Anytime in the months of November or December, the big flood came rushing from the mountains carrying with it logs, uprooted trees, vegetation, other debris and at times, one or two people, as the surging turbid waters rampaged toward the sea. The annual deluge would also demolish and carry away the wood bridge that traversed the Maigo River. The recurring disaster that caused delay and inconvenience to commuters and disrupted the flow of essential commodities was, ironically, a boon to the inhabitants nearby. Overnight, makeshift stores sprouted to cater to the stranded passengers with a display of foods, soft drinks, cigarettes and sundry wares.
Outrigger canoes competed with makeshifts bamboo rafts in transporting people and commodities across the river. Children competed with adults in carrying bags, luggage, boxes and other baggage from the jeeps and buses to the rafts and canoes. As a porter, I earned real money. At the end of the day, I would excitedly count the coins I accumulated. Since a bottle of soft drink only cost a few centavos, a few pesos was a large amount for a day’s labor. I was then in my elementary grade.
This annual event ceased with the completion of the concrete bridge in 1957 but the destruction of the last wooden bridge left a footnote in my memory of the bridge of my youth. Nobody can recall who started it when out of nowhere a strange kind of gambling became a vogue – egg knocking. Bettors bought and brought eggs of various textures, shapes and sizes for the game. Vendors, porters and even passengers waiting for their connecting rides knocked chicken eggs. The winner got the cracked or broken egg of the opponent. Egg knocking spread to nearby places but after the restoration of regular traffic, the craze waned and eventually stopped.
