For the longest time, I am again reading a book of my interest. Although im not much of a fan to personal essays, journals and notes, surprisingly, I am now on the 96th page of Paulo Coelho’s “Like the flowing river”, a collection of his personal notes, journals and short stories. Ive never really thought about him as a devout Christian. Very contradicting to the authors of my previous reads. But his stories are actually those worth telling to the people around me.
In fact, im much of an author myself. Wrote about a few fan fictions and two short stories back in high school. Very funny reading those stories. I never knew I was that imaginative back then...^^
We went to “Bukid” last Wednesday. 40th day of my aunt’s death. We’re still at the stage of denial but we’re taking it slowly. It was never the same since then. She was so young. She’s an angel now...^^
A lot has changed in Cabangahan (proper name of Bukid) other than the fact that the virus of modern civilization has infested my cousins (conforming to the mediocrity of MTV, media and the like), the land too, suffers the gravest punishment of overpopulation.
By taxi, we rode from midcity to about 15km north. As usual, due to the mud created by dews and the rain, we had to walk to reach my grandpa’a house. From Insi Pilo’s house, you could already see how much land has been murdered. It was indeed a very beautiful place. My cousins, Billy and I would climb it during the summer. Not a very difficult climb since my grandfather tended the hill. On top was an unfinished house perfect for shade and the whole view of the city (back then, only one bridge connecting the islands can be seen since the second was not yet constructed). Now, lolo (grandfather in our vernacular) had sold it for my late aunt’s therapy. But then again, who knew? The money did not go in vain. Just the hill.
Apyat told me once, “Bisag pamilya ra unta ang namuyo sa tibuok bukid, nana nuoy taga syudad”. Sad, I know. That the very place where we (cousins and friends) used to play baseball, have picnics with Sin, the wonder cow who cries (but I later on knew that his tears were basic reflexes for excretion), bathe on pumped ground water ran for our lives at 9pm thinking that a floating coffin would chase us if we look back at our tracks would soon be occupied with 2-storey houses of centralized air conditioning, sedans and suv’s of the latest models and residents who’d never (or seldom) greet their neighbors “mayung gbie diha!” or “mayung buntag!”
The pressures of modernization.
I wish we were neighbors, Paulo.
I’d really like to take Goody on that church you mentioned. Like you, we also light three candles on the churches that we visit--- for friends, family, and each other…^^
