Birth Home

Last night, I received a heartbreaking call from my "birth home" which catapulted me into panic, distress, and depression. I felt my world shattered - again. As far as I remember, my family is always dealing with one crisis from another, so whenever I hear the word "birth home" I am beginning to associate this word to crisis, dilemma and other words that also pertain to suffocation and drowning. (I think anyone who has dealt with familial greed and envy knows how it feels. I associate it to drowning because I have a cousin who, was so envious I could swim/float, tried to drown me.)

In this entry, I would like to make it clear that the place I am referring to is Kalinga, Philippines - my birthplace.  So if you'd ask me how I identify my tribal identity. I am Kalinga by birth and Igorot by blood.

I will always acknowledge the Philippines as my "birth home" and Hawaii "my home." I was 17 when I left the Philippines and much of my life now is here. Being of Filipino descent and of American citizenship has its ups and downs. I am sometimes labeled as too American by my Filipino family and too Filipino by my American family. I sometimes feel caught in-between.

These are photos I took the last time I visited "birth home."

This is Kayni's Tree. My grandpa planted this tree and it was toppled down by a typhoon. It amazes me that it's still alive and thriving to this day.  No matter how many people try to topple me down, I am still here - alive and thriving.

When you sit or lie down on Kayni's Tree, this is the view.

Green gold and sometimes worth dying or killing for.

The house I grew up is surrounded by rice fields.

Rice fields guarded by a lonely scarecrow. Sometimes, "birth home" brings back a lot of lonely memories.

BUT no matter how "birth home" left a bitter distaste in my mouth, it's still worth fighting for.