In the Northern Philippines, where Cagayan Valley is grand,
I grew up with rice in my hand.
Sticky and soft, the grains so fine,
Ilocana roots are strong and divine.
But wait—add bugguong, the magic sauce,
It’s fishy and pungent, but it’s never a loss.
Oh, the smell that fills the air!
It is home, it is heritage, it’s Ilocano flair.
Now, here I am, far from the bay,
In Canada, the winters are cold and gray.
But even though I’m miles and miles away,
The taste of bugguong must hold and not sway.
Yet, oh, my husband, he’s losing his mind,
Buying me Purefoods corned beef, pompano fish to find,
He braves the cold; quiet with a grin,
But bugguong? That’s where he draws the fin.
He complains, “Why the smell? Why the fuss?”
“Can’t we just eat without all this brass?”
“Purefoods Corned Beef, I bought you a ton!”
“Can’t we be normal? Just one fishless run?”
But, dear husband, let me explain with grace,
Bugguong is love, never out-of-place.
It’s the flavour of childhood, the taste of a golden past,
A bond with the earth, a link that will last.
Innapuy is life, but bugguong is lifer,
Together, dinengdeng life is truly greater.
I know it stinks, I know it’s strong,
But it’s in my blood, where it belongs.
It’s my roots, it’s my pride, my soul’s delight,
Even if the house smells like a fishy night.
You bring me corned beef, not minding the cold,
But will you accept my fish sauce, valiant and bold?
You’ve bought pompano and the parya — stocks I crave,
All that while you frown, looking so naive.
But dear, oh, dear, the pungent smell,
Is the scent of home, can’t you tell?
You’ve seen me cook, you’ve seen the dance,
But without fish sauce and rice, where’s the chance?
It’s like trying to bake a cake without flour!
Rice is already power, but bugguong is more power!
I’ll understand if you roll your eyes,
As I drench my dish, and you feign surprise.
But know this, my love, it’s part of me,
This stinky, smelly Ilocana glee.
You’ve loved my heart, my spirit so true,
So why not, honey, this stinky brew?
For love transcends both smell and taste,
And with you, my dear, no time to waste.
Let me feast on rice and bugguong tonight,
Let me savour it in the 7 AM light.
You buy me corned beef, your support is clear,
But respect the sauce, my dear, oh dear!
It’s the Ilocana’s brand, her strength, her song,
So bear the smell, my love; just dance along.
For in the end, with each bite I take,
I’ll cherish you more than the stinky cake.
So here’s to us, in Canada’s northern land,
I with my bagoong, you with your hand.
Together, we thrive putrid and odd,
But love, dear love, is our common bond.
As I eat my rice with a joyful smile,
Know you’ll survive the fishy trial.
For life’s not perfect, nor rice alone,
It’s the fish sauce, my dear, that makes it home! (MBB)
Burnaby, BC, 01 January 2025, 4:00 AM
By Bella Balisi-Bevilacqua
