My Sheltered Childhood

I grew up in a squatter area. Our small barangay had a bad reputation as a haven for drug addicts and criminals. I knew otherwise.

I remember playing all day with my friends without fear of getting lost or hurt. We know every nook and cranny of our place. When we feel adventurous, we venture into unexplored areas of the ‘hood, like the river or the rice fields. When the rice paddies dried up after the harvest season, we’d spend many afternoons playing, flying kites, or simply enjoying the fresh air in the field. 

Back then, everybody knows everybody. Our elders are all kid’s aunties and uncles. Children play while most of the elderly take watch.

Once when I was about two years old, my mom dressed me up to visit my dad working in another town. As she was busy with my twin brothers, she didn’t notice that I had gone out of the house. I walked all the way to the market a few blocks away. A neighbor recognized me and took me back home. Mom, of course, was beside herself with worry. But my aunt recounted how I regaled them with what I saw during my little adventure!

We help each other out. You can ask the neighbor for cold rice and viand if they have extra. We share whatever food is available with the neighbors. In turn, they give back what they also have, no matter how little. Sometimes, the food you bring goes to other households and may even find its way back to you. 

We treat each other like an extended family. Every kid is welcome in their playmates’ houses and treated like one of their own. 

You don’t need to ask for help on special occasions. They will offer it without hesitation and for free. Partaking of the food is all the reward they need for their help.

We are protective of our own, yet we don’t tolerate wrongdoings. We look out for each other when in danger and don’t take kindly to offenses that disrupt the neighborhood. The occasional domestic disputes are often settled amicably with the help of neighbors. Barangay Tanods roam the streets at night to ensure our safety and our barangay officials take care of troublemakers.   

We have the necessities that every barangay needs. A health center takes care of immediate and small medical needs. We have a daycare center that holds classes and feeding programs for preschoolers. We have our own chapel for religious activities and some recreation areas for sports. 

The youth actively participate in the town’s annual festivities, such as basketball tournaments. Each barangay competes for the prize, and we are always one of the teams to beat. 

We have the pabasa, a reenactment of the passion of Christ, during the Lenten season. On Easter Sunday, the town’s salubong symbolizing Jesus Christ’s triumph over death is a much-awaited event at the town’s century-old church. The procession of saints and the beautiful sagalas during the santacruzan, also draw crowds in May.

Each night at six o’clock, the children take part in praying the rosary hosted by a different household daily. 

Why was my childhood sheltered?

Growing up, all I remember are fond memories. I do not recall any harrowing experience that scarred me or affected how I deal with others, or how I see the world in general.

Only when I moved to a university in another province did I realize how better off my family was than my childhood friends. My family is not rich, but we are complete. My parents have jobs, and we have a house made of concrete, whereas my friends live in patched-up houses. I never have to worry about what we need at school or where to get the money for baon. While most of our toys are constructed from available materials, my siblings and I received expensive toys. We received personal gifts at Christmas and birthdays and bought new clothes and shoes for the yearly recognition rights at school. I did not realize then how privileged we were compared to my playmates.

I did not learn about my friends’ daily struggles until we reminisced about our childhood during our batch reunion. Listening to them talk about how difficult life was back then made me question myself. In what universe have I lived during my childhood? Had I really been so immersed in my own little world that I viewed life through rose-tinted glasses? Was I too insensitive that I failed to recognize the disparity between our lives?

That realization hit me hard, and it affected me immensely. I realized I did not know my friends well since I’m only learning about their lives now. But in retrospect, there are many good things that I’ve learned from my “sheltered childhood”.

It’s not that I intentionally closed my eyes to their struggles. Somehow, I knew what my friends had to deal with every day. But I preferred to look on the brighter side of things. I chose to care and to help, not just sympathize. I opted to look beyond the sufferings because I believed in the good things in our community.

The good things I mentioned above are a testament that a community that cares for each other can raise children well. You can live in a posh neighborhood yet not know each other. You can have all the luxuries money can buy yet feel disconnected from the world.  You may have all the “cool friends” yet feel so alone. You can always have a good time yet feel empty and sad at the end of the day.

There are dreadful elements everywhere. Terrible things happen beyond our control even if we try our best to avoid them. I witnessed awful events in our neighborhood. But it did not alter my perception of the good things we shared in that community because it was real. The world may label our place as a haven for criminals, but we know better. I know better. The values instilled in us through cooperation, respect, shared responsibility, and kinship will continue to empower us to keep doing good things. And most importantly, to remind us to go back to our roots.