A Promdi's Paradise
I dream constantly of vast greens. The alarm went off. It was time for me to follow religiously my routine of waking up at 6am or 6:30 when laziness stops me from getting up. Then, I would go to the bathroom to take a bath. After that, I would dress up, prepare for school and eat. Next, I would board a jeep bound for school; follow my class schedule. After class, I would go to my boarding house, eat, read a little and sleep. This cycle will repeat as days went by.
The sun burst on the horizon, accompanied with air filled with mist. The twittering of the birds on the trees—
Beep…Beep! The blowing of the horn of the tricycle made me come to my senses. The thought vanished. I hastily crossed the street in the downtown area. I was irritated by the intrusion of the tricycle driver. Noise has never been a good friend of mine. I would always complain about it that one of my batch mates suggested it would be best if I live in the woods.
The coconut trees swayed gently to the rhythm of the whisper of the humid air. Down below the hills, many people were gathered in the rice fields. I was under the sun perspiring heavily; walking barefoot on clay on the way to the rice field adjacent to the foot of the first hill. It was harvest time.
The fire truck in the fire department, along Justice Romualdez St.(Tacloban City) buzzed; it was twelve noon. My stomach made a strange sound synchronized with the buzzer. I was hungry. I had only an hour left before 1pm—a class must be attended. I looked at the stocks I bought at a grocery store. Pancit canton, beef loaf, corned beef, etc.: typical instant foods nourishing busy students. Eating instant foods had become my habit. Sometimes, my taste buds resist theses foods. I went out of the boarding house to look for a carenderia—fried fish for P15, vegetable for P5 and beefsteak for P25. At least carenderia offers a variety. But home-cooked meal is still the best.
My mother sent me for an errand. I had to buy fish I the town market. I spotted a fresh blue marlin. I bought it immediately. Then, I went home to clean the fish and fry it.
Fresh foods are in abundance in my town. Afar cry from the frozen fishes sold at the city market. In my hometown, any individual could just go out to the sea and fish. The fishes caught could be made into a delicious viand with just tanglad, libas and other spices and mixed it with salt. Such is the provincial way of life: simple but happy.
The fifteenth of this certain month was fast approaching. I was obliged to pay for the rent fee of my boarding house. Definitely, it was not a home away from home. Water was a bog problem in most of the boarding houses, it still is. Students have to fall in line waiting for the water to flow from the faucet. The dripping of the water would annoy anyone because it takes much time for someone to have a fill of his pail. At nighttime, boarding houses is in complete disorder. Some diligent student could not concentrate on studying. The putting out of lights at bedtime is also an issue. Some like the lights turned on when they are asleep while others do not.
I am one of the students dreaming of the comforts of their home. No board mates to adjust to, no rent fees to pay for. My mind traveled for miles…
Waves were splashing on the shore. Everything under the sun was glistening. The coconut trees swayed with the winds. I was under a coconut tree facing the sea, contemplating on the joy that simple things bring. The beach was captivating, indeed!
After a few minutes, dark clouds hung above. The rain threatened to interrupt my solitude.
The rain fell hard. I awoke and turned the electric fan off. I looked at the clock feature in my cellphone; it was 5:34am. All I heard was raindrops. The steady rhythm of the rain took me to Lumayon river.
The rain was as light as a spray. My batch mates and I ignored the rain. It tokk us a twenty-minute trek from the town proper to this river, but it was worth it. With its turquoise waters, Lumayon was a sight to behold. We dipped in its cool waters; splashed anybody who just stood on the river bank.
Time was ticking away fast. The tick-tock of the clock was so loud. It served as a reminder of the worse things to come…
The nostalgia I felt was replaced with horror. The scenes in my mind blurred. After a few seconds of seeing nothingness, horrible pictures materialized in my mind: Lumayon was scattered with garbage, decaying pests, and other disgusting things; the seawater was colored dark brown; the coconut trees were cut down; fishes floated on the water, some were strangled with brown weeds; subdivisions took the place of the rice fields; no living things could be seen. The place seemed to be a ghost town. Then, a thought struck me—where was I when this terrible thing occurred? Was it premonition? I do not know.
