Where's Nemo?

by Thirdie Palma
LifestyleBohol Section
Bohol Chronicle
Published: April 27, 2008

Going, going, and gone...As I followed the gray-colored bird beat its wings and off to the air after a mouthful of fish, I couldn’t help but be amazed at this very same sight I see almost every day ever since a bird of this kind had appeared in the beach at the back of our house. Sometimes, there are two of them, probably a couple, hunting for food during low tide and since they are bigger than the usual birds I see around, I call them big birds.

Much has improved in our little town of Lila, just 28 kilometers from the city, especially in the area of coastal resource management. When I was a kid, I was always fond of the sea – swimming, fishing, gathering food like lukot, shells, sea urchins and the likes with my lola. I accidentally learned how to swim at a very young age of seven after my sister grabbed the one and only buoy (a tight-capped empty water container) I was holding on to keep afloat. I remember seeing sea horses, plenty of shells, mollusks and other sea creatures, that are now have all become very rare, if not, extinct in the local area. People, then, were unwary of the consequences of over fishing by the use of very fine fish nets, over collection of marine creatures that are not even edible, water pollution caused by garbage-dumping, and even the use of cyanide and other fish poisons. Upon reaching high school, I noticed the major change not towards the better but the worst. Sea horses, sea urchins and many types of shells disappeared, corals became lifeless, and fish population and fish catch had significantly dropped to a point where buying fish in the market would mean spending much more than buying pork or beef. Snorkeling was never enjoyable anymore as the once beautifully-colored reefs with tropical fishes of different sizes swarming here and there had become an unmoving and dull reflection of the blue sky above. Even sea anemones, which were abundant before, appeared to have been abandoned by their resident Nemos leading to their own demise, as well. I had this fantasy that if I were Captain Planet, one of my favorite superheroes then, I would definitely save our sea and turn its life back where it rightfully was. But fantasies were no more than wishful thinking and false escape of reality. Reality still bites and, sadly, the most I can do that time was to clean our own side of the beach.

When I went to UP Los Baños in Laguna to pursue my undergraduate studies, I had to leave the town that I loved since childhood with the hope that someday its vibrant marine life will be back, waiting for me to explore its beauty again. I remained hopeful. True enough, hope didn’t fail me as I continued to cling on it. While I was in school, I heard there were vital improvements in coastal management in our town. Several no-fishing-zone marine sanctuaries were established and the use of fish nets of all sorts were prohibited within the municipal waters with corresponding penalties for those found guilty of violating such rules. In addition, some species of fish were forbidden during their mating and gestation period, with some other prohibitions concerning the collection of marine organisms. These regulations were to be imposed within a definite period of time, 10 years if I remembered it right. Well, I say it should stay until such time when all or even most of the past dwellers of this part of the sea have been revived and when people are no longer ignorant and irresponsible of their acts. At first, I thought these ordinances were just among those that have made it in print or paper but not in action like most of our national laws but, surprisingly, I was wrong. Since their inception, many have been apprehended for using fish nets and for fishing within the sanctuary even until now and I give credit to the law enforcement people and the locals, as well, for that. I used to be so cynical when it comes to laws of our land because of the fact that we are a country known to have so many bills passed and enacted but not as much implementation. Yes, many laws that we have are just as deep as the fiber of paper they are written in. But this doesn’t mean that we just have to leave them all like that. They were written and enacted obviously with purpose and it is our responsibility to do the action part.

We have so many things to be grateful and thankful for as inhabitants and stewards of a beautiful island called Bohol and I think we all have an idea why. The government and private sectors and some individuals are all aiming for the best eco-cultural tourism this side of the planet can offer, which will hopefully bring a well-balanced socioeconomic and environmental growth and development that will benefit us all. Let us take part in this vision. As ordinary citizens as we are, we can become extraordinary even in our own simple ways of protecting our forests, rivers, seas, endangered species of plants and animals, heritage and cultural sites and other resources that add beauty and value to our land and our future.

When I took a swim one time, I saw several sea anemones and their loyal resident Nemos which were apparently back in each others’ fins and tails after several years of absence. I didn’t see any sea horse, though, but who knows? I’ll keep my fingers crossed on that. After all, they say hope is gone only when we doubt it and time runs out only when we give up.

Youngblood: The old house

By Thirdie Palma

Philippine Daily Inquirer

Posted date: April 19, 2008

It was one ordinary summer afternoon and the sense of temporary freedom from strenuous exams, term papers and everything about school seemed liked a permanent liberation from Azkaban for me. I just came back from school, miles away from home, and surprisingly, I didn’t feel like diving straight into the welcoming deep blue sea just a few paces from my sister’s place where I was staying. Instead, I went to visit an old house.

