When I was young, I had an uncle who takes great pleasure in making me cry. How? When I was kid I was hella scared of “ati-atihan”. For non-Filipinos, the “ati-atihan” is a group of dancers who go from street to street dancing to a cacophony of drums and whistles. They are usually dressed in loin clothes, their faces and their whole body painted black. Sometimes, they wear scary masks and ornaments and would even perform fire-breathing street performances. In short, they were our version of the “Mardi Gras” street dancers.
Anyway, as I’ve mentioned I was scared as sh*t with this group. Enough to make me cry and even vomit due to being scared so much. Once, this moron (yeah, I hated that uncle even till now) even tried to lock me out of the gate while an “ati-atihan” were approaching the street. I cried, I wailed and when all things come to naught–I hid on one of our neighbor’s houses. To say I was shaking in fear was an understatement and even till now, I would have loved to kick my uncle in the nuts just to avenge this trauma.
I wish I was as brave as these kids:
I adore the elder of the two boys, especially when he started beating the crap out of the helpless zombie and when he nagged the reporter for not helping them. Oh, and props to their weapons of choice! Tabasco, cling wrap, plastic toys, ice boxes and toy guns: saving the world against the living dead!
Someday, I wish to raise fearless kids such as these. No, no–my offspring won’t be lumbering crybabies, unlike their mom who nearly pissed herself, no thanks to the ati-atihan and that good-for-nothing uncle.