Paradise Lost in Postmodern Times

Guimaras - John Milton's Paradise

Dr Abe V. Rotor

NOTE: Recently another oil spill incident hit the island.  Although on a lesser scale, the damage is likewise irreparable. This article is dedicated to the inhabitants whose beautiful place has become an unwilling victim of economic and technological progress. This article is also dedicated to the brave workers many of them volunteers, whose efforts brought hope and light in the hour of need. From this repeated tragedy the world can not just turn its back, it cannot be dumb silent in bringing justice and peace particularly to the victims and the inheritors of the malady - the next generation and beyond.       

Irreversible loss of natural habitats covering thousands of hectares of mangrove, estuaries, coral reefs and sea grasses.  Fishing virtually came to a halt; other livelihoods closed down.

Guimaras can be imagined as the Paradise in the Book of Genesis.

The big difference however is that on Guimaras Island Paradise was destroyed by man, whereas in the Bible man was banished from Paradise as punishment for his sin, thus Paradise was preserved.

Nature reveals her beauty on the green fields that turn yellow and gold at harvest time. The pasture is a carpet green dotted with grazing cattle in roan, black, white and spotted colors, moving slowly, if at all, in docile pace that you think they are strewn boulders in the distance.

The trees, when the wind blows, sing in soft, plaintive, rustling notes, their branching swinging to the music. Towards the end of the year when the cold wind from the north arrives, their leaves turn into autumn colors of red, orange and yellow, falling off and littering the ground around. Now and then a gust of wind takes them to the road, and when the sun is up and you happen to step on them barefooted, they crackle and tickle. They send children giggling with delight. And they would rally the leaves floating down the whistling stream as if they were racing boats.

It is a similar experience you get when walking on the shores of Guimaras. White sands swallow you up to the ankle at the water edge, pegging you down. You cannot resist taking a dip or swim in the pristine water, and before you know it you are joined by colorful fishes, a school of them, bobbling to the surface to greet you and diving around your feet, sometimes playfully nibbling your toes. They live among the seaweeds and corals that make the forest of the sea.

And speaking of forest, look behind you. Afar the mountains are dark green because they are covered with virgin forests. They catch the clouds and make them fall everyday. The rain makes the trees lush, irrigates the fields, feeds the rivers and lakes and down it meets the sea. It is here where freshwater and sea water meet. It is called estuary.

The estuary is the sanctuary of countless organisms; it is their breeding ground, their nursery. It is in the estuary where mangrove trees, coconut and nipa palms densely grow, binding soil and mud to build a new land, or form a delta. On the sea side they serve as a living wall that buffers the impact of tidal waves or the sudden onslaught of tsunami. They are nature’s fortress to protect the villages, farms and pastures.

But these scenarios are a thing of the past. It is a beautiful dream that ended in a nightmare.

On waking up, the gentle people in Guimaras, a small island near Iloilo in the Visayas, came face to face with the biggest catastrophe that changed their lives and their island forever.

Oil spill!

A huge barge carrying millions of liters of fuel oil broke and sunk into the bottom of the sea directly facing the island.

The black liquid oozed for days, and continued for weeks and months from the sunken ill-fated tanker, and because oil is lighter than water, it floated and spread over many square kilometers, polluting the once pristine sea and beaches. Soon fishermen abandoned their trade. Tourists no longer came. Because oil is poison to all living things – fish, amphibians, corals, trees and the like – died. And under the shearing heat of the sun, spontaneous combustion finishes off the dying trees and palms.

Many people died – and more are dying due to the cumulative and long-term effects of oil, because being a hydrocarbon it destroys the liver, kidneys and nervous system. Many people got sick, mostly children. Schools closed. The streets were empty. There was little to buy in the market. Fumes filled the air, and into the lungs sending people to live elsewhere. Many of those who chose to remain got sick and died.

Ka Pepe and Aling Maria lost their only son. He worked too hard cleaning up the black oil that seeped under their house, until he succumbed to the deadly fumes.

“What have we done to deserve this?” The stricken couple asked. “Why are we punished for a sin we did not commit.”

"It is a wrath of God," a religious said with firmness in her voice, "because we have sinned." Many were angry with pointing fingers. Nobody could offer any other acceptable answer, until one said, “Forgive your brother who sinned.” Yes, it is Christian to forgive for the love of God. It was consoling. It made people feel calm compassionate.

