Our father’s parents are buried in Negros, my mother’s in iloilo. We’d usually stay in Negros.
We shared space with some relatives whose only activities then included interacting with distant relatives, while one kid especially would gather melted wax and form them into balls. He’d also feign to be a priest, doing the gestures as he saw them.
Meanwhile some distant relatives had like tables of food and drinks. Sometimes we’d be offered a sandwich but more often than not, no.
What I looked forward to then was going to Bacolod for some food after visiting our dead. Two occasions stood out. We went to Kentucky Fried Chicken once in the bowling alley and bought a bucket of chicken. ANother time we went to this Chinese resto in Shopping Center where the food was good. except that I barely enjoyed it as this time of year is usually marked by asthma.
Yet another memory stands out: the car had just parked, I opened the door beside me when horrors, I hit a lady passing by. I felt so bad but she didn’t complain. I guess the sensation was not enough to fuss over.
Oh yes, our driver’s wife would always give us suman she cooked – occasionally just sweet enough, sometimes lacking in sugar. And there was bayi-bayi – a coarse version of espasol without the ground rice surrounding it.
What memories of All Saints’ Day do you continue to remember?