The first time I saw Apo Tudo,
The Ilocano rain deity,
I swear, he sent mist to that mountain
Outside of Baguio
Kissing the Filipino soil with sweet promises and tearful memories
My grandmother shared stories from her childhood
My father laughed as he played with masks
In this moment, I feel full
Showered with tiny drops
Connecting me with my ancestors
And when I share these stories
With my Punjabi friend,
We laugh at how our two deities would quarrel
Over who’s story came first
It is as if we are two channels of the same river
My children will know of Apo Tudo
And I hope they share his story while
Watching the rain fall at their first slumber party
Moreover, I hope another voice joins them in and says,
“My mother told me a similar story…”
This region is full of water bearers
Those tasked with drawing droplets out of every breath
Keeping and sharing our stories
We protect the water
To protect the community
And Apo Tudo can only make so much rain
We can only wash what we are allowed to touch,
Only share what we can carry
A water rich community is nothing
If it cannot drink
I want my children to ask me about the Apo Tudo’s
Who have different names in the stories shared by their friends
I want to rush to the library to grab as many books
As their tiny hands can grab
I want them to drink in as many droplets as possible
Before they experience the draught of assimilation
This piece was originally published for Fast Forward Waterloo Region 2015.