Rural Road Trip Part 1

Centenarian Granny and
3 year-old great grandson

My 100 year-old grandmother choked on a soft bread morning of January 1, 2011. It was a 5-minute horrible experience getting her out of her bamboo house into the vehicle and then to the nearest community hospital. But i can easily laugh about it now, especially when i recall the scene involving a topless brudda and a father driving without his slippers or shoes on. I might write about our comedy of errors later but for now let me tell you about the little side trip we had today which, partly, was a result of my grandmother's hospitalization.


A little after lunch we went to the hospital to pick up my sister (will be referred as sister #1) who stayed overnight with granny. Another sister (will be referred as sister #2) will take over for the change of shift so that sister #1 can go home, wash up, eat and have some rest. She will again return later for the night shift as sister #2 needs to go back to the City for work the next day. 


My kid (hence, granny's great grandson) has been raring to go around for days now. And though only 3, we've repeatedly brought him along during hospital visits because he wants to go where the car goes, even if the car takes him to Hell.  For 2 days now, the car has been going back and forth to the hospital so to hospital he, too, goes.


Incidentally, the community (or is it district?) hospital is in Sibalom, a town where there is supposed to be a dam. My dad worked with the irrigations in the 80's so he was right there in the middle of the action when the dam and the irrigation systems were being built, so he knew. He asked if we want to go there, see the dam and all and get the travelling itch off the kid, his grandson. And also because my mother wanted to deliver the fresh molasses to her friend, who lives in town, a local politician, who also happens to be my (birth) godmother. 


So, off we go. 


We first drove towards my godmother's house but she wasn't there so we didn't stay long; didn't even go out of the vehicle to partake the usual Filipino hospitality of juice or coffee and biscuits or whatever's left of the New Year's feast. Then we headed for the dam. Sister #1 asked to see the place that was washed out during the Typhoon Frank (international name Fengshen) in 2008. I think about 2 dead bodies coming from that place were found inside our property (the farm, not the residence), amongst the mess of logs and debris. Bugo, the town that was most severely damaged is in San Remigio, a town next to Sibalom, at the foot of a mountain range.  



Dad said it's a little far, further than where the dam is, but he might take us there. 


When my father worked with the irrigations he was assigned field officer. In the duration of the trip he would point to us the places he'd trekked while on the job. As field officer, he said he was responsible for the maintenance of the equipment and for making sure that the supplies needed to maintain the field operations are in place, like fuel and tools. He said there's a tunnel underneath the road or the fields that channel the waters to garble garble garble. The sound of the motor drowned the rest of is story. 


Along the way i learned that Sister #1 had no recollection of our father working for the irrigations, which i found rather incredulous. That job was like a milestone in our father's career as an engineer. Calculating, she realized she must have been too young to remember--she's just 4 then. 


So i told her, "There goes your childhood amnesia."


Meanwhile i kept snapping pictures. 


We passed by Sibalom Municipal Cemetery which i found rather fascinating, albeit nostalgic. It looks welcoming. But then, you always like the things you don't have and a good welcoming feeling is probably what our church's cemetery doesn't have. Apart from the fact that WE really do not have a municipal cemetery to peacefully bury any dead person's body in absence of inconvenience related to his/her religious affiliation. 


More cemetery talks later.


 The kid fell asleep seconds after we left the cemetery and when it was time for him to see the dam, he's dozed off like he hadn't had any sleep for days. No amount of shaking and calling out "bridge! bridge!" could wake him up so we contented ourselves with admiring the men doing laundry by the dam's causeway (if that's how you call). 


I also took pictures of colorful houses. I personally do not find seeing these kinds of houses comforting nor do I find it uplifting despite the delicious colors. Kid rather associated them with cakes. I would probably never develop any taste for these kinds of houses. But it is worth mentioning that they were built in plots adjacent to each other. Yellow, orange, green and blue. I can just imagine the owners getting together, in a small meeting, maybe in the middle of tong-its or mahjong and coming to an agreement on who would paint their house with what color. 


Yellow house: "Akon tana yellow gid ha so dapat di run kamo magpick kang any shade or tint kang yellow kay akon run ra. Kundi...andaman nyo lang."
Green house: Ako tana, kay inguday kita green gid tana akon. Para lain gid kanimo."
Orange house: "Akon tana orange. Hay hambal da kuno ang orange nga color meaning na kara horny."


I was not able to get a picture of a blue house but i don't really need to, as architecturally speaking, all of them look the same. I leave the coloring to your imagination.  


We also also passed by the rice fields. Lots and lots of rice fields that i wish would never be converted to commercial or residential use. 


This post is too long. I will cut it here and make a part 2 of it. Below, by the way is the panorama of the dam which the kid missed. 

  

Part II coming....