Bonding on the bay
Manila Bay was a paradise for fish and fishermen in the years after the war. Its clean deep waters were littered with half-submerged wreckage of planes, ships, and war material from both sides of the conflict, which became ideal homes for aquatic life. Talakitok, lapu lapu, banak, kitang, and tanigue were among the high-value species sheltered by metal relics.
The price of scrap metal was so low it was not profitable to salvage the war souvenirs.
Like hundreds of weekend fishermen, my father spent Sundays trying his luck among the wrecks. He was a swimmer in school, but his competing years were cut short by World War II. To catch fish, he swam after them with a homemade spear gun.
THE LAST SUMMER
My brothers and I had looked forward to the end of the school year because it meant spending time with our father who, as a jeepney operator, had a lot of time on his hands and enjoyed taking us out on field trips, picnics, and fishing.
Loading his three kids on a borrowed fishing banca, Tatay Tony headed north toward what we then called Dewey Boulevard, some 10 kilometers from our barrio Pulanglupa. At the deep portion between the Yacht Club and the US embassy, he tied our banca to a half-sunk Japanese boat. We started casting our crude hook-and-line gear.
Tatay Tony went diving for tabulog (giant scallops), capiz, clams, and batotoy (cockles). His three kids managed to catch small malabansi and bagaong. We cooked the fish in a small pot over a wood stove right there on the banca. We also grilled a lot of shellfish and ate everything with rice packed in banana leaves.
After we packed and prepared to go home, Tatay made a few more trips to a nearby wreck that was covered with large oysters and mussels. He gathered enough to fill a small sack for his drinking buddies, jeepney drivers who were waiting at the garage for our return.
GOOODBYE, SUMMER
We spent many summer Sundays among the sunken relics and were forced to stop only when the rains began. It was time to prepare for school.
Tatay Tony went back to looking after his jeepneys that needed upgrades and repairs.
I squint while watching the sun set behind Corregidor Island. In the glare, I see Tatay Tony waving, smiling over a changing Manila Bay.
We minded our school uniforms, bags, raincoats, and umbrellas as the typhoon season approached. There was the new school year to look forward to, new teachers, subjects, classmates.
We could hardly wait for the chance to regale our schoolmates with our summer adventures. At the same time, we were hatching plans for our next return to the wrecks on the bay.
But Fate intervened. We lost Tatay Tony before Christmas. And we soon started losing Manila Bay.
Illegal settlers started building makeshift shanties along its shores. Solid and liquid waste found their way to the tributaries. More factories rose along the Pasig River.
Because of post-war demand, the price of scrap metal rose, making it finally profitable to salvage the war relics on Manila Bay. They very quickly disappeared.
ONLY MEMORIES
Today, my window looks out to Manila Bay where changes are once more in the air, cleaner waters, less garbage, more aquatic life. I squint while watching the sun set behind Corregidor Island. In the glare, I see Tatay Tony waving, smiling over a changing Manila Bay.