Childhood Memories - Business and Leisure

When we were still children, circa 1925, Father was probably a pioneer in the transportation business. We had a mini-bus named “Rivera 7” which ran the Subic-San Marcelino trip. The body was red and the wheels had iron spokes. In the late afternoon, we would wait on the road and had great fun from the ride into the garage. We would also gather around to see Perfecto Oliveros, the driver, and Father counts the days’ earnings, then to receive a centavo each. We never saw Father drive.

Besides the bus, Father also had a “kiskisan” rice mill. He would mill the palay, get the rice bran for the service and sell rice bran to pig raisers. I don’t recall what happened to the rice mill but the cars parts were junks in the yard for many years.

In the early half of the 20th century, San Marcelino was primarily an agricultural town. Before daylight carabao-drawn carts rumble on the stony roads carrying farmers to the fields. At dusk, they return home with vegetables, or at harvest time in December, loaded with rice bundles or palay in sacks.

When Father was still strong, he had that routine too, going to his farm south of Vega Hill. On vacations, we would all go with him to spend the day at the bamboo hut and have a marvelous picnic, snacks of young coconuts, boiled camote and pineapples. We would help harvest the long string beans, have a cartload to be bundled at night and ready for market the next day.

The coconut plantation in this farm was the scene of grand picnics where the town's people were invited. The young ladies wore Filipino costumes. Long bamboo tables were set for the feast.

On weekends during summer, the enjoyable activity was the cart to the river with the week’s laundry, bathing in the cool, clear River and lunch on the newly caught “bunog”. Father bought rights to a span of river lot and made piles of stones wherein this delectable fish would gather and live. After about a month, a net would be placed around the pile, the stones removed from inside, and the fish caught in the net. Enough fish for sinigang could be taken from these piles.

In the afternoon, we all go home, tired, tanned, all laundry dried and very clean smelling. On one outing however, there was an anxiety when the carabao had broken its rope and strayed away. Father went to look for it, leaving the family on the river bank. It was getting dark when Father returned with the indispensable carabao.

On June 12, 1991, Pinatubo erupted covering the whole area around for miles around. The river bed became a vast lahar desert. The new generation lost a great heritage of natural resources and a vast potential of joyful experiences and adventure.