If something can happen to someone about their name just like what happened to mine, then maybe, just maybe, I am not alone. Maybe outside of our Village, there are also other girls, and boys, who are born without a proper name like me?
I'm beginning to wonder what is out there at the edge of our big ocean and at the very tip of our busy river? What kinds of names do the people have? Are the story of their names as complicated as mine? I grabbed my hair at the roots and tried to think, think...
Or, maybe, just by some stroke of fancy, perhaps some people do not have to have a name at all. That would be very interesting indeed. How can they get the attention of the person they want to talk to? I hung my head out of the wide window of my bedroom and tried to let the soft breeze of the early morning comb through my unruly hair.
This is not good. I can't just stay here and let my questions turn to hard candy just like the "tira-tira" that Lola Abaca makes for the kids on their birthday. I have to do something. Anything!
I grabbed my "bayong" (bag made from woven strips of palm leaves) and stuffed it with all the things I think I might need for this journey - a quest to find the story of names, or why is there such a fear of namelessness?