A few days after the earthquake, our family was still adjusting to the situation. Some of our neighbors lost their homes, and many were struggling to find food and water. Although relief goods already reached our area, i know it's still not enough to sustain the victims as aftershocks is still ongoing and there's no certainty in when it will end, so everyone tried their best to make do with what they had. I remember when my aunt always reminds us that surviving each day does not require much. She used to say that even the simplest foods can bring comfort and hope when shared with love. That reminder came to life one afternoon when we decided to make maruya, a simple banana fritter that has always been one of our favorite snacks.
We had some saba bananas left from our backyard harvest before the earthquake strucked. Normally, our uncle would sell most of them to our neighbors, but this time, he chose to keep a few for us, to save food for the upcoming days. While others might think it was just a small thing, for us, those bananas were a blessing. It was enough to make something warm and familiar taste of normalcy in the middle of chaos.
My sister volunteered to prepare the maruya. She said it would be nice to cook something that could bring smiles, even just for a while. We did not have much left in the kitchen, but there was still a bit of flour, some brown sugar, and a small amount of oil. It was not perfect, but it was enough. I peeled the saba and sliced each one into thin sections shaped like a fan. That is what makes maruya special. It is called pinaypay by many, because of its shape.
My sister mixed the flour with water to make a light batter and dipped the bananas one by one, making sure each was fully coated. The sound of sizzling oil filled the air as she gently placed them in the pan. Despite the dark days we had been through, that moment felt comforting. The golden color of the maruya slowly appeared, and the smell filled the small kitchen we made outside our house as we're still scared to go inside because of the aftershocks. It reminded us that even after everything, there were still small reasons to feel grateful.
When the maruya was ready, we sprinkled brown sugar on top since that was all we had. We shared it with our neighbors, who had also been struggling to find something to eat. Everyone took a piece, and for a few minutes, we all forgot about the fear and the uncertainty. It was not a grand meal, but it was enough to remind us that we still had each other.
We also picked some fresh dragon fruit from our backyard. Even with the recent tremors, the plant still produced sweet fruits. It has always been my favorite, and enjoying it after everything that happened felt refreshing and comforting.
That simple afternoon taught me that even in the hardest times, kindness and togetherness can fill empty hearts and hungry stomachs. The earthquake may have destroyed homes and taken away comfort, but it could not take away our ability to care and share. The maruya we made was more than just food. It was a symbol of hope, a reminder that we can still create something good out of what little we have.