Indeed there were many people who went to Guimaras after the tragedy struck. Fr. Ben said mass. Nuns sang hymns. Petron, the owner of the spilled oil, paid residents to clean their own homes and environs. Hairdressers sent shipments of hair to bind the floating oil, but this only compounded the problem of disposal because hair does not readily decompose and burning it further creates another problem - another pollution.

Others sent old clothing, canned goods, some money. Local officials visited places on rugged wheels, places they had missed in their itinerary before. Doctors and nurses worked into the   night. Media documented the tragedy. Victims were interviewed. There were volunteers who would come and go. There was no let up of investigations trying to pin down the culprits. Soldiers stood guard.

Every morning the curtain unveils this pathetic drama of life, and closes it at the end of the day, trying to erase it from memory and in the darkness of night. How long will this nightmare continue, one would only guess. Perhaps years. Perhaps a generation or longer. And future generations will never know what happened.

There were no laughter, not even from the children playing. The sea did not clap. The waves simply died on the shore, muffled under sludge of oil. A crow flew above, gave off some sonorous notes – the sound of death.

It is Paradise Lost in our times before our very eyes. ~ 

Photos Courtesy of Francis Allan Angelo, The GUARDIAN Newspaper; Wikipedia;  Acknowledgment: Iloilo City Boy

Field Trip to Guimaras with the Author

 A Living School - Beauty, Bounty and Wisdom of Nature

 

Field trip - on-site and hands-on learning. Participants to the Philippine Society for Educational Research and Evaluation (PSERE), representing 26 colleges and universities from different parts of the Philippines, visited the JBLFMU Ecological Park, listened to field lecture and demonstration, and experienced social immersion with the members of the community. Cruising by motorboat to reach Guimaras Island from Iloilo, and to the Southeast Asia Fisheries Development Center (SEAFDEC) marine station, is adventure - a learning process seldom encountered by teachers and students in the city.

Scenes on Guimaras: Professors all, academicians, educators. The world is exploding with knowledge, the world is traveling on two feet (communication and transportation).  Tradition is left behind if not being waylaid, generations are losing their connections by culture, exposure, distance. We must keep abreast, we have to be computer literate, we go back to school, attend continuing education training, get ourselves involved in social immersion. This is PSERE's thrust in research, but research that looks not only to discoveries and inventions, but to ascertain the continuity, contiguity, and sustainability of progress, of proven techniques and formulas, of working models, of every research that contributes to the efficiency of  a system.  (Author with jacket over red shirt.)   

 

Who qualifies as tour guide?  Field instructor? Like in the field of sports, he is a player himself - and somebody who has won medals and trophies.  So in science and technology, in marine biology, in explaining the mangrove, the flying foxes (giant fruit bats), in predicting a coming storm, the spawning of dulong and other species, sudden swarming of jellyfish. Why the deer is no longer around.  Are there still crocodiles in the swamp? Pick a leaf and he will tell you the plant, its scientific name and family, too. Why do starfishes stay on sea grasses, how are they harmful to shellfish like clams and oysters (because they have five arms alternately prying the bivalve which ultimately loses its muscle grip to keep close).  We smile for new knowledge, and at people who bring it to us in their simplicity and sincerity and friendliness.  

 

Meet Jun a marine technician of SEAFDEC (in blue green) an expert by virtue of long, rich experience and domicile by the sea since birth.  Ask about the giant lapulapu (kugtong), mother bangus, mullet (ludong), mayamaya, matangbaka, and the like, and he will recite their natural history at fingertip.  If he were in music he is a musico de oido (by ear), and if there is a blue thumb, counterpart of green thumb in farming, he is surely one in fishing. He is indeed a naturalist. (Author in red shirt)

Nature posters express concern on the environment by students who spend time in the Eco Park, making it an extension of the classroom and laboratory. Here they forget for the time being the TV, the computer, and other amenities of life.  It is communion with nature. ~

                                         Country road exudes the ambiance of a typical countryside.
                                                                     Photo taken by the author.

Country Road in Guimaras 

Take me to the country far, far away from the city, 

where sound is music, nature's canvas the landscape,

where mountains, meadows and the sea are green;

where there are no walls, roofs, and bars to escape.

