Prying Minds

One dreamy rainy morning.

"What is this, mom?"  With eyes wide opened as in total awe, my son, 'Optimus',  holding a round object, asked me. It was one of those mornings when we spent the prior night at my parent's place, because roads back home are impassable due to high tides (blame it all to low pressure areas that sure felt like super typhoons with its walloping show of heavy rainfalls). With mind barely awake, I muttered something inaudible for a reply, and went back to sleep.

But beyond my kid's curious inquiry is a stubborn pursuit for some truths, half-truths or whatever breed of truths there is in his venture.  He has a tremendous thirst for information and believes that everything has its own story, if not, a mini-story then. He will not stop until he knows what he holds. And he will never stop nudging until he had me fully drawn to giving answers abouthis mysterious find. I cannot dismiss a prying mind.

His vehement prodding propped me up to my favorite 'Indian sit' right there on the bed. Still sleepy, I stared blankly at him while taking hold of his find in an attempt to fake a diagnosis. My hands move boldly around the sinewy material of what seemed to be a rugged ball. Casting a stare,  I saw what it was.  A half ball of a coconut shell. Old, dry and rough, ready to serve its purpose:  as coconut shell fuel.

My son's subject of curiosity sent me back  thirty years before this time, when I was still this curious little girl, doing my own nudging with my 'lola'.

I grew up watching my grandma split woods using a hatchet. Yes, no issue on separation of duties.  She loves to do the work of my grandpa.  But it is my grandpa who specialized in making few good uses for coconut fruit. The miracle fruit known to Filipinos as 'niyog'.  Using his bolo knife, he would remove the husk from the coconut shell, then cut the latter in half to get the precious coco juice. There are times when he'd rather not take off the husk.  Because the complete package of husk and shell cut in half is functional to native households as 'bunot'.

However resourceful my grandpa is, it is known to me that after all that he did to the good old coconut fruit, my grandma is the one who would reap all the left overs as reserve for fuels. That's when coconut shell fuel or charcoal was introduced to me, by no less, my grandma.  All of a sudden, the memory of her sent warmth to my heart.  Her dirty kitchen is a smoke-filled, rusty, logs and fuels-filled, and delicious aroma of rice coffee-cored place. Her ancient bamboo blower is legendary in kindling and rekindling the fire for her cooking. Her kitchen is the 'conversation arena' of her home.  This is where most of my childhood queries were posted, at every nook...of every corner.

For a moment I let old memories consume me.  Like a flicker of fire, it ignites a sentiment that sends something warm down my cheek.  All because of an ordinary coconut shell.

Realization unfolds and plants itself permanently into my subconscious. Alright, I never did forget every learning I acquired from childhood.  From the people, the places and landmarks, the vintage materials, and the events -- all of these are hallmarks, pivotal to my being 'me'. I am the conglomeration of values I collected starting from childhood, ignited by one inquiry and observation after another...and substantiated by diverse catalysts from one time period, to another.

For now, I will leave the memory of that curious wide-eyed little girl, in order to give way to this awesomely inquisitive boy staring at me, with eyes questioning, mind open.

Allow me to start this right. All the good things my old folks showed and all the lessons I've learned, I will iterate to him.  Then perhaps, this child of mine, will start to fill his cup with better values from the same 'fuel' that kindled...my once prying mind.

Meantime, this boy deserves ample kisses and hugs from his mom, in honor of his incredible 'find'. Then later I'll tell him:  "Son, that object you are holding is.....; Did you know that...." Oh well, there's a lot to tell, but my boy definitely has a lot more to ask.  :-)