Life Beneath the Nipa Hut

Lumban, Laguna, Philippines


We had spent the first couple of days in Manila, and after we attended service at Templo, we left for Pagsanjan, Laguna, the province that my dad is from; the town I adored so much that I spent three years in a row going there when I was in 4th, 5th and 6th grade. I didn’t care too much about seeing the rest of the country. The river, my family, and the friends I made there were enough for me. I spent hours in the river, catching tadpoles, jumping off logs, or eating lunch on banana leaves with my feet dangling in the water. Some days, my titos would take me up a couple of rapids to cool off, or we would sneak into the lodge where there were pools of hot spring water, and when the occasion called for it, we’d go all the way up the river to see the falls.

More than a decade later, the river looks the same, but the roads seem smaller. The room I stayed in seems bare. The little hut by the side of the house where we’d all sit and hang out is still there, but surely no one’s used it in while. You can see the watermarks on the front of my dad’s old house from when it flooded, about nine feet up. And it makes me wonder how this little old town is still standing after all of these years. And what’s more impressive is that the furniture in my dad’s house is exactly the same as what he grew up with. You look around and wonder how in the world someone let me wander these streets when I was 11 or 12. Then you decide that it’s not like I would’ve let anyone tell me different. (At least that much hasn’t changed.)

The friends I made have children and are married, and have been replaced by their younger siblings and those baby cousins that were only one or two when I was there last. Different but the same. Most of my titos and titas haven’t aged a bit, and they welcome us back with wide arms and the best food ever. And every few minutes I had to turn away because I seemed to always be on the verge of crying.

Lumban, Laguna, Philippines