A few random stories before my school years

    

July 26, 2009 by Michelle  
Filed under Feature, Michelle

Free will. My first recognition of English and the realization that there is another language was when I was about four. I remember singing the song “Somewhere Out There”. I did not know much less understood the lyrics past those first three words so I filled the melody with made up words. And then I realized that even though I was just making them up, I was making sounds that were different from if I made up Tagalog words. In Filipino, we say, there is the “twang” factor that is quite unique to the English language. Another occasion which I remember was not long after was when I grabbed a newspaper and pretended that I was reading the news. Actually more like delivering the news, and in English, too! Although at that time all I knew was to say “My name is Michelle Andaya.”

Before I ever dreamed of learning English, I knew I had to learn Tagalog first. They got me this alphabet book: Abakadang (Uh-buh-kuh-duhng) Pilipino. It had the vowels first- a e i o u ( which obviously are the same as in English) except they are pronounced as uh-aeh-eeh-awh-ooh. And the following lessons had the consonants paired with each of the vowels. Ba-be-bi-bo-bu; ka-ke-ki-ko-ku. I also remember having the Pepe and Pilar book although I only enjoyed the pictures in it.

When I first learned the Pilipino alphabet, there were five vowels and twenty consonants. They were in this order: A B K D E G H I L M N NG O P R S T U W Y and read as uh-buh-kuh-duh-aeh-guh-huh-eeh-luh-muh-nuh-nguh-aw-puh-ruh-suh-tuh-ooh-wuh-yuh. Every time a consonant was attached to a vowel the sound of course takes the sound of the latter. The major difference of the language compared to English is that where ever you find the vowel, it will always sound the same, no matter what. Unlike in English where the o in do doesn’t sound the same as in the o in so. In Pilipino (and the modernized Filipino version), the o (which again is aw, not ow) has only one sound in any and every Filipino word.

Even though my mom was the school teacher, it was actually my dad who taught me my ABC’s. I remember how often I bugged him because I always confused the nga with mga.

One afternoon, when my mom came home from school, my dad surprised her with the news that I could finally read. My mom was so excited. She sat her teacher’s bag, kneeled in front of me, then pulled a book from her bag. It was a Tagalog book for her students, the second graders. She picked a random page, pointed to a paragraph,and then I started reading away. I was four so my mom was very pleased and excited that she pulled another book and then asked my Dad, “Can she read English now, too?”

My Dad’s answer to my mom’s over-enthusiastic question was of course a “no” plus a short laugh.

It was then when my mom said I was ready for school. I was very excited when they told me that they were going to send me to school. But I was born in September so it meant that I would just be turning five by June of the following year. So I had to wait another year. They were actually not as strict then as they are now so that June of the year after, I got in even if I was technically only five. Of course it obviously helped that my mom was a teacher in the same school.

Destiny. Before I got to go to school, something unexpected and serious happened to our whole family. An owner type jeep lost its breaks and the driver helplessly turned the steering wheel to the left and ran almost every one of us.

That fateful day, my mom was about to visit her mom in Pangasinan. Me and my brother Jay-ar were begging for her to take us. She was very annoyed I remember, but I could also sense the weight in her eyes and that she didn’t want to leave us. We went outside trying to convince her even as she was already trying to catch a jeepney.

Things happened very fast. With the exception of my eldest brother Frederick who was at the time about half a block away munching on street foods called bituka and dugo (barbecued chicken intestine and chicken blood in square clumps), the rest of us in the family were all in the wrong place at the wrong time and became victims of the accident.

My brother Jay-ar had to have shallow stitches at the top of his head. Ferdinand had several stitches from the middle of his right eyelid across past his right eyebrow. I, on the other hand had minor scrapes and bruises on my knees. My dad shoved me at the bottom of the jeep, in between the left and right wheels. Don’t ask me why and how he did that, but it sure worked. He had to get me out of the way because he used his own body to shield my mom who was actually hurt the worst because her leg was hit. Thankfully, my dad only had bruises on his back but my mom’s leg had to be wrapped in a cast after that. Those bituka and dugo sure saved my brother Frederick. I am thinking that if that happened to us (or to any family here in the US), me and my brothers would have probably had “college funds” already. But in fact, we were not given much assistance after the cops questioned us. The driver apologized. We were all let go. And my mom sat home or walked around the house with crutches for about two months.

Me and my brother got some of the blame for making her somewhat hesitant to leave and “changing the turn of events”. My mom, of course did not get to go to Pangasinan.

Free will or Destiny? My parents specially my dad was a disciplinarian. Me and my three brothers were in no way spoiled. There are no no-spanking laws in the Philippines so the ‘rod’ wasn’t spared. It was actually either my Dad’s tough hands, or the handle of the Baguio broom, or the back of the Spartan flip-flops.

My first real disciplining or at least the oldest I can remember, I can honestly say I deserved. Although It was not for me being bad or mischievous. It was for not listening. We were still living in San Joaquin, Pasig and at that point, I kind of already had my own set of friends.

My Aunt in London sent a package to us. The contents were not just for us family but it was sent to us so we could distribute it to the rest of our relatives on my mom’s side. That aunt of mine is her sister. So anyway, I got a white stuffed duck. Really white and fluffy. I was so proud that I of course wanted to show it off to my friends. My Dad said no and for me to just play with it at home. But that to me was of course boring. I just had to take it out where at least one soul could see me hug it and feel how soft it was. I finally convinced my Dad to let me take it outside on the condition that I wouldn’t dirty it. I said why of course I wouldn’t. As tight as I held it, there was no way it would get dirty. So I went outside with one of my brothers who was asked to run an errand at the nearest retail window store.

We went out through the back door and walked through the backyard. There was no fence. It was like a short cut to the store and to where most kids hung out and played. But between our backyard and where I wanted to prance around with my new “imported” duck, along the way was an open drainage. The water was dark and funky. I had to hop over that. Before I even got there, I was telling myself “Michelle, be careful. Hang onto your duckie. Hang o-…. Alas! It fell off my arms! A split second and it was swimming in that dirty stinky water. Whatever happened, to this day I am not sure but I was instantaneously crying seeing my white as cloud, cuddly duck turn into a black bloated cushion dripping with black water. When we got back home, which by the way was only about three to four minutes after my dad was warning me about getting the duck dirty or else…, I did not meet the condition so the punishment was laid right on my butt. And I cried as I went ouch here and ouch there as I promised to listen next time- all in the same breath. And then suddenly, one of my brothers panicked, “Back off! Back off!”, telling the others to step away from me. I was peeing my pants and flooding the living room! I did not even notice but that sure stopped the spanking session. (My readers, please don’t express pity because I am smiling as I am typing this and it is all but a memory now and in fact a very funny memory that I actually would not trade for the world!) That was when I first got my reputation of peeing while getting spanked so from then on every time I got spanked, they also got ready to take me quickly to the bathroom or have a rag ready to clean up the floor! (Are you grinning with me?)

Last 5 posts by Michelle

• Taguig, My Hometown - July 12th, 2009
• Consider yourselves warned. - June 24th, 2009
• The Earliest Memories of My Life - June 5th, 2009
• June Pride - May 31st, 2009
• An Introduction of Sorts - May 25th, 2009

About the Author:  Michelle grew up in Taguig City, Philippines where she finished her primary and secondary education. She took Bachelor of Science in Accountancy at the Polytechnic University of the Philippines (Sta Mesa, Manila). Although she was unable to finish, it turned out to be a blessing in disguise that made way for "real world" experiences and even more colorful stories to tell. She now lives in Saint Louis, Missouri with her American husband and their two young Fil-Am's. Michelle is no longer a LiP writer.