Houses and homes
Of all the blessings bestowed on newly married couples I look forward to listening to the sevenfold prayer at the end of every nuptial, this time for the wedding of Joanne Cura and her bride-groom Mark Logico administered by Father Gerry Santos fellow La Sallite of the couple, in the House of God. I listed four here.
“May you be ready with help and consolation for all those who come to you in need; and may the blessing promised to the compassionate descend in abundance on your house.
“May He unite your hearts in an enduring bond of pure love.
“May you be blessed in your children, and may the love that you lavish on them be returned a hundredfold.
“May the peace of Christ dwell always in your hearts and in your home. May you have true friends to stand by you, both in joy and in sorrow.
Home is where the heart is and for Joanne it will be in an apartment in San Diego, California with Mark Logico, a Filipino in the American Navy, whether he sets sail or not. May you have peace in your hearts and peace in your home as you strengthen your relationship, just the two of you away from home — Joanne and Mark.
Don’t forget your country; it is also your home. Never turn your back on her, while you live abroad. I am positive you will put up picture frames duplicating your residences in the
I could never grow old abroad or alone in a house without its being a home. My home is a shelter where I live and love. It is where my grandchildren and children congregate in a master’s bedroom and the result is inevitable; we are noisy lot. I say that proudly even as I pick up throw pillows scattered on the floor and potato chip packs left to soften; Coke, water, soda on tables wiping up the water marks from its coldness while dogs chase kids in the bedroom, jumping into children’s laps to get a quick lick of a Popsicle. So many humorous experiences that result in bonding — and spanking. My family is like yours: alive in our arena, laughing, agreeing, arguing, but steadfastly sincere with each other, running to the rescue of any member, real or imagined.
My house physically shields its occupants from elements like the weather scorching sun to beating rain, even from foes. Few may still remember the Pinatubo eruption that displaced Tarlaqueños, rendering many homeless. To stress a point about protective houses, those evacuees lived on safe rooftops of markets, gyms and schools — kind of upside down, right?
* * *
And with the many wars in Jolo, past and present, after a month of arranging a schedule to visit Zamboanga, finally I arrived at Tupay Loong’s stronghold to participate in a Tausug tradition, Pagpangayu Lihi, for three months with young Quinan, Tupay’s grandson. The Pagpangayu Lihi requires a godmother or godfather with a “good reputation in society, successful and looked up to by others,” to buy the first solid food (preferably rice) to feed a baby. The baby will then acquire the godparent’s positive traits for success. Better still if both parents of Quinan’s godmother/godfather were still alive to bestow Quinan with a long life.
As the home plays its exemplary role in the molding of children, the location of Quinan’s first feeding was the living room being the center of the house. Tausug babies don’t face an open door when first fed because they may tend to be shy around people when they grow up.
All utensils used in cooking and feeding Quinan for his first solid food were brand-new; the ladle, pot, spoon, plate and glass would be used for his every meal. That’s so when Quinan grows up he will be devoted to one wife, like the sturdy and faithful steel utensils.
There I was, feeding the bugas marayaw or rice of high quality, remembering how I hated my yaya’s day off. That meant I had to take care of Liaa, my firstborn, who spat out her food and hated vegetables. Like Liaa, Quinan was spitting out his first mistang and both preferred milk. Besides, Quinan’s lugaw was too soupy or he just wasn’t in the mood for rice porridge.
“Come on, coochie-coo,” us adults would wheedle, trying to ensure his strength and good health. I reached again for the elevated food tray with the baby’s new plate, spoon, fork and glass. The reason for the elevation is so that when the baby grows up he will be treated with respect and honor. In the meantime Quinan’s immediate family fed him his first solid food and we changed his baby bib three times while he let out loud cries of complaint and we prayed again to end our test of patience and produce a fat healthy little boy with the Dua’a Salamat — a thanksgiving to Allah, so Quinan grows up obeying the commandments of the Koran to be a good person, his first education beginning in his grandparent’s home.
Many couples have had arguments over conflicting ideas about their homes, like what walls the house should have — brick, plain cement, adobe stone — or which particular finish to use for the outside. When Peping and I first discussed our home’s interior, such as whether circular pillars were aesthetically better than square ones, or how high the windows and ceiling should be, we both wanted to stop construction and teasingly spoke of divorce!
We would relentlessly pursue our own preferences with whispers to the contractor, only to have the other reverse those same preferences, until we finally reached a compromise, realizing that our house should be the dwelling place for mothering and rearing children, a place where family members could converge and pour out their hearts and even share embarrassing stories — all would strengthen our relationships.
“Buhos ba yan?” Is it completely made of cement and steel? I remember my husband asking the contractor. He didn’t want a home eaten up by termites, nor rats. But we welcomed our neighbor’s hungry dog that strayed away from his residence. The first time we saw that police dog we scampered away from the kitchen where he boldly entered. My innocent grandson called him by name: “Wally!” They had met by the garbage drums at the garage of the house.
Sylvia Yap and Anthony de Leon asked the Baguio Country Club architect, Ogie Periquet, “Is that log cabin strong enough to withstand nature’s erosion?” The Baguio Country Club will open a very, very comfortable, strong and sturdy log cabin, three floors high, with a fireplace, a terrace overlooking summer, winter and spring flowers with four bedrooms. It’s an exciting undertaking of logs and rocks and greens.
Tita Nena La’o always said to me, “Come see your old house in Paco!” Wouldn’t it be sad to return to my residence where I grew up? I’d always reply, “Another time!” Memories of that home of antiquated stone and wood with grills referred to as buntis makes me feel soft as marshmallows. I can’t buy back youthful years for my parents, nor can I bring back my grandparents, nor hear children’s laughter — that’s mine, my brother Mon and cousin Rene as we went sliding across wide narra floors in the living room, sitting on vintage gowns pulled by our yaya. A flashback to the kitchen of a fabric dipped in Nomotisson, hot as hell to patch on my chest to stop a cough; lying in bed with rheumatic fever for two months, my yaya reading classic stories — Hamlet, Romeo and Juliet, Chaucer’s travels by the American-educated yaya Ansang from Abra, taught me to love literature. Of course, I can’t forget falling asleep on my desk during daily tutorial nights.
Home. What Filipino game refers to home? Our parlor game Sungka of sunken crevices gets us to go “home” where we strategize and rest a while for the next challenge as we grab the shells or marbles and leave “home” permanently or temporarily to win! That’s how strong our love for home is: we even have a game like Sungka!
Home is where the heart is, from successes to wounded hearts, even for disobedient and naughty children who cause disgrace yet return to the roost. Home, indeed, brings reappearances and renewals. There is no place like home.
