Category: Nonfiction

Nana and Our Nangka Tree

Nonfiction by | October 26, 2014

Yesterday I bought a pack of nangka or jackfruit from the grocery store. The smell was so enticing that I had to pick one and convince myself I wasn’t splurging. One pack has 10 seeds and costs 50 pesos. Immediately after paying, I pulled the bubble-wrap, took out one seed at a time and savored every bite. I planned to finish all in one sitting and not have any leftovers inside the refrigerator for later. My Nana, or Yaya, as many would associate her, used to tell me that the smell of this fruit extends unsolicited to all other elements in the fridge, like a surprisingly sweet gesture.

Before transferring to study and eventually own a company based in Davao, I used to live in Dumaguete City. There, we have a two-storey house fenced by a number of mango, chico, and star apple trees, as well as, a good growth of garden vegetables to harvest by season. To welcome visitors in our front yard are other plants such as a line of orchids and relative flowers. The main attraction is like a CTA widget inviting neighbors as it consistently bears two fruits every month. It is our Nangka Tree located on the right side, facing the gate. My Nana would wrap each of the tree’s fruit upon its birth and when it matures, it would reveal a large sweet and fleshy product enough to make a family of five happy. My twin and I, the Nangka and its interests were among Nana’s primary concerns.

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How to Climb Mount Apo

Nonfiction by | October 19, 2014

Climb when you are fifteen or so. Harbor an affinity for heights: at eleven you must have already seen the whole of Bangkok from the 88th floor of Baiyoke Sky Hotel, as well as gone parasailing at Subic, noting how the sea looks like a massive blue tarpaulin from a height of 800 feet.

Know the basics of mountain trekking: never step on slippery ground, always watch your step; on the way down, lean back and allow your feet to fall on stones as surely as a bird lands on its own shadow. But know also what it is to fear heights. Call to mind the day you first climbed Mount Agad-Agad (your hometown’s tallest mountain), aged nine, when, going up the mountain, the sheer effort wrung your lungs empty and your vision swam in a haze of blue afterimages. On the descent you could only cling to earth and crawl down gingerly. Bear these in mind always, for they will arm you for the great climb. Never forget that what you will be dealing with is the highest mountain in the Philippines (think 9,692 feet above sea level).

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Surviving Typhoon Bopha

Nonfiction by | September 28, 2014

In this world where we are living, challenges and obstacles are always present. Sometimes we ought to give up because of these challenges. No matter how difficult the situation is we should always remember what Albert Einstein said, Life is like a bicycle, to keep your balance you must keep moving. One year and 9 months ago I was trapped in a challenge I never thought would come in my life.

It was in the year two thousand and twelve on the fourth day of December, at exactly 4 o’clock in a Tuesday morning when a category 5 super typhoon took its landfall in a quiet town of Baganga, Davao Oriental. I could hear booms of the thunderstorms which I thought engines of trucks. I could see lightnings which I thought are coming from the cars of the people in the place. I could see nothing anymore but trees swaying from left to right and never stopping, houses ruined and families left with nothing.

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Unraveling the Roads that Shape my Future

Nonfiction by | August 3, 2014

In the past four months, I have been around Southeast Asia in line with my GIST (Guided Independent Study Travel) sojourn to visit the bamboo schools and green schools in the region and learn their best practices and challenges.

It has been an amazing and enriching journey. I thank the East West Center and Asia Pacific Leadership Program for giving me the opportunity to explore cultures, while I continue to unravel the roads that will shape my future and my community. My deepest mahalo! Continue reading Unraveling the Roads that Shape my Future

Windowsill

Nonfiction by | July 27, 2014

I stood outside our house, waiting for my best friend. I was holding a Tupperware of spaghetti and salad, which Nanay prepared last night for Noche Buena, and a white Coca-cola shirt from Ate. I guess the weather was moody on Christmas. It was a bit indecisive. It rained at dawn and became gloomy in the morning. Then it was sunny and rainy at the same time in the afternoon. I could almost inhale the mixture of dust and rain. It irritated my nose. If I was still a kid, for sure one of the elders would shout at me from the window to get inside for I might get a fever. The raindrops were getting bigger. I decided to go inside the house and get an umbrella. The umbrellas were neatly placed behind the house’s front door. I chose the white one with a blue floral design. I went back outside. Raymond finally arrived three minutes later. He was my best friend for eight long years and one of the reasons why I did not hurry in getting myself into a relationship. He brought me to movie houses at least once in three months. He bought me mefenamic acid whenever I had my period. He would come to my place on weekends and ask permission from my Tatay and Nanay if we could stroll around the neighborhood for the night. He was tall, skinny, and beautiful. He was the most beautiful gay guy in the world.

