"Mata na dong, kay ubani imong Tatay manigway ug kabaw" my Nanay would say every morning during my grade school years. My wake up call is 4:30 A.M. and I had been used to that. Me and Tatay will divide the carabaos between us and will bring them by 2 groups for their early pasture in nearby Benuatan grassland.
While some individual breeds horses and cows, my Father had his life's bond to the beast of burden, farmer's best friend----the sturdy, uncomplaining and timid...child friendly animal..locally called KABAW.
We had 12 carabaos in our backyard plus 3 little cara-babies and one pregnant one. In my hands are the ropes of six while my Father took the rest of the beasts. Every morning I always silently questioned my Father's fondness to carabaos. He was not tending a farm....all our lands in different villages were tilled by our farmers. Each farmer is provided by one carabao. Just imagine how surprised I was when I got to know that we have a total of 36 big carabaos...cara babies not counted yet!...wow ang tigway ....how kalisod sa pobre huh.... I thought.
So why not let our SAUPS tend the beasts and let my early hours be free before I should wake up, take coffee or tinoghong or mais coffee before I go to school?...mmmm, I DID NOT HAVE THAT PRIVILEGE.
As I grow older and met lots of experiences in life......like my later love to the environment, I did realize all my childhood questions were answered.
My father loved Carabaos...that, plain and simple.
It was his answer to dog breeding. So he took care of them all...and took time to visit all his carabaos in all our lands. Every 15th of JULY ALL OUR CARABAOS will meet at the MONTANA FUENTES FARM and a feast was given to them, of course we won't eat Carabao meat on that special occassion, nor will ever for the rest of our lives...IN RESPECT TO OUR TATAY.
I organized the first and only CARABAO FESTIVAL in our town, dedicated to my Father's Carabaos. That was a day of happiness for the humble carabaos. I gave prizes too like THE BIGGEST CARABAO OF THE YEAR, THE MOST HANDSOME CARABAO, THE LONGEST HORN, THE BEST BALSA, and had a beauty contest too--the MISS FESTIVAL BEAUTY CONTEST, this time it was not carabaos in the ramp but real pretty ladies vying for the title.
Everybody dreams of becoming the best in every aspect in the human life where there are competitions. We join contests to win. We fight to prove we are the greatest. We all want to get the golden cup or the sparkling medal for recognition of our glory and hard work. In short, we are all born to fight just like the saying “survival of the fittest”.
In our way to the top, we gather friends and peers for help and support. They make our goal-hunting easier and hassle-free. Providing laughter and smiles to wash the tiring competitiveness away.
But of course, when the road to our goals gets nearer, everything changes from flowers to thorns. Earlier, I have said that everyone wants to become the best. But sometimes, some of this “everyone” is your friend.
This is when the war begins. JEAOUSY. ENVY. CRAB MENTALITY
People start to drag others down so they could work their way to the top. Either you deny it or not, we possess this attitude. Crab Mentality. To win, we strive with our best until we realize that our best is not enough, we resort to our last option. The dark evil ones: backstabbing, lies, gossip, etc. All of these under crab mentality. We destroy whatever good we have gathered through the way just for the prize on top. The flowery – friendly adventure has turned into greedy self – centering quests.
What we don’t realize is that our friends, the memories, the smiles, the laughters…everything, is more than the prize that we kill for. All we have to do is open our eyes and see this. Then, everything will be more different starting from you...DON'T TURN GREEN WITH ENVY....strive hard to level up, if not, then for your neighbor's sake... appreciate other's achievements, lifestyle, assets and their fabulous boyfriends. Or live in your frugal ways, saving for your rainy days, anyways you don't appreciate luxury so stay within your budget and wallet.
This term is broadly associated with short-sighted, non-constructive thinking rather than a unified, long-term, constructive mentality. It is also often used colloquially in reference to individuals or communities attempting to "escape" a so-called "underprivileged life", but kept from doing so by others attempting to ride upon their coat-tails or those who simply resent their success.
Crab mentality, sometimes referred to as, crabs in the bucket, describes a way of thinking best described by the phrase" IF I CANT'T HAVE IT, NEITHER SHOULD YOU". The metaphor refers to a pot of CRABS...singly, the crabs could easily escape from the pot, but instead they grab each other in a useless "king on the hill competition" which prevents any from escaping and ensures their COLLECTIVE DEMISE. The analogy in human behaviour is that -a group or individual will attemp to "pull down"(negate or diminish the importance of) any member who achieve SUCCESS beyond the others.,
It's my travelling back home once again, another bewitching time on my emotional snaps down memory lane. It is some sort of my recharging journey to connect once again my innerself to a place called..home.
