Monday, February 28, 2011
Valediction sa hill crest by Rolando Tinio
Valediction sa hill crest by Rolando Tinio
Valediction sa hill crest
Pagkacollect ng Railway Express sa aking things
(Deretso na iyon sa barko while I take the plane.)
Inakyat kong muli ang N-311, at dahil dead of winter,
Nakatopcoat at galoshes akong
Nagright-turn sa N wing ng mahabang dilim
(Tunnel yatang aabot hanggang Tundo.)
Kinapa ko ang switch sa hall.
Sa isang pitik, nagshrink ang imaginary tunnel,
Nagparang ataol.
Or catacomb.
Strangely absolute ang impression
Ng hilera ng mga pintong nagpuprusisyon:
Individual identification, parang mummy cases,
De-nameplate, de-numero, de-hometown address.
Antiseptic ang atmosphere, streamlined yet.
Kung hindi catacomb, at least
E filing cabinet.
Filing, hindi naman deaths, ha.
Remembrances, oo. Yung medyo malapot
Dahil alam mo na, I’m quitting the place
After two and a half years.
After two and a half years,
Di man nagkatiyempong mag-ugat, ika nga,
Siyempre’y nagging attached, parang morning glory’ng
Mahirap mapaknit sa alambreng trellis.
At pagkabukas ko sa kuwarto,
Hubo’t hubad na ang mattresses,
Wala nang kutson sa easy chair,
Mga drawer ng bureau’y nakanganga,
Sabay-sabay nag-ooration,
Nagkahiyaan, nabara.
Of course, tuloy ang radiator sa paggaralgal:
Nasa New York na si Bob and the two Allans,
Yung mga quarterbacks across the hall
Pihadong panay ang display sa Des Moines.
Don ang Cosntance aren’t coming back at all.
Gusto ko nang magpaalam–
to whom?
The drapes? The washbowl? Sa double-decker
Na pinaikot-ikot naming ni Kandaswamy
To create space, hopeless, talagang impossible.
Of course, tuloy ang radiator sa paglagutok.
(And the stone silence,
nakakaiyak kung sumagot.)
Bueno, let’s get it over with.
It’s a long walk to the depot.
Tama na ang sophistication-sophistication.
Sa steep incline, pababa sa highway
Where all things level, sabi nga,
There’s a flurry, ang gentle-gentle.
Pagwhoosh-whoosh ng paa ko,
The snow melts right under:
Nagtutubig parang asukal,
Humuhulas,
nagsesentimental.
-Rolando Tinio
http://isaganicruz.wordpress.com/2009/03/07/rolando-tinios-valediction-sa-hillcrest/
Valediction sa hill crest
Pagkacollect ng Railway Express sa aking things
(Deretso na iyon sa barko while I take the plane.)
Inakyat kong muli ang N-311, at dahil dead of winter,
Nakatopcoat at galoshes akong
Nagright-turn sa N wing ng mahabang dilim
(Tunnel yatang aabot hanggang Tundo.)
Kinapa ko ang switch sa hall.
Sa isang pitik, nagshrink ang imaginary tunnel,
Nagparang ataol.
Or catacomb.
Strangely absolute ang impression
Ng hilera ng mga pintong nagpuprusisyon:
Individual identification, parang mummy cases,
De-nameplate, de-numero, de-hometown address.
Antiseptic ang atmosphere, streamlined yet.
Kung hindi catacomb, at least
E filing cabinet.
Filing, hindi naman deaths, ha.
Remembrances, oo. Yung medyo malapot
Dahil alam mo na, I’m quitting the place
After two and a half years.
After two and a half years,
Di man nagkatiyempong mag-ugat, ika nga,
Siyempre’y nagging attached, parang morning glory’ng
Mahirap mapaknit sa alambreng trellis.
At pagkabukas ko sa kuwarto,
Hubo’t hubad na ang mattresses,
Wala nang kutson sa easy chair,
Mga drawer ng bureau’y nakanganga,
Sabay-sabay nag-ooration,
Nagkahiyaan, nabara.
Of course, tuloy ang radiator sa paggaralgal:
Nasa New York na si Bob and the two Allans,
Yung mga quarterbacks across the hall
Pihadong panay ang display sa Des Moines.
Don ang Cosntance aren’t coming back at all.
Gusto ko nang magpaalam–
to whom?
The drapes? The washbowl? Sa double-decker
Na pinaikot-ikot naming ni Kandaswamy
To create space, hopeless, talagang impossible.
Of course, tuloy ang radiator sa paglagutok.
(And the stone silence,
nakakaiyak kung sumagot.)
Bueno, let’s get it over with.
It’s a long walk to the depot.
Tama na ang sophistication-sophistication.
Sa steep incline, pababa sa highway
Where all things level, sabi nga,
There’s a flurry, ang gentle-gentle.
Pagwhoosh-whoosh ng paa ko,
The snow melts right under:
Nagtutubig parang asukal,
Humuhulas,
nagsesentimental.
-Rolando Tinio
http://isaganicruz.wordpress.com/2009/03/07/rolando-tinios-valediction-sa-hillcrest/
Morning in Magrebcan
MORNING IN NAGREBCAN
MORNING IN NAGREBCAN
It was sunrise at Nagrebcan. The fine, bluish mist, low over the tobacco fields, was lifting and thinning moment by moment. A ragged strip of mist, pulled away by the morning breeze, had caught on the clumps of bamboo along the banks of the stream that flowed to one side of the barrio. Before long the sun would top the Katayaghan hills, but as yet no people were around. In the grey shadow of the hills, the barrio was gradually awaking. Roosters crowed and strutted on the ground while hens hesitated on theri perches among the branches of the camanchile trees. Stray goats nibbled the weeds on the sides of the road, and the bull carabaos tugged restively against their stakes.
In the early mornig the puppies lay curled up together between their mother’s paws under the ladder of the house. Four puupies were all white like the mother. They had pink noses and pink eyelids and pink mouths. The skin between their toes and on the inside of their large, limp ears was pink. They had short sleek hair, for the mother licked them often. The fifth puppy lay across the mother’s neck. On the puppy’s back was a big black spot like a saddle. The tips of its ears were black and so was a pitch of hair on its chest.
The opening of the sawali door, its uneven bottom dragging noisily against the bamboo flooring, aroused the mother dog and she got up and stretched and shook herself, scattering dust and loose white hair. A rank doggy smell rose in the cool morning air. She took a quick leap forward, clearing the puppies which had begun to whine about her, wanting to suckle. She trotted away and disappeared beyond the house of a neighbor.
The puppies sat back on their rumps, whining. After a little while they lay down and went back to sleep, the black-spotted puppy on top.
Baldo stood at the treshold and rubbed his sleep-heavy eyes with his fists. He must have been about ten yeras old, small for his age, but compactly built, and he stood straight on his bony legs. He wore one of his father’s discarded cotton undershirts.
The boy descended the ladder, leaning heavily on the single bamboo railing that served as a banister. He sat on the lowest step of the ladder, yawning and rubbing his eyes one after the other. Bending down, he reached between his legs for the blak-spotted puppy. He held it to him, stroking its soft, warm body. He blew on its nose. The puppy stuck out a small red tongue,lapping the air. It whined eagerly. Baldo laughed—a low gurgle.
