My early years of wandering

Itid the wanderer

From the time I’ve noticed the world around me, I’ve lived a nomadic life. It’s not because my family is of a pure lumad descent. But because times call for it (my father would often say).

When I learned to search and gather food, I've believed I existed independently. I was then a weakling five year-old. And we were living in a primitive hut in the far flung margins of civilization.

Yes, I will tell you my early years of wandering. The years when my bones were harnessed and my muscles were hardened. It all started when I was still a weakling five-year old.

My first venture of wandering was in a nearby stream. It was a cold morning. I walked downstream. I was fascinated with the clear flowing water. I walked and waded through the stream. I felt the coolness of the stream soothing my entire body. It was my first conscious intercourse with nature. It was a memorable adventure of a young free spirit. I could even feel its pleasure even as I write this piece.

I could not remember though how far I have ventured. I can only remember that the Kalaws sounded their afternoon merienda alarm when I got home. I can still recall the mixed feelings of my mother. She was angry, furious, worried and afraid. She thought I was already eaten by some fierce creatures lurking around.

My first wandering taught me simple but hard lesson – never venture unprepared. I’ve only brought a bolo with me and I forgot to bring a match. So when I felt the coldness of the water seeping through my flesh and bones, I was not able to build a fire. And that was very dangerous. Because along with the terrible coldness, hunger came scratching my stomach. That was the first time I’ve came to know hunger. My stomach then was grumbling and the excruciating pain was like a knife wounding me slowly.

I only felt a little relief when I saw a wild ripened banana. The banana is widely known as agutay in our tongue, I mean our indigenous tongue. But I was still very hungry when I got home. I did not even care to listen to my mother’s sermons while I was eating. A cup of hot aromatic native coffee settled my grumbling stomach.

My first venture was a great failure. But it was not able to traumatize me. It even challenged me for another exploit. The simple hard lesson of my first venture became my foundation for my next exploration. I just don’t know if the spirits of my ancestors are the ones stirring me to wander. It’s just that, I could not resist the call of adventure. And because I was a free spirit, I would always heed the call.

My next venture occurred after my sixth birthday. It was not a well-planned one but at least I already have a lesson with me. The Kalaws were greeting the sunrise when I set out on my next venture. Or adventure as many would call it nowadays. I have brought with me my sharpened bolo and a matchbox I stole from the pocket of my father’s jacket. I also brought a slingshot and several small round stones. For my breakfast and lunch, I brought ten handfuls of sinanglag ha mais (popcorn) stuffed in the oversized pockets of my pants. I have heard my father once that hunters always bring with them popcorn because it’s handy and effective against hunger. Of course, the bolo is mainly for protection against wild animals that may pose harm.

My father wasn’t around then because he has gone early to visit our relatives in a distant barrio. That barrio is a two-day-walk from our primitive hut. My mother and my three-year-old brother were still sleeping then so I managed to slip quietly.

I’ve chosen to roam the nearby forest for my next venture. I have come to realize this late that it was a virgin forest. It has even crossed my mind that I may have seen rare species of the wild back then. But for a six-year-old, it was of no concern. I was after all in the stage of early exploration. The distinctions of the rare from the ordinary are of less importance to me. Besides, it was only nowadays that species in the wild are becoming rare.

When the Kalaws sounded again their alarm in the mid-morning (between sunrise and noontime), I’ve decided to eat my breakfast. I roasted one of the two alimokons (kulo-kulo) I have downed with my slingshot. I was then beginning to mimic the different languages of the birds to make them come near and be an easy target.

I was already in the deep forest by then. When I finished my breakfast, I sat upon an old rock. The rock was covered all over with green moss. While I was practicing to mimic the lingo of the alimokons, I noticed that there were creatures moving beneath the leaves in the forest floor. When I caught a glimpse of the moving creatures, I felt my heart beating faster. The moving creatures were snakes. Snakes of different kinds and sizes. Some were colorful while others were black and dull-colored.

It’s the first time I’ve realized the danger of my venture. Even if I could hack the snakes from left to right, it would not be fast enough to hack them all. I was sure then that there would be at least one of the snakes that would be able to bite me. And I am pretty sure I would be dead if that will happen.