Take me to the county, far, far away from the crowd,

where I'm not just a part, where I am myself again;

where there is no high rise, where the cottage reigns,

where home is nature as I open the window pane. 

Take me to the country, far, far away from forgetting,

the cheerful child in me many, many years back;

flying kites at harvest time, fishing in the summer,

where school is far, yet learning is not what I lack.

Take me to the country, far, far away from the town,

where cars can't follow, where affluence has no place;

where commerce is simple, where wealth is not gold,

where living is not a show, where every meal a grace.

Take me to the country, far, far away from the race,

where I can compete best with myself, not with others;

where I can learn more the ways of nature, not of men;

where civilization begins once more at its borders. ~ 

         

 

Road expansion gives way to the growing number of vehicles. 

 

Slow pace of life is still evident; road arch welcomes the visitor to Nueva Valencia, site of an ecological park.

 

Changing landscape:  mansion and nipa hut attest to a growing socio-economic disparity.  

Jared and the Wild Bean

Jared and the Wild Bean
A modern version of "Jack and the Beanstalk"
Dr Abe V Rotor
Living with Nature School on Blog

A modern day Jared, the boy scholar who popularized the wild bean. Wild Lima Beans or patani (Phaseolus lunatus) was first domesticated by the natives living on the Andes mountain of Peru some 2,000 years BC.
  
On the the slopes of the Andes mountains, lived a family of indigenous origin. People would describe the region as "far from civilization," as if only those living in town are regarded civilized. 

There was this boy, the only child of that family who wished to live in town.  "No, you are a stranger there." his parents would say.  "Beside it is very expensive to live in town." For indeed up on the slope, everything is free that land, water and air can give. And there is peace and quiet no town can provide.  

Until one day the boy stumbled on a kind of plant that grows up on trees. There it bore pods, plenty of them, green when young and on maturity split open and spill the seeds to the ground. The seeds germinate and produce pods the following season. The family soon learned to cook it as part of their diet, specially when there was little food around.  

Then a year came when the rains did not arrive as people expected.  It was due to the effects of El Niño - a period of drought that starts at the lower part of Peru.  

The boy's parents by experience knew the grave consequence.  Even if you have money you cannot buy anything.  So people looked for alternative food. On hearing this the boy brought the wild beans to town. At first people did not know what it was, until they learned how good it is to eat the beans with their own recipes.   

Secretly the boy brought more of his secret beans. And he made a lot of money. 

After the great drought which lasted for three years, the boy left the slopes to live in town. His parents followed to live with him. 

People wondered where the bean that saved them from hunger came from. The search was far and wide but to no avail.  

Until a boy scholar was able to trace the trail leading to the upper slopes of the Andes. There in a clearing among trees he saw the secret bean, a liana with pods dangling from the trees it made into its own trellis. Jared, the boy scholar took some mature seeds and studied them in school. 

He popularized the bean we know it today as Phaseolus lunatus, or Lima bean, after the capital of Peru. And lunatus for its moon-shape seeds.  Its native name patani survives to this day to places it was introduced which includes the Philippines.   

As to the boy who brought the wild bean downtown, no one had ever heard of him again. But the people in town remembered him whenever the cyclical El Niño struck. 

And Jared, the boy scholar? The one who tamed the wild bean. To them it's a fairy tale. ~ 
NOTE: Today, Lima bean is one of the important legumes in the world. It is a good source of dietary fiber, and a virtually fat-free source of high quality protein. It contains both soluble fiber, which helps regulate blood sugar levels and lowers cholesterol, and insoluble fiber, which aids in the prevention of constipation, digestive disorders, irritable bowel syndrome and diverticulitis.

Like other legumes Lima beans contain symbiotic bacteria called Rhizobia within he root nodules of their root system that convert N2 or free Nitrogen into Nitrates (NO3). Nitrates combine with other elements to form compounds needed by plants and other organisms. 

Father and Son and a Carabao

Dr Abe V Rotor

A pair of Philippine buffalo (carabao) beating down summer heat on a stream in Agoo, La Union.

Once upon a time there lived a father and son who had a carabao. One day they decided to sell the carabao, so they set off to the town market. 

As they were passing by a group of men idly conversing, someone said “Ay, ang tanga naman yon mag-ama. Naghihirap pa sila, pwede maman silang sumakay sa kalabaw.”(How stupid these two are – they would rather walk than ride on the water buffalo.) On hearing this, both father and son jumped onto the back of the carabao and continued their journey.

