<h3>Walls</h3>

I grew up in the seventies in a small town where streets are narrow and the houses are walled from each other by reeds. These makeshift walls were erected more to mark land properties and guard against loose backyard animals rather than protection from housebreakers. The reeds were commonly used not only because they were widely available, but more for being uncomplicated. They can be easily replaced if they have gotten brittle because of too much sun and become more useful as a stove fuel. They are also used to anchor vegetables and sometimes as an additional clothesline.

In an ironic kind of way, they also give you a glimpse of the everyday lives that your neighbors lived. Like in my case.

For instance, I never knew that one can really grow old and never marry. I've always thought that Uncle Caling and Auntie Yayong (oh yes, in my hometown every elder is called uncle or auntie even if you're not related) were husband and wife. They lived in the east side so they'd normally be the first ones you see as you look out the window in the morning. You seldom see them going to church. They had this only store in the whole town which sells fishing supplies. I remember looking up the shelves that were always full of strings and rods in mesmerizing colors and shapes as my friends and I sit on sacks of rice by the entrance. Their place has sort of become a landmark in town. You know you're in the middle of town when you're in their store.

At the north side of our house lived the Dacles family. They were so close to our house that we often hear the couple argue. We seldom see them face to face but we were nevertheless updated on their personal issues and arguments. When they were not arguing, they were still rowdy because they would be drunk along with some friends. You know they were drunk because you would hear them sing "Paper Roses" till your eardrums blast. One time, I clambered up our roof and tried to look inside their house. I realized I could actually steal their antique waterpot without actually leaving the house. During Christmas, my parents will receive greetings from them on the air, over the reeds.

I never figured out who actually owned the house on the west side. The neighbors changed frequently. But I remember having grown up with the Enfesta's. Ness was my classmate. On the way out to our gate, you would pass by their kitchen so you always know what's being served. You just lose count on the number of times in summer when fish becomes the dish. One time, Auntie Mely was pouring boiled water in the jar when the pot gave way and it drenched her torso. That's where I learned to be serious with anything fresh off the stove.

In a more ironic kind of way, I wish we create walls that give other people glimpse of our lives rather than complete enclosures that isolate us from them and the world. It would be fun to know the stories they will recount about us.