He rubbed his face against that of the dog. He said softly. “My puppy. My puppy.” He said it many times. The puppy licked his ears, his cheeks. When it licked his mouth. Baldo straightened up, raised the puppy on a level with his eyes. “You are a foolish puppy” he said, laughing. “Foolish, foolish, foolish,” he said, rolling the puppy on his lap so that it howled.
The four other puppies awoke and came scrambling about Baldo’s legs. He put down the black-spotted puppy and ran to the narrow foot bridge of women split-bamboo spanning the roadside ditch. When it rained, water from the roadway flowed under the makeshift bridge, but it had not rained for a long time and the ground was dry and sandy. Baldo sat on the bridge, digging his bare feet into the sand, feeling the cool particles escaping between his toes. He whistled, a toneless whistle with a curious trilling to it produced by placing the tongue against the lower teeth and then curving it up and down. The whistle excited the puppies, they ran to the boy as fast theri unsteady legs could carry them, barking choppy little barks.
It was sunrise at Nagrebcan. The fine, bluish mist, low over the tobacco fields, was lifting and thinning moment by moment. A ragged strip of mist, pulled away by the morning breeze, had caught on the clumps of bamboo along the banks of the stream that flowed to one side of the barrio. Before long the sun would top the Katayaghan hills, but as yet no people were around. In the grey shadow of the hills, the barrio was gradually awaking. Roosters crowed and strutted on the ground while hens hesitated on theri perches among the branches of the camanchile trees. Stray goats nibbled the weeds on the sides of the road, and the bull carabaos tugged restively against their stakes.
In the early mornig the puppies lay curled up together between their mother’s paws under the ladder of the house. Four puupies were all white like the mother. They had pink noses and pink eyelids and pink mouths. The skin between their toes and on the inside of their large, limp ears was pink. They had short sleek hair, for the mother licked them often. The fifth puppy lay across the mother’s neck. On the puppy’s back was a big black spot like a saddle. The tips of its ears were black and so was a pitch of hair on its chest.
The opening of the sawali door, its uneven bottom dragging noisily against the bamboo flooring, aroused the mother dog and she got up and stretched and shook herself, scattering dust and loose white hair. A rank doggy smell rose in the cool morning air. She took a quick leap forward, clearing the puppies which had begun to whine about her, wanting to suckle. She trotted away and disappeared beyond the house of a neighbor.
The puppies sat back on their rumps, whining. After a little while they lay down and went back to sleep, the black-spotted puppy on top.
Baldo stood at the treshold and rubbed his sleep-heavy eyes with his fists. He must have been about ten yeras old, small for his age, but compactly built, and he stood straight on his bony legs. He wore one of his father’s discarded cotton undershirts.
The boy descended the ladder, leaning heavily on the single bamboo railing that served as a banister. He sat on the lowest step of the ladder, yawning and rubbing his eyes one after the other. Bending down, he reached between his legs for the blak-spotted puppy. He held it to him, stroking its soft, warm body. He blew on its nose. The puppy stuck out a small red tongue,lapping the air. It whined eagerly. Baldo laughed—a low gurgle.
He rubbed his face against that of the dog. He said softly. “My puppy. My puppy.” He said it many times. The puppy licked his ears, his cheeks. When it licked his mouth. Baldo straightened up, raised the puppy on a level with his eyes. “You are a foolish puppy” he said, laughing. “Foolish, foolish, foolish,” he said, rolling the puppy on his lap so that it howled.
The four other puppies awoke and came scrambling about Baldo’s legs. He put down the black-spotted puppy and ran to the narrow foot bridge of women split-bamboo spanning the roadside ditch. When it rained, water from the roadway flowed under the makeshift bridge, but it had not rained for a long time and the ground was dry and sandy. Baldo sat on the bridge, digging his bare feet into the sand, feeling the cool particles escaping between his toes. He whistled, a toneless whistle with a curious trilling to it produced by placing the tongue against the lower teeth and then curving it up and down. The whistle excited the puppies, they ran to the boy as fast theri unsteady legs could carry them, barking choppy little barks.
http://www.scribd.com/doc/34536551/Morning-in-Nagrebcan-Manuel-E-Arguilla
MORNING IN NAGREBCAN
It was sunrise at Nagrebcan. The fine, bluish mist, low over the tobacco fields, was lifting and thinning moment by moment. A ragged strip of mist, pulled away by the morning breeze, had caught on the clumps of bamboo along the banks of the stream that flowed to one side of the barrio. Before long the sun would top the Katayaghan hills, but as yet no people were around. In the grey shadow of the hills, the barrio was gradually awaking. Roosters crowed and strutted on the ground while hens hesitated on theri perches among the branches of the camanchile trees. Stray goats nibbled the weeds on the sides of the road, and the bull carabaos tugged restively against their stakes.
In the early mornig the puppies lay curled up together between their mother’s paws under the ladder of the house. Four puupies were all white like the mother. They had pink noses and pink eyelids and pink mouths. The skin between their toes and on the inside of their large, limp ears was pink. They had short sleek hair, for the mother licked them often. The fifth puppy lay across the mother’s neck. On the puppy’s back was a big black spot like a saddle. The tips of its ears were black and so was a pitch of hair on its chest.
The opening of the sawali door, its uneven bottom dragging noisily against the bamboo flooring, aroused the mother dog and she got up and stretched and shook herself, scattering dust and loose white hair. A rank doggy smell rose in the cool morning air. She took a quick leap forward, clearing the puppies which had begun to whine about her, wanting to suckle. She trotted away and disappeared beyond the house of a neighbor.
The puppies sat back on their rumps, whining. After a little while they lay down and went back to sleep, the black-spotted puppy on top.
Baldo stood at the treshold and rubbed his sleep-heavy eyes with his fists. He must have been about ten yeras old, small for his age, but compactly built, and he stood straight on his bony legs. He wore one of his father’s discarded cotton undershirts.
The boy descended the ladder, leaning heavily on the single bamboo railing that served as a banister. He sat on the lowest step of the ladder, yawning and rubbing his eyes one after the other. Bending down, he reached between his legs for the blak-spotted puppy. He held it to him, stroking its soft, warm body. He blew on its nose. The puppy stuck out a small red tongue,lapping the air. It whined eagerly. Baldo laughed—a low gurgle.
He rubbed his face against that of the dog. He said softly. “My puppy. My puppy.” He said it many times. The puppy licked his ears, his cheeks. When it licked his mouth. Baldo straightened up, raised the puppy on a level with his eyes. “You are a foolish puppy” he said, laughing. “Foolish, foolish, foolish,” he said, rolling the puppy on his lap so that it howled.
