Living in a rural area, life was never easy for us; although our parents were able to sent us to school and they gave us baon ‘packed lunch, and money for mirienda’.
When I was at a young age, my mom would cook pan cake or turon ‘friend banana wrapped in flour’ and would sell it to the neighborhood. In an eager demeanor (although not all the time I was eager to sell because it would mean I cannot play), I would walk in the neighborhood and sell my goods. I would sell them one peso each, and I go home with plenty of money.
There was this one time when while walking, I accidentally slipped and the tupperware box lid flew and all the turon were on the grass. I did not know what to do, but then, for it was the right thing to do, I picked up the turon and put them back in the tupperware, pretended nothing happened, and continued selling them to the people. No one saw me tumbling down, so it was not a problem selling them. Ha ha ha.
I was in grade II. I was a good boy – the most industrious in the whole class (but I am not today). My dad would usually bring home some fruits and he would keep one and would tell me to give it to my teacher. Well, I was a good child. I would take the fruit the following day with me to school and give it to my teacher. But my teacher would always ask me (whenever I brought fruits to her) how much was the cost of the fruit. I would hear bells because of the question. I would not answer until she would just give me some money as payment for the fruit. Ha ha ha. No one knew that I was supposed to give the fruit for free; or maybe she knew it but did not bother with just a small amount of coins. I thought I was her favorite.
And I wonder if I was correct because one time, she was so angry because one of my classmates tore the paper she posted on the wall. She made us fall in line and everybody got a taste of her stick, excluding me😀. I had this classmate who put a handkerchief in her panties so that when the stick would hit her butt, it would not be as painful, but then my teacher noticed it and made her remove it; although she was angry, it made her laugh.
One day, my dad decided that we lived in the farm. We had a small house in the farm and for convenience, since my parents planted petchay, it would be easier for them if we lived in the farm. At a young age, I did not understand it – all that mattered to me were games, playmates, t.v, so I very disliked the idea. But we left the house anyway (my rants were not heard) and lived in the farm.
Beginning 5 in the afternoon of every monday to friday, there were cartoon movies I loved very much. I and my playmates would watch it. When it was getting dark, I would run home to the farm and when my dad would ask why I came home late, I would tell him that we did a group assignment. They believed me!
We had a guava farm – the big guavas (guapple), and my dad would not allow us to pick the fruits because they were not yet ready. But being a good boy, when I would return home from school, I would drop by the guava farm and would pick some and hid it somewhere. Then in the morning, I would take them and put them in my bag. My dad did not know it. It was easy!
When I would reach the school, I would sell them to my classmates. I was a businessman at a young age without my parents knowing I was selling their goods! Ha ha ha
We have a fishpond. My dad would always tell us to not swim in the fishpond because the fish are going to die. One time, my dad was not in the farm. He went to our house. I and my little sister were good children that when we thought our dad was gone, we undressed and jumped into the pool. We did not notice how fast time passed since we enjoyed swimming and wading in the fishpond, until we heard someone spoke to us.
We saw our dad with a stick in his hand. He called for us to move out from the fishpond and he hit us with his stick. It was painful. We promised not to do it again, and sure enough, we did not. Ha ha ha.