Blissful Mornings - Uwis: Healer of the Land

Tatay Uwis never needed to say much. His hands spoke. His quiet presence did the rest.

Bronzed by the sun, dressed in a light linen shirt and his wide buri hat made of woven dried leaves,

he spent his life tending to our family’s land—a lush paradise near the base of the mountain forest.

There, he raised rice, cassava, vegetables, and fruit trees like mango, soursop, and tamarind. His

companions were the carrabaos, steady and strong like him, always nearby, always watching.

Every morning, he’d drink a tall glass of ice-cold water—his body parched from giving himself fully

to the day before. And then he’d begin again. Building fences, crafting garden plots, hand-laying

irrigation channels that fed both land and life.

He was Salud’s husband. Together, they were stewards of sovereign living. Heaven must have

paired them—nourishment and cultivation, side by side.

One morning, when I was still a child, I sliced my hand on a jicama while helping at the outdoor

oven. I ran to him, crying. He didn’t panic. He just looked—his eyes widened with concern, then

turned calm. He walked straight to the Moringa patch, gathered a handful of leaves, chewed them

slowly, and gently pressed the poultice on my wound. His hands were earth-worn but tender. I

healed fast.

I asked him how he knew. And before he could answer, my Lola Salud said, 'Your grandfather is a

healer of the land. His ancestors gifted him wisdom.'

Now, every time I feel the first signs of spring or dig into my own garden patch, I remember. His

legacy isn’t just what he grew—it’s what he healed, what he knew in silence.

He was a father who showed leadership not with volume, but with care. A man whose masculinity

was wrapped in protection, not power. Purpose, not pride.

Tatay Uwis lives in every plant I touch, in every path I walk barefoot, in every act of tending with

love.

-Bliss Chains Authors