HUMOR WRITING  

            One would always equate childhood with innocence but I realized that innocence doesn’t always mean positive. There could be “mean innocence”, mischievous innocence”, “yucky innocence” and other forms of childhood innocence that one could think of. A child doesn’t know what he/she is doing. He/she only cares about childish enjoyment.

            I am surprised on how my personality evolved through time. I was a mean, mischievous and yucky child— totally different from what I am now. I learned about my mischief through my mother’s stories and from the significant events stored in my memory. It’s a good thing that I could no longer remember the things that I did in my infancy up to my second year. I bet they were more shameful. There was this incident that my mother kept on telling even to family friends and relatives. When I was ten months old, I ate my own shit. It was a greenish tubol which I picked from the floor after I excreted it. My father said that it seems that I enjoyed that “snack” because when he saw me, I was munching my tubol and just smiled at him when I saw him running towards me.  It was my father who got all the greenish shit from my mouth and brushed my teeth thoroughly.

            When I was older, I no longer played with my shit but instead played along the canal where the neighbor sewage exits. I and my friends used to play balay-balay under a friend’s house which was nearest to the canal. We pretended that the canal was the sea. After all, it was abundant with fish which I have not known its name until now. We caught fish from the canal and dried them on the cemented pathway. I was wondering where the fish were because when I looked on the pathway, they were gone. I was surprised when I saw my friend, who was younger than me, eating the fish. She even picked a stone and ate it too. She said she was pretending that the fish was her viand and the stone was a candy. This time, I was the one whom got the things which she stuffed in her mouth.

            I never had problems with my playmates except when they do something bad to me. There was one time when I had a sambunot with a friend-turned-enemy. She called me “baboy” because I was a fat child (even until now). I called her ‘kwaknit” because it rhymed with her name, Ninit. That name-calling ended into a fight. She grabbed my hair and I grabbed hers too. We fought nearby the door. When we reached the door, I banged her head on it until she surrendered. I never thought that was bad because I was just defending myself. Of course, I was happy when I saw her cry in defeat.

There was also this guy friend whom I could never get even because he was stronger than me. What I did was, I got a kuto from my hair (I had many lice then) and placed it among his hair without him knowing about it. I pretended to scan his hair while we were watching a cartoon show to make sure that the kuto was there. When I saw it, I went to her mother and told her that Erwin has a kuto in his hair. I knew that his mother is meticulous when it comes to grooming. His mother went to Erwin and scanned his hair and indeed, she saw the kuto. Poor Erwin, hi mother scolded him for the sudden appearance of kuto among his hair.

What surprised me is that my father always knew about my mischief. I don’t who reported them to Papa. Perhaps, he knew about them through the parents of my victims.  I was not spared of his ultimate punishment which I really feared-- the bitay-sako thing. This was how pilyo kids were punished during my time. There was one evening when he beat me with his belt. Perhaps, he was so angry with me then that he got a sack from our kitchen. I cried harder when I saw him bring the sack. What I did was I keep on jumping in order to make noise and distract the landlady living in the ground floor (our family was renting the upper part of the house). I was actually blackmailing my father in my most subtle way. Luckily, my technique succeeded. My father told me to stop jumping because I might disturb the landlady. My crying and jumping ceased and my Papa returned the sack at the kitchen.      

I am a different person now and my mind works in a different way. I could never bring back those memories but they would always remain in me. Sometimes I envy the freedom that children the children have. There are times that I wanted to be a child again. I’m always pressures to act my age and be mature. I have never done any of my mischief nowadays but I’m planning to, one of these days. It would be a different mischief this time.

Charisse Mae Ampo

s equate childhood with innocence but I realized that innocence doesn’t always mean positive. There could be “mean innocence”, mischievous innocence”, “yucky innocence” and other forms of childhood innocence that one could think of. A child doesn’t know what he/she is doing. He/she only cares about childish enjoyment.

            I am surprised on how my personality evolved through time. I was a mean, mischievous and yucky child— totally different from what I am now. I learned about my mischief through my mother’s stories and from the significant events stored in my memory. It’s a good thing that I could no longer remember the things that I did in my infancy up to my second year. I bet they were more shameful. There was this incident that my mother kept on telling even to family friends and relatives. When I was ten months old, I ate my own shit. It was a greenish tubol which I picked from the floor after I excreted it. My father said that it seems that I enjoyed that “snack” because when he saw me, I was munching my tubol and just smiled at him when I saw him running towards me.  It was my father who got all the greenish shit from my mouth and brushed my teeth thoroughly.

            When I was older, I no longer played with my shit but instead played along the canal where the neighbor sewage exits. I and my friends used to play balay-balay under a friend’s house which was nearest to the canal. We pretended that the canal was the sea. After all, it was abundant with fish which I have not known its name until now. We caught fish from the canal and dried them on the cemented pathway. I was wondering where the fish were because when I looked on the pathway, they were gone. I was surprised when I saw my friend, who was younger than me, eating the fish. She even picked a stone and ate it too. She said she was pretending that the fish was her viand and the stone was a candy. This time, I was the one whom got the things which she stuffed in her mouth.

            I never had problems with my playmates except when they do something bad to me. There was one time when I had a sambunot with a friend-turned-enemy. She called me “baboy” because I was a fat child (even until now). I called her ‘kwaknit” because it rhymed with her name, Ninit. That name-calling ended into a fight. She grabbed my hair and I grabbed hers too. We fought nearby the door. When we reached the door, I banged her head on it until she surrendered. I never thought that was bad because I was just defending myself. Of course, I was happy when I saw her cry in defeat.

There was also this guy friend whom I could never get even because he was stronger than me. What I did was, I got a kuto from my hair (I had many lice then) and placed it among his hair without him knowing about it. I pretended to scan his hair while we were watching a cartoon show to make sure that the kuto was there. When I saw it, I went to her mother and told her that Erwin has a kuto in his hair. I knew that his mother is meticulous when it comes to grooming. His mother went to Erwin and scanned his hair and indeed, she saw the kuto. Poor Erwin, hi mother scolded him for the sudden appearance of kuto among his hair.

What surprised me is that my father always knew about my mischief. I don’t who reported them to Papa. Perhaps, he knew about them through the parents of my victims.  I was not spared of his ultimate punishment which I really feared-- the bitay-sako thing. This was how pilyo kids were punished during my time. There was one evening when he beat me with his belt. Perhaps, he was so angry with me then that he got a sack from our kitchen. I cried harder when I saw him bring the sack. What I did was I keep on jumping in order to make noise and distract the landlady living in the ground floor (our family was renting the upper part of the house). I was actually blackmailing my father in my most subtle way. Luckily, my technique succeeded. My father told me to stop jumping because I might disturb the landlady. My crying and jumping ceased and my Papa returned the sack at the kitchen.      

I am a different person now and my mind works in a different way. I could never bring back those memories but they would always remain in me. Sometimes I envy the freedom that children the children have. There are times that I wanted to be a child again. I’m always pressures to act my age and be mature. I have never done any of my mischief nowadays but I’m planning to, one of these days. It would be a different mischief this time.

Charisse Mae Ampo