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Bright Yellow Ginkgo Leaf and Dark Green Mimosa

Nonfiction by | July 20, 2014

I always looked up my hometown in Google Maps, counting the days till I went back.

In my hometown, Ok-Gwa, a small river flowed south and to the nearby mountain ranges; behind it loomed a hill. In spring, fragrant of wild chrysanthemums and dandelions, my friends and I would go to the nearby hill to harvest mugwort, shepherd’s purse, and other natural herbs that could be used for stew or mixed in a salad; by drying and brewing them, they served as alternative medicine. The entire day we spent harvesting these herbs, the birds and mountain rabbits seemed to hide, scared off by our loud laughter. We endlessly exchanged stories about our family, friends, the townspeople, and even celebrities. For the summer break, my cousins from the city would visit us and we packed watermelons and some refreshments and went to the river for a swim and to fish. In fall, we picked the prettiest leaves out of all the yellow and orange leaves that littered the streets and made bookmarks out of them. And in winter, when our nose and hands turned pink in freezing cold, my friends and I would go up the mountains to ski and sleigh until we got frostbites.

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Paghahanap ng Dagat sa Switzerland

Nonfiction by | July 6, 2014

Sa isang Dabawenyong tulad ko na halos nasa bakuran lamang ang dagat, ay di maitatuwang kasingkahulugan ng dagat ang pagiging masaya, pagdiriwang, pagpapahinga mula sa araw-araw na kalakaran, karaniwan at masaganang buhay. Kung kaya’t hinanap ko ito bago pa man napanatag ang loob ko sa Switzerland. Ngunit nabigo ako sa paghahanap na ito. Oo, maraming anyong-tubig sa Switzerland subalit wala ni isa man sa mga ito ay tubig-dagat. Lahat ng tubig sa lawa at ilog ay nanggagaling sa mga natutunaw na niyebe buhat sa nagtatayugang mga alpina na nakapalibot sa maliit na bansang matatagpuan sa gitnang kanluran ng Europa.

Dahil nahirapan akong tanggapin ang katotohanang wala talagang dagat sa bayang nakilala ko lamang noon sa mga makikintab na larawan sa kalendaryo’t libro, ay nagpasya akong hanapin ito sa ibang lugar. Mag-iisang taon pa lamang ako noon sa Switzerland ngunit pakiramdam ko’y dekada nang di ako nakalusong sa dagat. Laking pasalamat ko nang naunawaan ng aking katuwang ang pangangailangan kong ito. Isang araw pagkagaling ko sa Alpha Sprachschule Zuerich, kung saan ako nag-aral ng lengguwaheng Aleman, ay nakalatag sa mesa ang isang makulay na magasing nagbebenta ng mga bakasyon sa mga destinasyong maaraw at may dagat di lamang sa Europa kundi maging sa iba pang kontinente. Lumundag sa galak ang puso ko sa aking natunghayan.

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Panic Stations

Nonfiction by | May 25, 2014

I was three years old when I became aware of my condition. I cannot recall how I was rushed to the hospital, but I do remember waking up in a cold white room with a crucifix staring down at me. I lifted my right hand and noticed a transparent tube injected at the back of my palm and right through my veins. Since then, I have been rushed to the hospital countless times; each one a nightmare both for myself and my parents.

Asthma is a lung condition that affects the eyes, ears, nose, throat, and stomach. It causes the lining of the airways to become swollen and inflamed. Extra mucus begins to clog the nose and the muscles of the airways tighten, causing less air to pass in and out. A number of allergens like pollen, dust mites, cigarette smoke, dander, and stress can trigger an asthmatic reaction. Even changes in weather could also cause asthma attacks. Usually when my nose starts to itch, chances are, it’ll rain soon after. Some people are born with this condition and others just develop asthma when they are exposed to the different kinds of allergens. In my case, I have asthma because my father also had it when he was young.

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