THE STORY OF THE NIPA HUT
“I am the Lord… I will rescue you by my outstretched arm and with mighty acts of judgment. I will take you as my own people, and you shall have me as your God.” (Exodus 6:6-7a)
I was born in San Vicente, Bacolor, Pampanga. My memory is filled with happy childhood days in that small hut. It stood at my maternal ancestors’ lot and was situated at the back of my grandmother’s house. The hut was made of bamboo and nipa. The stairway leading to the main house was made of nicely cut round bamboo. The stairs would immediately lead to the ‘kusina’, which was used by my three elder sisters to lay their mats when they go to sleep at night. Parallel to it was the ‘kilub’ or inner room, which the four younger siblings, including me used to spread our big mat when we went to sleep. Perpendicular to it was the ‘silid’, which was comfortable enough for my father. My mother slept between the young girls and young boys. She was our ‘divider’. Cleofas slept by her right side. Fortunato slept next to Cleofas. I slept by her left side. Rosemarie slept next to me. At night, not even a thief would dare to intrude, as he would be hanged by the strings of our mosquito nets, whose ties were carefully joined together.
Stories had been told that this house where I grew withstood the tests of three transfers from one place to another. Definitely, we were mere squatters. It must have been built sturdily, with the help of my father’s father and brother, who were both carpenters. But sooner than later, I realized how it had depreciated through the years. During rainy days, I could hardly contain the shouts of my father from the rooftop. It was dripping! Father would shout from the top of his voice to ask the help of my brothers in order to make patches to cover the holes of the roof. Oh those stormy weathers were very traumatic for me! Our house swayed due to gusty strong winds aggravated by the swaying of the bamboo trees that towered just behind our small hut. Our floor would get soak with the rain. There were hardly any protective windows. And I was very scared of the rising water at the riverbanks at the back of our house. But God had his own way of consoling me then. When the weather was stormy, I had a feast of oatmeal donated by Sr. Michaelis, O.S.B. and the Benedictine community. The milk or Klim that was donated by the USAID added flavor to it. Also, the hot rice porridge always tasted so good.
I couldn’t imagine how I could accept guests or visitors in that small nipa hut. It didn’t have a space for such gatherings. Cooking and eating were done downstairs. There was no need of any flooring downstairs. We had close contact with nature. We could walk barefooted, in-touch with mother earth! Later in life, I learned that this is a healthy way to receive energy from nature.
While living in that nipa hut, I had my first crush. Within its walls, I also dreamed dreams. No matter how tiny this place was, I just felt secure in it. I have fond memories of playing with my brother, Cleofas. I have fond memories of my shared meals with Rosemarie. Many times we ate from a single plate and divided the food into two equal parts. When I thought that I wanted more than my portion, I would seemingly focus her attention to a faraway object and then took that opportunity to grab a little from her portion of food. Sometimes, without me being aware of her antics, she got even with me.
One day, all these fond memories would be buried in oblivion. We needed to vacate the lot and find a place for our nipa hut. My family was totally unprepared and Delia had to do something. She needed to find a place for us. More prayers were said to implore divine help. And God’s final verdict was for us to leave the place…to leave all my childhood memories…to leave friends, neighbors and the community. I was devastated! And so were my sisters, brothers and parents. That was October 5, 1975. It was the day we moved to Pilar Village, San Fernando. My sister acquired a house and lot through a low-cost housing loan from the Social Security System. That meant much belt-tightening in order to set aside –P-120.00 for the monthly amortization.
It took almost 20 years for me to totally understand why God took us away from Bacolor. In the morning of October 1, 1995, the mudflows and lahar that buried Bacolor woke up my senses. Then and only then did I realize how God carefully planned my family’s ‘exodus’ in 1975 in order to spare us from the perils of lahar wrought by the eruption of Mt. Pinatubo. For how could that small hut ever survive the terrors of mudflows and lahars?
“I am the Lord… I will rescue you by my outstretched arm and with mighty acts of judgment. I will take you as my own people, and you shall have me as your God.” (Exodus 6:6-7a)
I was born in San Vicente, Bacolor, Pampanga. My memory is filled with happy childhood days in that small hut. It stood at my maternal ancestors’ lot and was situated at the back of my grandmother’s house. The hut was made of bamboo and nipa. The stairway leading to the main house was made of nicely cut round bamboo. The stairs would immediately lead to the ‘kusina’, which was used by my three elder sisters to lay their mats when they go to sleep at night. Parallel to it was the ‘kilub’ or inner room, which the four younger siblings, including me used to spread our big mat when we went to sleep. Perpendicular to it was the ‘silid’, which was comfortable enough for my father. My mother slept between the young girls and young boys. She was our ‘divider’. Cleofas slept by her right side. Fortunato slept next to Cleofas. I slept by her left side. Rosemarie slept next to me. At night, not even a thief would dare to intrude, as he would be hanged by the strings of our mosquito nets, whose ties were carefully joined together.
Stories had been told that this house where I grew withstood the tests of three transfers from one place to another. Definitely, we were mere squatters. It must have been built sturdily, with the help of my father’s father and brother, who were both carpenters. But sooner than later, I realized how it had depreciated through the years. During rainy days, I could hardly contain the shouts of my father from the rooftop. It was dripping! Father would shout from the top of his voice to ask the help of my brothers in order to make patches to cover the holes of the roof. Oh those stormy weathers were very traumatic for me! Our house swayed due to gusty strong winds aggravated by the swaying of the bamboo trees that towered just behind our small hut. Our floor would get soak with the rain. There were hardly any protective windows. And I was very scared of the rising water at the riverbanks at the back of our house. But God had his own way of consoling me then. When the weather was stormy, I had a feast of oatmeal donated by Sr. Michaelis, O.S.B. and the Benedictine community. The milk or Klim that was donated by the USAID added flavor to it. Also, the hot rice porridge always tasted so good.
I couldn’t imagine how I could accept guests or visitors in that small nipa hut. It didn’t have a space for such gatherings. Cooking and eating were done downstairs. There was no need of any flooring downstairs. We had close contact with nature. We could walk barefooted, in-touch with mother earth! Later in life, I learned that this is a healthy way to receive energy from nature.
While living in that nipa hut, I had my first crush. Within its walls, I also dreamed dreams. No matter how tiny this place was, I just felt secure in it. I have fond memories of playing with my brother, Cleofas. I have fond memories of my shared meals with Rosemarie. Many times we ate from a single plate and divided the food into two equal parts. When I thought that I wanted more than my portion, I would seemingly focus her attention to a faraway object and then took that opportunity to grab a little from her portion of food. Sometimes, without me being aware of her antics, she got even with me.
One day, all these fond memories would be buried in oblivion. We needed to vacate the lot and find a place for our nipa hut. My family was totally unprepared and Delia had to do something. She needed to find a place for us. More prayers were said to implore divine help. And God’s final verdict was for us to leave the place…to leave all my childhood memories…to leave friends, neighbors and the community. I was devastated! And so were my sisters, brothers and parents. That was October 5, 1975. It was the day we moved to Pilar Village, San Fernando. My sister acquired a house and lot through a low-cost housing loan from the Social Security System. That meant much belt-tightening in order to set aside –P-120.00 for the monthly amortization.
It took almost 20 years for me to totally understand why God took us away from Bacolor. In the morning of October 1, 1995, the mudflows and lahar that buried Bacolor woke up my senses. Then and only then did I realize how God carefully planned my family’s ‘exodus’ in 1975 in order to spare us from the perils of lahar wrought by the eruption of Mt. Pinatubo. For how could that small hut ever survive the terrors of mudflows and lahars?