Change is inevitable. There will come a time when my hometown will be urbanized: buildings will be scattered in its vicinity; jeepneys, multicabs will be roaming the streets, polluting the place with black smoke. But how far would we, the residents, gamble in the name of industrialization? Years from now the hometown I admired will turn into a city. What are the benefits? Do theses benefits outweigh the sacrifices to be made?
My roommate awakened me. I was panting when I woke up. Beads of sweat rolled down my forehead. I had nightmares lately and they keep on coming. My troubled mind made me restless. When will those demons depart? It was the question of a coward. The right thing for me to do was tame these demons lurking in the dark recesses of my mind. Anyway, why am I so concerned of my hometown? Why was I so involved with the thought that I was not able to control the fears flowing through my veins?
Way back then, my innocence deceived me into wishing of living a city life. The thought that I will someday lead that kind of life put me to sleep at night with a smile on my face. Now, theses thoughts bother my sleep. I think of my self as a misfit to city life. I was mistaken when I assumed that I belong to the city. I was completely wrong.
One night, the vast greens whispered its secret to me. It was helpless hence it cannot save itself. It emerged from its prison made of tarnished iron. From out of nowhere, fire came into view. It slowly ate up the vast greens. The howling was getting louder and louder. Then, morning came.
The dawn brought hope. I continued to live my life as it was before. I ignored those troubling thoughts. I do not want to burden myself anymore. Those demons vanished and I stopped dreaming of vast greens. I became apathetic. I was able to convince my self that it was just a bad dream. I must take courage in fighting those thoughts. I owe myself a rest.
For months now, the vast greens seemed to be a thing of the past. But one night, I saw the vast greens running away from me. I was not able to recognize it at first but its form betrayed it. I ran after it with all my might until I fell down. That was then I admit to myself that I missed the vast greens.
Now I want to go home because I missed Arteche, Eastern Samar, my hometown—my paradise.
I dream constantly of vast greens. The alarm went off. It was time for me to follow religiously my routine of waking up at 6am or 6:30 when laziness stops me from getting up. Then, I would go to the bathroom to take a bath. After that, I would dress up, prepare for school and eat. Next, I would board a jeep bound for school; follow my class schedule. After class, I would go to my boarding house, eat, read a little and sleep. This cycle will repeat as days went by.
The sun burst on the horizon, accompanied with air filled with mist. The twittering of the birds on the trees—
Beep…Beep! The blowing of the horn of the tricycle made me come to my senses. The thought vanished. I hastily crossed the street in the downtown area. I was irritated by the intrusion of the tricycle driver. Noise has never been a good friend of mine. I would always complain about it that one of my batch mates suggested it would be best if I live in the woods.
The coconut trees swayed gently to the rhythm of the whisper of the humid air. Down below the hills, many people were gathered in the rice fields. I was under the sun perspiring heavily; walking barefoot on clay on the way to the rice field adjacent to the foot of the first hill. It was harvest time.
The fire truck in the fire department, along Justice Romualdez St.(Tacloban City) buzzed; it was twelve noon. My stomach made a strange sound synchronized with the buzzer. I was hungry. I had only an hour left before 1pm—a class must be attended. I looked at the stocks I bought at a grocery store. Pancit canton, beef loaf, corned beef, etc.: typical instant foods nourishing busy students. Eating instant foods had become my habit. Sometimes, my taste buds resist theses foods. I went out of the boarding house to look for a carenderia—fried fish for P15, vegetable for P5 and beefsteak for P25. At least carenderia offers a variety. But home-cooked meal is still the best.
My mother sent me for an errand. I had to buy fish I the town market. I spotted a fresh blue marlin. I bought it immediately. Then, I went home to clean the fish and fry it.
Fresh foods are in abundance in my town. Afar cry from the frozen fishes sold at the city market. In my hometown, any individual could just go out to the sea and fish. The fishes caught could be made into a delicious viand with just tanglad, libas and other spices and mixed it with salt. Such is the provincial way of life: simple but happy.
