I have been blogging for more than a decade talking about myself, what I do, where I am and my little family. I realized that I have not shared here the kind of upbringing my siblings and I received. I rarely talk about my parents here, not even on social media, when a huge chunk of who we are is because of them. So in this entry, I will introduce my parents, Mokiin and Asnawil, to you.
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| c. 2017 |
MOKIIN
She's Mama to us, Nannie to her siblings and cousins, and Moki in her workplace. She's a baby boomer who grew up at the beginning of Marawi's progress. She is one of the many products of the post-world war II parents' dream to finish an education. During my grandparents' generation, very few of them were given Western education. Only the rich can afford to bring their children outside Lanao del Sur for schooling. My mom was a little girl when Mindanao State University was established in our hometown. Since then, the educational landscape of the Meranaws had changed tremendously. She worked as a librarian for more than 40 years, her work hugely contributed to my love for books and reading.
My mom is famous in the family for her temper. She can't seem to communicate without yelling. She yells a lot that when she suffered from goiter in her late 40s (she underwent total thyroidectomy), my grandma attributed it to her yelling.
My mom's ultimate talent is cooking Meranao dishes and socializing, she seems to know the genealogy of everyone living around the Lake! I'm not saying this because I'm her child, but really, I have not tasted any Meranao dish yet that is as good as my mom's.
I think I am my mom's exact opposite in a lot of aspects but my husband says otherwise.
ASNAWIL
Papa to us, Nawil to his friends and colleagues, and S'ma to his immediate family. Papa grew up in the mountains of Nunungan, Lanao del Norte, where according to him, the best place in the world. His family was struck by series of unfortunate events which molded my father and his siblings to be tough guys. I don't know anybody who matches my father's emotional strength and resilience. Whatever "hardships" my siblings and I went through pales in comparison to what my father and his entire family went through. They were victims of the Martial Law regime. My father fought against the government in search of freedom and peace, yes he was once a rebel. Yes he knows a lot about warfare, the real deal. An entire book will not be enough to tell his story. It must be in series, like : The One in Nunungan, The One Where We Won Against The Government Forces, The One Where The Government Forces Plowed Our Cornfields, The One Where I Cracked The Head of my Schoolmate in Boriasan, The One Where I Found Education. The major plot twist in my father's life was when he realized that fighting against the government will never bring peace and, ultimately, freedom to his people. It is in education where freedom and peace lies. So he went to the university, Mindanao State University, finished college and a degree in Law. That's where he met my mom and they lived happily after.
My father is a bookworm, quite the opposite of my Mom who is, by the way, a librarian. My librarian mom brings him books that he devours. He is one of the most wise people I know. He seems to understand everything and he always says the right thing at the right time. He thinks a lot and he taught us how to think. As a little girl, he taught us a lot about consequential things even those beyond the bounds of our understanding.
He encouraged us to pray together in a congregation especially during Maghrib. In between Maghrib and 'Isha, he gathered us to talk about his life and his understanding of how the world works. It's so boring sometimes because he tells us the same story a thousand time already, some of my siblings get sleepy every time he opens up the topic. Haha! Then he gets mad if we don't listen to him. I haven't had any appreciation of his story until I was old enough, and then I pester him to tell his story over and over again.
Given my parents' background, we were raised in a strict, traditional Meranaw home. Both of my parents are practicing Muslims. Islam was introduced to us as early as infancy. Growing up, we were expected to be at home as soon as school is done and we all have our fair share of household chores. We were never rich so our parents taught us how to make ends meet. We were never given more than what we need.
Looking back, our entire childhood was to prepare us for adulthood. That's why when I went to med school and lived by myself, my parents never worried because they knew that I can feed myself and I can clean my rented apartment. Much more when I got married and have children of my own, my parents only checked on their grandkids. They perfectly know that we can handle our own business.
My childhood is waaaaay far from my children's childhood, we belong to a completely different generation. I want to raise them the way I was raised but I don't know if my parents' strategy will work on them though. One thing for sure, they'll only get from us what they NEED. They gotta work their ass off to get what they WANT.
My father is a bookworm, quite the opposite of my Mom who is, by the way, a librarian. My librarian mom brings him books that he devours. He is one of the most wise people I know. He seems to understand everything and he always says the right thing at the right time. He thinks a lot and he taught us how to think. As a little girl, he taught us a lot about consequential things even those beyond the bounds of our understanding.
He encouraged us to pray together in a congregation especially during Maghrib. In between Maghrib and 'Isha, he gathered us to talk about his life and his understanding of how the world works. It's so boring sometimes because he tells us the same story a thousand time already, some of my siblings get sleepy every time he opens up the topic. Haha! Then he gets mad if we don't listen to him. I haven't had any appreciation of his story until I was old enough, and then I pester him to tell his story over and over again.
Given my parents' background, we were raised in a strict, traditional Meranaw home. Both of my parents are practicing Muslims. Islam was introduced to us as early as infancy. Growing up, we were expected to be at home as soon as school is done and we all have our fair share of household chores. We were never rich so our parents taught us how to make ends meet. We were never given more than what we need.
Looking back, our entire childhood was to prepare us for adulthood. That's why when I went to med school and lived by myself, my parents never worried because they knew that I can feed myself and I can clean my rented apartment. Much more when I got married and have children of my own, my parents only checked on their grandkids. They perfectly know that we can handle our own business.
My childhood is waaaaay far from my children's childhood, we belong to a completely different generation. I want to raise them the way I was raised but I don't know if my parents' strategy will work on them though. One thing for sure, they'll only get from us what they NEED. They gotta work their ass off to get what they WANT.
