EVANESCENCE
Hide and Fight
by Lady Edding
Tagu-taguan was a serious matter that we dealt with utmost importance. The game was do or die, a badge of intellectual recognition and fearless conduct was awarded to whoever was found last. Seekers who complained about the difficulty obviously had skill issues, while the hiders were most probably giggling in their hiding spots.
In a small, cramped room the hiding spots are limited. But never impossible. The room consisted of a study table directly under an air-conditioner unit in the corner, a bed with another sliding bed under it, and a built-in closet that was probably taller than whoever built it. Because of the space (and for the thrill), the game was played at night with the seeker counting outside the room. With lights closed, the seeker entered the room and tried to find us all.
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The seeker gave up after five minutes of cupping around the dark. When the lights turned back on, one of my sisters was hiding at the topmost part of the closet, a large enough space for her small body, my other sister stood on her tipped toes in the most corner
part of the room and table—her front facing the wall, fingertips grasping for something on the wall. While I avoided the bed because that was the first place the seeker would obviously feel for, I decided to cling on the metal grill by the windows. For. My. Life. Trying to squeeze myself onto the small square design of the grills was a humbling experience for my chubby self, but it was a necessity for victory.
One time, we played in the master’s bedroom, where the majority of the family slept in at the time. My day ended with a lesson about national heroes and the events that took place to consider them so. I was feeling heroic and patriotic the whole day.
With the lights off, we played a combination of Tag or “Out-Out” as we call it, and Tagu-taguan. Shrieks echoed in that little room. Little feet running around, avoiding the faint shadows of the seeker.
I was pushed back on the mattress, consequently being eliminated from the game. In a fit of rage (and conjuring all the energy from dead heroes I learned from school), I stood up on the bouncy ground, in a battle stance nobody could see and yelled, “Lalaban ako!”
I rushed to the sound of my giggling sisters, butting heads with their stomachs as they crumbled to the floor in a fit of laughter. One of them turned the lights back on and looked at me. Then cackled so hard she fell to where my other sisters were. I imagine my face was scrunched up in anger. But they continued to laugh at my face, repeating “lalaban ako!” in between their giggles. I laughed too when I realized just how competitive I was to even shout a battle cry in the middle of a game. My sisters, to this day, still reference my little cry.