No sooner did they pass another group of people walking down the road. On seeing both father and son atop the carabao, one commented, “Kawawa naman ang kalabaw.” (Take pity on the poor beast.) On hearing this, the son alighted leaving his father riding while he walked along. They continued on.

Not far away they passed by a shop where a group of young men were playing wooden pool, a local version of billiards. “Ay, hindi lang maawa sa bata yong matanda, pinaglalakad pa.” (Referring to the father riding, while the son was walking.) On hearing this, the two exchanged places, this time the son rode while the father walked along.

As they got nearer to their destination, they passed another group idly drinking tuba, young coconut wine. One had taken one sip too many, and with a characteristic slur commented, “Kawawa naman yon matanda, walang hiyang anak.” (Take pity on the old man walking, shame to his son.”

On hearing this, father and son scratched their heads, bewildered. “Ano kaya ang gagawin natin?” (What shall we do?)

What option is left for them to do? If you were in their shoes, what would you do? 

(So father and son took the carabao back home. Lesson?)

Lighting up the workplace

Dr Abe V Rotor

Assembly line of conventional radio. 

The scene is a factory that assembles radio. Workers are lined up putting the parts together section by section until the units are completed, tested, packed and shipped out.

Market demand of the product has been favorable and management thought of increasing production. 

Management has not been satisfied with the efficiency of the workers and recommended that they be replaced with better ones. But the supervisor told the manager, “Why don’t we give them a chance?”

So the company hired a consultant. After inspecting the workplace he reported that the cause of low output is poor lighting condition. Management promptly responded by increasing the lighting level.

Surprise! Output significantly increased.

Inspired by the result, management further increased the lighting level. And output also increased.

Puzzled, the consultant instructed that the lighting be reduced to the first level, without the knowledge of the workers.

Surprisingly work efficiency remained high. So what is the underlying reason? 

It is because the workers began to feel important.  Management gave them a sense of involvement in the experiment. ~

 Acknowledgement: Internet photo

Sunrise on the Farm (10 Anecdotes)

 Dr Abe V Rotor

I was already a farmhand before I was of school age, but dad always warned me not to be an aliwegweg (curious at doing things), the experimenter that I was. 

1.  Manong Bansiong, the kite maker  

Kites always fascinate me, thanks to Bansiong, nephew of Basang my auntie-yaya.  He made the most beautiful, often the biggest kite in town.  His name is an institution of sort to us kids.  But remote as San Vicente was, we had the best kites and the town was also famous for its furniture and wooden saints.

Kite Flying Season mural by Dr Abe V Rotor

Manong Bansiong made different kites: sinang-gola, sinang-cayyang, sinang-golondrina (in the likes of a bull, a bird with outstretched wings and legs, and a maiden in colorful, flowing dress, respectively).  His kites were known for their strength, stability, beauty, and their height in the sky.  In competitions he would always bring home the trophy, so to speak.

Because of Manong Bansiong I became also a kite maker of less caliber, but being an endangered art there is not much variety of kites flying around. The kites I make are not common, and they probably exude the same feeling to kids today as during our time.

I made kites for my children when they were small.  Kites fascinated my late first-born son, Pao. It was therapy to his sickly condition. We would sit down together on the grass for hours holding on to the kite, the setting sun and breeze washing our faces. 

When my youngest, Leo Carlo, took part in a kite competition at UST, I helped him with the sinang-cayyang.  It did not win.  But in the following year and the year after Leo Carlo  became the consistent kite champion of UST, and so he carries on the legend of Manong Bansiong. 

2. I can “cure” a person who is naan-annungan.

An-annung is the Ilocano of nasapi-an. Spirits cast spell on a person, the old folks say. The victim may suffer of stomachache or headache  accompanied by cold sweat, body weakness or feeling of exhaustion.

Well, take this case.  It was dusk when a tenant of ours insisted of climbing a betel, Areca catechu to gather its nuts (nga-nga). My dad objected to it, but somehow the young man prevailed. 

The stubborn young man was profusely sweating and was obviously in pain, pressing his stomach against the tree trunk. Dad called for me. I examined my “patient” and assured him he will be all right. And like a passing ill wind, the spell was cast away. Dad and the people around believed I had supernatural power.

