My mother had a brother in Kibawe, an adjacent town of Dangcagan where I worked as the Municipal Development Officer. He lived and farmed in Apolang, Kibawe, a village reachable through unpaved road scoured by heavy rain. As immigrants from Bohol, our parents had few relatives in Mindanao so I was delighted to visit Uncle Blas who was my only known relative in Bukidnon. From Uncle Blas, I learned about our relatives in Carmen, Bohol.
The family welcomed me and I enjoyed the lunch they usually prepared for me – ranged chicken cut into two halves and grilled over coconut embers. The chicken was hunted by his son, Ingrasio, in the cornfield using a slingshot. Ingrasio, nicknamed Dodo, was my uncle’s oldest son who helped him in his corn farm. The soil then was so fertile that there was no need of applying fertilizers to produced big ears of corn. The native chicken ranged in the corn field and the surrounding patches of grasses.
Dodo had an unusual way of plucking the feathers the chicken. He would cut the head of the chicken and blow air through the neck to distend the skin. The distended skin would make easier the plucking of the feathers. The house of Uncle Blas was far from the source of water, an open well at the bank of a river quite far away. Distending rather than immersing the chicken in boiling water, saves water.
Drinking rum, my uncle and I would chat at the window-side of the thatched house until late in the afternoon. I would leave loaded with alcohol but sober enough to drive my motorbike on the plank of lumber across a brook.
My first visit was more memorable because of the newly constructed toilet at the side of the house. The local government required all residents to have a water-sealed toilets but because of the scarcity of water my uncle built a toilet with a water-sealed pan but with no hole below, for compliance and inspection purposes. The family continued to use the pit latrine. I cannot blame my uncle. It was his simple response to an impractical imposition.