The four other puppies awoke and came scrambling about Baldo’s legs. He put down the black-spotted puppy and ran to the narrow foot bridge of women split-bamboo spanning the roadside ditch. When it rained, water from the roadway flowed under the makeshift bridge, but it had not rained for a long time and the ground was dry and sandy. Baldo sat on the bridge, digging his bare feet into the sand, feeling the cool particles escaping between his toes. He whistled, a toneless whistle with a curious trilling to it produced by placing the tongue against the lower teeth and then curving it up and down. The whistle excited the puppies, they ran to the boy as fast theri unsteady legs could carry them, barking choppy little barks.
It was sunrise at Nagrebcan. The fine, bluish mist, low over the tobacco fields, was lifting and thinning moment by moment. A ragged strip of mist, pulled away by the morning breeze, had caught on the clumps of bamboo along the banks of the stream that flowed to one side of the barrio. Before long the sun would top the Katayaghan hills, but as yet no people were around. In the grey shadow of the hills, the barrio was gradually awaking. Roosters crowed and strutted on the ground while hens hesitated on theri perches among the branches of the camanchile trees. Stray goats nibbled the weeds on the sides of the road, and the bull carabaos tugged restively against their stakes.
In the early mornig the puppies lay curled up together between their mother’s paws under the ladder of the house. Four puupies were all white like the mother. They had pink noses and pink eyelids and pink mouths. The skin between their toes and on the inside of their large, limp ears was pink. They had short sleek hair, for the mother licked them often. The fifth puppy lay across the mother’s neck. On the puppy’s back was a big black spot like a saddle. The tips of its ears were black and so was a pitch of hair on its chest.
The opening of the sawali door, its uneven bottom dragging noisily against the bamboo flooring, aroused the mother dog and she got up and stretched and shook herself, scattering dust and loose white hair. A rank doggy smell rose in the cool morning air. She took a quick leap forward, clearing the puppies which had begun to whine about her, wanting to suckle. She trotted away and disappeared beyond the house of a neighbor.
The puppies sat back on their rumps, whining. After a little while they lay down and went back to sleep, the black-spotted puppy on top.
Baldo stood at the treshold and rubbed his sleep-heavy eyes with his fists. He must have been about ten yeras old, small for his age, but compactly built, and he stood straight on his bony legs. He wore one of his father’s discarded cotton undershirts.
The boy descended the ladder, leaning heavily on the single bamboo railing that served as a banister. He sat on the lowest step of the ladder, yawning and rubbing his eyes one after the other. Bending down, he reached between his legs for the blak-spotted puppy. He held it to him, stroking its soft, warm body. He blew on its nose. The puppy stuck out a small red tongue,lapping the air. It whined eagerly. Baldo laughed—a low gurgle.
He rubbed his face against that of the dog. He said softly. “My puppy. My puppy.” He said it many times. The puppy licked his ears, his cheeks. When it licked his mouth. Baldo straightened up, raised the puppy on a level with his eyes. “You are a foolish puppy” he said, laughing. “Foolish, foolish, foolish,” he said, rolling the puppy on his lap so that it howled.
The four other puppies awoke and came scrambling about Baldo’s legs. He put down the black-spotted puppy and ran to the narrow foot bridge of women split-bamboo spanning the roadside ditch. When it rained, water from the roadway flowed under the makeshift bridge, but it had not rained for a long time and the ground was dry and sandy. Baldo sat on the bridge, digging his bare feet into the sand, feeling the cool particles escaping between his toes. He whistled, a toneless whistle with a curious trilling to it produced by placing the tongue against the lower teeth and then curving it up and down. The whistle excited the puppies, they ran to the boy as fast theri unsteady legs could carry them, barking choppy little barks.
http://www.scribd.com/doc/34536551/Morning-in-Nagrebcan-Manuel-E-Arguilla
Gagamba
CHARACTERS:
1. The cripple, Tranquilino Penoy – otherwise known as Gagamba (spider) to the denizenz of Ermita – was one of those who survived the collapse of the Camarin building on Marcelo H. Del Pilar Street – the only building in Manila which totally wrecked. He is selling sweepstakes tickets. He looks like a two -legged spider, ball of a head, squat body, and long arms. He was born with short limp limbs no longer than a foot and even now that he was fifty; they were as useless as ever.
2. Didi Gamboa, the first owner of Camarin, would not have permitted Gagamba to be at the entrance for so long, selling sweepstakes tickets. Didi Gamboa is the madam of Camarin, migrated to the United States out of boredom with the lesbian debauchery provided by her establishment; she got her second cousin Fred Villa.
3. Aling Pacing brood of twelve. The vegetable vendor’s dullard husband had died. Aling Pacing is the mother of Gagamba.
4. Fred Villa is interested in the restaurant. He was a most auspicious choice. Not only was he family, he was also Camarin regular and personally knew most of the old clientele. When they learned that he was going to take over, they were relieved and at the same time pleased – they could trust him with their peccadilloes as well as their idiosyncrasies for Fred Villa had one quality they appreciated. He was discreet.
5. Don José Villa the father of Fred Villa.
6. Don Manuel the son of Don José Villa and the brother of Fred Villa
7. Jose Rizal the head waiter who looked like Jose Rizal was the only one in tuxedo.
8. Mars Floro he was the old customer and a good friend of Fred Villa.
9. Lina Reyes was barely eighteen. She came from a middle-class family in Pampanga, where her father was a small town doctor, her mother a schoolteacher. She is the youngest, was well on her way to finishing a nondescript course in the humanities at the state university. She was tall, with a pert nose and a face virginal in appearance. She was five feet six inches, almost as tall as Fred Villa, with such clear ivory skin that he drooled every time she undressed before him. Her breasts were not all that large and her height, thirty-four inches seemed almost small.
10. Namnama- Gagamba’s wife. She was adopted by Aling Pacing because she was an orphan back then. She did not look at the deformity of Gagamba and did not hesitate to marry the cripple.
11. Joe Patalinghug- A 22 year old man. He and his wife traveled from Dalaguete to Manila because of the fear that he will also be killed like his two brothers. Joe’s younger brother was killed; the reason why he and his wife went to Manila, knowing that he would probably be killed. He has a teenage wife whose name was Nancy, who was 6, months pregnant. Because of sudden-environment change and no one helped them; they ended up begging in the streets of Manila.
12. Pedro (Pete) Domingo- also known as Jose Rizal at Camarin. Although he is 50 years old, he is still youthful. He is the easygoing and voluble head waiter in Camarin. After several years of working in Camarin with Madam Gamboa and Sir Fred he already know by heart the favorite order of most of the costumers. He has a wife named Bebang who had a cancer and will die in nearly 2 months.
13. Sixto Carmelo- also known as Mabini, also a waiter of Camarin, a close friend of Rizal. He came from Tayug, Pangasinan and like Rizal, was Ilokano. He has no problems at all but his looks because he was the darkest and in senses the homeliest of the waiters in Camarin but he is the most popular waiter in Camarin because of his quick and honest answers.
14. Jim Denison- Son of Ruth Denison, who would be going to Asia for the first time, specifically to Philippines. But the other reason behind his brilliant mind is actually, he wanted to meet his half sister and the Filipino wife of his father Cresencia Reyes.
