Kites and Crap on a Windy Day

November 14, 2010

Today the wind blew strong, and the waves in Tanon Straight were restless and powerful. We watched from the shore. Frederick wanted to swim. “No way” I told him, borrowing one of his favorite expressions in English.

Picking up a discarded plastic bag on the beach, I noticed that it filled instantly with air and wanted to fly from my hand, begging to be a kite. There was no string so I tied the end of a discarded VCR tape to the bag. The other end was still on the reel, buried at the end of the movie, lying at the bottom of the shallows in the fish sanctuary. The sea is a trash depository and the beach is always full of junk. Negros Island, 10 miles east of us, and our island of Cebu, trade the trash that travels back and forth on the tides and storms. Each day, the waves carry a fresh supply of it to shore. The neighbors add to it, throwing bucketsful of their pig shit over the sea wall in the early morning hours.

I tied the flying plastic bag to a corner post of a small shelter on the nearby jetty. It twirled in circles like a playful windsock, standing out away from the post about 20 feet, rigid and full of air. Several of my fishermen neighbors were standing around watching and laughing heartily. They made some joke about my American invention, comparing its manufacture to any number of Filipino inventions which use whatever is on hand. Usually, it’s discarded scraps of steel, an old inner tube, a handful of mud, some chicken feathers and bamboo.

I laughed with them. Filipinos are well aware of America’s abundance vs. their own poverty. It felt good to joke about a thing that, at times, is somewhat uncomfortable to me: my relative wealth in this land of poverty.

Later, I tried to make a kite of bamboo sticks, a bigger plastic bag, tape and some pieces of the VCR tape to tie the sticks together. A piece of dirty cloth found on the beach was cut into strips and attached as a tail. The boys were interested when I started the project and helped me put it together. But they grew bored before it was complete and when it came time to fly, the two of them were already playing in the sea once again.

The kite went about 20 feet higher than the plastic bag, did a few loops and dove into the sea. After retrieving it, and making some adjustments, I tried again... and again, and again, each time dragging it out of the water and tweaking, with hope. When the VCR tape became entangled in itself and the kite, I gave up and watched the boys play. I gave a few seconds thought to trying one more time, but something in the back of my mind said “Give it up, man.” Knowing when to quit has never been a strong point of mine.

While I was fooling with that silly kite, Emelie was making lunch. She bought some fresh fish from Istan as he was pulling into shore with his catch. Lunch was fish soup, rice and bananas. To the soup, she added leaves of the malonggay tree that grows in the yard. The leaves are deep green and very nutritious, with a mild flavor that accents any kind of soup.

After dragging our wet and worn bodies back from the beach and having lunch, the boys took a two-hour nap and all four of us were refreshed by it. When I tried waking them up, Frederick kicked with both feet and pulled the sheet over his head. Gab lay there, unresponsive as a dead fish. I walked away. About 5 minutes later Gab came out of his room and immediately walked outside to watch the sea from the front porch. It’s his way of waking up. He leans over the rail and watches, mesmerized, soundless, staring out across the watery brine – a boy after my own heart. When he’s ready, he starts playing and laughing again.

About ten minutes after Gab got up, Frederick snuck up on me while I sat at the table. He poked my ribs and let out a yell. We both laughed at his joke. Derick loves to tease and joke. His little brother is the butt of most of it, and his taunts sometimes venture into malicious territory where Gab is involved. The poor kid can’t get any rest. And they fight constantly. Drives Emelie crazy. She cut a switch yesterday, from a bush in the front yard. She has it hanging on the wall, in a conspicuous place, where the boys are not apt to forget about. I threatened them with it this afternoon, during kite building, when they both kept playing with my pocket knife after I told them 12 times to leave it alone. The threat came while they both had a hand on it and they were arguing about who should have it. The blade was open and I envisioned a sliced-open hand from thumb to little finger.

I looked at Frederick with the meanest look I could muster. It was a stare-down contest, boring holes in each other with our eyes. When he looked away, I knew he had gotten the message. Derick will test every request, demand or warning. He’s a smart kid. If it comes to a threat of punishment, he knows if there is intent to deliver or if the threat is just hot air. You can’t bluff with Derick, or you’ve got a problem on your hands. 

It always amazes me how kids can be such little devils and then flip a switch in their heads and be sweet enough to warm your heart, a moment later. I wish I could reach that switch, but I guess the best any of us can do is to provide lots of love and attention and a firm, guiding hand. And hope for the best!