Bahay Kubo

Abodes

If you had asked a Filipino elementary school pupil in the mid-50's to draw a house, I could bet that he or she would come up with a structure that resembled a nipa hut or bahay kubo.

Growing up, I was familiar with this traditional icon of Philippine culture, as it was a common sight in my grandparents' rice plantation in Malinta.

Too lazy to walk back to the main house to cool down after play, I remember sprinting up the stair slats of any one such abode that belonged to the tenant farmers so I could hurriedly drink directly from an earthenware jug's faucet. It was a random dwelling, but as all the structures were similar, it seemed as if there was only one lodging place in the entire farm and that I kept going to the same exact one every time. 

I knew by heart how it looked and felt. 

The entire house was elevated from the ground with stilts. Its roof was an inverted "V" thatched with nipa leaves and the flooring and walls were made of split bamboo.  

Windows with shutters are on the front and on one side was a door that was accessed through rickety stairs.

In the scrutiny of the bright sun, it showed its age. Creaky, like its joints needed exercise.

 

Too small a house for secrets, it was furnished with bare essentials. The inside had a small bed, a cupboard, and a chest of drawers on which the farmer's wife had placed enough effigies and prints of saints and the Virgin Mary to start a holy order.

It was a bit crazy lopsided, but I loved it. 

I used to think that I could easily build one for myself under a towering coconut tree. 

Outside, I'd hang a hammock between the mango trees. 

And I'd live there among the water buffaloes for the rest of my life.