My travels to places where there are no paths to follow.
I’ve been eating lugaw (aka rice porridge, aka congee) all my life.
I started at home, associating lugaw with the usual spells of childhood flu, as standard bedside comfort food offered by my worried mother. Hence evolved my lifelong love affair with proletarian lugaw bangketa, savored with satisfaction in working-class districts and poor people’s markets, especially after I became a full-time activist in the early 1970s. Continue reading “The lugaw stall with no name”
A favorite slogan chanted by young activists like us in the early 1970s, when Marcos was already contemplating martial law but before he actually declared it, went like this: One activist would start with a loud marching voice: “Ano’ng sagot sa martial law?” And the response would resonate like a march of thunder through the street, echoing across the urban valley of tall buildings: “Digmaan!–Digmaan!–Digmaang bayan!” Continue reading “What never to forget”