I was the girl who lived in Siquijor island, who fed the chickens and Dad's roosters, and prepared the feed for the pigs. I fetched water, gathered firewood, and cleaned the house. These were chores to be done before or after school, and on weekends. I liked school and reading books, comics and magazines. I was deathly afraid of snakes, dead people and coffins.

Around our ancestral home were coconut trees whose mature coconuts were harvested several times a year. In the back and side yard were cacao and coffee trees that provided us with a delicious beverage for breakfast and afternoon "merienda" (snack). I was the girl who sometimes climbed coconut trees for the young coconut flesh. Have you ever eaten fresh young coconut with the coconut juice on its shell? They tasted heavenly. Siquijor mangoes were fragrant and tasted like heaven, too.

The sea was close by and I swam with other kids, sometimes swallowing the salty sea, accidentally. The sea, the seashore, were my playground. We jumped off the spiky corals. There were no formal swimming lessons. From Dad and other kids, I learned the dog paddle and how to float on my back.
Dad instilled curiosity in me. I remember, a time, at dawn, sleep still in my eyes, Dad showed me a comet shining in the distance up low on the horizon, above the sea.

The sea is a food source. During low tide, at night time, Dad took me there. We gathered the fruits of the sea: small fish, octopus, sea urchins, and edible seashells. I was good at spotting them. Some mornings, we met the fishermen, with their catch, fresh from the sea. The fish was broiled on an open fire, or made into "kinilaw" (raw fish cut in pieces with vinegar, salt and hot peppers), and eaten right there on the beach.

I was the girl who was happy and content in Siquijor, even though we didn't have a car, television, running water, indoor plumbing, or electricity. I didn't want for much. But I loved bread even then.

When Dad went to town, I often asked him to bring bread home which I enjoyed with or without margarine. Dad told me little lies. When he came home without bread, he told me: There was a fight in town and he couldn't buy bread. His smile told me that wasn't true. Was he concerned about eating healthy? I remember no lectures from Dad about that.

Dessert was often whatever tropical fruit was in season. In our household, there were always bananas, the best in the world. Around our house were fruit trees: jackfruit, oranges, pomelos, lanzones and siniguelas. Dad played little games. "Cover your eyes," he would tell me. After he said, "Whoop, whoop," I could open my eyes and he had ripe wild cherries in a coconut bowl for me. He smiled as I happily devoured the fruits; my lips turning bluish from the juice.

Occasionally, I got a treat. Dad would take me a place in town, owned by a relative on Mom's side, called the "Refreshment Parlor," well-lighted with an electric generator. On these rare but memorable occasions, I got an ice-cold bottle of Coca-Cola, or a glass of "leche con hielo" (shaved ice with condensed milk and pink food coloring).

One thing is for sure, Dad taught me the joy of simple treats and love for nature's bounty. I miss my Dad and my simple life on the island.

~ Nida Spalding