21/12/2025
A Conversation About Bignay: Lola Lo**ta and Joyce
By Marinell C. George and A. Grant Lee
Inspired by Manus-Ai
This is not a fast read! The story is inspirational. It is for people willing to take 10 minutes to read and learn. It is for people who care about the Philippines and its people who lived long before colonization, and how many are living through modern times with a little help from Nature's gifts. Grab a tea, and let's begin.
This conversation illustrates how traditional knowledge about indigenous fruits like bignay can be preserved and revitalized through intergenerational dialogue, combining ancestral wisdom with contemporary understanding of nutrition, sustainability, and conservation. Through the voices of Lola Lo**ta and Joyce, we see how zero waste principles, biodiversity conservation, and cultural heritage can work together to create sustainable food systems that honor the past while building a better future.
The afternoon sun filtered through the kitchen window as sixteen-year-old Joyce scrolled through her phone, occasionally glancing up at her grandmother, Lola Lo**ta, who was carefully sorting through a basket of small, dark purple berries on the wooden table. The familiar sweet-tart aroma filled the air, bringing back childhood memories Joyce hadn't thought about in years.
"Lola, what are you doing with all those bignay?" Joyce asked, setting her phone aside and moving closer to the table. "I haven't seen you make bignay wine in … forever."
Lola Lo**ta looked up with a gentle smile, her weathered hands continuing their methodical work. "Ah, anak, you still remember! I thought you had forgotten all about our little purple treasures." She held up a particularly plump berry, examining its deep color in the light. "Your Lolo and I planted this tree when your mama was just about your age. Look how it still gives us fruit after all these years."
Joyce picked up one of the berries, rolling it between her fingers. "I remember you used to let me help pick them, but they were always different colors on the same bunch. Some green, some red, some purple like this one. I thought something was wrong with the tree."
"Ay, nothing wrong at all, iha!" Lola Lo**ta chuckled, her eyes twinkling. "That's just how bignay grows. The scientists call it 'staggered ripening' – fancy words for what we've always known. The fruits don't all ripen at the same time, so you get this beautiful rainbow of colors on each bunch. Green ones are still young, red ones are getting there, and these purple-black ones are perfect for eating."
"Really? I never knew there was a scientific reason for that," Joyce said, genuinely intrigued. "We're studying biodiversity in school, and our teacher keeps talking about indigenous species. Is bignay one of those?"
Lola Lo**ta's face lit up with pride. "Oh, anak, you're asking the right questions now! Bignay is not just indigenous – it's one of our most precious native fruits. The scientific name is Antidesma bunius, if you want to impress your teacher." She gestured toward the window where the bignay tree stood tall in their backyard. "That tree can grow up to 99 feet in the wild, though ours is much smaller because we keep it pruned. Your great-great-grandmother used to say that bignay trees were gifts from the ancestors, providing food and medicine for generations."
Joyce leaned forward, suddenly more interested than she had been in any school lesson. "Medicine? I thought it was just for making wine and jam."
"Ay, there's so much more to bignay than that, iha," Lola Lo**ta said, beginning to separate the berries by color. "In the old days, before all these modern medicines, we used every part of the bignay tree. The young leaves – we eat them fresh in salads or steam them as vegetables. Very nutritious, full of vitamins. The bark, the roots, even the seeds had their uses."
She paused to wash her hands and then returned to her sorting. "But the fruits, ah, the fruits are special. Recent studies – yes, even this old lola reads sometimes – show that bignay is packed with antioxidants. Things called phenolic compounds, catechin, epicatechin. These big words mean that bignay can help fight diseases, keep you healthy."
Joyce picked up her phone and started typing. "Wait, let me look this up. Catechin... epicatechin... wow, Lola, these are the same compounds they talk about in green tea and dark chocolate. The ones that are supposed to be really good for you."
"Oo!" Lola Lo**ta beamed. "But we've known bignay was good for us long before any scientist put it in a laboratory. Your Lolo used to say that eating bignay kept his blood strong. Now I understand why – all those antioxidants fighting the bad things in his body."
Joyce set down her phone and picked up a handful of the purple berries. "So why don't more people know about this? I mean, if bignay is so healthy and it's native to the Philippines, why isn't it in every grocery store?"
Lola Lo**ta's expression grew more serious, and she sat down heavily in her chair. "Ay, that's a sad story, anak. You see, when I was young, every barangay had bignay trees. Every family knew how to process the fruits, make wine, preserve them for the dry season. But as the years passed, people started cutting down the native trees to plant other crops – crops that seemed more profitable, more modern."
She gestured toward the urban landscape visible through their window. "Look around us now. How many bignay trees do you see? How many young people know what to do with these fruits? We're losing our heritage, one tree at a time."
"But why would people cut down trees that produce such valuable fruit?" Joyce asked, genuinely puzzled.
"Because, iha, they didn't see the value the way we do now," Lola Lo**ta explained patiently. "Bignay trees need space – about 40 to 45 feet between each tree. In a small farm, that seems like a lot of space for something that only gives fruit once a year. And the processing, ay, it takes knowledge and patience."
She stood up and moved to the stove, where a large pot was already waiting. "Let me show you something your generation needs to learn. We're going to make bignay wine, but not the old wasteful way. We're going to use everything – walang sayang, nothing wasted."
