"Be still," bids THE PSALMIST, his voice a cozy blanket on a chilly night. "May you please pause for a sec and care to listen. I have a story to tell, and I promise you, it's one worth hearing."
Imagine listening to his voice right now. It's so warm and inviting and draws you in with his captivating tone. 'Cause that's how he says it all, with clear, confident, powerful, and loving exhortation. A voice as big as a giant but as soft as a singing maya. As deep as the ocean but as high as the heavenly bodies. It makes a class in abrupt silence. It's so clear that it makes Math as easy as it was. But most of all, that voice is like music. Every phrase is harmonious to the ear. It filled the clearing, and everyone held their breath, eager to hear more.
The soft crisps and crackles of their campfire amid that forest can be heard in the background, casting a warm glow on THE PSALMIST's face as he spoke.
"I've written these songs for you, care to listen, dear?" he said, his fingers dancing across the strings of his old guitar. "Each one a story, a journey, a piece of my soul. And I want to share them with you if you'll let me." Of course, we shall.
THE PSALMIST hugged his guitar and with a soft pluck at the sixth string, the lower E filled the air with a curious mellow tone, a mournful note that tugged at the heartstrings. "This is an old one," he said with eyes shining in enthusiasm, "but one of my favorites. Close your eyes and let the music take you on a journey."
He, then, plucked…
As he played, the notes swirled around them as if THE PSALMIST had plucked the emotions right out of the air and woven them into his song.
I wish you can just hear it now, the welcoming melodies that breathe within. But beneath those peaceful runs, there was a hint of sorrow and longing, as though THE PSALMIST was trying to convey a message that went beyond mere words.
And for a moment, as the last note faded away, no one spoke. They simply sat there, lost in the beauty of the music and the power of THE PSALMIST's words as he sings...
~~~
"This is the nascence of their history
Plunge to the page
You're in her epiphany
~~~
A songbook translates reverberation
Entering the dawn of existence
Cessation in its inception
~~~
The protagonist's juncture
Rests upon the earst hat heeds
Expectant to the spectator
~~~
The incipient is liftin' now
The proverbial plot's liftin' now
The origin is liftin' now
The opening is liftin' now..."
~~~
"Those were the days..."
---~o~--- ---~o~--- ---~o~---
"Stop! Stop it, please! Please, just stop singing!" a little girl cried, with tears in her eyes failing to fall.
"Bleh bleh beh beh beh, GIRL is such a crybaby," sang the boy, teasing his sobbing sis.
"Stop it, BOY!" the li'l girl retaliated.
Imagine a black screen, as you hear those conversations. Then, steps of four were heard as the two children chase each other...
Our camera fades into a golden field. At the center of that field is a small Nipa Hut where the two children live. From a distance, a big house was lifted, while the men are chanting in their Bayanihan.
It was a vast field where the two children are running around. Mountains are all over them where we could hear the yawns of the mighty carabao. And the beauty of the renowned 'perfect cone' Mayon Volcano towers above them as the sun prepares for its dawn.
The sunlight beamed down on the lush cultivated fields, busking the greenery as the girl sprinted towards the boy, her pitch-black locks trailing behind her. "Come on, BOY!" she cried, her voice ringing out in excitement. "Let's play Tumbang Preso!"
BOY continued to tease her sister saying, "I bet you'll cry again if you lose this time."
"What do you mean, 'this time'? GIRL batted, "I always win, and you know that."
Her brother just grinned, his hazel eyes shining as he picked up a rusted tin can. "Okay, let's do it!" he replied, his fingers curling around the edges of the can.
GIRL's smile widened as she grabbed her old, worn-out slipper with a hole at the sole. "I'll be the thrower!" she declared; her eyes bright with anticipation.
With the can set up in place, BOY stood guard, waiting for GIRL to make her move. "Okay, let's see if you can knock it down!" he egged her on, a playful smirk on his face.
GIRL's arm swung back, and with a swift flick of her wrist, the slipper soared through the air, colliding with the can. "Yes! I did it!" she cried, pumping her fist in triumph.
BOY chuckled, impressed by her skills. "You're getting better at this, GIRL!"
Proud of herself, GIRL beamed at her brother. "Of course, I am!" she exclaimed. "We play this all the time!"
As they continued to play, their laughter echoed across the fields, carrying with it the sound of their carefree spirits. "Phew, that was fun!" BOY exclaimed, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "What do you want to play next?"
GIRL looked around, her eyes scanning the horizon. "Hmm, let's play Sepak Takraw!" she suggested, her voice full of excitement. "I'll get the abaka ball!"
Nodding, BOY quickly retrieved the bamboo net, and they set up the game with practiced ease. As they kicked the ball back and forth over the net, their movements were fluid and graceful, a testament to their hours of practice.
"You're getting pretty good at this, GIRL," BOY exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear.
"Thanks, I practice a lot!" GIRL replied, smiling back at him. "But you're not so bad yourself!"
That is the sibling's lifestyle. They were not waiting for that long promise of energization of electricity in the storm's aftermath, for there was no electricity to wait for, to begin with. Thus, they can't play those games you play on your game consoles and smartphones, can't even check their notifications on the net, can't watch your favorite shows on the TV, nor join the beat of the songs you play in your MP3 players. And yet, they were satisfied.
The children's enjoyment was playing outside, breathing the soft breeze of that clean setting, and feeling the warmth of summer heat.
