Labada

Philippine-Style Cottagecore

The laundry has its hands on the dirty shirts, shorts, and sheets, and who knows what tales they tell. - Anonymous 

Lately, I've seen in YouTube shows a deluge of images of nostalgic countryside living. It was first named Cottagecore on Tumblr in 2018.

Reading about this newfound fascination with a laid-back, more unplugged way of living made me grin because in the Philippines, that was simply how we lived, way back then.

Consider this.

Before washing machines and dryers were common, labada (laundry) was washed by hand.  

I knew it was wash day when the bathroom was off-limits to all but Aling Luring. That was the day when she reigned Queen of the Labada. 

Looking at the pile of dirty clothes she did each week, I was pretty sure there were people who lived in our house whom I hadn't met or that the wash had propagated while we slept.

Dare to tell her that you needed a quick shower and she'd yell back, Laundry today or you go naked tomorrow. 

Internet pic only

Sometimes, I'd watch her, squatting in front of a large metal basin. She would half-fill the tub with water, then meticulously scrub the clothes by hand using Perla soap bar.

She'd fold each piece, as though she were kneading dough.

She'd press with the heels of her hands, wringing out every bit of dirt.

I was always on the lookout when she commenced the slapping process. That was when she'd whack items on the edge of the washtub causing the soapy water to splash onto its rim.

Then, the denouement of the ritual. The window pane test which was, to me, a most amusing sight.

To see if the laundry was sufficiently cleaned, she'd stretch each item between her fingers, as if she could see through them. Only after prolonged perusal would she deem her handiwork fit to be rinsed in clean water. 

To this day, I could see her face, beaming, as if the labada, purified in spirit and draped on a clothesline, were a royal standard hanging above her patch of grassy kingdom on the backyard.