Keep an eye on the children when you go swimming

CEBU, Philippines - There is something about the sea that draws us towards it.  What is it, I do not know.  All I know is that we just love to go there.  Haven’t you noticed that?  We love to hang around under the coconuts.  We love to walk along the shore.  We love to get that warm feeling from the sand under our feet.  We love to swim there even if we’re not fishes.  We even bring along our friends and families there.  And even when we go back to our usual routines from a day spent at sea, after some time we start to miss it.  Even after months or years, we still miss it that we do all that it takes to get us back to it.  Why does the sea always come up each time people talk about outings?  I do not know what is in us that connect us to the sea.  Maybe Darwin is correct in saying that we were once aquatic organisms that simply evolved into what we are now over time.  Or maybe not.  But our inner drive to be as close to the sea as possible is so great as obviously proven by the fact that the geographical locations of most cities and settlements are very much near the sea. The sea seems to be always inviting us and it is so tempting we just can resist. 

As a boy, the grown-ups around me would always see to it that my cousins and I can soak in the salt and bask in the sun every once in a while especially on Sundays.  They were the ones who would wake up early to boil bananas (saging cardaba) and sweet potatoes (camote) and prepare the salted fish (ginamos).  I can still hear them saying, “the lechon will just come along the way.”  Yeah literally that’s true; we would buy a kilo or two along the way together with the hanging rice (puso).  Our task as “the children” was to prepare extra clothes and plastic bags for our wet clothes after swimming. 

On Sundays when the “grown-ups” did not have the money to finance another excursion to the beach, we just stayed home and played chess or simply read books.  Of course, this was just my feeling back then.  Maybe they had another reason; maybe they’re tired or maybe they had other more important things to do that day, or maybe they had not secured a special Sunday permit from LTO for our ride—my uncle’s jeepney.  Happy thing was, whenever we get the chance to go to the beach, we were so many, we even invited neighbors to come along (mostly children too, of course with their parents’ permission).  If you saw us, on our ride, slowly climbing Mactan bridge, you would not miss seeing the tires taking too much pressure.

At the beach, upon arrival, we children would run as fast as we can to the edge of the water, leaving behind the “grown-ups” who would usually deal with the owner of the cottage and the resort.  I would not know how much they paid for that little bamboo cottage standing on the sand.  That was not my business of course, sorry.  My business, together with the other children, was to make sure I enjoy the sea, the sun, and the food.  Unlike adults or teenagers today who dislike the sun so much (too afraid to get a tan as if the thing lasts forever), we children just go back to the cottage in case the boiled banana or sweet potato we’re holding accidentally slipped through our tiny hands to join the seaweeds and the sand underneath our feet or simply got lost in our small stomachs.  We never left the water once we’re in it. 

What I really enjoyed most was when my older cousins would start telling us little ones to stand on their backs or shoulders and make a dive.  Pak!  Everybody would laugh at our dives. Our back flips, too, were so wicked. But we managed to improve with practice.

While we were busy swimming, the “grown-ups” go about talking and laughing in the cottage.  Some of them drank.  Some of them did not.  Some found the kinilawtoo hot.  Some enjoyed it very much.  At times they walked to the edge of the water and shouted something we really did not understand and then walked back to the cottage.  Although we children did not really care about them, I think they really cared so much about us.  It’s because they seemed to know what we would do next.  And what’s so mysterious about the “grown-ups” was that they’re always there to call our attention when we’re already too far out.  They did not have binoculars nor are they psychics but they saw our plan—to go somewhere deeper.  I do not know why the “grown-ups” were so paranoid.  I also do not know why children love to test the “grown-ups”.  Is it because children are curious? Or is it because there’s always something lurking in the deep that loves to swallow children?

One time, when I was no longer a boy but a father of two equally beautiful children, I was watching my three-year-old daughter swimming just right where the water meets the sand; a very safe portion of the sea supposed to be.  Somebody called my name.  I turned around to find a group of students from a high school where I used to teach.  We greeted each other and laughed because we were just too happy to see each other after so many years.  We talked and I forgot I was supposed to be watching my daughter.  When I turned to check on her I found her bubbling with water and sand in her mouth.  A very big wave struck her and she lost her balance.  I was so shocked to see her drowning even on that shallow side of the sea.  Although I was able to save her just in time, from that time on, I never took my eyes off her and my little boy too each time we go to the sea.

Summer is here and we’re all eager to go to the sea again.  In my life, I’ve seen people turning purple then lifeless because they drowned.  Honestly, I do not want to see people go that way ever again.  I do not want to lose a friend on his birthday again.  Looking back to the times when the “grown-ups” from my childhood would scold us each time we “the children” would go deeper, I can say that sometimes “being paranoid” helps a lot.  It’s because nobody drowned and died among us children.  Maybe we can be a little like the “grown-ups” too this summer— PARANOID.  Why not if it can save the children? (by the way, you watch those drunks too because they’re like children.  They also need your watchful eyes!).

One last thing, the sea seems to be so hungry already. (FREEMAN)