In Fatima Ashgar’s poem “Smell is the last memory to go” the fragrance of citrus and jasmine knocks the narrator back into the arms of her mother as it evokes her perfume. But for me it is the scent of sweet and savoury kalderata that sways me back to the memory of a simple and blissfully serene childhood. A childhood where I looked at everything with rose-tinted glasses. A childhood where I could not see my misfortunes. A childhood where I wasn’t docile, but wild and care-free and not what I am now.

I don’t believe in magic,

but when the smell of sweet and savoury kaldereta hits me

I’m magically lifted away

down memory lane

The hazy memory of my father’s house hits me

His deep and croaking laughter fills the air

and mixes with the sweet smell of kaldereta.

It swirls and fills my soul with idyllic peace.

Loud and full Bisaya swirls inside my ears

from the conversation my Mum and Step-Mum are having

– and although I don’t know what they’re saying –

I find myself laughing with them

I don’t believe in magic

but when I remember moments like these

I wish I could go back and replay that memory

just one more time