Name: Jericho Mordeno

Sapay Koma Nonfiction by Jhoanna Lynn Cruz | September 14, 2008

(This won 3rd prize, Essay in English, Don Carlos Palanca Memorial Awards
for Literature 2008)
“I looked at Maria and she was lovely. She was tall…and in the darkened hall
the fragrance of her was like a morning when papayas are in bloom.”
–Manuel Arguilla-
On our first Valentine's Day as a couple, he gave me a bowl of white flowers
with a sweet, faint scent. Despite not being a fan of Valentine's Day or traditional
symbols of love, I became a believer that day. He told me they were papaya
blossoms from his mother's garden, and in that moment, I knew I would marry him
someday. We had only been dating for three months, but I felt a deep connection.
Even though our circumstances were different from the characters in the Arguilla
story I loved teaching, I believed we could defy societal norms. However, our
relationship faced challenges.
When I met his parents on his eldest brother's wedding day, they disapproved
of our relationship. They questioned where I was from and the language I spoke,
and I didn't meet their expectations. They considered me only their son's friend. Our
decision to get married was met with resistance from his parents. They cited a
superstition about sibling marriages in the same year and the potential failure it
could bring. My mother intervened and demanded their consent, arguing that they
would want the same if the situation were reversed. We eventually got married, but
it was against their will.
Our wedding ceremony had its share of mishaps. There were
misunderstandings about names, misplaced rings, and even a humorous comment
from the judge. The reception was small, with minimal expenses. We couldn't live
together immediately and had to keep our marriage a secret. I continued living
alone, pretending my husband was from Manila. My friends assured me that once
our child was born, his parents would accept me. However, I was a Manila girl who
believed our marriage could succeed without their approval.
Moving into the family home after our daughter's birth proved to be
challenging. The clash of cultures and expectations caused contention. We had to
adapt to living in an extended family, which was unfamiliar to me. The community-
oriented mindset clashed with my individualistic upbringing. I struggled with the
constant presence of relatives and the lack of recognition as my husband's wife.
Small incidents, like the bread incident, further highlighted our differences. It took
years for my father-in-law to acknowledge my presence and speak directly to me.
 Throughout our six years of marriage, there were several instances where our
worlds collided and caused strain. However, none of it compared to what I
considered the biggest affront: not having a wedding photo displayed among my
mother-in-law's collection. I believed it was because we didn't have a church
wedding.