Memoirs Of Enselada

Memoirs Of Enselada
By Taga Ibaan ako

I had this enselada yesterday for lunch. I don’t know why. The last time I had this was when I was invited to have dinner with Tita Estrel. Or maybe because I got so tired of dealing with meat dragging me down with so much weight lately. Honestly, most of the time I often feel like I’m having difficulty digesting what I eat, particularly meat, whether they may be pork or chicken. I always feel like to my tummy is about to explode like a pregnant on a wheel chair. A change on eating habits, I guess. But above all, this enselada brings me back in time when we were young.

My family lives on the countryside, commonly called “bukid”. Tatay Peping would have these plants on our backyard, tirelessly tilling open land for some agricultural plants so we can always have something to eat whenever he fall short of his earnings as a jeepney driver. Back then, I hardly appreciate what he was doing. He would often call me to help him finish the plot as he dig small holes to drop the seedlings. It irritates me a lot doing such since I always feel like playing basketball. But after a couple of months, we find ourselves feasting on fresh vegetables on our plates without worrying about oil and fats.

My age is picking beginning to pick me up (or should I say, dragging me down?) these days. So does my Dad. He has grown old these days. He can no longer do the plot for vegetables. I’m working away from home and no one is left back home to do what he used to do. It’s like everyone is living like on the fast lane. And whenever we crave for this kind of stuff, we end up buying on the canteen, like what I everyday do, or browse the market stalls for fresh vegetables when we can actually have them for free. I feel bad I can’t do the farming. I feel proud to see Ka Peping smiling at me as I sweat hard with hands almost torn apart hammering the soil with “asarol” for vegetables. Gone are the days. And I miss that.