Tansan

The wind hummed a gloomy lullaby and thin streaks of feathery white clouds cut across the clear afternoon sky. The waves crashed into the rocks in a hapless manner and sprayed a cloud of mist into the air. I breathed in the salty air and let the warm feeling of being back in a place I consider home sink in. My spirit rose with the sudden gust of breeze that is known to the place. It is a clime that filled half my childhood memories. A contrast of hot summer breaks and chilly autumn holidays give a vivid image of my early years.

Looking at the same stretch of beach clad with trees and shrubs, no one would have thought about all the changes it has surpassed for the past seventeen years. The wind still whistles the same tune; the air still have the distinct smell of freshly picked roses; the purple night sky is still powdered with the same stars I once wished upon; and the cottages that dot the sandy shoreline still stands.

I took a rest on one of those wind-torn shacks and sniffed the tangy afternoon air. The ambience was perfect for reminiscing. I was on the brink of reviving my past experiences when my eyes caught something on the sand beneath my feet. Why, it was a husk of bottle caps! I seized one and held it up on eye-level. A bubble of joy swelled inside my heart. Some child probably left it there. So, kids nowadays still play with bottle crowns? A smile curled upon my lips as memories of my childhood years came gushing in. I used to collect and flatten them out with a stone; pound it evenly so that it would be as flat as a pancake. Then, I would challenge the older kids to game of tansan.

I laid the bottle cap and picked a stone. Not as small as a pebble but something rather huge to fit in my palm. I found the perfect "pestle"; a rough, grayish-eyed sedimentary rock that is the size of a small gourd.

POG! POG! POG!


I smashed the side of the poor bottle cap. The name of the soda brand fading with every pound... The rhythmic beating blended harmoniously with the twittering of the birds. The sound felt so familiar that I felt like I've been drawn back to the pages of yesterday.

POG! POG! POG!

I stared unblinkingly at a child who looked not a day older than seven. Her hair was held neatly in an elegant French braid; her auburn complexion gleamed in the afternoon sun; and her eyes were like deep pools of coal. She looked strangely familiar.

Drops of sweat ran down her forehead. She was pounding a bottle crown in a choppy manner. The sides of the poor bottle crown were severely pounded on one side and the top was inconsistently battered. Nevertheless, she looked completely satisfied with her work.

She, then, ran to a group of kids and beamed upon them.

"Can I join? I have a bottle crown too!" she squeaked as she showed her dismal toy to her playmates.

A thick air of silence enveloped the children. One finally found her voice and blurted out something.

"Mot, you can join us but you're going to be the salingpusa."

I found the remark insulting but it seemed that it made the little girl happy. An innocent smile that reached up to her twinkling eyes escaped from her lips. She ran beside the other kids and started flipping her bottle crown.

It's a good thing her playmates made her the salingpusa. Her disfigured toy made it impossible for her to flip it properly that she always lose to the other kids. I cannot help wrinkling my nose in disgust. I was about to go and grab the toy when someone sharing my sentiments gently stated:

"Mot. You did it wrong. You're crown looks like a lump of sodden pudding. Here let me help you."

An older girl, probably about nine, seized the deformed plaything and pounded it evenly until the surface of the cap was flat. She was teaching the little girl the proper way of bashing the crown. She then handed the crown back to the latter which then piped in gratitude:

"Thank you Nora! Let us be partners! Let's play against Saima and Gina."

Nora seemed more than willing to the offer. They played against the other children. It had been a competitive game yet no harsh words were heard from the losing party. Everyone was glad at the consequences of the event. Everyone respected one another.

The scene tugged my heartstrings. It's funny how these little children were free from the austere pangs of worldly wickedness. The innocence emanating from their eyes are far more valuable than the most recherché hue of amber. If only adults could act this way. If only we could be as carefree and guiltless, then the world would be a better place. No more tear-stricken faces from those who suffer. No more hurting, no more pain. What a bright world it would be -

"MOOOOOT!"

My thoughts were shattered by a shrill cry.

"Mot! You're grandmother is coming. It seems that you're supposed to have your siesta but you sneaked out. She looks really angry! I'm scared! I ran here to tell you! Run now. Before she catch us here!"

I recognized the messenger to be Tontong. He was panting heavily; a look of concern etched in his young face. I looked at the little girl and saw the color fade from her visage. She turned to run.

I can see her grandmother from a distance. She was definitely angry. She got hold of the poor girl and started pinching her.

"You naughty little girl! Haven't I told you to sleep?"

I felt numb all over. I looked at the petrified faces of the children. They were all cowering beneath a tree. I sympathized with their fear. I sensed my knees trembling.

I looked at the little girl. But it seems like I'm seeing her for the first time after ten years. Streams of tears ran down her cheeks. She wiped it with the back of her hand. The bottle crown is still clutched between her fists.

I felt her eyes, MY eyes, burning.

Everything went blurry. Then every single thing faded...

POG! POG! POG!

I looked at the bottle crown I was pounding. It was thoroughly flat. I can now pound evenly. Long gone were the days of lumpy crowns. I dropped the stone and shifted my gaze at the long coastline. Ten years has been quite a long time. Still, the memory is vividly inscribed in my mind. The beach may still look the same but I know many have changed. The sun was finally out from the mass of grey clouds and it sent a radiant glow across the sand.

I learned that Nora had been married two months ago. Saima is now having her first baby. Tontong is currently in Manila, preparing his papers for Dubai. Gina just gave birth to her second child. The others were now, nowhere to be found. My grandmother eventually lost her draconian rigidity. And, that the twittering of the insects replaced the gay laughter that used to fill this place years ago. Gone were my childhood days.

Everything changed.

I looked up at the opalescent sky and wondered whether it is still the same sky that witnessed the colorful passages of my salad years. Maybe the coconut palms that were lining the shore were the mere saplings of the old coconut trees I used to drink buko juice from. I know that the orchids my grandmother used to water every morning had long withered and died.

I grew up. So were the others.

Change is inevitable. Everything becomes different. But, the thoughts that accompany this place will never be erased from memory. They will forever live. As long as the sun still sets beyond the endless horizon. As long as the wind still ruffles the leaves of the towering acacia trees near the house. As long as the waning moon still roams the evening sky. As long as I breathe...

I stood up and walked to our house.

The bottle crown safely tucked inside my fist...