Our Nipa house on Loreto Street in Manila

By Willie Jose
January 18, 2016



My elder sister, Ate Vickie had a dream, almost an obsession to have a beautiful, classy house because the hardship our family experienced in living a rundown and roof- leaking Nipa house in which we all grew up in on Loreto St. in Sampaloc.

How old was this house? Well, as they would say “it had seen its glorious days.”

During the rainy season, the roof would always have some leaks, dripping waters to different areas of the house, thereby forcing her to sleep under the dining table.

Her first job in the 60s was being a part-time proofreader while she was also taking up accounting at the Arellano University.

Determined to remedy the unbearable situation, she made sure that her first paycheck would go into buying the needed iron GI sheets to replace a part of the leaking Nipa roof.

It was a big house, so the priority was to change the rooftop right at the top of the living and dining rooms; the house didn’t have a partition, the living room was also   the bedroom where we would spread our banig (mat) on which all of us—my parents and 5 siblings—would sleep on with a mosquito net—no spring bed, only some throw pillows and blankets.

Though, I was a 12-year–old boy then, my Nanay made me in charge of fixing these leaking roofs, patching up the roofs’ holes with either a cardboard or a small sheet of iron. Doing this little job was not easy, I had to cautiously move around the kisame (ceiling), avoiding touching or hitting the electric wires that were crisscrossing the ceiling.

An experience I could not forget was when I got an electric shock while I was testing a Christmas tree bulb; though I tried to disengage myself from the pull of the electric current, the shock forced me to the ground. Only later in my life did I tell Nanay about this incident.

It was in the 60s when these so-called “yero” were starting to hit the market and most of our neighbors had begun changing their nipa roofs into iron sheets.

Though, it was an ordinary Nipa House, we had a small radio with one big speaker, the neighbors thought we had a big stereo set; our first TV set was an Emerson 5-inch-screen.

We enjoyed living in this house, the cool and fresh air were all around us; even during the hot summer months, we could stay at home the whole day, enjoying the cooling effect of the Nipa roof and bamboo flooring.

Overall, it was a happy childhood’s days, we lived a simple life, Nanay would cook the meals; when she was done doing everything, my sisters and I would help her prepare the long-wooden dining table where we would all eat together; ordinarily, most of us would eat using with our bare hands -- of course, my older siblings would prefer using spoons and forks .

My recollections on the old Nipa House would not be complete without me saying a word or two about its neighborhood. Our eskinita was clean and peaceful, the people there would always cooperate to clean up the place; once a week, they would gather at the eskinita with their brooms, walis tinting  and garbage containers  to tidy up their surroundings .

Every time I visit the Philippines, I make it a point to drop by our little Katigbak eskinita (walkway) on Loreto street. This is the place where I grew up.

I used to fly kites on the roofs of our house; since neighborhoods’ houses there were almost next to each other, I had an easy way to move from one house’s roof to the other.

One time, a neighbor who was an artist, together with the help of other people,  drew cartoons characters on the huge wall that separates the  eskinita from the St. Paul Clinic compound; later on , he also  color-painted these cartoons .

These colorful  paintings made that small walkway so beautiful, the whole neighborhood  was the talk of the town because  it was the first time that somebody had  painted a wall that was so visually attractive; people passing by were all praises, watching with awe at the beauty of these cartoons’ painting.

Even before the concept of the Neighborhood Watch became popular here in North America, we already had “bantay tanod”, a group of people roaming around the neighborhood  not only to keep up peace and order in the area but also  to act as lookouts for house’s breakers.

Most of the people who lived in this eskinita  were ordinary workers--carpenters, house painters, dressmakers, laborers, gov’t employees, watch repairer, architect, soldiers, linotype operator (my father’s job), plumbers and waitresses.

However, later in life, the children of these ordinary workers have become successful in their chosen fields of endeavors—they are now engineers, IT specialist, journalist, teachers, accountants, businessmen, lawyers and nurses .

Some of the houses dotting  this eskinita were  privately owned; students and other transients who had come from the provinces were  occupying these room-for-rent units. These people were either working or studying in Manila.

Our lovable and peaceful  eskinita  is the place where I met life’s realities and started to dream big--dreaming of escaping  abject poverty, working  as a young man selling newspapers and  washing taxicabs, forging long-lasting friendships with barkadas and experiencing  the  unforgettable  emotions of having puppy love, first love, no other love.

By the way, going back to my original story on our Nipa House, remember my sister who had an almost obsession to live in a beautiful house--she had finally  realized her dream because of  sheer determination to succeed in life-- and she’s  now living with her dream house, or should I say, houses—one condo at Rockwell in Makati, a big house at BF Homes in Paranaque City and another house in Long Island , NY.

For the past years, she has  shuttled the  Philippines and New York.

Yes, Virginia, That’s Life