Living in a small nipa hut among terrains of rice fields in the quaint municipality of Marcos was

a simple farmer, or more known to them as mannalon, named Anton. Growing up accustomed to
the life as a hardworking mannalon, Anton has always been the provider of his family. Everyday
waking up and looking at his calloused hands first thing in the morning, thinking to himself,
“degetoy nga imima ti mangbi-biyag kinyami nga agpamilya” (these hands are what keeps me
and my family alive). He got up to greet his elderly mother, who was already up and about,
preparing her son a cup of coffee sided with bread buns (pandesal). She told him how grateful
she is that he never left her side, and how he had always put her first in his list of priorities. This
little exchange he had with his mother before he went on to work on their field gave him a boost
of energy, a reminder that life is better with purpose, especially if it makes his mother happy.
Anton was indeed hardworking, in all sense of the word itself.
Everyday, he would soldier on and wear his salakot with pride. Tirelessly tending and manning
their fields in belief that someday, all his hard work and dedication will promise them a good
future; a tomorrow that would let them enjoy and savor life. His mother, Lita, went to town that
morning to sell Anton harvests from the day before, and came home just in time to see Juan now
preparing their supper. “Ma, aginana ka biiten ta mangan tan ton,” Juan said, helping his mother
to sit and helped her get comfortable. Lita told Anton that she overheard people in town talking
about the upcoming Mannalon Festival, and that this time, there would be stalls to promote their
products in. “Ipadas tan to, anakko?”
“Shall we give it a go, son?” Lita asked. In Anton’s mind, all he was thinking of was the
excitement for the awaited Mannalon festival. What a time to be alive!
Anton’s father used to be a Mannalon as well. Anton always looked up to his father, witnessing
his father’s dedication as a provider and as a father. His father, Jose, used to tell him what the
festival meant for him; it was a time to show appreciation for mannalons. As young Anton
listened to his father beaming about what it felt to be a mannalon, and the importance of their
role is, he thought to himself, siyak to met. Anton was determined to be just like his father; a man
with principle and heart.
As they ate, the mother and son discussed about what they would bring to the town square. Hope
and excitement glimmered in Anton’s eyes as they ate and talked, and Lita took notice. She was
overcome with happiness and pride that her only son is putting effort and takes the Mannalon
festival with so much reverence. She wanted to reach out, hold her son’s hand and say,
“ipagpannakkel naka ni tatang mo no adda na pay laeng ditoy” (your father would be so proud
of you if he was still here) but she knew she would cry, and she did not want her son to see her
cry.
Anton promised himself and his mother that he will work twice as hard to ensure the harvests
would be plenty and bountiful. Lita started working on rolling tobacco cigarettes, as she thought
this could be a good addition to their stall for the elderly people.
The day finally came, Anton and Lita woke up feeling hopeful as ever. The excitement in the air
in the small nipa hut was evident. Even as the mother and son ate their breakfasts, without
speaking a word, they both knew that today was their day. With baskets of harvests and tobacco
rolls ready, the two set on the journey to the town square.
As the day unfolded, the town square came alive; there was music, dancing, and laughter
everywhere. It was a very beautiful sight to see. Townsfolk from all over showcased their
colorful displays, with interested civilians taking a look at the bounties and harvests that are
testament to the mannalons’ hard work. Anton took another look around and his glance landed
on his mother.
Her age is finally showing. Anton finally noticed that his mother has aged throughout the years.
He took notice of her weathered hands; wrinkled and calloused due to her working endlessly all
her life. These are the same hands that nurtured him, that fed him, that took very good care of
him. All of a sudden, he felt the urge to hug his mother tight and thank her for all her sacrifice.
Anton dedicated this day to his father who showed him what it was like and how it felt to be a
mannalon, and to his mother, who stood by him, loved him and supported him unconditionally.
Today, Anton is the proudest he has ever been of himself as a mannalon. His mother noticed him
looking, with his eyes all teared up, and she came to him and asked, “okay ka lang, anakko?” and
to that, Anton wiped his eyes, smiled and said, “okay nak lang, mama.” In his heart, he wanted to
say, I love you, my dear mother, and I owe everything to you.
The night was ripening. More and more people were flocking in, participating in the festivities
and socializing. Though the atmosphere was light and uplifting, Anton could not stop feeling as
if there was something gnawing at his chest, trying to claw out of him. He couldn’t stop but to
think, will my hard work ever be enough to provide for my mother? Would this be enough for
everything?
He was worried that there weren’t enough yields, that there wasn’t enough he had harvested.
Anton started to doubt himself, and Lita just felt a shift in her son’s attitude. She gently put her
hand on her son’s shoulder, smiled at him and nodded. It was enough for Anton to know that it
was his mother’s way of saying everything is all good. There is nothing to worry about. Lita
prompted him to take a deep breath, and Anton felt his worry slowly disappear.
Townsfolk started to notice Anton and Lita’s stall, and they walked over to check what they had
brought over. They saw that the freshness and overall quality of Anton’s harvests were
outstanding, and that Lita’s tobaccos were made meticulously. Word spread very quickly, and
sooner than the two expected, there was a line, and there were customers that were eager to
purchase from them. They were selling out fast, and Anton and Lita’s hearts swell from joy and
gratitude.
In that moment, the mother and the son felt renewed. Their resilience is what got them here.
Surrounded by the people who appreciated them and their efforts, Anton truly felt the essence of
the Mannalon festival. The whole community was one, and the spirit of camaraderie tied the
townsfolk altogether.
As the night calmed and the festival drawing to a close, the crowd was now dispersing. Anton
helped his mother clean up, and he could see that there was a pleasant smile on her face. Anton’s
heart was filled with so much happiness and love, and he was overflowing with gratitude. He
knew that though they may not have wealth or grand worldly possessions, him and his mother
had something that was infinitely more precious – and that was love and resilience.
“Agawid tan, Anton?” Lita asked. “Let’s go home, Anton?”
He looked over to his mother, who was holding stacked baskets and a wooden box that contained
their income for the day, and said, “Wen, mama.” (Yes, mother). And alas, the festival came to an
end.
Anton took the baskets and the wooden box from his mother’s arms, and Lita held on to her
son’s arm as they walked. As they neared their humble home, Lita let out a contented sigh and
looked at her son with a very pleased smile. She said, “Nagragsak nak nga permi ita nga rabii,
anakko.” Telling Anton how happy and thankful she was for the experience.
Anton responded, “Agyaman nak, mama, ti amin nga sakripisyom ken pinagayat mo kinyak nga
anak mo. Para kenka amin detoy.”
(Thank you for all the sacrifices you made, mother, and for loving me. This is all for you.)