In one of the darkest night

I could not really tell if I'm ever a fan of electrical appliances. You can't rely on them anymore, even if it's of good quality. They seem to never fail to surprise you when suddenly they decided not to function properly or retire entirely. In the past week, my household quite caught a contagious disease of broken appliances. It seems the house itself decided that only primitive tools are allowed. First, it was the new induction stove I bought. It was working perfectly until one day, I plugged it in, there was a spark, and it never work again. Next was the electrical kettle, I was a bit fond of it too because of how aesthetically pleasing it looks. Finally, my months-old Asahi electric fan that I bought not only for its quality but for its minimalistic appeal too. Living alone, it was quite a challenge for me once this kind of thing happens. You see, the problem with appliances it takes an expert to see what could be the problem with them. You cannot just figure them out on your own which frustrates me so much.

In our province, in the south of Palawan, where I grow up, the public power supply did not reach our town until the late '90s, we grew up without the convenience of the modern world. No need to say, we also do not have a television at home, just a dependable radio to listen to the news. Our main entertainment was listening to radio dramas. We fall asleep listening to Benhur or Gabi ng Lagim. We wash our family laundry --with our hands and a wooden palo-palo-– on weekends with Akong Inyong Tiya Dely in our background. I vividly remember one night, we are left alone in our dark little house, with only one moron left to us. Wherever one of us goes, there goes all of us, our sister holding the moron in her one hand and us holding on to our sister's skirt tightly as if it's a talisman to any bad creature lurking in the dark trying to abduct us. The howling wolf in the background from Gabi ng Lagim did not help either.

Houses that have long fluorescent light bulbs in their houses are only the families who can afford a power generator. Mostly it is just a yellow bulb with a pull-chain light switch. We would hear a generator starting as soon as the sun sets and would be gone as soon as the dawn started, the gasoline is not cheap. A few meters away from our house, there was a plain house made of sawali. Inside you'll see bleachers made of cheap coconut wood slabs. At the entrance, hanging was a floral printed curtain, and beside it, sitting the son of the owner guarding the door with a wooden box on his lap to collect two peso coins for the movie fee. At the center front, you'll see a big bulky television with a VHS player beneath it. This was our cinema; the Betamax. It was operated by a power generator. I remember seeing Interview with the Vampire in it one night with my whole family. The scene where Kirsten Dunst's character magically grows her hair back never leaves my mind. I thought she was so pretty and at the same time creepy. Good thing I was sitting close to my father.

Do you know the saying: "In search of gold, we lose the diamonds"? One dark evening in my childhood, I think I was 6 years old, it was 1995. We have just moved to our house in Marabajay, Rio Tuba. where we start schooling. My oldest nephew, who was like our adopted brother, came to visit. After dinner, we went outside, just in front of our house, to collect fireflies and put them in a glass jar. We are not in the deep forest but there are a few big trees in the back of our house --a very old acacia tree and a few mango trees where we play during the day-- and our front is still dense with tall grass. Way back then, everywhere was an unadulterated space to live, we even drink from spring well. The sky was full of stars that night, so bright you can identify what constellation you are looking at. It was so beautiful, one cannot refrain to stretch the neck and look up at the sky. We would name --and claim-- stars until our necks started to hurt. As soon as we go back to the house, I saw a bulalakaw falling to the ground beside our home. In between amazement and horror (there's a folk tale about a ball of fire called santelmo that could hunt down people, being 6 years old, I wasn't able to differentiate which is which), I called them back. I pointed to them where it landed. Could we go there and see? Would there be a treasure on the ground where it landed as the legend says? We are excited to know but no one dared go to that side of the house, darkness aside, it was full of tall grass, so we decided to wait for the daylight. We all forget about it in the morning. Until few days passed and I gather my courage, I went there alone, there was no treasure nor a big meteoroid rock. Up until now, I honestly believe what I saw was a real bulalakaw but my grown-up mind would not make a sense of it.

One day, an enormous trunk of trees was all over the street, men digging here and there, civilization has finally arrived, and street lights are being installed. And sooner than we think, we adapt easily to the change but sometimes my mind still goes to that one dark night of my childhood.