Mahal Kita Parati (I Miss You Always) After “My Name” by Sandra Cisneros In English, my nickname means meatball. Ground pork, garlic cloves, carrots, and brown sugar. It’s a sweet-savory fried Filipino fare that’s served in soups and buns, specifically in misua and siopao. It reminds me of a bouncy beach ball rolling on the sand under the summer sun. But, it also reminds me of the toasty hugs and kisses on the cheek that’d greet me, as I ran inside after playing in the cold winter snow. At first, it was bella bella, but She tailored it to bola bola. She was Manang. Manang means older sister in Ilokano, a Filipino dialect, but is also secondary to mom. There’s not a word in the English dictionary that could come even close to the affection and respect behind that expression. Though we weren’t related by blood, that’s who She was. Manang. My second mom. The second mom to many of my cousins, and then to me. Although I hated talking Filipino to anyone else in my house, I didn’t mind when it was Her. Though we’d sometimes have some little miscommunications because She didn’t speak much English, I’d always be found sleeping in Her room with Her wrinkled terra-cotta arms around me. Staying up watching imported soap operas on Her mini DVD player of bidas1 and contrabidas2 fighting over the family fortunes, humming along to melodramatic ballads that themed the typical cliffhanger endings, uttering drowsy “mahal kitas”3 to each other as we drifted to sleep. And the story goes, as more years passed by, Her longing to be with her blood-children grew more and more as they finished up their schooling with the earnings that She made in America. Her arthritis began to worsen and once Her final child was done with school, I knew the end was near. Full of panic about what life would be like without Her, my sisters and I began frantically asking and trying to copy down every single recipe that She would whip up: our desperate attempt at keeping a piece of Her with us before She went back to the Philippines. I wonder if I would’ve realized the huge significance She held in my life had She not left at that time. Yet, out of all the recipes that we hastily copied down from Her, I never got the chance to ask about bola bola. At school, I was known as bell bell or belly button boo, nicknames my friends would come up with on the school playground. Sure, I liked them and all, but truthfully it took a lot for me to even remember them. Nothing like the nicknames from home. From Manang. A nickname that was curated to my younger self’s signature chubby cheeks and after my favorite childhood food. Bola bola: the name that I hold closest to my heart, full of kinder love and kisses. 1 bida means “protagonist” 2 contrabida means “antagonist” 3 mahal kita means “I love you”
Bella Dayrit ‘22
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