I woke up to the sounds of rowdy children outside. The noise
of a sardine can being turned-over again and again was echoing in my ear. Clank. Clank.
Clank.
Through the window I saw little children playing TumbangPreso(a Filipino traditional game
where the goal is to hit a can using slippers). As much as I was agitated for
therude awakening, a stunning realization came over me.
With the advent of modern entertainment, indigenous games
are slowly dying. Children nowadays prefer playing on computers rather than go
outside. Although there is nothing wrong with playing computer games, playing
them at the price of forgetting our own heritage isn’t good.
Identity and memories
Our old games are more than just games. They speak of a
culture developed centuries ago. Indigenous games are also imbedded with the
Philippine identity. Every country has their own repertoire of games. TumbangpresoandPatintero (a local version of tag) are only but a few of native
games that is purely Filipino.
As trivial as they might seem, games unite the Filipinos to
one memory. With games every grown Filipino is reminded of a cherished chapter
in their lives—childhood.
The sight of children playing, brings us back to simpler
times, when cans and bare hands were enough to keep us occupied for hours.
Because of our indigenous games, we can go through a time machine and become
enveloped with a myriad of sensations: the crisp cool air touching
our face; the sweet chattering of our friends arguing over the rules; and the beautiful sunset looming over the horizon reminding us to enjoy the last minutes of playtime before mom calls us home for the 6 o’clock rosary.
A mark of Philippine resourcefulness
Only in the Philippines will you find children playing with
old cans. Most ethnic games do not require fancy gears like gaming consoles and
computers. For a Filipino child, things found in nooks and crannies can become
makeshift toys. A tree branch can become a wooden sword. A two-way radio can
even be made by only attaching two cups with a wire. If left with no materials,
the children rely on their biggest tool—their minds. Suddenly, the streets turn
into forests and the houses transform to become castles. For the Filipino
children, their ingenuity lie not in their improvised toys but in their
colorful imagination.
Building stronger bonds
Surprisingly, our daily trips outside brought the entire
neighborhood closer. Kumpadresand kumares laugh at the thought of the
past. They vividly remember every game they played, occasionally chuckling at
the memory of them crying over losing a round of Patintero. Fast forward 20 years, those little children are still
friends.
Perhaps our local games developed one defining Filipino
trait—friendliness.
Since our games we’re interactive, you needed to develop people skills in order for fights to be
avoided. This ability to compromise led Filipinos to be adaptive even to the
most volatile of situations.
The contentment with hanging out with friends have instilled
in us a high value for friendship over material things. Our shared past made
the community stronger because we grew up together and still live near each
other. This is the reason why Filipinos rarely have awkward moments with old friends because of the strong bonds
developed through the years.
The rise of social media
Even if social media keeps old friends close, the current
generation has grown too lazy to go outside and have a chat. They much prefer
interacting in the virtual words of Facebook and Twitter. Ironically, some
teens send text messages to the person beside them! The Philippines is the most
active in social networks and it’s obvious that the value of personally talking
to someone has diminished.
Echoes of the past
Let’s not wait until we’ll only see these games in a
documentary, soon to be archived and then forgotten. The different Philippine
native games are only ours to keep and there is no one else to blame if we are
to lose them. They are part of our identity, childhood and everything that
makes us Filipinos.
The most valuable of things aren’t touched, they are
remembered. This dying tradition is priceless for if we lost it, we lost it
completely.
It’s nine o’clock in the evening as I write this. Still, the
children aren’t tired form playing. The constant ‘clank’ from the sardine can
still echoes in my ear.
But instead of going outside and get mad at them, I let it
be. If being pestered by their noise is what it takes to keep out traditions
alive, so be it. After all, they’ll only experience childhood once, they might
as well enjoy it while it lasts.
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