Saturday, November 20, 2010

My Real Toy Story

Watching all the Toy Story movies was such a treat for me too. My Ken enjoyed it so much; but for me, it brings me lovely and not so lovely memories of my childhood.

My specials toys, let me see. I remember having a second-hand plastic dachshund. It was red and shiny and previously owned by an uncle. I found it in the storage room, no one objected when I took it. I also have a plush teddy bear, so cute and cuddly. It was so pretty that my second-cousin Myra wouldn’t take no for an answer and took my bear away. I was unhappy; but I hated the way she moaned. It was probably the reason why I didn’t like her much even if we’ve all grown.

So I was left with my dachshund. Its life didn’t last longer as one cousin sat on the poor, old toy and broke the plastic.

Mom bought me a set of plastic building blocks (similar to Lego). Hundreds of pieces scattered the floor. It entertained me to no end. I was busy building trucks, houses, bridges, all sorts of creations everyday. I’ve managed to build all samples shown in the accompanying manual.

Then there were countless puzzles, big ones. I was four years and was managing big puzzles effortlessly. I loved them!

Whenever the town fiesta is held, a small fair (“perya”) would be in town. Riding the carousel, ferris wheel, eating tons of chichiria, was a treat. Before heading home, we will be treated by our father, for some toys on display (they call it “cedera”). I’ve collected water guns, army soldiers, noisy cracker toy, tops, and “tirador”. One fiesta day, I got a plastic doll with blue eyes. It has no real, feel-so-nice hair. The hair was part of the moulded doll, but it has a nice yellow dress and white plastic shoe. The doll lasted for a while, two years to be exact. It met its untimely demise when another cousin threw it down the stairs and landed head-first. It cracked.

No, I didn’t throw tantrums those days. I knew that no amount of tears can repair my toys. I just went away crying and buried my toys somewhere in our garden.

I didn’t get much toys as a child, for there were four of us and my parents has to prioritise needs over non-necessities such as toys. As such, we content ourselves making our own. We love playing bahay-kubo. My brother was such a delight with hammer and nails. He managed to build a wooden trolley (remember those with bearing wheels?”) which we tirelessly ride. He even built a wheelie cart for us. We will never exchange the ride on this cart for his little red trike.

Then we got into wooden stilts! It was all fun balancing and falling.

We also grew up near a construction yard, we played on the forklift and the big dump truck. We hid behind the cement mixer, climbed the big crane, slide on the loader machine and endlessly play and sing at the back of the pick up truck.

On some days, we played mixing actual cement and water and made some creations on the ground (cakes, plates, whatever we can think of).

During summer, our father taught us how to make a kite and how to fly it. It was fun watching our creations flying in the sky!

On rainy days, we delighted ourselves catching some frogs, keeping them in a big can and releasing them eventually. During these days, the nearby rice paddies will form big puddles. We would tie our sticks with nylons cord and hook, put some worms at the very end and sat patiently on the fence. We await our catch of the day. Most of the times, we’ll catch dalag or mudfish. The first few catch, our father will grill the fish and had these for dinner. The succeeding fishing days, we just let the fish go off the hook and back to the puddle. We got tired of grilled mudfish.

On school days, I’ve learned jackstones, a very nice indoor/classroom game. Then I discovered I could jump high, I became queen of the Chinese garter. Later on, there was the tumbang preso, syato, patintero and agawan base. I’ve learned to spin the wooden top. On weekends, I played jolen (marbles) with my cousins; sometimes, “jack-en-poy”. One of my all-time favourite games is “piko”.

Although I was sickly, I managed to get some chance of playing with groups of happy children. Occasionally, we invent games and compose songs to accompany it. We were such a lively bunch! We fight as a team, winning was the goal but to end it all, the camaraderie and fun was the best experience.

I might have lacked the toys of my days; but it never made me feel empty. Even today, I could still see the faces of my “kalaro” (playmates), their beaming smiles and dirty faces, the happy laughters and best of all, we end our games buying “turon” (sweet banana rolls) , ice candy and “samalamig”.

What is your toy story?

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Remembering loved ones I never met

Every 1st of November, the entire Philippine country marched down to the cemeteries or graveyards, where their loved ones rest. Due to the endless coming and going of people, streets end up as a huge parking lot. Not a single vehicle moving.


As a child, I seldom go to the cemeteries. I complained endlessly of people squeezing me, not minding there is a little person in their midst. I often end up with painful toes constantly stepped on by everyone.


Once settled in our great grandparents' and my two little sister's "puntod" (or grave), my grandmother will lit up candles and everybody, as if coached, bowed their heads and kept silent for a while.


I never met my great grandparents; just saw their pictures on the wall.

I never met my two sisters, I just know their names. My mom had two stillbirths.


Yet, I was told to love them and I did.


Not mindful of my family, my head was busy turning around. My eyes feasted on various floral arrangements, exquisitely and passionately arranged by the relatives as an offering to their loved ones.


Some families brought in food to last the whole night through. There were strumming of guitars and singing to keep them entertained. There were constant buzzing and smiling. All Saints' Day was a day for gathering and time for family reunions at the cemetery.


I eventually stopped going to the public cemetery as I constantly get myself lost trying to find my way through. I always try to keep a landmark in my head so the following year I could remember where our great grandparents were laid. However, maybe due to the inevitable and countless burials every year, those landmarks kept on missing (or moving).


Recently, all saints day (or during all souls day) have been defined differently. Halloween Day (or Night) has been institutionalized and has become Kid's day, with all the costumes (from superheroes to gory outfits) plus tonnes of sweets and lollies on trick-and-treat night. Nights at the cemeteries has become a huge party (I think) with modern sounds coming from techno-machines (Ipods, Iphones). There were also drinking and card games (pokers, tong-its).


I have my own date for All Saints Day; I actually have two. One is February 6 and the other one is July 10. I lost my two beloved babies on those dates; two consecutive years.


I never met my two babies. The first was 11 weeks; the other one was 8 weeks. Their heartbeats stopped and just felt they left me. I was never told to love them; I just did.


On these two dates, I still cry for my babies and wonder how they have looked. I still felt longing to embrace and kiss them. I also imagine playing with them, together with my Ken.


Though I've moved on, I still feel the pain.


I console myself with the thought that I have two lovely angels looking down at us wherever we go.


I love you, my little lost ones.


Followers