Grandpa’s Pamana

A family that hikes together, likes forever!

Look at those they call unfortunate and at a closer view, you'll find many of them are unwise. -Young

My sister calls our family activity as an “Hike All-In”. Under the scorching heat of the sun, all of the family members hiked for the trail going to a place the villagers call “Busay”. The hikers include: my parents who are in their 60s, my cousin around 50s, my brother in 40s, my sister and sister-in-law in their 30s, my sister, brother and me in our 20s, my nieces and their friend aged 6, 9 and 10, and a one-year old baby. I listed them down to point out our age gap.

As we walked on the trail, father told us his stories of planting rice on the fields that we passed by. He pointed to the area that used to be kadlagan (forested) but most of the lands are now kabasan (rice fields). Some of the fields looked like mini-rice terraces.

The hike was simple except we had a baby to carry. Finally, we arrived after more than an hour of walking. A cold stream welcomed us as we arrived on a hot noon. The water goes as deep as 10 feet. Tasty and refreshing water flows from a sagorong, too. A sagorong is a bamboo cut to half and inserted on the ground where spring water flows.

Then, an old man stopped by. He was my father’s friend and also a cousin’s in-law. Everyone seemed to know each other. As I overheard their conversation, he said that next to the stream was the rice field that he tends. Every day, he and his wife walk on the same trail we took to take care of their farm. It was hard labor for a living.

Ever since I was a child, I have been going back and forth in that old village especially during fiestas. Yet, it was the first time my siblings and I made it to Busay. It also feels like discovering our family history-- a family without a certain lineage.

Our picnic was the scout’s way. We prepared barbeque, hot dog on sticks, and fresh fish. We struggled to make a good fire but we made a delicious lunch. Everyone ate with bare hands on plates made from cut banana trunks. The baby’s milk was chilled on the stream.

 
While we ate, tiptoed, dived, played on the water, used the banana trunk as salbabida (life-saver), my parents chatted about some old stuff they call agi-agi (past experiences).

My father said that those tall standing coconut trees planted along the edge of the stream were most likely older than 40 years. My grandfather likely planted them.

I tried to remember my grandfather. The memory of my grandfather seemed blur to me. We don’t even have a picture of him at home. I met him once when I was around primary school. The last memory about him that I couldn’t forget was that day when a typhoon came and it rained hard. I was looking out the window, as the flood started to rise outside our house, my father received a call that grandpa passed away. I didn’t see my father’s pain. An old man I met only once didn’t move me as well. But that day, I felt sadder for the weather though probably it was for my lolo, too.

What I knew about my grandfather was that he wasn’t much of a good father. He would leave his children without checking if they were fed right. He even told his story about how he left his baby in the middle of the night alone in a hut to search for his running wife.

But other people remembered him as an industrious farmer. He planted here and there. They say, his time was the time that if you planted on an untitled land, as far as where your hands can plant, you’ll eventually own the land. But my lolo never owned the land he toiled, never until the end. He believed that war would eventually come.

So, he died not owning land to pass for my father and his siblings. Yet, he planted trees and trees. We were not aware but that’s what our lolo left us.

As we walk on our way back, I imagine my lolo walking the old trails like the old man we met during our ascent to the mountains. He is old, tired yet smiling and assuring that we were near our destination. In truth, we were not even halfway yet.

I remembered my lolo. Nature made me remember him smiling at me. I have realized that that foolish man taught me why I should start planting trees by now.

Every family has their happy and unhappy days. I am glad we had a wonderful family day. And once again, we remembered and felt grateful for our old folks who brought us here.