There had been a number of cases I “succeeded” in healing the naan-annungan But I could also induce – unknowingly - the same effect on some one else.  That too, my dad and old folks believed.  They would sought for my “power” to cast the spell away from - this time – no other than my “victim”.  What a paradox!  

When I grew older and finished by studies, I began to understand that having an out-of-this-world power is a myth. I read something about Alexander the Great consulting the Oracle at Siwa to find out if indeed he is a god-sent son. “The Pharoah will bow to you, ” the priestess told him.  And it did happen - the pharaoh kissed Alexander’s feet.  The great warrior died before he was 33. 

 3. I shot an arrow into the air and it fell on a newspaper

      I must have been 4 or 5 years old. Dad was reading Manila Bulletin on a rocking chair.  I was playing Robin Hood. Since our sala is very spacious (it has no divisions), anything on the ceiling and walls was a potential target. But something wrong happened. In physics a crooked arrow would not follow a straight line, so it found an unintended mark – the center of a widespread newspaper.  

     The arrow pierced through it and landed on my dad’s forehead, almost between his eyes. He gave me a severe beating with my plaything as he wiped his forehead, blood dripping. I did not cry, I just took the punishment obligingly. Dad must have seen innocence in my eyes. He stopped and gave me a hug.

4. I shot my finger with an airgun.

      I bought an airgun from Ben Florentino, a classmate of mine in high school at the Colegio de la Immaculada Concepcion (CIC Vigan) for fifty pesos, a good amount then, circa  1955.  I was loading the pellet, when I dropped the rifle, and on hitting the ground, went off.  The bullet pierced through the fleshy tip of my left forefinger. I tried to remove it but to no avail, so I went to the municipal doctor, Dr. Catalino Lazo. There was no anesthesia available, and when I could no longer bear the pain, he simply dressed the wound and sent me home.  

My wound soon healed, and the lead pellet was to stay with me for the next five years or so, when I finally decided to go for an operation. Had it not been for my playing the violin, I would not have bothered to do so.  And it was providential. 

Dr. Vicente Versoza, our family doctor in Vigan, performed the operation.   A mass of tissues snugly wrapped around the pellet, isolating its poison. He told me I am lucky. There are cases of lead poisoning among war veterans who bore bullets in their bodies. I remember the late President Ferdinand Marcos.  Was his ailment precipitated by lead poisoning?   

  

5. The Case of the Empty Chicken Eggs

Soon as I was big enough to climb the baqui (brooding nest) hanging under the house and trees.  I found out that if I leave as decoy one or two eggs in the basket, the more eggs you gather in the afternoon. Then a new idea came. With a needle, I punctured the egg and sucked the content dry. It tasted good and I made some to substitute the natural eggs for decoy.

Brooding hen 

Dad, a balikbayan after finishing BS in Commercial Science at De Paul University in Chicago, called us on the table one evening. "First thing tomorrow morning we will find that hen that lays empty eggs.”

It was a family tradition that every Sunday we had tinola - chicken cooked with papaya and pepper (sili) leaves. Dad would point at a cull (the unproductive and least promising member of the flock) and I would set the trap, a baqui with a trap door and some corn for bait. My brother Eugene would slash the neck of the helpless fowl while my sister Veny and I would be holding it. The blood is mixed with glutinous rice (diket), which is cooked ahead of the vegetables.

That evening I could not sleep. What if dad’s choice is one of our pet chicken?  We even call our chickens by name. The empty eggs were the  cause of it all, so I thought.

In the morning after the mass I told dad my secret. He laughed and laughed. I didn't know why. I laughed, too. I was relieved with a tinge of victorious feeling. Thus the case of the empty eggs was laid to rest. It was my first “successful” experiment.

In the years to come I realized you just can’t fool anybody. And by the way, there are times we ask ourselves, “Who is fooling who?”

6. Eugene and I nearly drowned in a river.

There was a friendly man who would come around and dad allowed him to play with us.  People were talking he was a strange fellow. We simply did not mind. He was a young man perhaps in his twenties when Eugene and I were kids in the early grades in San Vicente.  

Bantaoay River branches out to Busiing River 

One day this guy (I forgot his name) took us to Busiing river, a kilometer walk or so from the poblacion. The water was inviting, what would kids like best to do?  We swam and frolicked and fished, but then the water was steadily rising so we had to hold on the bamboo poles staked in the water to avoid being swept down by the current. I held on tightly, and I saw Eugene doing the same on a nearby bamboo pole. The guy just continued fishing with his bare hands, and apparently had forgotten us. 