15. Emma Denison- Jim Denison’s half sister, daughter of Cresencia Reyes. She was always being protected by Cresencia her mom, specifically her virginity. Emma was always in the list of honored students in his high school and college years. More than of her intelligence, she was also very beautiful that she won the title of Miss Philippines.
16. Hiroki Sato- executive of Mitsui, who liked the Philippines best of all Southeast Asian Countries. He visited annually. He was wary in dealings with the Filipinos in the beginning what attract him most in returning the Philippines is actually the girls which his friend, Mars Floro, is partnering with him. He has one child.
17. Mars Floro- Close friend of Hiroki Sato, who has as well one child like his friend. But what his friend doesn’t know about him is that he has a dozen of children with different women.
18. Eric Hariyan- he is a friend of Gaston Navato when they were taking up law in University of the Philippines. He is a student leader. With his friend, that led those Demos against Marcos regime. When they were released for Marcos got irritated with them and put them in jail, he got a fellowship to Yale. Eric Hariyan is brighter than his companion, was in more modest circumstances. He is parenting six children. He was famous for his intelligence.
19. Gaston Navato- also known as Gasty, he was with his friend in University of the Philippines and in prison. But when they were released he stayed on, took the bar and continued his human rights campaign against the regime. He was middle class. Eric and him remained friends.
20. Rudy Golangco- Marco’s closest crony. He had gone into exile when the dictator was deposed. And now he was out of power and only way he could get back all the wealth that been taken from him was to acquire political clout himself.
21. Eduardo Dantes- is a business man who retired from his active life for he was already old and weak, actually in the age of 80. He had left the management of his publishing empire to his two sons. He always dresses elegantly. In his age he could still walk sprightly, with no need for a nurse the way other ancients move abort a nurse always in tow. He hates Japanese a lot.
22. Senator Reyes- wheeled senator for he is having some medical tests. HE is eighty years old as Eduardo Dantes. He is also retired from his janges life. His vast property were divided among his heirs but was assured a hefty income in his last days from his investments and stocks.
23. Dolf Contreras- was not a regular Camarin costumer. He had a very successful real estate business which he had inherited from his father whom he has paid his grate attention. He is now in his forty. He has a wife whose name was Elisa. But before her, he had a lot of affairs with different women, mutually and sexually.
24. Elisa- Dolf Contreras’s wife. A patient woman who bears all the things that Dolf throws to her. She is working before in Camarin, where Dolf actually met her. Even though her patience was long, she still got fed up with what Dolf was doing to her. She went a far from Dolf and ended up being a nun.
25. Tony Picazo- is a son of an honest politician. He visited his former teacher, Fr.dela Terra. He is a young man who is losing hope for his own country, Philippines. He is planning to migrate to other country and leave his own. He is earning a lot.
26. Fr. Dela Terra- old priest, who is actually considered to be a missionary. He is a Spanish priest who came from China before getting in the Philippines. He lived almost half of his life in the Philippines, to be specific 30 years of his life on earth. And because of this he really doesn’t want to go back to the Seedbed of his life, in Spain. And he believes in the capacity of the young people.
27. Major Solomon (Sol) Flor- Philippine Military Class ’72. He is a senior aide to Major General Calixto (Cal) Primo and general’s confidante, he lives a very simple life compare to his co-majors. Actually just renting an apartment in Cubao. He is living with his wife and children.
28. Colonel Simeon Flores- an elegant and dishonest colonel who is a close friend of his opposite Major Sol. He is tempting and influencing Major Sol to do something which in one click will make him a millionaire.
SETTING:
The story happened on July 15, 1990, Sunday at around one pm, a killer earthquake – the strongest recorded in the Philippine history – struck and for four minutes of apocalyptic turbulence, Central Luzon including Manila was submerged in a wave of panic. Farther to the north of the capital, where the epicenter was recorded as exceeding intensity 8 on the Richter scale, the landscape was changed as mountainsides crumbled and the earth cracked. The story was ended at the Camarin building on Marcelo H. Del Pilar Street – the only building in Manila which totally wrecked.
PLOT
The date of the mid July 1990, the earthquake happened and so many people died in the natural disaster, rich, beggars, old, and all kind of creatures are being suffered because this earthquake is the strongest recorded in the Philippine history. Gagamba a sweepstakes’ vendor located in the Ermita restaurant also known as Camarin. Gagamba is not a beggar nevertheless he had a casualties and defects in his body. He was born with short limb that why he always stays in his cart to move and work to have food every day. All of the costumers are being known by gagamba and their stories, gagamba told the story all costumers og camarin restaurant. The first one is a landlord, Fred Villa.
The big boss of Camarin because madam Didi was migrated in the United States and Fred was being appointed to take charge of the business. His girls are well selected to work in the Camarin, All of the women in the Camarin would be tested first by Fred and one of them is Lina an eighteen year old girl from Pampanga. She was beautiful not taller but in the average height. Her family is in the middle class but her studies not so well supported by family that why she found a job like this.
There are costumer, Mars Floro who waited to her but Fred Villa where tested her first. The next character was a Cebuano; Joe Patalinhug arrived on November in 1989. In the first day in manila they are slept in a culvert intended to the bridge construction site in Tondo Manila. After a month’s they know that there’s a people from Cebu was staying in the squatters area in Paranaque that Joe’s family can live. They life is worst than their life in Cebu before because they have only a little rice and some salted oyster mussel. He live his wife in Tondo and went to Paranaque alone to have a better life and find a job that suits his capacity.
The next character was apparent and a regular costumer of Camarin. He is Pedro (pete) Domingo, he is youthful and still wavy hair in place and lived at the squatter area close to the Rizal Memorial stadium. The place was once swum, and being criticized by other people, Although Rizal and his children lived in squatters surroundings. Rizal had discovered his wife had a cancer, two months to live. His children do not know what to do and Rizal makes all way to cure and extend the life of his wife. He tried so many faith healers one of those was the faith healer of former president Marcos. He tried going to Quipo and completing the nine days on novena and to the Baclaran. He wishes to God his wife would be spared not to death because all men die, but the pain that she was now suffering. Eric hariyan and Gaston was best friend in university of the Philippines.
`While Eric is joining in the Law firm of lastog, Cacab and Rawet. One of the biggest law firms in the county. They are jailed in camp Crame because they oppose to government of President Marcos. They have experienced together nevertheless they have so many differences they were stay as best friend, While Eric invited him to meet Rudy Golangco, perhaps Marco’s closest crony. While Marcos dictatorship change the ownership the majority stock went to Rudy Golangco. Lastog want to meet him because e want to interrogate asked at so many issues before about him. First he research and finding all the information about him and use his knowledge as a lawyer and give so many question hat Rudy cannot be known.
There are com http://gomezjames.blogspot.com/2009/12/gagamba-by-f-sionil-jose.html
1. The cripple, Tranquilino Penoy – otherwise known as Gagamba (spider) to the denizenz of Ermita – was one of those who survived the collapse of the Camarin building on Marcelo H. Del Pilar Street – the only building in Manila which totally wrecked. He is selling sweepstakes tickets. He looks like a two -legged spider, ball of a head, squat body, and long arms. He was born with short limp limbs no longer than a foot and even now that he was fifty; they were as useless as ever.
