Retaso
In a neighborhood where poverty resides – the poor and jobless involve themselves in unproductive activities such as small talks about other people’s businesses. My grandma was one of the few who refused to partake in what she deemed as “unhealthy and damaging” practice and did something fruitful with her time instead.
My mother, who worked in the Middle East for 20 years, gave my Lola a sewing machine. While my mom’s working overseas, it was my grandma who took care of us. When I was a kid, around 5 or 6, I watched her bring in a bag of “retasos” or scrap fabrics from the alteration/tailor shop. These tiny pieces of cloth were sewn together by my lola to make blankets and shorts for us. The other kids would often laugh at me and my cousins because everybody can tell that we’re wearing something that weren’t bought from clothing stores.Sometimes, the left side will be longer than the other, and of course, the obvious hodge-podge of fabrics and colors. There will be a tinge of embarrassment, but I would still wear them because without them we’ll be walking around naked.
The blankets, although weren’t thick enough to fully protect us from the chill brought by the wet season, were used until I left that place in Makati where I grew up. I didn’t have a bed so I slept on the floor covered by that blanket. I treasured those blankets because of the little comfort it provided. Little is something, and something is always better than nothing.
Little is rarely appreciated nowadays. The lesson I learned from my experience is not that we have to appreciate these so-called “little things”, but to develop and value the ability to appreciate. When you appreciate, you see the importance of one thing and try to put it into use. You become creative. Like the way my grandma appreciated the stuff other people have already conceived as garbage. It still amazes me how I learned so much from a person who wasn’t fortunate enough to obtain education. For me, it takes a great mind and strength of character to refuse to take the path usually travelled by the underprivileged that care less about morals and more about where their next meal is coming from.
Amidst the challenges of poverty, over-all I believe I grew up a happy person. I looked at my childhood photos, and saw that even in shots where were supposed to look serious, I was making all these crazy, funny faces. My older cousin even told me one time that on weekends, I would even ask them if it’s already time to change for school, excited, although I was only given bread and water whenever I go to school. Like my Lola, I never craved for the comforts money can bring. I will put steamed rice in my coffee at times we don’t have anything to eat. I was OK about it, because my lola made it look like it is nothing to be ashamed of.
I notice that people who know how to appreciate receive an increasing flow of blessings. At first it’s a trickle, progresses into a shower and then later turn into a heavy downpour. We appreciate what we had. Now, we have so much more.
If you have access to the basic human necessities and still feel deprived, there’s nothing wrong with the world. It is your lack of appreciation of things that truly matter that hinders you to be happy. It is never too late to gather your retasos and put them together.
