As a child growing up, climbing trees had always been fun for me. I have mounted most of the climbable trees that showed their presence at our little barrio in our small town called ‘OneTwoTree’… no, just kidding. I actually grew up both in the Metro and Panay (for privacy reasons, I cannot tell you that I have lived both in Bago Bantay, Quezon City, and New Lucena, Iloilo. Oh, wait…); these are the suburbs where I spent most of my natural development years as an energetic kid and a young adult.

I have ascended the branches, scaled the leaves, and enjoyed the fruits of the bayabas tree, avocado tree, sinegwelas tree, duhat tree, kamias tree, balimbibng tree, sampaloc tree, coconut tree, Indian mango tree, carabao mango tree, santol tree, chico tree, atis tree, guyabano tree, banaba tree, langka tree… even the fragile papaya tree. I even planted some of them myself. Suffice to say, trees were a huge part of my life. 

There were even occasions when we stayed on a tree for one whole day, from the moment the sun started to rise to the time it set. Of course, that didn’t happen very often; it was only those times we were hiding from our crushes (because we were shy) or camping – sort of – in a tree. Either reason would result in us receiving punishment from our parents; the irony was, they would castigate us by telling us to climb a tree and stay there for hours, while we wondered why it was a punishment.

But my favourite was the caimito tree. It is known as ‘star apple’ in English, though I had no idea why; to me, there was nothing about it that I considered a star or an apple. When climbing a caimito tree, there were always sweet and ripe fruits waiting for me somewhere near the top, which I would eat while I rested on its branches. I would then hit my cousins – either while they were swaying on the other branches or already waiting on the ground – by throwing the skin and seeds of the caimito fruit that I’d just finished devouring. Naturally, that meant that I won our eat-the-most-number-of-fruits-while-climbing-the-tree game. Those were my treeumphant… I mean, triumphant moments.

Trees were our life. Trees were our games. Trees were our memories. Trees were our companions. Trees spoke to us, and we listened

– Ron

In those days, climbing trees was the most significant and tangible proof that a kid like me was healthy and robust. Even my newly circumcised cousins – bagong tuli – were forced to climb a tree, as a result of the teasing they received from everyone, to prove that they were strong and brave (although, that bravery usually rarely showing on their faces). Even I was not exempted – I had my turn going through the same. 

It is still very vivid in my memory how my cousins (and me at one time), wearing a palda (skirt) to cover their newly designed evidence of manhood, climbed the big black sinegwelas tree with a mukhasim (sour face). It was a clear demonstration of pride, combined with thinly veiled agony. Again, those were delightful times.

In the old days, there were no computers and cell phones (iPhones or Androids), or fancy mobile cameras and online games that most children (and adults) enjoy today while sitting silently in a coffee shop, restaurant, or just about anywhere else indoors. In our generation, we were outdoors most of the day. I remember how my mother would call me almost every afternoon just before 6pm and yell, “Roni, baba na dyan sa puno at magsaing ka na!” (Roni, come down from that tree and prepare to cook rice!)

Trees were our life. Trees were our games. Trees were our memories. Trees were our companions. Trees spoke to us, and we listened. Sadly, these days, not many children have the opportunity to climb trees. They much prefer to play with computers and phones; they would rather engage perpetually in social media like Facebook, Instagram, and X.  

I wish I could tell them how much fun they are missing. I want to show them how climbing trees will catapult us to glorious moments. I want to tell them how they can learn so much from being close to many trees. 

I wish to convey to today’s generation that touching the trees’ branches and hugging their trunks elicit a strong relationship with nature and an emotional camaraderie with the universal environment. I wish there were more trees. I wish I could plant and grow a massive tree for everyone to climb, like the one in the fictional Pandora planet in the movie Avatar. 

I wish for a multilingual tree, a smiling and friendly tree. And I will call it… the Pangyao Tree.