2. Didi Gamboa, the first owner of Camarin, would not have permitted Gagamba to be at the entrance for so long, selling sweepstakes tickets. Didi Gamboa is the madam of Camarin, migrated to the United States out of boredom with the lesbian debauchery provided by her establishment; she got her second cousin Fred Villa.
3. Aling Pacing brood of twelve. The vegetable vendor’s dullard husband had died. Aling Pacing is the mother of Gagamba.
4. Fred Villa is interested in the restaurant. He was a most auspicious choice. Not only was he family, he was also Camarin regular and personally knew most of the old clientele. When they learned that he was going to take over, they were relieved and at the same time pleased – they could trust him with their peccadilloes as well as their idiosyncrasies for Fred Villa had one quality they appreciated. He was discreet.
5. Don José Villa the father of Fred Villa.
6. Don Manuel the son of Don José Villa and the brother of Fred Villa
7. Jose Rizal the head waiter who looked like Jose Rizal was the only one in tuxedo.
8. Mars Floro he was the old customer and a good friend of Fred Villa.
9. Lina Reyes was barely eighteen. She came from a middle-class family in Pampanga, where her father was a small town doctor, her mother a schoolteacher. She is the youngest, was well on her way to finishing a nondescript course in the humanities at the state university. She was tall, with a pert nose and a face virginal in appearance. She was five feet six inches, almost as tall as Fred Villa, with such clear ivory skin that he drooled every time she undressed before him. Her breasts were not all that large and her height, thirty-four inches seemed almost small.
10. Namnama- Gagamba’s wife. She was adopted by Aling Pacing because she was an orphan back then. She did not look at the deformity of Gagamba and did not hesitate to marry the cripple.
11. Joe Patalinghug- A 22 year old man. He and his wife traveled from Dalaguete to Manila because of the fear that he will also be killed like his two brothers. Joe’s younger brother was killed; the reason why he and his wife went to Manila, knowing that he would probably be killed. He has a teenage wife whose name was Nancy, who was 6, months pregnant. Because of sudden-environment change and no one helped them; they ended up begging in the streets of Manila.
12. Pedro (Pete) Domingo- also known as Jose Rizal at Camarin. Although he is 50 years old, he is still youthful. He is the easygoing and voluble head waiter in Camarin. After several years of working in Camarin with Madam Gamboa and Sir Fred he already know by heart the favorite order of most of the costumers. He has a wife named Bebang who had a cancer and will die in nearly 2 months.
13. Sixto Carmelo- also known as Mabini, also a waiter of Camarin, a close friend of Rizal. He came from Tayug, Pangasinan and like Rizal, was Ilokano. He has no problems at all but his looks because he was the darkest and in senses the homeliest of the waiters in Camarin but he is the most popular waiter in Camarin because of his quick and honest answers.
14. Jim Denison- Son of Ruth Denison, who would be going to Asia for the first time, specifically to Philippines. But the other reason behind his brilliant mind is actually, he wanted to meet his half sister and the Filipino wife of his father Cresencia Reyes.
15. Emma Denison- Jim Denison’s half sister, daughter of Cresencia Reyes. She was always being protected by Cresencia her mom, specifically her virginity. Emma was always in the list of honored students in his high school and college years. More than of her intelligence, she was also very beautiful that she won the title of Miss Philippines.
16. Hiroki Sato- executive of Mitsui, who liked the Philippines best of all Southeast Asian Countries. He visited annually. He was wary in dealings with the Filipinos in the beginning what attract him most in returning the Philippines is actually the girls which his friend, Mars Floro, is partnering with him. He has one child.
17. Mars Floro- Close friend of Hiroki Sato, who has as well one child like his friend. But what his friend doesn’t know about him is that he has a dozen of children with different women.
18. Eric Hariyan- he is a friend of Gaston Navato when they were taking up law in University of the Philippines. He is a student leader. With his friend, that led those Demos against Marcos regime. When they were released for Marcos got irritated with them and put them in jail, he got a fellowship to Yale. Eric Hariyan is brighter than his companion, was in more modest circumstances. He is parenting six children. He was famous for his intelligence.
19. Gaston Navato- also known as Gasty, he was with his friend in University of the Philippines and in prison. But when they were released he stayed on, took the bar and continued his human rights campaign against the regime. He was middle class. Eric and him remained friends.
20. Rudy Golangco- Marco’s closest crony. He had gone into exile when the dictator was deposed. And now he was out of power and only way he could get back all the wealth that been taken from him was to acquire political clout himself.
21. Eduardo Dantes- is a business man who retired from his active life for he was already old and weak, actually in the age of 80. He had left the management of his publishing empire to his two sons. He always dresses elegantly. In his age he could still walk sprightly, with no need for a nurse the way other ancients move abort a nurse always in tow. He hates Japanese a lot.
22. Senator Reyes- wheeled senator for he is having some medical tests. HE is eighty years old as Eduardo Dantes. He is also retired from his janges life. His vast property were divided among his heirs but was assured a hefty income in his last days from his investments and stocks.
23. Dolf Contreras- was not a regular Camarin costumer. He had a very successful real estate business which he had inherited from his father whom he has paid his grate attention. He is now in his forty. He has a wife whose name was Elisa. But before her, he had a lot of affairs with different women, mutually and sexually.
24. Elisa- Dolf Contreras’s wife. A patient woman who bears all the things that Dolf throws to her. She is working before in Camarin, where Dolf actually met her. Even though her patience was long, she still got fed up with what Dolf was doing to her. She went a far from Dolf and ended up being a nun.
25. Tony Picazo- is a son of an honest politician. He visited his former teacher, Fr.dela Terra. He is a young man who is losing hope for his own country, Philippines. He is planning to migrate to other country and leave his own. He is earning a lot.
26. Fr. Dela Terra- old priest, who is actually considered to be a missionary. He is a Spanish priest who came from China before getting in the Philippines. He lived almost half of his life in the Philippines, to be specific 30 years of his life on earth. And because of this he really doesn’t want to go back to the Seedbed of his life, in Spain. And he believes in the capacity of the young people.
27. Major Solomon (Sol) Flor- Philippine Military Class ’72. He is a senior aide to Major General Calixto (Cal) Primo and general’s confidante, he lives a very simple life compare to his co-majors. Actually just renting an apartment in Cubao. He is living with his wife and children.
28. Colonel Simeon Flores- an elegant and dishonest colonel who is a close friend of his opposite Major Sol. He is tempting and influencing Major Sol to do something which in one click will make him a millionaire.
SETTING:
The story happened on July 15, 1990, Sunday at around one pm, a killer earthquake – the strongest recorded in the Philippine history – struck and for four minutes of apocalyptic turbulence, Central Luzon including Manila was submerged in a wave of panic. Farther to the north of the capital, where the epicenter was recorded as exceeding intensity 8 on the Richter scale, the landscape was changed as mountainsides crumbled and the earth cracked. The story was ended at the Camarin building on Marcelo H. Del Pilar Street – the only building in Manila which totally wrecked.
