Skip to main content

Colostrum

HINOG na ratiles ang nakatampok sa katamtaman na laking milon. Ganoon ang humulagpos na dibdib nang matanggal ang kawit ng pantakip nito. Pero hindi sa kanyang sanggol ipasisimsim anumang nalalabi pang patak ng colostrum at kasunod na bukal ng gatas.

Wala sanang aantig na anuman kung tagakatas lang sa gatas-ina. Maaandap, mag-aatubili kung tagakasta ng ina.

Ngunit may kani-kaniyang matinding kailangan na dapat tugunan sa pagkakataong iyon, sa panakaw na pagtatagpong iyon.

“Tula! Kahit tahong na tula. Sabawan mo nang marami. Samahan mo ng maraming dahon ng malunggay. Para laging sanlitro ang reserbang laman nito,” anang lalaki sabay hagod sa kaliwang dibdib ng kausap. Masuyong paghagod para madama ang mainit na tibok ng kaba at kutob.

Pero matatag sa hawak ang nakaumbok na laman. May gatas at gatong na palaman. Masisindihan. Magliliyab.

Akmang lalapit ang ngusong may walis-tambok para itutok sa tuktok na tampok. Dahan-dahang napasunod-nguso sa suso; dahan-dahang padausdos na inilapat ng hubad na kausap ang kanyang likod sa higaan.

“Kailangan ko ng pambili ng gatas. Para sa anak ko,” bulong nito, nakapikit, iniiwas na maiharap ang mukha sa kausap. Ayaw pahalik marahil.

“Ano ba’ng laman ng suso mo? Hangin?”

“Konti lang kasi ang laman,” asiwang sagot.

“Malaman ‘tong mga suso mo, ‘day! Hindi ka lang kasi nagpapasuso. Mas tatambok ‘tong mga suso mo ‘pag regular kang magpapasuso. Saka hindi ka agad mabubuntis. Ayaw mo no’n?”

“Wala akong oras kasi,” salag nito.

“Ano’ng walang oras, meron ka namang suso?”

“Maaga ang pasok ko sa inuman mo, ‘no. Pa’no ko magpapasuso? Dadalhin ko’ng bata do’n?”

“Kaya sa ‘kin ka na lang magpapasuso?”

“Hindi. Gagatasan kita!”

“Ang angas mo, ‘day!” Pasubsob na sumibasib sa nakaumbok na tampok, na nanigas na sa nagsusumiksik na lamig ng inupahang silid. Tila sanggol na hayok, sumupsop na tila humihitit ng kamandag sa nag-uumpugang bundok.

Sumiyap siyang tila nawalay na inakay. Bahagyang dumaing, tila sanggol na mag-aapuhap sa dibdib ng ina ng banayad na lagablab at lagaslas ng katas.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Every single cell of my body's happy

I got this one from Carmelite Sisters from whose school three of my kids were graduated from. They have this snatch of a song that packs a fusion metal and liebeslaud beat and whose lyrics go like this:

"Every single cell of my body is happy. Every single cell of my body is well. I thank you, Lord. I feel so good. Every single cell of my body is well."

Biology-sharp nerds would readily agree with me in this digression... Over their lifetimes, cells are assaulted by a host of biological insults and injuries. The cells go through such ordeals as infection, trauma, extremes of temperature, exposure to toxins in the environment, and damage from metabolic processes-- this last item is often self-inflicted and includes a merry motley medley of smoking a deck a day of Philip Morris menthols, drinking currant-flavored vodka or suds, overindulgence in red meat or the choicest fat-marbled cuts of poultry and such carcass.

When the damage gets to a certain point, cells self-destruct. T…

KASI NANLABAN

Viagra au naturel

IT LOOKED eerie—a blaze of fireflies pulsing like stars in the nippy air, throbbing with mating passions. That show of lights somehow eased the shadows of a Holy Thursday night on a dry river bed a few kilometers trudge up Mount Makiling.

It’s likely that no river has lain in sleep for months on that moss-grown, boulder-strewn bed—except my 20-year old kid Kukudyu and I. We were out to spend the night, do on-site learning sessions by the next day. Usual father-and-son bonding. As the late Benjamin Franklin once begged: "Tell me and I forget. Teach me and I remember. Involve me and I learn."

Past noon from the foot of the mountain’s northern section, it took us four hours ploughing non-stop through prickly bushes and forest undergrowth to get to that site. We got there in one bruised piece. By then, dusk was falling; the sylvan air hummed with a trill of crickets, cicadas, critters nameless in choral orison. That incessant “sh-r-r-e-eemmm---“ layered with “k-kr-r-eeengg--” …