The fifteenth of this certain month was fast approaching. I was obliged to pay for the rent fee of my boarding house. Definitely, it was not a home away from home. Water was a bog problem in most of the boarding houses, it still is. Students have to fall in line waiting for the water to flow from the faucet. The dripping of the water would annoy anyone because it takes much time for someone to have a fill of his pail. At nighttime, boarding houses is in complete disorder. Some diligent student could not concentrate on studying. The putting out of lights at bedtime is also an issue. Some like the lights turned on when they are asleep while others do not.
I am one of the students dreaming of the comforts of their home. No board mates to adjust to, no rent fees to pay for. My mind traveled for miles…
Waves were splashing on the shore. Everything under the sun was glistening. The coconut trees swayed with the winds. I was under a coconut tree facing the sea, contemplating on the joy that simple things bring. The beach was captivating, indeed!
After a few minutes, dark clouds hung above. The rain threatened to interrupt my solitude.
The rain fell hard. I awoke and turned the electric fan off. I looked at the clock feature in my cellphone; it was 5:34am. All I heard was raindrops. The steady rhythm of the rain took me to Lumayon river.
The rain was as light as a spray. My batch mates and I ignored the rain. It tokk us a twenty-minute trek from the town proper to this river, but it was worth it. With its turquoise waters, Lumayon was a sight to behold. We dipped in its cool waters; splashed anybody who just stood on the river bank.
Time was ticking away fast. The tick-tock of the clock was so loud. It served as a reminder of the worse things to come…
The nostalgia I felt was replaced with horror. The scenes in my mind blurred. After a few seconds of seeing nothingness, horrible pictures materialized in my mind: Lumayon was scattered with garbage, decaying pests, and other disgusting things; the seawater was colored dark brown; the coconut trees were cut down; fishes floated on the water, some were strangled with brown weeds; subdivisions took the place of the rice fields; no living things could be seen. The place seemed to be a ghost town. Then, a thought struck me—where was I when this terrible thing occurred? Was it premonition? I do not know.
Change is inevitable. There will come a time when my hometown will be urbanized: buildings will be scattered in its vicinity; jeepneys, multicabs will be roaming the streets, polluting the place with black smoke. But how far would we, the residents, gamble in the name of industrialization? Years from now the hometown I admired will turn into a city. What are the benefits? Do theses benefits outweigh the sacrifices to be made?
My roommate awakened me. I was panting when I woke up. Beads of sweat rolled down my forehead. I had nightmares lately and they keep on coming. My troubled mind made me restless. When will those demons depart? It was the question of a coward. The right thing for me to do was tame these demons lurking in the dark recesses of my mind. Anyway, why am I so concerned of my hometown? Why was I so involved with the thought that I was not able to control the fears flowing through my veins?
Way back then, my innocence deceived me into wishing of living a city life. The thought that I will someday lead that kind of life put me to sleep at night with a smile on my face. Now, theses thoughts bother my sleep. I think of my self as a misfit to city life. I was mistaken when I assumed that I belong to the city. I was completely wrong.
One night, the vast greens whispered its secret to me. It was helpless hence it cannot save itself. It emerged from its prison made of tarnished iron. From out of nowhere, fire came into view. It slowly ate up the vast greens. The howling was getting louder and louder. Then, morning came.
The dawn brought hope. I continued to live my life as it was before. I ignored those troubling thoughts. I do not want to burden myself anymore. Those demons vanished and I stopped dreaming of vast greens. I became apathetic. I was able to convince my self that it was just a bad dream. I must take courage in fighting those thoughts. I owe myself a rest.
For months now, the vast greens seemed to be a thing of the past. But one night, I saw the vast greens running away from me. I was not able to recognize it at first but its form betrayed it. I ran after it with all my might until I fell down. That was then I admit to myself that I missed the vast greens.
Now I want to go home because I missed Arteche, Eastern Samar, my hometown—my paradise.
###
February 2006
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