PLOT
The date of the mid July 1990, the earthquake happened and so many people died in the natural disaster, rich, beggars, old, and all kind of creatures are being suffered because this earthquake is the strongest recorded in the Philippine history. Gagamba a sweepstakes’ vendor located in the Ermita restaurant also known as Camarin. Gagamba is not a beggar nevertheless he had a casualties and defects in his body. He was born with short limb that why he always stays in his cart to move and work to have food every day. All of the costumers are being known by gagamba and their stories, gagamba told the story all costumers og camarin restaurant. The first one is a landlord, Fred Villa.
The big boss of Camarin because madam Didi was migrated in the United States and Fred was being appointed to take charge of the business. His girls are well selected to work in the Camarin, All of the women in the Camarin would be tested first by Fred and one of them is Lina an eighteen year old girl from Pampanga. She was beautiful not taller but in the average height. Her family is in the middle class but her studies not so well supported by family that why she found a job like this.
There are costumer, Mars Floro who waited to her but Fred Villa where tested her first. The next character was a Cebuano; Joe Patalinhug arrived on November in 1989. In the first day in manila they are slept in a culvert intended to the bridge construction site in Tondo Manila. After a month’s they know that there’s a people from Cebu was staying in the squatters area in Paranaque that Joe’s family can live. They life is worst than their life in Cebu before because they have only a little rice and some salted oyster mussel. He live his wife in Tondo and went to Paranaque alone to have a better life and find a job that suits his capacity.
The next character was apparent and a regular costumer of Camarin. He is Pedro (pete) Domingo, he is youthful and still wavy hair in place and lived at the squatter area close to the Rizal Memorial stadium. The place was once swum, and being criticized by other people, Although Rizal and his children lived in squatters surroundings. Rizal had discovered his wife had a cancer, two months to live. His children do not know what to do and Rizal makes all way to cure and extend the life of his wife. He tried so many faith healers one of those was the faith healer of former president Marcos. He tried going to Quipo and completing the nine days on novena and to the Baclaran. He wishes to God his wife would be spared not to death because all men die, but the pain that she was now suffering. Eric hariyan and Gaston was best friend in university of the Philippines.
`While Eric is joining in the Law firm of lastog, Cacab and Rawet. One of the biggest law firms in the county. They are jailed in camp Crame because they oppose to government of President Marcos. They have experienced together nevertheless they have so many differences they were stay as best friend, While Eric invited him to meet Rudy Golangco, perhaps Marco’s closest crony. While Marcos dictatorship change the ownership the majority stock went to Rudy Golangco. Lastog want to meet him because e want to interrogate asked at so many issues before about him. First he research and finding all the information about him and use his knowledge as a lawyer and give so many question hat Rudy cannot be known.
There are com http://gomezjames.blogspot.com/2009/12/gagamba-by-f-sionil-jose.html
Maynila 1898
Labanan sa Look ng Maynila (1898)
Ang Labanan sa Look ng Maynila ay pagsiklab ng digmaan sa pagitan ng Estados Unidos at Espanya ay nag-udyok sa Estados Unidos na sakupin ang Pilipinas. Ipinakita ng mga Amerikano ang kapangyarihang militar nito nang lusubin ng kanilang hukbong pandagat ang hukbo ng mga Español sa Look ng Maynila noong Mayo 1, 1898. Walang nagawa ang mga Espanyol kundi isuko ang Pilipinas sa mga Amerikano. Upang hindi malagay sa kahihiyan ang Spain, nakipagkasundo ang Estados Unidos na magkaroon ng kunwa-kunwariang labanan sa Maynila. Isinagawa ito noong Agosto 13, 1898. Inakala ng hukbo ni Aguinaldo na magkakaroon ng tunay na paglusob ang mga Amerikano laban sa mga Español kaya nag-alok siya ng tulong militar ngunit hindi ito tinanggap ng mga Amerikano. Sa pamamagitan ng kunwa-kunwariang labanang ito, ipinakita ng mga Espanyol na lumaban ang mga hukbo nito sa abot ng kanilang makakaya at hanggang sa huling sandali.
Ang Labanan sa Look ng Maynila ay pagsiklab ng digmaan sa pagitan ng Estados Unidos at Espanya ay nag-udyok sa Estados Unidos na sakupin ang Pilipinas. Ipinakita ng mga Amerikano ang kapangyarihang militar nito nang lusubin ng kanilang hukbong pandagat ang hukbo ng mga Español sa Look ng Maynila noong Mayo 1, 1898. Walang nagawa ang mga Espanyol kundi isuko ang Pilipinas sa mga Amerikano. Upang hindi malagay sa kahihiyan ang Spain, nakipagkasundo ang Estados Unidos na magkaroon ng kunwa-kunwariang labanan sa Maynila. Isinagawa ito noong Agosto 13, 1898. Inakala ng hukbo ni Aguinaldo na magkakaroon ng tunay na paglusob ang mga Amerikano laban sa mga Español kaya nag-alok siya ng tulong militar ngunit hindi ito tinanggap ng mga Amerikano. Sa pamamagitan ng kunwa-kunwariang labanang ito, ipinakita ng mga Espanyol na lumaban ang mga hukbo nito sa abot ng kanilang makakaya at hanggang sa huling sandali.
Ambon,Ulan, Baha
Ambon,Ulan, Baha By: Frank Rivera
AMBON ULAN BAHA” is a two-hour ethno-rock modern zarzuela that showcases twenty original musical scores inspired by kundiman, balitaw, ethnic and modern musical trends with choreography based on ethnic, folk/traditional and creative dances
An original production of the celebrated Mindanao State University –Sining Kambayoka ( founded by Theater Artist Frank G. Rivera ) in 1978, “ Ambom…” was remounted by Teatro Metropolitano through NCCA Grant in 1992, also at the helm of Rivera.
This long –time running musical which predicted the Ormoc tragedy in 1991, highlights environmental concerns and focuses on the preservation of Philippine forests. It also deals heavily on Filipino values, the importance of education, religion, family and youth. It also carries relevant commentaries on socio-economic and political issues of the times. It aims to educate its audiences especially the youth about issues of urgent and national importance To – date, ARNAI’s “ Ambon, Ulan, Baha” has been sponsored by several organizations and institutions and has seen more than 500 performances. The zarzuela’s success in depicting the Filipino lives after almost three decades after it was first staged, proved its timelessness and its relevance to the evolutions of Philippine Theater.
Its music, inspired by folk/traditional songs like balitaw and kundiman, formerly considered provincial “ bakya “ , and unsophisticated as compared to “mainstream” of legitimate theater, proved to be good venue for improvisation and fusion, thus exploring and experimenting for new forms.
Its dances: a fusion of folk/traditional, modern and creative movements showcase creative interpretation of the play’s songs and scene.
AMBON ULAN BAHA” is a two-hour ethno-rock modern zarzuela that showcases twenty original musical scores inspired by kundiman, balitaw, ethnic and modern musical trends with choreography based on ethnic, folk/traditional and creative dances
An original production of the celebrated Mindanao State University –Sining Kambayoka ( founded by Theater Artist Frank G. Rivera ) in 1978, “ Ambom…” was remounted by Teatro Metropolitano through NCCA Grant in 1992, also at the helm of Rivera.