Just then dad came running and saved us.  We heard him castigate the fellow who, we  found out that he mentally retarded that he didn’t even realized the extreme danger he put us in.

7. Paper wasps on the run! Or was it the other way around?

This happened to me, rather what I did, when I was five or six - perhaps younger, because I don’t know why I attack a colony of putakti or alimpipinig (Ilk) (photo). 

 It was raw courage called bravado when you put on courage on something without weighing the consequences. It was hatred dominating reason, motivated by revenge. 

I was sweeping the yard near a chico tree when I suddenly felt pain above my eye. No one had ever warned me of paper wasps, and I hadn’t been stung before. I retreated, instinctively got a bikal bamboo and attacked their papery nest, but every time I got close to it I got stung.  I don’t know how many times I attacked the enemy, each time with more fury, and more stings, until dad saw me.  I struggled under his strong arms sobbing.  I was lucky, kids my size can’t take many stings. There are cases bee poison can cause the heart to stop. 

8. Trapping frogs

It was fun to trap frogs when I was a kid. I would dig holes in the field, around one and one-half feet deep, at harvest time. Here the frogs seek shelter in these holes because frogs need water and a cool place. Insects that fall in to the hole also attract them. Early in the morning I would do my rounds, harvesting the trapped frogs.  Frogs are a favorite dish among Ilocanos especially before the age of pesticides.

 Frog meat

The frog is skinned, its entrails removed, and cooked with tomato, onion and achuete (Bixa orellana) to make the menu deliciously bright yellow orange.

9. Getting drunk at an early age.
I was already a farmhand before I was of school age, but dad always warned me not to be an aliwegweg (curious at doing things), the experimenter that I was. One morning as dad went on his routine, first to hear mass in our parish church just across our residence farm, I went down to the cellar with a sumpit (small bamboo tube) to take a sip of the sweet day-old fermenting sugarcane juice.

 Basi wine making

I didn't know that with a sip too many one gets drunk. And that was precisely what made me feel sick, but 1 did not tell dad. He called a doctor to find out what was the matter with me. When the doctor arrived he found me normal. What with the distance from Vigan to San Vicente - on a caleza (horse-drawn carriage)? But the doctor was whispering something to dad.

Then it happened. Dad had left for the church, so I thought. I went to the cellar and as soon as I probed the sumpit into a newly fermenting jar and took a sip, someone tapped my shoulder in the dark. It was dad!

Imagine the expression of his face (and mine, too) in the dark. I sobbed with embarrassment while he took a deep sigh of relief.  Since then the doctor never came again. And I promised never to taste my “beverage" again.

10. The caleza I was riding ran over a boy.

Basang, my auntie yaya and I were going home from Vigan on a caleza, a horse carriage. I was around five or six years old, the age children love to tag along wherever there is to go. It was midday and the cochero chose to take the shorter gravelly road to San Vicente by way of the second dike road that passes Bantay town. Since there was no traffic our cochero nonchalantly took the smoother left lane fronting a cluster of houses near Bantay. Suddenly our caleza tilted on one side as if it had gone over a boulder. 

  Caleza, Vigan, Ilocos Sur

To my astonishment I saw a boy around my age curled up under the wheel. The caleza came to a stop and the boy just remained still and quiet, dust covered his body.  I thought he was dead.  Residents started coming out. I heard shouts, some men angrily confronting the cochero. Bantay is noted for notoriety of certain residents. Instinct must have prodded Basang to take me in her arms and quickly walked away from the maddening crowd.  No one ever noticed us I supposed.        

Guava - Tree of Happy Childhood

Where have all the kids gone?

Native guava (Psidium guajava) Family Myrtaceae

Where have all the happy children gone

Perched on the spreading branches bowing,

Their faces and clothes with fruit stain over

Heeding no care, time and parents calling.

Doldrums, doldrums, how hard it is to bear,

In the school like Huckleberry Finn;

The tree's image on the blackboard seen,

With the hours in countdown to the scene.

The clock strikes five and the tree is alive again;

Make haste for childhood comes back never.

