READER's CORNER

Philian Weygan
Growing up in Baguio

My work demand travels but wherever I go, I come back home to Baguio where memories of my growing up remain one of my fondest thoughts of home. My mom told me "Nan puseg mo naikali isna sirok nan ba-ey" meaning my birth bag was buried under the old house in Magsaysay.

I was born with my umbilical cord wrapped around my neck but Dr. Calogne and mom delivered me without accident, which my parents say it is a blessing. My sister has letters of mom and dad that related that as a baby I was brought to Besao when my dad went to briefly work and study in Manila. He sent me baby shoes during my birthday, send us eggs when he was in Baguio.

Growing up with my siblings, I remember my mom would plant watercress in the crystal clear Balili River. She would put John and me on top of a stone and we watch while she works. Later, John was able to learn to swim just being around my mother working. My older brother and sister frequent Parapad in Ambiong for swimming. I contend myself with a shower from a spring that comes out from the edge of our property.

At a young age, love of work, discipline and goal setting were values that were made known to us. In our land we have home vegetable garden together with bananas, avocado, guavas. But later on sayote took over a greater part of the property. Quirino Hill was a forest and after the rains we would go and pick mushrooms. At that time mom, my aunt and some cousins cleared portions as "uma" were they planted camote, corn and other root crops.

During harvest, we the kids were allowed to go and help but most of the time they build us a fire and we would cook camote and corn buried in the coals. Those were etched in my memory. Then we would help carry the produce down the mountains, but it was more like rolling them down as my older brother taught us. My mom would say we will break the camote by doing that and maybe we did, but as kids we never cared.

When we had extra bananas or corn, mom would allow us to peddle them in the neighborhood and so we had extra money. Our parents would give us piggy banks and also envelops where to put our monies. Sometimes she saves it for something to buy for us like clothes, toys and books. At that time there were only few houses, cars and a lot of spaces in out neighborhood which spans from Sayote island, Ambiong, Happy Homes, Quirino Hill and Camdas. Resurrection Church was still part of our neighborhood and we hear the church peal every morning, noon and at Angelus.

We went to a neighborhood school Lucban Elementary School and we loved it. In Kindergarten, whenever I get back from being absent I would only go if my dad would accompany me and speak to my teacher. By fourth grade I was sometimes allowed to bring my lunch and sometimes we would go to the house of Benilda Zaragoza. Her mom would serve us soup too.

My playground widened as I was allowed to play after school. I remember being in the house of the Udasco home, the Caoili's, the Alipio's, the Penera's, Jocson's, Idio's, and Villalba's. It was a happy childhood spent with classmates and siblings. Part of it was spent in house chores like scrubbing the floor, sweeping the yard, watering plant, feeding the chickens, the rabbits, harvesting sayote. It was when we were older that more responsibilities were given like washing clothes and cooking.

My wonderful stay in Lucban ended when I had a boxing match with the bully of my sister. It was a fad for pupils to have fistfights in the foot of Quirino Hill (we called it Carabao Mountain then) and I was not spared. I challenged the bully of my sister and landed her a black eye and before she could hit me I fell into a ravine.

The next morning we were in the principal's office. That time I told my parents I do not want to go to school anymore. They consoled me that we will transfer the next year so we just had to finish the school term. So by the Grade six we were transferred to Easter School, I was already the eldest as both my older sister and brother were already in High School.

That widened our playground to Guisad, Bokawkan, Dizon and Pinsao. Dad would bring us to school in his Ford and in the afternoon we would ride a service jeep with the Mendozas, the Balaos of Pico. Sometimes we were late for the jeepney service after we have to clean the classrooms and we tarry by the brook side of Guisad catching jojo and bayek. We would be home near dusk because we took time playing along the least traveled roads, catching butterflies and crickets, picking flowers and weeds and simply taking time to enjoy nature as daylight catches up with nigh time.

Sundays were the days we wake up the earliest, finish our chores, take a bath, breakfast and church service. Sometimes we go to Burnham Park for a picnic and run till we drop. It was so clean, so wide and so beautiful with all the flowers and butterflies of many colors. Sometimes Dad would have church meeting and so we end up eating cookies baked by the family of Fr. Alejandrino Rulite while we climb up and down the trees of the church compound.

Baguio was a perfect place to spent childhood. Then the '70s came and it was high school. It would be another story to tell. When I remember Mom whose death Anniversary is September 19, I remember my wonderful childhood - Baguio circa '60s.