This long –time running musical which predicted the Ormoc tragedy in 1991, highlights environmental concerns and focuses on the preservation of Philippine forests. It also deals heavily on Filipino values, the importance of education, religion, family and youth. It also carries relevant commentaries on socio-economic and political issues of the times. It aims to educate its audiences especially the youth about issues of urgent and national importance To – date, ARNAI’s “ Ambon, Ulan, Baha” has been sponsored by several organizations and institutions and has seen more than 500 performances. The zarzuela’s success in depicting the Filipino lives after almost three decades after it was first staged, proved its timelessness and its relevance to the evolutions of Philippine Theater.
Its music, inspired by folk/traditional songs like balitaw and kundiman, formerly considered provincial “ bakya “ , and unsophisticated as compared to “mainstream” of legitimate theater, proved to be good venue for improvisation and fusion, thus exploring and experimenting for new forms.
Its dances: a fusion of folk/traditional, modern and creative movements showcase creative interpretation of the play’s songs and scene.
Bulag, Pipi at Bingi
Bulag, Pipi At Bingi
Madilim ang 'yong paligid, hating-gabing walang hanggan
Anyo at kulay ng mundo sa'yoy pinagkaitan
Huwag mabahala, kaibigan, isinilang ka mang ganyan
Isang bulag sa kamunduhan, ligtas ka sa kasalanan
[Chorus]
Di nalalayo sa'yo ang tunay na mundo
Marami sa ami'y nabubuhay mang tulad mo
'Di makita, 'di marinig, minsa'y nauutal
Patungo sa hinahangan na buhay na banal
Ibigin mo mang umawit, hindi mo makuhang gawin
Sigaw ng puso't damdamin wala sa'yong pumapansin
Sampung daliri, kaibigan, d'yan ka nila pakikinggan
[ From: http://www.metrolyrics.com/bulag-pipi-at-bingi-lyrics-yeng-constantino.html ]
Pipi ka man nang isinilang, dakila ka sa sinuman
(Repeat Chorus)
Ano sa'yo ang musika, sa'yo ba'y mahalaga
Matahimik mong paligid, awitan ay 'di madinig
Mapala ka, o kaibigan, napakaingay ng mundo
Sa isang binging katulad mo, walang daing, walang gulo
(Repeat Chorus 2x)
videokeman.com/.../bulag-pipi-at-bingi-freddie-aguilar/
Madilim ang 'yong paligid, hating-gabing walang hanggan
Anyo at kulay ng mundo sa'yoy pinagkaitan
Huwag mabahala, kaibigan, isinilang ka mang ganyan
Isang bulag sa kamunduhan, ligtas ka sa kasalanan
[Chorus]
Di nalalayo sa'yo ang tunay na mundo
Marami sa ami'y nabubuhay mang tulad mo
'Di makita, 'di marinig, minsa'y nauutal
Patungo sa hinahangan na buhay na banal
Ibigin mo mang umawit, hindi mo makuhang gawin
Sigaw ng puso't damdamin wala sa'yong pumapansin
Sampung daliri, kaibigan, d'yan ka nila pakikinggan
[ From: http://www.metrolyrics.com/bulag-pipi-at-bingi-lyrics-yeng-constantino.html ]
Pipi ka man nang isinilang, dakila ka sa sinuman
(Repeat Chorus)
Ano sa'yo ang musika, sa'yo ba'y mahalaga
Matahimik mong paligid, awitan ay 'di madinig
Mapala ka, o kaibigan, napakaingay ng mundo
Sa isang binging katulad mo, walang daing, walang gulo
(Repeat Chorus 2x)
videokeman.com/.../bulag-pipi-at-bingi-freddie-aguilar/
The Small Key ( Paz M. Latorena )
The Small Key ( Paz M. Latorena )
It was very warm. The sun, up above a sky that was blue and tremendous and beckoning to birds ever on the wing, shone bright as if determined to scorch everything under heaven, even the low, square nipa house that stood in an unashamed relief against the gray-green haze of grass and leaves.
It was lonely dwelling located far from its neighbors, which were huddled close to one another as if for mutual comfort. It was flanked on both sides by tall, slender bamboo tree which rustled plaintively under a gentle wind.
On the porch a woman past her early twenties stood regarding the scene before her with eyes made incurious by its familiarity. All around her the land stretched endlessly, it seemed, and vanished into the distance. There were dark, newly plowed furrows where in due time timorous seedling would give rise to sturdy stalks and golden grain, to a rippling yellow sea in the wind and sun during harvest time. Promise of plenty and reward for hard toil! With a sigh of discontent, however, the woman turned and entered a small dining room where a man sat over a belated a midday meal.
Pedro Buhay, a prosperous farmer, looked up from his plate and smiled at his wife as she stood framed by the doorway, the sunlight glinting on her dark hair, which was drawn back, without relenting wave, from a rather prominent and austere brow.
“Where are the shirts I ironed yesterday?” she asked as she approached the table.
“In my trunk, I think,” he answered.
“Some of them need darning,” and observing the empty plate, she added, “do you want some more rice?”
“No,” hastily, “I am in a burry to get back. We must finish plowing the south field today because tomorrow is Sunday.”
Pedro pushed the chair back and stood up. Soledad began to pile the dirty dishes one on top of the other.
“Here is the key to my trunk.” From the pocket of his khaki coat he pulled a string of non descript red which held together a big shiny key and another small, rather rusty looking one.
With deliberate care he untied the knot and, detaching the big key, dropped the small one back into his pocket. She watched him fixedly as he did this. The smile left her face and a strange look came into her eyes as she took the big key from him without a word. Together they left the dining room.
Out of the porch he put an arm around her shoulders and peered into her shadowed face.
“You look pale and tired,” he remarked softly. “What have you been doing all morning?”
“Nothing,” she said listlessly. “But the heat gives me a headache.”
“Then lie down and try to sleep while I am gone.” For a moment they looked deep into each other’s eyes.
“It is really warm,” he continued. “I think I will take off my coat.”
He removed the garment absent mindedly and handed it to her. The stairs creaked under his weight as he went down.
“Choleng,” he turned his head as he opened the gate, “I shall pass by Tia Maria’s house and tell her to come. I may not return before dark.”
Soledad nodded. Her eyes followed her husband down the road, noting the fine set of his head and shoulders, the case of his stride. A strange ache rose in her throat.
She looked at the coat he had handed to her. It exuded a faint smell of his favorite cigars, one of which he invariably smoked, after the day’s work, on his way home from the fields. Mechanically, she began to fold the garment.
As she was doing so, s small object fell from the floor with a dull, metallic sound. Soledad stooped down to pick it up. It was the small key! She stared at it in her palm as if she had never seen it before. Her mouth was tightly drawn and for a while she looked almost old.
She passed into the small bedroom and tossed the coat carelessly on the back of a chair. She opened the window and the early afternoon sunshine flooded in. On a mat spread on the bamboo floor were some newly washed garments.