They use tin cans to play Tumbang Preso, dig a hole in the ground to play Shato, use candy wrapper for Sipa, use a ball made out of abaka for Sepak Takraw, tosses a tansan for Kiki Bika or Piko, loom bands for Chinese Garter, jump like a frog in Luksong Baka or Luksong Tinik, sing Doctor Quack Quack and untangle hands, roll an old wheel, build a cross with two sticks so that they can imagine riding a horse, blow a gun with bamboo or ballpen case where wet rolled papers are the bullets, build a boat with styrofoam where soap or oil is the engine, play Tatsian with marbles or tansan, play the good old Tagu-Taguan, highs and lows in Langit Lupa, break some Trompo, sing jingles like Bubuka Ang Bulalaklak or Bilug Bilog Bilugan, and with other friends, they play Agawan Base and tackle each other in Patentero.
Inside, they can play Sungka with shells or pebbles, follow the beat of bounces in Jackstone, Dama board game with bottle caps, Pickup Sticks, Taytayan or Morris, some pen & paper games that flicks a pen like a missile to shoot the opponent's base, SOS, F.L.A.M.E.S., and even play bahay-bahayan and tinda-tindahan.
Now, if you haven't played them yet, I dare say, those were the good old days when you can play physically and conversations were face-to-face, not just through a screen. It was a time when human interaction was king, and virtual communication was a thing of the future.
Time passes when we have fun, and just like that, noon came. As they were about to start another round, they heard their mother calling them from the hut. "GIRL! BOY! It's time to come in for lunch!"
With a sigh, GIRL put down the ball, and they made their way toward the hut. As they approached, they could see their father and the other men finishing up their Bayanihan work, lifting the big house together.
"BOY! GIRL! Come see what we've accomplished today!" their father called out to them; his voice filled with pride.
Their eyes widened in amazement as they took in the sight of the newly raised house. "Wow, Papa! It looks amazing!" GIRL exclaimed; her voice filled with awe.
"How did you all do that?" BOY asked, his eyes wide with curiosity.
"With hard work and teamwork, my son," their father replied, his voice ringing with conviction. "That's what Bayanihan is all about."
As they sat down for lunch, the warm aroma of their mother's cooking filled their noses, making their mouths water. "Mmm, this is so good, Mama!" GIRL exclaimed, taking a bite of the savory tuyo and fried rice from the leftovers.
Their mother sat with them, watching them eat with a smile on her face.
"Yeah, I love your cooking, Mama!" BOY added, nodding his head in agreement.
"Thank you, my children," their mother replied, smiling softly. "It's made with love, just like everything we do here."
After lunch, GIRL and BOY helped their parents with the farm work. They spent the whole morning harvesting rice and tending to the crops. It was hard work, but they didn't mind. They loved being outside and helping their parents.
As the day went on, the sun grew hotter, and the siblings began to feel tired. So, they sat down under a tree to take a break.
"BOY, do you ever wish we could go to school like the other kids?" GIRL asked.
"Sometimes," BOY replied, "But I also like helping our parents on the farm. It makes me feel useful."
"Me too," GIRL agreed. "But I still want to learn how to read and write."
Weird as it was, the name of our characters are GIRL and BOY. But please do take it seriously, 'cause their parents were proud of their names. Why? For their family's only way of living is through harvesting grains of rice, which cost them sweat and blood literally. And most of all, it costs them time, thus they were not able to experience the joy of going to school like the moments some students cut in class. That is why they only know a handful of English vocabulary.
They are not Americans nor British. They are an average Filipino family of farmers in a remote town that does not have those luxuries others enjoy. They were a shadow of the good ol' Pinoy attitude. Diligent, polite, hardworking, family-oriented, and with those four famous words the nation knows; 'maka-Diyos, makatao, makakalikasan, at makabansa'. But most of all, they are satisfied.
GIRL and BOY's family have not yet seen those tall buildings you see in person, for the only communication they have is the newspaper. Even though they don't have those comfy soft beds you hug all night, for they only have kulambo and banig, it's all good for them. Nor even that white bright light your eyes take pleasure in, they see not, for the only light they have every night are those little romantic candles and gasera, the moon's smile, the stars' winks, and their own shimmering eyes.
"Come!" GIRL suddenly stood up and said, "Let's play tag! You're it!" She patted her brother's head as she began to dash. And then BOY quickly tried to catch her and nearly stumbled a root from the tree.
As they ran and pass through those stalks of rice, the little girl opened wide her arms just to caress them for their height was just about below her shoulders. Their field was golden already and ready for the harvest, so their parents were still busy harvesting the other side of their field at that time.
The li'l girl stopped running and turned to her brother, "What is it?"
BOY pointed towards the sky, "Look, the sky is changing colors!"
They both looked up in awe as the sky turned into a beautiful shade of pink and orange. The sun was preparing for its dusk as Mayon Volcano seems to glow, and it was a breathtaking sight to behold. They stood there for a moment, just admiring the view.
"Wow, it's so beautiful," GIRL whispered, "It's like Mama's painting."
"It is like fire," BOY replied then quickly tapped her sister's head. "And now, you're it!" He then quickly ran, giggling.
"Hey, not fair! That's not counted, you're still it!" GIRL shouted and continued to dash opposite her brother.
"Wait, GIRL, stop!" shouted BOY as he realized the figure of the tree that she passed through beside her. He then tried to catch up to her.
"Bleh! I will not be deceived by one of your tricks again," she shouted back.
But then, GIRL saw the tall grass in front of her and suddenly stopped running because of the surprise. The tip of her nose is now touching that tall wall of grasses.
BOY, catching his breath, caught up with her and said, "I told you to stop, didn't I, didn't I?"
"The Forbidden Pass beyond the Tree..." GIRL gasped, talking to herself.