The Banig of My Childhood

It was no thicker than two cartolinas and measured two by three meters. Yet it was big enough to contain the memories of a languid childhood and siestas in the afternoon.


A colorful banig from Basey, Samar

Many years back when we were still between the ages of nine and thirteen, every afternoon on school breaks, my sisters and I gathered in the sala and set aside the sofas to spread out the banig on the floor. We packed our then still slim bodies across it and tried to catch the sleep that proved to be elusive in the wake of anticipation of the playtime that was to come. So we closed our eyes and pretended to sleep when Mama would come around to check or else forfeit the snack that was to be our reward for taking the afternoon nap.

Then on weekends, my cousins, aunts and uncles on my mother's side would converge at lola's house and the result would be one fun ruckus. We slept on the floor, on banigs rolled out in the sala while the adults played mahjong.

We bought the banig from from the stalls lining the street immediately after the post office building, just below the Gran Hotel that never was. There you would find(and still find) all sorts of banig (sleeping mats) made from the "tikog", a reed plant that thrives in swampy areas. There were the colorful ones which are more expensive and then there were the simple mats which could only be rolled as it was too thick to fold unlike its more colorful sisters. All these mats were sourced from the small coastal town of Basey, Samar, the place where the paraglaras (women weavers) make the banig beneath its cool caves.

The banig we used to sleep on many years back has long been tucked away and is now frayed at the edges. It has since been replaced by the new one I bought, and like in my earlier years, my daughter now sleeps in it for afternoon naps after being lulled to a slumber by the tv and a bottle of "susoy" (milk). The banig of my childhood has now come full circle.

(Photo courtesy of Bimbo Tan of OTOP Phils.)