And the guava tree does not stay long neither,

'Cept in sweet memory where it lives forever. ~

  

If there is a ninth or tenth wonder of the world, it is the guava tree. For me it is the first wonder - the wonder of childhood.

Have you seen a tree bearing “fruits” bigger – and heavier - than its whole structure?

And here is one for the Book of Guinness. Have you heard the guava tree talk, laugh and shout, sing beautifully or grunt, make echolocation signals? Parents remind their children not to miss their siesta or classes. Then doldrums reigns but briefly. But soon the children are back to their favorite tree.

Take the backseat London Bridge, Golden Gate or Eiffel Tower. The guava tree can bend and touch the ground, and become upright again – not once, not twice but many times in its lifetime - and in a child's lifetime. And every branch equally obliges to the 180-degree weight and pull of children. No wonder the best spinning top and the best frame for slingshot are made from guava wood, and is perfect "Y", too.

It is a living Christmas tree, sort of. Birds come frequently. The perperoka and panal - migratory birds from the North, come with the Amihan and eat on the berries, while combing the place of worms, and gleaning on anything left by harvesters. The pandangera bird (fan-tailed) dances on the branches, while the house sparrow perches, picking on ripe fruits and small crawlers. And if you wake up very early, meet the butterflies and bees gathering nectar and pollen from the flowers. Take a deep breathe of the morning air spiced with the fragrance of both flowers and ripe fruits.

And the tree has eyes. True. Round and luminescent in the dark, mingle with the fireflies and the stars – and a waning moon. It is romantic, scary and sacred. Fruit bats come at night and pick the ripe fruits. Rodents and wild pigs scavenged at night. Moths and skippers, relatives of the butterfly, are nocturnal in their search for food and mate. Old folks would warn us kids never to go near the tree at night. In my career as biologist I had the experience to see in the middle of a field guava trees lighted with fireflies. This scene was in Sablayan in Mindoro island. What a sight - Christmas in another time and in another place. What a magnificent sight!

Would a child go hungry where guava trees abound? I don’t think so. Because the fruits are packed with sugar, vitamins and minerals. The fruits are made into jelly, pickled and cooked as vegetable. It is perfect for sinigang. Have you heard of guava wine? It is the most aromatic of all table wines made from tropical fruits, and it displays a rare pinkish glow. Nutritionists say guava is rich in Vitamin C, richer than most fruits, local and imported. I came to learn later of the cancer-preventing substance derived from Psidium guajava,its scientific name, and its miraculous healing attributes.

Name the ailments commonly encountered, and the guava offers a dozen home remedies. Chew the tops and make a poultice to relieve toothache. The village dentist tells you to first make a poultice the size of a marble, then after he has extracted your tooth, he tells you to seal the wound with it to prevent bleeding and infection. Pronto you can go back to your usual chore.

Guava stem is the first toothbrush, try it. Soften the smaller end and you can also use it as toothpick. This is practical when traveling in a remote area. Chew a leaf or two for astringent and tooth paste. Crushed leaves serve as aromatherapy, a new term today. And for an unconscious person, burn some dried leaves, fan the smoke toward the patient while pressing his large toe with your thumb nail. The patient senses both pain and smoke and soon takes a deep breathe - another, and another, until he gets enough oxygen and he wakes up.

Decoction of guava leaves for bath is practical in eliminating body odor. Guava soap is effective against skin disorders like pimples and eczema.

My daughter Anna Christina developed in her college thesis Guava Ointment, an all-natural antibacterial solution of the plant’s anti-inflammatory and therapeutically active properties against wounds or burns. Extract from the leaves contains 5 to 10 percent tannin, and fixed oils that have antibacterial and inhibitory effects against microorganisms that cause infection.

Here are the main ingredients of Anna’s Guava Ointment.

• Tannin, a non-crystallizable complex polyhydroxylphenolic compound is present in the leaves and stems.

• Fixed Oil which is frequently found in the roots, stems, branches, flowers and fruits. It exists as oil globules in special cells.

• Volatile Oil is an odorous compound found in various plant parts. It usually evaporates when exposed to the air at ordinary temperature. It is obtained by stem distillation, solvent extraction or absorption into purified fats.

• Petrolatum is the ointment base used, sometimes called “Petroleum Jelly”. It is a purified mixture of semi-solid hydrocarbons obtained from petroleum.