While standing outside the house, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I had to muster all my courage to enter the house again after several months. I knew the door was closed from the inside, so I opened the window and reached for the lock to open it. The door swung open with a familiar creak.

Right after I closed it, a little boy with curly brown hair came running into the living room. He climbed up on the sofa and started singing while positioning his right arm like he was holding a microphone. He was making-believe that the chair was his stage, I thought.

I glanced at the dining table where an old woman was sitting at its far end. She was busy forming some brown round stuff and putting them on top of a long banana leaf. She was making “tableya,” ground cacao used to make “tsokolate” [chocolate]. The scent of the hot tableya smelled so good.

I shut my eyes and imagined everything I could recall. I got nostalgic.

A girl’s voice suddenly called out and the boy went to the kitchen. I followed him and saw three girls who had just come from the beach, with all the sand on their hands and feet. The boy was told to get something from the cabinet and though he obeyed, there was a trace of resistance in his eyes. He tiptoed to the cabinet, careful not to draw attention from his “lola” [grandmother], who was busy this time making “ube” [purple yam] flavored ice candies. Then he returned to the kitchen and handed over piles of baking tins to his sisters.

The girls hurried back to the beach. I followed. They were playing a game, simulating their lola baking “torta.” What was interesting was they didn’t use flour nor did they use an oven for baking. I laughed when I saw smoke coming from a fire between some stones formed into a triangle.

I went back to the house and waited until my eyes could adjust to the semi-darkness inside. The boy was now carrying a tray full of ice candies. After putting them all in the freezer, his lola whistled, calling someone upstairs. When nobody answered, she asked the boy to rouse his “lolo” [grandfather] from his afternoon siesta so they could have snacks together.

The boy scratched his head, but went straight upstairs and I followed him again. Upon reaching the door, he pushed it carefully, mindful not to make the slightest noise. He walked slowly like a cat and paused for a while, probably wondering if he should back off or not. When he came to a decision, he touched his lolo and said, “Wake up!” Then he ran toward the door as fast as he could.

His lolo did wake up but his expression said, “Don’t tickle me or else I’m gonna hunt you down.” He stood up quickly, bent on chasing his “attacker.” The old man was smiling, unable to sustain his fake show of anger as he ran after his grandson, who was now going down the stairs two steps at a time.

While enjoying the moment, I overheard the old woman say, “Stop it, you’re scaring the little boy!” It was then that I realized that this house was more than just some dull structure, as it would seem from the outside.

I went downstairs and saw another boy holding a water gun in his right hand while munching junk food he was holding with his left. He seemed to be enjoying the fact that their lolo was playing mad again. He even pointed to where the little boy was hiding, prompting the latter to dash outside and into the beach.

All four of us burst into laughter. One of the sisters came in to ask what happened.

“This is not just a house,” I exclaimed. “This is a happy home!” However, nobody seemed to have the slightest idea that I was there with them so I stood up and headed for the living room.

As I was standing in front of a large portrait of colorful birds hanging on the wall, a collage of family pictures at the center of the table caught my eye. I knew all the five families in it very well. Mine was one of them. As I scanned the pictures one by one, the entire house fell into a deafening silence.

After a while, the front door opened and a man spoke, “When did you arrive?” It was my uncle.

“Just this morning,” I answered, without looking away from the collage.

“Have you visited papa in the cemetery?” he asked.

“Not yet but tomorrow I will.”

It felt odd that my lolo wasn’t around sitting on his chair, offering his right hand for me to touch to my forehead like he did every time I came home. Odd that seconds ago, I felt like both my lolo and lola were there with all those memories of a happy home.

Yes, this was home to me. Yes, I was that little boy and those were my elder sisters and brother. Our parents were working in the city, so they left us in the care of our grandparents.

When my lolo died in 2004, I couldn’t go home due to my studies. Going home three months after he died was one of the saddest things I did in my life. When my lola died of cancer in 1998, it was also one huge blow to our entire extended family. They were the reason we would gather in the same home every fiesta and Christmas Day, and to celebrate such occasions without them just feels different and less fun.

When we moved back to our own house a few years after my lola’s death, only my unmarried uncle was left with my lolo. We visited them frequently.

A house for me remains as it is, in the physical sense, if the people who give life to it are either gone or live negative or very boring lives. Only people who live happy and content lives can transform a house into a home.

I am certainly looking forward to a time when the old house becomes a home again. That would be the time when I won’t need to summon my courage just to enter the place. That would be the time when happiness isn’t a thing of the past or a figment of the imagination anymore but something real and living.

Thirdie Palma, 24, finished BS Human Ecology at the University of the Philippines, Los Baños, and is now studying nursing at the Holy Name University in Tagbilaran City, Bohol.