15/04/2026
SAYOTE IS LIFE
When I was in college, sayote (chayote) became my silent companion for survival.
I did not come from a wealthy family. My father worked as a laborer, and my mother was a simple housewife. Deep inside, we all knew we could not afford college. But my parents, despite their struggles, understood the value of education. They insisted I pursue my studies, even if it meant sending me to the city with nothing but hope in their hearts. To save money, I stayed in my aunt’s vacant room instead of renting a boarding house.
In her backyard grew a humble vine of sayote. And that plant became my lifeline. Many times, my parents could only send rice and salt each month sometimes a little dried fish if I was lucky. Most days, there was nothing else. But the sayote was always there. I would harvest it, cook it in the simplest ways, and it became my ulam, my daily strength.
Looking back, I realize it wasn’t just sayote that kept me alive it was the love and sacrifices of my parents, the quiet generosity of my aunt, and the resilience that poverty had planted in me. The sayote was more than food; it was a reminder that even the simplest things can sustain us when we have faith and determination.
Because of that humble vegetable, I was able to attend my classes without going hungry. Because of the unshakable belief of my parents in the power of education, I learned that success is not about where you start, but about how hard you fight to continue.
Now, every time I see a sayote, I don’t just see a vegetable I see survival, sacrifice, and hope.
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