Why going home is still very emotional moment for me then.....It's like me in a period movie...something sepia...some edgy cinematic pictures almost an entry to a vintage film festival.
Dusky frame with monochromatic shades of brownish gold landscape while an impatient sun perched in a corner of mountain trees waiting in the wings of Mother Earth for its exit cue. It's my own version of "The Way We Were" reverie. But back in time was just a year ago, where I saw trees, animals, my farm, mountain jeep, horses and water buffalos.
I don't dwell in the past...I am a present/ future tense in a sentence, yet here I am with confused emotions. After a longish spell lost in my thoughts, I know the answer...I simply miss all the good things in my life....my son and Home.
My travel back home involves more than just being there at the Philippine Fashion Week last May 2012, exploring cuisine at Morato and sipping coffee at Greenbelt, landscape, nightlife, art, fashion, music.
More even enjoying the breath of fresh air in the mountain mist..it's my embraces to my love ones, a bonding moment deeply catalogued in my memory bank, so looking back, it will be another sepia coloured Kodak moments in some vintage film festival on my mind.
As a fashion designer and artist I often travel for inspiration, or to find myself. Or even to change by load-shedding previous inhibitions and ways of being. Sometimes using other journeys as mirrors to the ones I have left behind. Here, my destination gives me a new relish of life to look at the world, and perhaps myself, differently.
So who needs Paris to give my imagination a free reign, let me put it cogently: ‘One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of connection.”
Dining is no longer about long and tiresome preparation in our kitchen. And it is not really about eating to satisfy our stomach, it is more about the dressing up, the conversation and the getting out from the normal routine. Hunger is for the cravings …palate tasters are what dining all about.
Fine dining are in, or haven’t you heard?....”Do you cook?” somebody asked. “Of course not!” I answered back. Great parties are not about knowing how to cook, but all about looking for good and fabulous caterers and restaurants!!!!!!
Now, you visit a friend’s home during special events like birthdays who is bragging gourmet excellence with his recipes snitched from one of the mushrooming gourmet restaurants in the internet….yay! I believed – that every meal is judged on the outlandishly clever gourmet competency of the home-maker-turned-chef., but does his salmon salad come laced with chevre? Has it been garnished just so? If not, it’s not good enough to be plated up! Lol……..
And it’s not just the chic young men and women flaunting their culinary skills, it’s about ensuring that you have a system in place to replicate this sensational food – anytime and with the least bother. And to that end, my cravings struggling with understanding my desire to have my grilled cod from ZUMA , my Mediterranean bread on multigrain herb focaccia in Armani where I simply adore grilled zucchini and eggplant with mixed Italian paste! And who cares..... I don’t know the difference and the meaning of ‘au gratin’ and parmigiana..? I just love to savor the good life.
All along, the conversation tinkles with very profound discussions on fashion politics, who is in and the totally outs, and whether the food on your plate would work better with the coconut soufflé or the champagne tart. It’s the easy way out of pretentious course and is somehow that crass, Med-Italian sort of thing one can do, to remain cool after all that soul-searching food.
Talking about soul-searching food, the chef- next-door believes in cooking from your heart, and with ingredients of love. How much can you cook from your heart, when your stomach is empty and how much love can emanate from that drop of extra virgin olive oil ? then, eat your heart out!
The thrill lies in the pleasure-seekers. After all, can you really be eating shawarma or plain looking dishes in your neighborhood resto in your Jimmy Choos, Christian Louboutin and Herve Leger?
But frankly? it is worth sharing , if merely to prove that the world is your personal oyster and you have an international, exclusive and very über-chic cooking in a state-of-the-art kitchen, er, not yours gorgeous....…but in that five star hotel overlooking at your window!!
So if your birthday( as if) is about wishing you having a 24 inch waistline,...behave, eat today and diet tomorow!!!!!!!!!!
COUNTRY LIFESTYLE
How would you feel when you woke up one morning and realized that all the things you had spent-- time, money and effort were essentially unimportant?.........
That wine glasses you bought on your trip with its endearing crystal gleaming, no longer graces your after meal indulgence, now stood still and just mere display pieces.
