Once Upon a Rainy Day

774 words

         When Gene Kelly starred in the musical movie, Dancing in the Rain, he gracefully danced to the drumbeat, fully dressed, carrying an umbrella with the rain coming down. Amazingly, he danced without getting wet.

         As I watched this movie, I saw myself in his shoes, dancing to my heart’s content amid the warm rain, albeit, with a twist because…

         It brought me back to my childhood in the town I grew up where neighborhood children frolicked in the rain.

         

         Today, nostalgia engulfed me when I looked out the window and saw the rain falling in sporadic downpour dwindling down to uneven droplets. The tap, tap, tap on the windowpane put me in a trance, where I saw…

         …a little taste of Eden; an image of the innocence of Adam and Eve in the garden, wearing nothing but their beautiful skin.

         Yes, indeed. Molave was the town of innocent children, laughing, screaming, dancing in the middle of Main Street, frolicking in the pouring rain.

         “Mama, it’s raining, it’s raining! May I go out and play?” I looked up to my mother asking for approval to join neighborhood kids chasing each other in the rain.

         “Go ahead but make sure you do not get your clothes wet,” she said.

         “But, Ma, the kids will laugh at me.”

         “How can they? They are wearing nothing themselves.”

          I had mixed feelings. Hesitantly, I took off my clothes, including my undergarments and quietly took a few steps towards the door; then, as if something pushed me and I rushed out to plunge myself into the pouring rain. Still, something in me told me I needed covering but my mother said I was too young to think malicious thoughts.

         “Watch out for vehicles passing through,” Mama hollered.

         As soon as I came out, Moretta, my next-door neighbor shouted,

         “Come on, hurry up. We’re waiting for you.”

         “Coming,” I said.

         

         “Honey, did you have your cup of coffee yet?” My husband interrupted me in my deep thought. “What are you thinking with that far-away look and a smile?” he continued.

         “Oh, rain always brings back memories,” I said. “I remember playing Tubig-tubig.”

         “What's that?” he inquired.

         “I have not come across that word since I was an eight-year-old kid," I said.

                "So, tell me," he pursued.

                "I forgot. Let me clear the cobwebs of my mind and recall how the game is played.," I complied.



         In English translation, the word literally means “water-water.” It is somewhat akin to the western game, Kick the Can. It is usually played on streets, schoolyards, playgrounds and beaches. The aim is to be able to gain entry into the threshold, without being caught by the opponent. Demarcation lines are drawn to guarantee each team play by the rules.

         The game is characterized by having two teams created with equal number of players. To decide who belongs to each team, we play rock-paper-scissors. Each team picks a leader, usually, the one who is fast and tall, to be able to protect his members from the taggers.

         The game begins with the team-on-defense assigned to guard team-on-offense from stepping inside the threshold to prevent entry into the court. They stay on the boundary line with outstretched hands, walking from side to side. When the leader shouts, “Ready, get set, go!” the game starts. No one can step inside or outside the court; otherwise, the leader will call “foul” and the game must restart.

         The team-on-offense gathers at the home base, while the on-defense players get their assignments to guard designated spots.

         The leader, not only mans the threshold; he is also the troubleshooter, with a free rein to run back and forth, guarding all the entry lines. The team-on-offense prepares to cross the lines, mindful not to be tagged by the guards. Every time a member of the team-on-offense hits the homerun, he shouts “Tubig!”  (Meaning, “Homerun”). Three tags (or hits) and the team exchange places. The first team to score three homeruns wins the game. We repeat the game until we hear the call from our mothers to come home.



         So, there. That was the game we played once upon every  warm rainy day, in the Islands far away, where the neighborhood kids in their innocence and gaiety, splashed water on each other’s faces playing “water-water” to keep themselves entertained, busy and out of their mother’s way.

         I smile to think I wasn’t as elegantly clad as Gene Kelly, nor did I emulate his graceful movements, but I certainly had fun soaking myself with heavenly raindrops , naked and barefoot, during the rainy season in that island in the sun far, far away in the bygone days of my memory.