Being a baby boomer born and raised in the Philippines, my bond towards the old country is relatively stronger compared to say, a 1st generation Filipino-American who was raised in the United States. Like all middle aged Filipinos who immigrated to this country at an adult age, we have stories to tell. Life for us is a tapestry of experiences and tales involving two cultures interwoven into the person who we are right now.
I was born in one of the beautiful islands at the southern part of the Philippines. Growing up with 2 brothers and 5 sisters ingrained in me the value of family at a young age. As a child, there were times I felt like choking a sibling or two just because they got the best part of the chicken during dinner, or if one of them stayed in the shared bathroom too long. Yes, there were a lot of times I got into brawls with my brothers because they stuck me or I stuck them with insulting nicknames.
Our parents always took us to the beach during weekends. Being a large family, my dad would rent a jeepney to transport us to our favorite resort where we hung out from morning till dusk. We brought swimsuits but no suntan lotion. Back then, sun block was unheard of. My mom packed a lot of marinated pork and chicken for barbeque. Dad bought fresh grilling fish at the beach from the local fishermen coming in with their daily catch. We explored the streams leading to the sea. Tide pools where great for small fish and shrimps. We hung out at the beach till we turned dark from too much sun. The sunburn would hurt for days to come but that didn’t stop us from looking forward to next weekend at the resort again. That beach with its coconut trees, fishermen with their outriggers, stray dogs, and exotic plant smells, reflected the essence and beauty of the Philippines.
As a teenager in the old country, I went to a lot of parties. In the community where I grew up, everybody knew everyone. Not being invited to a party resulted to hurt feelings and questions of why? Small town Philippines is like small town USA. Only difference is latitude and culture. What I know is that the food spread in Filipino parties is impressive. Let’s face it. American fare is healthy (carrots and finger foods) while Filipino food is a heart-stopper (lechon and lumpia). But life is to be enjoyed and all is well.
My parents taught us to kiss our aunts and uncles on the cheeks as a gesture of respect. We never answered back to our parents even if we felt that they were wrong. My father was a cursillista. Very religious, he was the type who believed that an unwanted pregnancy should result to the couple being married. My mom was the liberal one. She believed in love and following your heart. Do not be deceived by money since a rich spouse does not spell out happiness. Typical of Filipino parents, my mom and dad loved us in an unconditional way.
I remember Christmas Eve midnight Mass in the Philippines and, the fireworks during New Year’s Eve. When St. John the Baptist feast day came along, every one was prepared to get wet. That was fun! I did not care for the Lenten season since that was the time we had to go fasting with no meat Fridays.
Talking about food, let’s mention the fruits. Mangoes are always in. I always loved eating sineguelas and kamunsil. Do you like jackfruit, star apple and chicos? Always loved lanzones and santol. Do you have memories of eating a green mango (with salt or bago-ong) under your favorite tree during school break?
Now that I am middle-aged and residing in America, what does my Filipino heritage mean to me? It’s true that life in the United States is comfortable. I have achieved that dream of owning a house and a nice car. I have non-Filipino friends who appreciate my company and laugh at my jokes. I go to the gym and try to maintain that healthy California life style. It is nice to know that I fit into this new country of mine. But there is still that part of me which states, “I am Filipino. How is the old country doing? Should I go visit that town where I grew up and check out my friends from the past? Can I return with dollars in my pocket and find true happiness?” Another part says that now is my chance to give back to the community. There’s a lot of pain and suffering in the Philippines caused by poverty. Although the economy is getting better there, it is still the rich who gets richer while the poor is stuck with fixed wages and saddled with higher fuel costs.
As a Filipino-American, where does my allegiance fall? My history of being born and raised in the Philippines does not blur my allegiance to America. The United States has always been good to me. I learned how to cook and clean in this country. Belonging to two cultures does not mean that I have to choose one over the other. On the contrary, I have the choice to wear both cultures on my chest and be proud of it.
But, there is that part of me filled with pleasant memories of beaches, exotic foods, and belly laughter shared with family and past friends that linger on. Perhaps I should go visit the Philippines this year. Perhaps I should go visit every year. Maybe, with all the blessings I have had, I could share a blessing or two with my unfortunate countrymen back home. This is what my Filipino heritage means to me.
By: John F. Lacson
jflriv@aol.com