Joyce watched as her grandmother began explaining the process. "First, we separate the fruits by ripeness. The greenest ones, we'll use for souring our sinigang later – they're very tart, perfect for that. The red ones, we'll make into jam. And these beautiful purple ones, they're for wine."
"But what about all the pulp and seeds left over after making wine?" Joyce asked. "Don't you usually throw that away?"
Lola Lo**ta smiled approvingly. "Ah, you're thinking like your lola now! In the old days, yes, we threw away the pomace – that's what they call the leftover pulp. But I've been learning new things. Did you know that pomace makes up about 30% of the fruit we process? That's a lot of waste if we just throw it away."
She opened a cookbook that looked well-used and pointed to some notes she had written in the margins. "I've been experimenting. The pomace is still full of those good antioxidants we talked about. I dry it and grind it into powder – perfect for adding to smoothies or baking. Sometimes I use it to make a second, lighter wine. And the seeds, when they're completely dry, I grind them for a coffee substitute."
Joyce's eyes widened. "Lola, that's amazing! You're like... doing zero waste before it was cool. We learned about circular economy in our environmental science class. You're basically creating a circular system where nothing gets wasted."
"Zero waste?" Lola Lo**ta repeated the English phrase carefully. "Is that what they call it now? We always just called it being practical. During the war, during hard times, you learn not to waste anything."
Lola Lo**ta paused in her crushing to look directly at Joyce. "This is why your generation is so important. You understand both the old ways and the new science. You can help people see that bignay isn't just some old-fashioned fruit – it's a superfood that could help our economy and our health."
"But how, Lola? I'm just a student. What can I do?"
"Ay, don't underestimate yourself, anak. You have tools we never had – the Internet, social media, connections to young people all over the Philippines. You could help spread the word about bignay. Show people how to process it without waste, teach them about the health benefits, maybe even help connect farmers who want to plant bignay trees."
Joyce picked up her phone again, this time with more purpose. "You know what, Lola? I think I want to make a video about this. About you, about bignay, about how traditional knowledge and modern science can work together. Would you be willing to be in it?"
Lola Lo**ta laughed, a sound full of joy and surprise. "Me? On the Internet? Ay, what would people think of this old woman talking about berries?"
"They'd think you're amazing, Lola. They'd learn things they never knew about their own heritage. And maybe some of them would plant bignay trees in their own yards."
As if to emphasize the point, a gentle breeze through the window brought the scent of bignay blossoms from their tree outside. Lola Lo**ta inhaled deeply and smiled.
"You know, anak, when I was your age, I thought the old ways were the only ways. Now I see that the best path forward combines the wisdom of our ancestors with the knowledge of today. If making videos can help save our bignay trees and teach people about zero waste, then this old lola is ready to learn something new."
Joyce jumped up and hugged her grandmother. "This is going to be so cool, Lola! We can show people the whole process – from tree to table, nothing wasted. And we can talk about conservation too, about why it's important to plant both male and female trees."
"And," Lola Lo**ta added with a mischievous grin, "we can teach them that bignay wine is much better than any imported wine, especially when you know it came from your own backyard and was made with love and zero waste."
As they continued working together, crushing berries and planning their video project, the kitchen filled with the rich aroma of bignay and the even richer sound of two generations sharing knowledge, bridging the gap between traditional wisdom and modern innovation. Outside, their bignay tree stood as a living testament to the possibility of preserving the past while embracing the future, its branches heavy with fruit in various stages of ripeness, each berry a small promise of sustainability and cultural continuity.
"One more thing, iha," Lola Lo**ta said as they worked. "When we make this video, make sure to mention that the Philippines is the world's largest producer of bignay. We should be proud of that. But also mention that we've lost so much of our forest cover – less than 3% of the original forests remain. Every bignay tree we plant is not just about fruit production; it's about healing our land."
Joyce nodded solemnly, understanding the weight of responsibility her grandmother was passing on to her. "I will, Lola. And I'll make sure people understand that when they choose bignay, they're choosing to support Filipino farmers, Filipino biodiversity, and Filipino traditions."
"Now you're talking like a true advocate for our heritage," Lola Lo**ta said proudly. "And who knows? Maybe your video will inspire other young people to rediscover their own family's traditional knowledge. Maybe they'll ask their own lolas and lolos about the plants and practices that sustained our people for generations."
As the afternoon sun began to set, casting a golden glow over their kitchen workspace, Joyce and Lola Lo**ta continued their bignay processing, each berry transformed not just into wine and jam, but into a bridge between past and future, tradition and innovation, local wisdom and global sustainability. In their hands, the humble bignay had become a symbol of hope – proof that the solutions to modern challenges might already exist in the wisdom of our ancestors, waiting only for a new generation to recognize their value and share them with the world.
This conversation illustrates how traditional knowledge about indigenous fruits like bignay can be preserved and revitalized through intergenerational dialogue, combining ancestral wisdom with contemporary understanding of nutrition, sustainability, and conservation. Through the voices of Lola Lo**ta and Joyce, we see how zero waste principles, biodiversity conservation, and cultural heritage can work together to create sustainable food systems that honor the past while building a better future.
