halusugbu

Jerry has already posted about our MiMa (mindoro-marinduque) escapade. Yey. And I am still not halfway recounting my Tawi-Tawi experience. It’s so cliché to say that I’m busy, but the irritating thing is I am. I feel like such an adult giving such an excuse. Unfortunately, It’s almost a decade since I have been constitutionally declared one.

Anyway, let me have a another attempt of my Tawi-Tawi experience.

I left off waiting by the kumbento watching the battalion of colored plastic bags as if ready for attack. The lull time which I savored since relaxed breathing felt so long ago.

Finally, the tides were high enough for the boat to pass through. Sr. Betty, Fr. Celoy and I rode on a hired temper for an hour trip to Halu-Sugbu. With my impression of Sitangkay, I didn’t expect much of the place. Instead, I chose to soak in as much of that moment sitting on a boat in the middle of nowhere. Tasha, my digital cam, hardly left my hand as I took snapshots of whatever I took fancy to.

The sun left without his usual passionate good-bye, and instead snuggled quietly into the depths of the sea leaving my entire world a hazy blue. The sea turned into a inky shade. At that moment, I thought it strange having ballads equate blue with sadness when in fact, it gave me such a peaceful, tranquil feeling. I guess, those writers have never been to Tawi-Tawi.

As we left Sitangkay, other were boats coming in carrying their newly-harvested agar-agar (agal-agal to them), a certain type of seaweed that looked like green rubbery tree branches. In Davao it is called guso, a delicacy often fed to first-time visitors. But in Tawi-Tawi, it is their main source of livelihood. Like corn or rice, they dry it under the sun then sell it to traders per kilo. But unlike corn or rice, agar-agar is not meant to be eaten. It is usually used as an ingredient to gulaman or gelatin (we all know that!), ice cream, beer(!) and even chairs (!!).

When there was too little light for Tasha to work properly, I put her away and just relished the boat ride. I once again love boats as Magnolia Fragrance dissolved into a hazy memory. The sea teasingly sprayed its salt at me, the wind naughtily attempted to take away the tubao wrapped around my hair, the waves playfully rocked our temper.

That’s what you call a RIDE.

* * * * *

Halusugbu, the pondohan village, broke the infinite blue with its twinkling incandescent bulbs. I was more than elated to see that we were really staying in the middle of the sea this time. Bamboo was the foundation of the entire village as the stilts held the houses, as well as served as the ground for people to walk on. Houses were either made from cement or wood. The entire village probably consisted of 30 houses, with almost an equal number of Christians and Muslims. The Christians were mostly settlers while the Muslims were mostly Badjaos.

It was beautiful!

The water was a clear greenish-blue and glistened when the light shone on them. Vain stars peppered the royal blue sky, twinkling with all their might to call attention to whoever may care. We were received with a warm welcome, especially since Fr. Celoy and Sr. Betty have not been there for a while. It was amusing to see their amazement at the presence of a visitor, since it is something they do not often get.

It’s probably always a thrill for them to receive guests. And it was evident with our dinner. We brought a long two fat palm-sized crabs from Sitangkay, which they served along with conch (those shells you buy as souvenirs), which apparently have meat inside, and fresh fish.

I couldn’t be any happier with my dinner. They kept apologizing for what they were able to serve, but I told them that I was eating a thousand-peso meal. Mahal ang ganyan sa Davao. At wala nang hiya-hiya! Most of the adults were finished, but I was still happily eating the crabs, to which Fr. Celoy commented, “di obvious sa katawan na ang lakas mo kumain.”

In retrospect, I don’t know if that was a compliment or it’s just another way of saying, “how can a girl who eats like a pig have the body of a goat?” Right then, I didn’t much care. Dinner was a gastronomical delight made more sumptuous by the presence of new found friends, Lua Gamay and Tomas.

Lua Gamay is half of a twin. The other one is Lua Dako. Literally their names are Small Twin and Big Twin. Cute, huh? Lua Gamay and Tomas kept me company for most of the night, while the priest and nun were off to do their religious duties. These kids actually got my attention when they invited me to go squid hunting. “Te, mag-nocus ta! (ate, let’s look for squid)” Of course I said yes. To which the adults suddenly started fussing.

Did I know how to swim? No. Oh no.
Was there an adult with us? No. Bring one.
What time will the moon be out? Ten. Too late.
No. You can’t go.
Aw. Darn.

Apparently, the ability to swim is quite important in squid hunting because the boat you use is very small, can barely hold four people, and is prone to turning over on occasion. Uhm, yeah. Maybe not going is a brilliant idea.

So, I spent the night listening to Tomas telling stories of the sea. Many of which I am not sure are entirely true, and could just possibly be the wonderful creations of a ten-year old imaginative boy. As I could barely understand names of the sea creatures he talks about, I really can’t be sure. There was mention of a whirpool, whales, dolphins and giant tuna. True or not, it was fun listening to his tales. Lua Gamay would occasionally refute, affirm, append or delete from the stories.

Around nine o’ clock, we went up the roof of the school to watch the moon rise. It was starting to wane, but it was still a spectacular event seeing it rise up from the horizon brightening up the entire sky and creating a path of light on the sea. I could imagine mermaids and dolphins dancing on that shimmery road.

Once the moon was nicely settled, I bid good night to the boys. It has been a long day and it would be the first time I would be sleeping comfortably after Magnolia Fragrance. As I closed my eyes praying for pleasant dreams, I could hear the ocean sing me a lullaby as its waves sloshed about the stilts of my home for the night.