"I don't make suman!"

I have a funny story that will go miles in explaining why I do not totally embrace my Filipino culture: I get it from my mom.

When I picked up the boys from my parents' house yesterday, we were talking about what I was making and bringing to the Fall Around the World Festival. Here's how the conversation went...

"I have banana leaves to wrap the suman."

Real banana leaves?

"Well, they're frozen, but, yes, they're real."

Green banana leaves?!?

"Yes! What do you wrap suman in?"

I don't make suman.

A Hunt for Red Pants

Tomorrow is the Fall Festival for which we're toting in samples of at least three Filipino dishes, bamboo sticks, a sungka board and 70 little glass beads - plus extras in case curious, eager fingers walk away with a few - a Filipino story book, a cookbook, and whatever else the boys dream up before tomorrow afternoon.









I had thought that we would be going in barong tagalogs, etc., but Riley has other ideas. So, tonight, we'll be hunting high and low for red pants.

"Mom, remember the dance troupe from the Philippines where the dance originated? They wore red pants. I need to find red pants."

Alrighty then. Tonight: a hunt for red pants!

It Came on the Boat

While Riley is going to teach people how to do the tinikling at the Fall Festival, Dylan wanted to be in charge of teaching people how to play sungka.

Sungka is the Filipino version of mancala. In Java it's Dakon, Chonka in Sri Lanka, and Naranj in the Maldives. Same idea: rocks or shells and holes. I guess its simplicity makes it something that people all around the world would have been able to easily create and play.

The great thing about this game is that it's actually a board from the Philippines. Nonna carried it with her when she came to this country on a boat.

Traditionally it's played with cowry shells. We decided to use glass beads.

Filipino by Marriage

When Dylan, Riley, and I had - largely - mastered the tinikling, Riley announced, "Daddy, time for you to learn. You are Filipino by marriage, you know." Jake dutifully shut down his computer, came over to the living room, and looked dubiously at the sticks on the ground.

I don't know why I'm so scared of those sticks, but I am!

But he finally got the hang of it and was tiniklinging with the rest of us Filipinos! One hundred percent participation from the Mann Clan. Love it! Next up...sungka.

The Sting of Bamboo

It all started with a challenge for the boys' school Fall Festival and a trip to the Filipino store. Then we stopped at the craft store to get cardstock and Riley found some bamboo sticks. "Mom," he gushed, excitedly, "I want to learn how to do the tinikling. Can we get these for the Festival?" Ummm...

As always, if my kids want to learn something, I support it. So, the sticks went into the shopping cart. And when we got home, he logged into YouTube and found different clips of actual Filipino people doing the dance. There were some that were incredibly complex; I told him to stick to the basics.

After a little while, he handed me this... In case you can't tell what it is, it's a foot diagram of where I'm supposed to put my feet so they don't get smacked by the bamboo. Yeah, right. I can't read that!

Then he demonstrated the steps with stationary sticks...

Then he showed us the rhythm of the sticks...without any dancers...

Dylan practiced, under Riley's watchful eye...

And, then, we had some fun with it. The funniest thing ever: Riley, declared, as I danced between the sticks, avoided the sting of the bamboo, and swirled my dress around as I moved, "Mom, you really are Filipino!"

I think we're just about ready for next weekend. Stay tuned.

Barong Tagalog

For the first Arts Night at the boys's school, the instructions for the second grade boys: "traditional dress of any country or white shirt, navy pants."

Dylan wanted to be an Oklahoma cowboy. I told him that's not international, despite what Daddy and I joke about.... Then he wanted to wear his kangaroo hat because it's from Australia; I told him that that's not traditional. The poor kid was almost in tears.

I mentioned the Barong Tagalog that we had borrowed from Aunt Pia for other events. It's a traditional Filipino shirt for men and boys, letting him know that his is made of silk, but that in the Philippines the barongs are sometimes made out of pineapple fibers.

I have to recount this story from the first time Dylan ever wore a barong and am keeping my fingers crossed that once he sees it tonight, he'll agree to wear it for tomorrow evening's music performance. That would make my life so much easier.

In any case, Dylan was asking why he had to wear the barong.

Riley assured me that he could explain it. He said, "it's because we're HALF Filipino, Dylan."

Dylan, standing there in his underwear, was holding up his arm to arm, then arm to leg, looking very confused.

Finally he said, "Which half is Filipino, Riley? I look all one kind."