We Tell You Our Story
A boy and a girl ask their grandparents: Lolo, Lola, what was life like when you were children? What did your faamily expect of you? During that time, what did our country expect of the growning me and women?
Since the day the last of our children married and left home, only the two of us stayed in the house. I am the talkative type while my husband, Manuel, is the quiet one. You can imagine how silent the house is if I do not initiate a conversation with him. Luckily, we have neighbors who are our friends. Whenever I sweep the yard or wash our clothes, my kumare would also be sweeping their yard watering their plants. I chat with her during these chores. My husband likes to garden, to feed our pets, and to pasture our animals. He repairs our old house every now and then. Occasionally, he goes to the small store by the roadside and drinks local coconut wine with his kumpadres.
Both of us look forward to summer vacation. Right now, our house is full again. I hear the patter of little feet on the floor made of wide and well-polished wooden slabs, and shouts from the children running around. As soon as darkness comes, the children come up and our wooden house seems to sway. It feels like an earthquake when it is turned into an extension of the playground. Then I see pillows flying from one room to another as the walls of the house do not reach the ceiling.This play inside the house is short-lived aswe call the children for supper.
After the women wash the dishes, we gather around te veranda for the children's favorite pastime with us-storytelling.
We do not have a television set. We have decided not to buy one so the children, instead of watching TV, would ask us questions about life in the good old days. We are too happy to oblige.
One night, twelve-year-old Chiara asked, Lolo, Lola, tell us about the war. Jason was not here last year to hear it.
Their Lolo nudges me, and I retell the story . . .
I was nine years old when the war broke out in 1941, while you Lolo was . . .
Twelve. As young as you, Chiara,
their Lolo butted in.
The Japanese Imperial Army soldiers with their arplanes, were bombing the city where we lived so we packed up hurriedly to leave. We were barely a few meters away when my mother realized that your Aunt Nena was nt with us! She was crying nervously as she dashed back to the house. She found you Aunt Nena squatting on the bamboo floor crying!
I narrated.
It must have been horrible, to be left behind like that,
Jason shook his head.
Yes, and there were other terrifying experiences. On our way to the mountainous barrio where we evacuated, the local guerilla spies, two of whom were my brothers, spotted the japanese soldiers approaching. we had to hide a cave by the mountainside. We had tohide inside a cave by the mountainside. We had to be very careful, too, that the children would nt cry . . .
Otherwise, you would be found out,
Chiara finished my sentence.
Lola, did you go to school during the war?
Jason asked. During the Japanese occupation, yes!
was their Lolo's swift reply. Our subjects then were Arithmetic, Tagalog, Niponggo, and English, but all books and readings in English were covered with paper ...
Aha! So that you couldn't learn anything in English and about America! Is that ot?
Yes, bright boy!
was Lolo's reply.
But for us, women, we were told to stop schooling after we finished grade four. Our parents told us that the women did not need to finish a course because we would justbe housewives anyway; the men are the breadwinners.
Uh, oh. That cannot be these days. Even Mama is working in school as a teacher to earn for our family,
Chiara strongly voiced her opinion.
Lolo, please go on with your story about the war,
Jason seemed displeased with the way the story had taken a different turn.
All right,
their Lolo continued. Life was very hard for us. Most of time. We ate camote. There was a time we only ate pakol -it's a kind of banana full of seeds. In the barrio where we stayed, I learned to plant corn, camote, and vegetables. My brothers and I learned to raise goats, pigs, and chickens. It was also there that we learned to swim in the river.
Now I understand why Lolo loves to take care of animals!
Chiara exclaimed. How about you, Lola? What did you do?
she followed up.
I was always with my mother. I helped her clean our shelter, which was just a makeshifttructure. i also helped in babysitting, cooking, laundering, and washing th dishes,
I answered.
Seeing that most of the children were already yawning, I hastened to end our story. After the war, we went back to the city but it was devastated. your uncle Chris was so badly traumatized that even long after the war, whenever he heard the sound of an airplane, he would tremble, cry, and take cover underthe table or under the sheets. It took a long time before he fully recovered.
How sad and frightening war must be,
Jason said as he kept himself from yawning
But war is happening to this day in many parts of the world. if only people would learn...,
Chiara said wishfully as she looked up at the dark sky from veranda. As if she knew that her wish was an unreachable as the stars.
Then they gently took the back of our hands and held it to their foreheads, and as they said goodnight, we muttered our prayer, May God bless you.
It took time before Manuel and I could sleep. Honestly, as I look at these children, I realize how different from ours their lives must be.
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