Sohaylah Manabilang
In a lively Meranaw community, there was the Padian. Children laughed as they ran on the dusty and crowded streets and played under the shade of tarpaulins. Near them, vendors called out, selling fruits, rice, and colorful and delicious delicacies.
“Oh bolad aya, bolad! Telo so magatos!” We have dried fish here, it’s very affordable! A vendor shouted cheerfully.
“Sigopan, dolsi! Cigarettes, candy!” another called out.
“Silopin aya, limalad bo. Plastic bag for only five pesos.”
The air smelled of ripe fruits, warm rice, and sweet delicacies. Voices mixed and danced together, filling the Padian with life.
Among the children was Sadiqa, a cheerful Meranaw girl who loved playing after helping her family at home. She always wore her smile and greeted elders politely as she passed by the market stalls.
“Mapiya kapipita, Babu,” she said politely.
The elders smiled. “Mapiya kapipita, Sadiqa!”
Before she left home, her Ina had gently held her shoulders and looked into her eyes.
“Takolay, dear,” her Ina reminded her softly, “always be honest. Your actions show who you are.”
“Yes, Ina,” Sadiqa replied, nodding with a smile.“
Sadiqa nodded and ran toward the Padian, her mother’s words quietly staying in her heart.
As Sadiqa played near the vendors, something caught her eye. A tiny sparkle peeked through the dust on the ground. Curious, she knelt down and brushed the dirt away.
It was a small golden coin.
Her eyes widened. She quickly looked around—the Padian was busy, people walking, talking, buying, selling.
Sadiqa closed her fingers around the coin.
“I could buy candy,” she thought, glancing at the nearby stalls.
But her smile faded. The coin did not feel like hers.
“This isn’t mine,” she murmured.
Sadiqa tried to keep playing, but she felt uneasy. The laughter around her sounded far away. The coin in her pocket seemed to whisper, reminding her that it belonged to someone else.
Feeling restless, Sadiqa sat beside Babu Salima, an elderly woman resting near the playground.
Babu Salima noticed Sadiqa’s quiet face and smiled gently.
“Why so serious, Sadiqa?” she asked.
Sadiqa hesitated.
Babu Salima spoke softly, as if she already knew.
“A Meranaw’s honor is seen in what they do when no one is watching.”
Sadiqa’s heart began to beat faster.
She stood up suddenly. “I know what I must do,” she said, her voice firm. Holding the coin tightly, she walked through the Padian, stopping at every stall.
“Did you lose something important?”
Most shook their heads—until a tired fruit seller gasped.
“My coin!” the woman cried. “I lost my golden coin! I was saving it for my child’ school needs!”
Sadiqa’s face lit up with relief.
“This is yours,” she said, placing the coin into the woman’s hand.
Sadiqa returned the coin, and the vendor’s face filled with relief and joy.
The vendor’s eyes filled with tears.
“Thank you, Ole. You have a good heart.”
She picked a ripe mango and offered it to Sadiqa.
“Please, take this as a reward.”
Sadiqa smiled and gently shook her head.
“Your smile is enough,” she said.
That evening, Sadiqa told her parents everything. Her Ama smiled warmly and placed a hand on her head. “You chose integrity,” he said proudly. “That is greater than any reward.
From that day on, the playground near the Padian became special to Sadiqa. She learned that honesty is a promise we keep, even in small places on a playground, in a market, and in our hearts.