I Am From. By Gonzalo Miguel Pitpit. I am from the ripples on the river’s deep end corners and rocks gathering no moss as murmurs pass them by. http://www.flickr.com/photos/naturetrail/2742274329/in/photostream/.
By Gonzalo Miguel Pitpit
I am from the rooster’s cock-a-doodle-doo waking us up to get ready for morning chores.
I am from the rocks gathering no moss as murmurs pass them by.bahay kubo, or nipa hut, an indigenous house made of bamboo tied together and covered with a thatched roof using nipa or anahaw leaves built by my family and my neighborhood.
I am from the rice cooked by heating in boiling water or steam that warmed my body and made me do well in school, and made my Nanay and Tatay proud.
I am from the smell of sampaguita flowers as they embraced my lean slender body for mother strung them into a necklace as honorary symbols for my achievements at year ends.
I am from the dirt roads adorned with ipil-ipil trees and wooden bridges that connect small rivers in the middle of green valleys.
I am from the long almost empty dining table with two benches warmed by ten off-springs waiting on the sides to fill a predictable scarce nourishments.
I am from a family of one girl and nine boys who trod to church on Sundays and listened to priests from foreign lands.
I am from fighting cocks in an arena…..
I am from folktales, legends, and stories from my friends’ old grand about my little barrio lit by lanterns at dusks.
I am from songs and words that I did not understand from a place beyond on early mornings.
I am from schools of a national anthem sung in four languages – Spanish, English, Filipino, and Ilocano, my mother tongue - during those morning ceremonies at school.
I am from the dream of adventure, recurring childhood dreams of flying over mountains, hills and glass houses, in search of new life, new beginnings amidst the hustle and bustle pursuit of the glorious American dream.