We usually ate our lunch in the open field under the shelter of a tree. Our menu of corn grits, salted fish and leafy vegetables were repetitive but we never ran out of appetite. There were times when we had to improvise a few quick menus to save time and to make do of our dwindling food supply. One was a soup of sili in cool water. To this concoction of hot pepper, we add pinches of salt or tablespoonfuls of fermented anchovies and thanks to capsaicin we have a cold soup that tasted hot.
On one occasion, we joined our hosts, Dadong and Karna, in a lunch of boiled cassava and monkey meat cooked in vinegar and oil and seasoned with garlic and hot pepper, which I found very delicious. There was no dining table so we ate squatting on the bamboo floor. My appetite in eating the delicacy was briefly interrupted when I saw the skinned head of the monkey on top of the banggera. The elevated bamboo platform was used for storing dishes and cooking utensils. I stared at the monkey’s unblinking eyes that appeared to be watching us feasting upon its meat and then, recovering from the initial shock, resumed eating.
On another occasion, I found our lunch viand not so appetizing but was constrained to keep my unsavory thought to myself. It was my fault after all. Our supply of water was fetched from the well at the foot of the mountain. The spring water was cool and crystal clear but the descent to and ascent from the gorge was tiring and time-consuming. Mindful of our limited water supply in the earthen jar that sat at the banggera, I recycled the little amount of water I used in washing my soiled hands and deposited it in the kalaha half-full of what I thought was a slop or leaf-over for pigs. The cast iron pan imparted a brownish hue to the soup of moringa leaves, saluyot tops and taro corms, so Silvestre and our hosts had no inkling of what happened.
