Of Filipino Hospitality

(Short Version)

Today had been an eventful day for me at Coron, Palawan, Philippines.

I met the tanod (village watch) for the Coron Lualhati Park, an old Muslim man named Abu Bakar. He was very kind to introduce me to his friends, all working at the Municipal Hall, and they invited me to join them on Sunday so they can tour me around the place, cook food and even let me stay with them for a few nights. Mang Abu Bakar told me to check his house first—a short walk from the town proper… so his wife and I walked back to their place in the far end of the town in the dark.

The stars were beautiful. The way to their home was a maze of wooden planks hanging a few meters above the sea, and most of the planks moved in their place so I felt scared I might fall into the water. But the people there walk in the dark with no flash light and with such speed, you’d think they have night vision and lizard legs.

Mang Abu Bakar’s house was a modest hut made mostly of wood and tin sheets for roof, and they didn’t have electricity. You can see the sea and the stars and the dim lights from the neighboring island. Only a jar of gas lamp called gasera lights the entire household.

Of his eight children, I saw only three, and the young girl was very nice to me and stroked my hair, collected the strands in her hands, and said, “Ang ganda naman ng buhok ni Ate Carla”. (Ate Carla’s hair is beautiful).

“Kulot din yan, tulad ng sayo,” I replied. (It’s also curly, like yours).

And even when I told her that my name is Lara, she still calls me “Ate Carla”.

Most of the children sleep in a small area that’s smaller than my room back in Manila, and all the more grateful I was that they welcomed me to their already crowded home. They didn’t have potable water, and had to wait until their older sister can buy some from the sari-sari store. Before leaving, she had to borrow her mother’s slippers because she didn’t have a pair for herself. A little later, she brought back a 4-liter bottle which I assume they’ll all be sharing (and to think I have a 4-liter bottle all to myself). The children were asking for just piso(one peso) to buy biscuits, and when they do afford Skyflakes, they eat it to the last crumbs.

I have so many more to tell but I’m just awed by the kindness they’ve shown me. Also, it made me realize how lucky I was and how wasteful my ways are back in the city, and I find that even just short encounters like this can mean a lifetime of lessons.