The new Armani outfit you splurged on for your mall trips lies shrouded in your wardrobe on a rack of ageing designer clothes…and all those jewels, blings ,watches,multitude of shoes you proudly spent your salary on, now sparkle only for the benefit of your locker. You feel bereft - as if you've left a part of yourself with those prized possessions - but all you can take on your next chapter in life is a feeling of being you strips of the 'good things"?.....
That's what happened to me when I took a 2 year hibernation, a work pause from the "usual me routine" and spent life out of the box - living life in Dinas, my hometown for almost two years and did some "Martha Stewart Fab Life in the Country Side". So there would be no cupboards filled with worldly goods ...only fresh air,..fresh vegetable from the organic patches on the backyard,like whenever you love chicken casserole you basically run to catch live chicken..either you are exhausted or the chicken ,then, you will have fresh cooked "chicken ala king! with fresh squeezed lemonade, fresh shrimps and crabs from your daily fish vendors.
Green environment for green life!!!!!
I was apprehensive to say the least…. If only I knew then what I know: that it is possible to be completely happy even fulfilled, that the best of things in life are almost free.....at least as I thought.
.....then acquisition became an antidote for angst.
I look back on my bouts of 'shopaholicism' now and grimace at thousands of dirhams,spent on things I am happily doing without. But I needed them then. When life handed me an apple, I would reach for my credit card and go on a spree - if you haven't already discovered retail therapy, believe me there's no faster cure for job stress or anxiety than that gorgeous branded pieces which makes one feel like a million dollars. Retail therapy was my panacea for my worries.... - till I came to my hometown where there was no retail...................!
Here, it doesn't matter if I'm wearing last year's - or even last decade's fashion... no one cares. I wear cargo shorts to my farm or going to marts because the dress code is more about comfort, not elegance. We have few status symbols here....no big cinemas,shopping malls and haute cuisine restaurants.
Here's what I have come to value about this no-frills existence: when people are stripped of their status symbols, you peel away the layers of social armour and see them as they are. There's no pressure to keep up appearances when all you have are half pants and t-shirts...no pressure of looking better than our neighbours!!!
How much more enriching to nurture friendships with people for what they are than what they have…I always knew this was true but I'm living it now in a way that makes me wonder why I ever spent a moment worrying about being on the A list.
I don't want to draw halos around heads and pretend to get kicks from living in so simple life,I still had nightmares on me walking in Roberto Cavallis..shopping in Harrods, or simply floating in cobbled Champs Elysees... half truth half filled, I was only as good as my last byline....my last deal or my last collection, this altruistic concern for the needy comes hard to the self-absorbed....I can't bear it longer!
When you turn your attention from yourself to others, your things, your status and its symbols become less significant. In fact, it's a classic tool for alleviating depression.
Why can't I just be contented sitting quietly watching the orange sun slip nightly into a turquoise sea...
Drop out of the rat race... then to downsize.... to simplify one's needs as a way of reducing stress, to redefine success as personal growth maybe….but I STILL CAN'T.
So in a hurry...packed my bag...run..and jump back again into the BOX!
COUNTRY LIVING
I love LIMONAN, a nearby village of San Miguel town on the highway going to Pagadian City from my farm. Every Wednesday, as it has been my weekly ritual going there on early mornings to buy local fresh vegetables and local goods from the natives.
Driving through the provincial highway while sightseeing the landscape especially the mountains on the side of the road gave me my kind of emotional destressing, sort of... my escape.
I keep going back to Limonan as if I'm in Baguio City's Sunday Market....it's my kind of ethnical recharge. Mountains to me are my therapy, my poetry, my painting, my art and my breathing space.
This is my way of connecting myself, of unwinding, communing with nature, exploring the terrain and absorbing the earth's energy through meeting local people and nature's produce in a market by the mountain.Aside from local van transport and few private vehicles on the highway, the morning trips were breathtaking route, from misty green hills, the colors change as the morning rays of the sun perched every coconut trees.
My journey will never be complete without exploring its WEDNESDAY MARKET. Locally produced fruits and vegetables are visual sights aside from local handicrafts.Hawking their wares at the top of their voices, the diminutive vendors selling avocados, ripe bananas and the freshly roasted corns...the cacophony that ensues as a stall-holder cries out to drum up business. To me, LIMONAN is truly a slice of heaven, simply because I love the sheer abundance of fresh choices.It is also a great place to be a shutterbug; there's always interesting activity to shoot.
