By Virginia Jasmin Pasalo 

 

I am in Aklan, visiting two places, Boracay, an island in Malay town and Habana in Nabas. Boracay has a unique quality that attracts all kinds of people, especially tourists and leisure seekers, local and foreign. Habana, on the other hand, attracts development workers and environmentalists.

In both places, the sea has this magical quality; it shifts its colors with the movement of the sun. I sit, watching this amazing creation, taking the experience in, a communication with the natural and supernatural elements that I’m an integral part of. Boracay, I was told, is changing a lot with the entry of big investments, like the acquisition of properties by the Villars. There are new high-end facilities designed to attract the powerful and the affluent. This influx endangers the identity of the locals,  at the same time that it  benefits their economic life. But the sea remains serene. Even the boats that encroach on its peaceful existence appear insignificant, appearing like little toys in a huge basin.

Juxtaposed with the commercial character of Boracay is the bounty and simplicity of life in Habana, a coastal community in the municipality of Nabas, Aklan. Habana is split into two areas. One cluster occupies the upper portion of the mountain; the lower part is occupied by fisherfolk. Most of them are relatives and were only physically separated by the construction of the highway.

From a fish farm by the road, we walked through the highway, within the white line, beyond which one can get swiped by passing vehicles, especially as light and darkness merge in a continuum. Along the road, a lone goat watched the gentle rolling waves at sea, until I said, “Hello!” which made him turn around.

We stayed in Habana for two nights and three days, dipping our bodies in crystal clear waters. We were brought to Bungan-Bungan Cold Spring in Laserna, a barangay of Nabas. Before one reaches this destination, you have to pass through small alleyways, between houses, where two people can cross paths only by tilting bodies to fit in. We passed by a long river which traces its origin on top of a small hill, now developed for tourists. The place is incredibly beautiful, with one river flowing from the roots of a huge tree. The forest is thick, but slowly being logged out to build cottages.

Bungan-bungan enchants, but the nymphs, the fairies and forest creatures who used to habitate the area may already have left for safer, quieter grounds. If the noise from the karaoke in each cottage makes me unable to hear the one sitting beside me, the forest creatures may have already turned deaf.

Stones (20251030)

you sat there
among the stones
trying to recognize
a voice
hidden in the layers
buried in the depths
of earlier memories
the wind whispers
his name, and he comes
with the gentle waves
caressing
your tired feet

Puca dreams (20251029)

She lays there, sleeping
on a bed of fine sand
and puca shells
unmindful of the footsteps
passing, a child’s
a grandmother with a cane
millennials, running
here, and there
it doesn’t matter
In that space, warmed
by the setting sun
she strings her dreams
into a necklace