You can make your own Petrolatum with castor oil, coconut oil, beeswax, sorbitan tristearate, silica, tocopherol (vitamin E), and natural flavor. You may consult your local pharmacist about these ingredients. Petrolatum is thoroughly mixed with the extract and kept for use in a typical ointment container.

When I was a kid my auntie-yaya would gather succulent green guava fruits as remedy for LBM. Tannin regulates the digestive enzymes and stabilizes the digestive flora. She would also make guava leaf tea as a follow-up treatment.

As an offshoot of all these experiences, I asked my students to look into the potential value of guava seeds. The seeds contain 14 percent oil, 15 percent proteins, and 13 percent starch. And study also the bark and leaves in the development of drugs against diarrhea, and as astringent.

At one time I was isolating yeasts that occur in nature which I needed in preparing bubod – yeasts complex for basi wine fermentation. I stumbled upon two kinds of yeasts - Saccharomyces elipsoides and Brettanomyces - the second, I discovered is the secret of French wine quality. This French yeast resides in our home yard, in the flower of the native guava!

 

Preparing guava jelly at home; closeup of ripe fruits. 

 

Guava bird; closeup of flowers, source of wild yeast strain for wine making.

Later I found out, the same yeast naturally occurs in the flowers of macopa (Eugenia jambalana) and duhat (Syzygium cumini), both members of the guava family - Myrtaceae. I am very grateful to the Food Development Center (FDC) under the National Food Authority for helping me in the isolation and identification of these specimens.

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Guava is the tree of happy childhood. The tree bears fruits and children. Look at all the children climbing, swinging on its branches, some armed with bamboo poles, others with small stones, still others with slingshots aiming at one thing: the ripe fruits on the tree. The tree builds sweet childhood memories.

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Nature has a way of preserving the guava species through seed dormancy. Dormancy is a temporary delay of seeds to germinate for a few days to several years. This is important as a survival mechanism. Guava seeds are not destroyed by gastric juice and peristalsis of the digestive system of animals that eat the fruits, whether they are cold or warm blooded. It is because of their thick and hard pericarp. This biological process enhances not only germination but dissemination in a new territory.

You can’t crack guava seeds. If you do, especially with a decayed tooth you’ll end up going to your dentist. Oh, how I would wince and hold on anything. Either the old tooth is forced out of its place or the seed has lodged in a cavity.

Old folks also believe that guava seeds can cause appendicitis. Well, its seed is too large to enter this rudimentary organ. I believe though that it is its abrasive nature that makes way for bacteria to enter and cause infection. And subsequently inflammation. Well, if this is true, then it’s a risk one takes in eating guava. You really can’t remove all the seeds, and if you succeed you take away the fun and quaintness of eating guava.

We have introduced foreign varieties of guava which really don’t grow into a tree. The fruits are very much bigger, but far from being as sweet as those of our native variety. In a few years the guapple, as it is called, becomes senile then dies, while the native guava lasts for a lifetime, a generation, perhaps longer, and reach several feet high.

Today when I see children climbing guava trees it reminds me of my childhood. It reminds me of its many friends – birds, ground fowls like ducks, chicken, bato-bato (wild pigeons), goats and self-supporting native pigs. I imagine butterflies, dragonflies and Drosphila flies attracted by the ripening fruit. And frogs and toads patiently waiting for these flies to become their prey. Finches and sparrows, the quick and dainty La Golondrina (swift), the pandangera, panal andperperroka – I miss them.

Yes, the fruit bats, they are the source of children stories, among them is about clumsy bats dropping their load of ripe fruits accidentally falling of rooftops. In the dead of the night what would you imagine? “It’s the manananggal! (half-bodied female vampire).” Our folks at home would even make their voice tremble. And we would cling to each other in bed we kids in our time. Our elders would take advantage of the situation and whisper, “If you don’t sleep, it will come back.”

In the morning who would care about the mannanaggal? Or seeds causing appendicitis? Or the danger of falling from the tree. Or chased by wild boar? Or challenged by billy goat or brooding hen? As usual we would search for ripe berries and have our fill. Then we would hurry down and run to relieve ourselves, too loaded we simply take comfort in some thickets. In time guava trees would be found growing in these places.

Years after, I will see children climbing these trees and having their fill of the fruits, joyous in this adventure of childhood, making the guava tree the greatest wonder of the world. ~