Sunday lunch. I was five. I loved to stay in the sala while waiting for my parents because I like seeing the goods they bought for Sunday lunch. We would usually have a festive lunch every Sunday so we would invite my father’s buddy, Bobong, who had been, ever since I remember, a close friend of the family. What would make us aware of his arrival would be his signature way of saying “Ayo!” as he’d climb his way up our house. He would come to our house in every occasion—big and small ones. Big ones like my younger brother Ponkik’s first birthday where he led the slaughtering of the big pig for lechon, my youngest brother Langgay’s dedication day and small ones like ordinary drinking sessions and tong-its card games with my father and their other friends.