I was keenly observing the movements in the surroundings while thinking what to do. And I’ve noticed that the snakes didn’t dare to go near the coals of my bonfire. With that, I went to my bonfire and pondered what to do. Then I realized that the snakes were not interested with me after all. Well, that was my belief then and you can’t blame me. I was after all an innocent six-year-old.

When the movements under the pile of leaves, twigs and branches ceased, I’ve thought there’s no danger anymore. Besides, I’ve thought that the snakes would get nothing from me. It never crossed my mind that an adult python could make a good meal out of me. Well, things like that will never cross the mind of a young free spirit. An innocent six-year-old whose curiosity to learn from his surroundings is just so great.

Little did I realize that I was already going up the mountain. It was already getting noon but it was still cold out there. Well, it’s a virgin forest after all. And as far as I can remember, it is only father who dared to venture deep into that mountain.

There was something in my mind then that is urging me to reach the top. And it makes me wonder now why I never felt tired back then. In the midst of the forest I could see scattered old trails. When I followed one of the trails going up, I saw animal traps. Those are possibly the traps that father has made when he ventured deep into that mountain. I even saw traps where there were remains of wild boars and wild chickens.

Suddenly, after inspecting some of the remains I realized something. I realized it is very difficult to trace my path back! With that in mind, I preferred not to reach the summit of the mountain anymore. I opted to eat my lunch before finding my way back to our primitive cogon hut.

While forcing my teeth to grind the hard popcorn, I’ve realized another hard lesson – always leave prominent marks in your path. My heart throbbed wildly when I thought that I might not be able to go home. But then another side of my brain was aroused. It gave me the feeling of thrill creeping through the sinews of my flesh. It was the first moment when I experienced mixed feelings. There was fear, excitement and thrill!

But after my simple rationalization, I’ve thought I would not be lost. I would just walk downwards and find the stream. And when I’ll found the stream, I would just walk upstream and I will never miss our old cogon hut. With that in mind, I’ve started my descent. Fortunately, my calculations were accurate and I’ve descended on the right stream. I’m certain it’s the stream leading near to our hut because I’ve reached that part of the stream on my first venture. I even saw the remains of the agutay that I felled.

It was already dusk when I finally got home. And for my second adventure, I got a bitter reward. Well, suffice it is to say I got a nice beating from my mother. The following morning, I saw my nervous mother packing all our clothes. She reminded me not to go astray again. She added that we would just wait for my father and then we would go away from that place. She never told us why. I have only come to know the whole story of our sudden evacuation when I was already a nine year-old.

On the night when I received a nice beating, I was able to sleep soundly. It could be due to the fatigue of my one day exploit. But my mother wasn’t able to sleep that night. She was weaving a banig when she heard a crying baby in the nearby stream. Then a purring cat followed. After a while, she heard a heavy object hit the ground. She was horrified. What she has heard had the imprints of a mantianak. According to local lore, it is an evil creature that eats human beings.

It was the very reason why my mother looked nervous on the following morning. Our neighbors, who were located about two kilometers away, opined that maybe the spirits do not want us to dwell in that place. It is the first time they’ve told us that the former inhabitants of the area have evacuated for the same reason.

When my father arrived after two weeks, my mother was very mad. She was even crying in mixed feelings of anger, fear and frustration. When my father knew why, we were told to prepare. We were to transfer to another place. While my mother and father were preparing our baggage, I and my three-year-old brother were trying to catch our ducks and chickens.

The melancholic alarm of the kalaws in an early morning signaled our exodus. It’s the first exodus I could recall but it’s already the nth time that the family transferred to another place. Father prepared a huge lupot (cooked rice wrapped by green banana leaves) for our food along the way.

As for me, I was unwilling to evacuate. I’ve learned then that I loved the place. It is where I was awakened to the world around me. It is where my youthful curiosity was roused to action. It is where my free spirit dared to venture into the unknown. It is where I’ve learned to conquer the primeval fear of the unknown. It is where I’ve first experienced the joys of simplicity, freedom, independence!

But then, it would be foolish for a six-year-old to remain alone on that far flung edge of civilization. That place in the world I would remember as a paradise. And as we walked away, I kept looking back. I've kept looking back even until today.

Well, I will never forget that paradise. For it is there I’ve first embraced the life of a wanderer.