And for a different kind of thrill, you can try local delicacies like puto, budbud, bingka, chikalang, pintos and binignit.
Going home, I prepared all the fresh vegetables and together with fresh prawns from the nearby fish farm, cooked my favorite SINIGANG NA HIPON SA GULAY....so mouthwatering indeed, surely Wednesdays will always be my favorite native FOOD DAYS...!!
I was in my afternoon siesta nap when an old women was shouting to the top of her lungs. "Manok, netib manok baligyaaaaa!!!! " I was unceremoniously awaken by her shouting. " Lagring...Lagring, tan-awa ra god tong manok nga baligya sa gawas..!!!!! my quick response, knowingly that barrio women move fast to sell their stuffs and in a hurry.
These women sell their poultry produce in town and the money they earned are use in buying some necessities back home in the barrio. They bought dried fish as well as fresh ones. Salts, cooking oils, vetsin and kerosine gas are additonal items they will bring home.
"Oo sir!, kadyot lang", as she ran outside in the main gate. " Nang, nang agi ra gud dire kay paliton ni Sir imong mga manok!!!.
Lagrimas Maluloy-on is my new help in the house. She just started working a month ago." Taga diin diay ka day? I asked her. Taga Suminot Sir...didto ko natawo, pero pagkaminyo nako, sa Baganian Peninsula na mi namuyo sa akong bana Sir, kay mananagat man gud to sya...she shyly answered my queries. Mao ba?....I squaked as I was inspecting her looks. "Pila nay imong edad diay? naa kay mga anak? asa naman imong bana....naa gihapon ka sa Baganian tig-ulian?" were my rapid interview questions to her.
" Wala na Sir, kay nagbulag na mis akong ika-tulo ka bana...she moaned as she was shy telling such private and personal questions. Wow, I was really amazed about her having three husbands...how she managed to have three. Lagring was looking frail, and looked younger than I thought...maybe 40?..38?...thanks to her make-up, maybe brought from Maranaw hawkers, and pink Ching chang Soo plus dark red lipstick. Her worn out blouse, looked like bought from ukay-ukay somewhere with some Chinese drawings on the front. She was wearing faded jeans that matched the pink t-shirt.
"Unya...ang imong mga anak asa naman?...I was outright intruding deeper into her private life. "Wala man koy mga anak Sir, kay nag palayget ko !!!! she blushes. I was embarrassed too. So after a while I accepted Inday and let her to start working that day.
The native chicken is my favorite fowl...Nanay Tiba used to get fresh eggs from a nearby "pugaran" and add the egg yolks to my hot "NILUGAW". I love eating porridge till now but without those eggs, after modern times, the pugarans just disappeared in the house.
The two hens I bought looked so healthy, they have spotted feathers, their stomach bloated...I thought maybe those hens were forced to eat bananas or mais or maybe nails? to increase their kilos.
I instructed Lagring to kep the two chickens being binded together with plastic straws. I was feeling sleepy again so I continued my additional nap in a bamboo sofa, the July amihan wind made my eyes drowsy.
"Sir,Sir ...nawala ang duha ka manok!!!!!!! " Lagrimas screamed that woke me up. " Asa man diay nimo gibutang Inday....impossible jud nga mawala to ay, panihapon biya to natong usa ka manok, kay gusto nakog tinula." I said to her.
"Dire nako gibutang sa ilalom sa sofa set Sir....ambot nganong nga nawala sila." I was beginning to feel angry on her, my God! imagine in two days, she made mistakes, the nerve....the price of two chicken cost already her one week salary, and the worst is we will have no hot chicken tinola soup.
" Hala pangitaa jud tong mga manok, kay ikaw jud akong itak-ang diris kawa....!!!!!! I shouted at her. WOw, how can she be that dumb? why she put those chicken in the sala under those furniture????? so stupid woman.
"Hala Sir nakabuhi diay...nia sa likod sa balay! " she was shouting while she was chasing both chicken. " Sir, kusog man managan uy....dili nako madakpan." Bweset!!!!!!dakpa jud na kay wala tay panihapon.
True to itself, Inday was gasping her breath, the chicken disappeared ....together with my dinner....my tinolang manok. My tinolang native na manok.
So I called my niece to just go to the carinderia on the side of the public market to buy some dinner for me. So from hot sabaw of chicken....it was adobong manok on the table. It was the only available food left in the closing restaurant.
photo credit: Tina Enad Tagle for the delicious and mouth watering TINULANG MANOK
