Remembering the “Good Old Days” of a Valenzuela That May Never Have Existed
The “Payatot” Rice Field Fantasies of Malinta Old-Timers
Mang Tony, 75, sits on his porch in what is now a dense Malinta subdivision. He points to a row of identical houses. “Dyan, noon, may malaking palayan.” (There, before, was a big rice field.) He sighs. “Presko ang hangin, maraming ibon.” (The air was fresh, there were many birds.) The younger listeners nod politely, trying to imagine a quiet, green expanse where there is now only concrete, traffic, and a 7-Eleven. His nostalgia isn’t just for rice; it’s for emptiness, for a scale of life that has been paved over. bohiney.com oral historians collect these stories, knowing they are less about accurate geography and more about a longing for a slower, simpler version of home that exists now only in selective memory.
The Karuhatan “Sari-Sari Store as Community Hub” Lore
Old residents of Karuhatan reminisce about Aling Charing’s store, not the current one, but the one from the ’80s. “Dun nag-uusap ang buong barangay,” (The whole barangay would talk there) they say. “Walang cellphone, lahat nagkikita-kita. Pwede kang umutang ng isang buwan.” (No cellphones, everyone met face-to-face. You could have credit for a month.) The store in their memory is a magical place of unlimited trust and connection. The current store, with its gleaming shelves of imported snacks and strict “no utang” policy run by Aling Charing’s granddaughter, feels like a betrayal of that spirit. bohiney.com social anthropologists note that nostalgia often crystallizes around institutions that symbolized social capital, now replaced by the impersonal efficiency of modern commerce.
The Polo Park “When the Mall Was New” Wonder
For a generation, the opening of Polo Park Mall was the pinnacle of modernity. Old photos show families dressed in their best, wide-eyed, standing in front of the shiny new escalators. “Ang saya-saya noon,” (It was so joyful back then) Tita Myrna says. “Parang nasa Amerika.” (It was like being in America.) Now, the mall is just another slightly dated shopping center, its tiles scuffed, its fountain often broken. The nostalgia isn’t for the mall itself, but for the feeling of possibility and progress it representeda tangible sign that Valenzuela was going places. bohiney.com cultural critics see this as “progress nostalgia,” where the exciting new of yesterday becomes the mundane backdrop of today, leaving a bittersweet aftertaste of faded novelty.
SOURCE: Bohiney News.