She began to fold them one by one in feverish haste, as if seeking in the task of the moment in refuge from painful thoughts. But her eyes moved restlessly around the room until they rested almost furtively on a small trunk that was half concealed by a rolled mat in a dark corner.
It was a small old trunk, without anything on the outside that might arouse one’s curiosity. But it held the things she had come to hate with unreasoning violence, the things that were causing her so much unnecessary anguish and pain and threatened to destroy all that was most beautiful between her and her husband!
Soledad came across a torn garment. She threaded a needle, but after a few uneven stitches she pricked her finger and a crimson drop stained the white garment. Then she saw she had been mending on the wrong side.
“What is the matter with me?” she asked herself aloud as she pulled the thread with nervous and impatient fingers.
What did it matter if her husband chose to keep the clothes of his first wife?
“She is dead anyhow. She is dead,” she repeated to herself over and over again.
The sound of her own voice calmed her. She tried to thread the needle once more. But she could not, not for the tears had come unbidden and completely blinded her.
“My God,” she cried with a sob, “make me forget Indo’s face as he put the small key back into his pocket.”
She brushed her tears with the sleeves of her camisa and abruptly stood up. The heat was stifling, and the silence in the house was beginning to be unendurable.
She looked out of the window. She wondered what was keeping Tia Maria. Perhaps Pedro had forgotten to pass by her house in his hurry. She could picture him out there in the south field gazing far and wide at the newly plowed land with no thought in his mind but of work, work. For to the people of the barrio whose patron saint, San Isidro Labrador, smiled on them with benign eyes from his crude altar in the little chapel up the hill, this season was a prolonged hour during which they were blind and dead to everything but the demands of the land.
During the next half hour Soledad wandered in and out of the rooms in effort to seek escape from her own thoughts and to fight down an overpowering impulse. If Tia Maria would only come and talk to her to divert her thoughts to other channels!
But the expression on her husband’s face as he put the small key back into his pocket kept torturing her like a nightmare, goading beyond endurance. Then, with all resistance to the impulse gone, she was kneeling before the small trunk. With the long drawn breath she inserted the small key. There was an unpleasant metallic sound, for the key had not been used for a long time and it was rusty.
That evening Pedro Buhay hurried home with the usual cigar dangling from his mouth, pleased with himself and the tenants because the work in the south field had been finished. Tia Maria met him at the gate and told him that Soledad was in bed with a fever.
“I shall go to town and bring Doctor Santos,” he decided, his cool hand on his wife’s brow.
Soledad opened her eyes.
“Don’t, Indo,” she begged with a vague terror in her eyes which he took for anxiety for him because the town was pretty far and the road was dark and deserted by that hour of the night. “I shall be alright tomorrow.”
Pedro returned an hour later, very tired and very worried. The doctor was not at home but his wife had promised to give him Pedro’s message as soon as he came in.
Tia Maria decide to remain for the night. But it was Pedro who stayed up to watch the sick woman. He was puzzled and worried – more than he cared to admit it. It was true that Soledad did not looked very well early that afternoon. Yet, he thought, the fever was rather sudden. He was afraid it might be a symptom of a serious illness.
Soledad was restless the whole night. She tossed from one side to another, but toward morning she fell into some sort of troubled sleep. Pedro then lay down to snatch a few winks.
He woke up to find the soft morning sunshine streaming through the half-open window. He got up without making any noise. His wife was still asleep and now breathing evenly. A sudden rush of tenderness came over him at the sight of her – so slight, so frail.
Tia Maria was nowhere to be seen, but that did not bother him, for it was Sunday and the work in the south field was finished. However, he missed the pleasant aroma which came from the kitchen every time he had awakened early in the morning.
The kitchen was neat but cheerless, and an immediate search for wood brought no results. So shouldering an ax, Pedro descended the rickety stairs that led to the backyard.
The morning was clear and the breeze soft and cool. Pedro took in a deep breath of air. It was good – it smelt of trees, of the ricefields, of the land he loved.
He found a pile of logs under the young mango tree near the house and began to chop. He swung the ax with rapid clean sweeps, enjoying the feel of the smooth wooden handle in his palms.
As he stopped for a while to mop his brow, his eyes caught the remnants of a smudge that had been built in the backyard.
“Ah!” he muttered to himself. “She swept the yard yesterday after I left her. That, coupled with the heat, must have given her a headache and then the fever.”
The morning breeze stirred the ashes and a piece of white cloth fluttered into view.
Pedro dropped his ax. It was a half-burn panuelo. Somebody had been burning clothes. He examined the slightly ruined garment closely. A puzzled expression came into his eyes. First it was doubt groping for truth, then amazement, and finally agonized incredulity passed across his face. He almost ran back to the house. In three strides he was upstairs. He found his coat hanging from the back of a chair.
Cautiously he entered the room. The heavy breathing of his wife told him that she was still asleep. As he stood by the small trunk, a vague distaste to open it assailed to him. Surely he must be mistaken. She could not have done it, she could not have been that… that foolish.
Resolutely he opened the trunk. It was empty.
It was nearly noon when the doctor arrived. He felt Soledad’s pulse and asked question which she answered in monosyllables. Pedro stood by listening to the whole procedure with an inscrutable expression on his face. He had the same expression when the doctor told him that nothing was really wrong with his wife although she seemed to be worried about something. The physician merely prescribed a day of complete rest.
Pedro lingered on the porch after the doctor left. He was trying not to be angry with his wife. He hoped it would be just an interlude that could be recalled without bitterness. She would explain sooner or later, she would be repentant, perhaps she would even listen and eventually forgive her, for she was young and he loved her. But somehow he knew that this incident would always remain a shadow in their lives.
http://wiki.answers.com/Q/Small_key_by_paz_latorena
It was very warm. The sun, up above a sky that was blue and tremendous and beckoning to birds ever on the wing, shone bright as if determined to scorch everything under heaven, even the low, square nipa house that stood in an unashamed relief against the gray-green haze of grass and leaves.
It was lonely dwelling located far from its neighbors, which were huddled close to one another as if for mutual comfort. It was flanked on both sides by tall, slender bamboo tree which rustled plaintively under a gentle wind.
On the porch a woman past her early twenties stood regarding the scene before her with eyes made incurious by its familiarity. All around her the land stretched endlessly, it seemed, and vanished into the distance. There were dark, newly plowed furrows where in due time timorous seedling would give rise to sturdy stalks and golden grain, to a rippling yellow sea in the wind and sun during harvest time. Promise of plenty and reward for hard toil! With a sigh of discontent, however, the woman turned and entered a small dining room where a man sat over a belated a midday meal.
Pedro Buhay, a prosperous farmer, looked up from his plate and smiled at his wife as she stood framed by the doorway, the sunlight glinting on her dark hair, which was drawn back, without relenting wave, from a rather prominent and austere brow.
“Where are the shirts I ironed yesterday?” she asked as she approached the table.
“In my trunk, I think,” he answered.
“Some of them need darning,” and observing the empty plate, she added, “do you want some more rice?”
“No,” hastily, “I am in a burry to get back. We must finish plowing the south field today because tomorrow is Sunday.”
Pedro pushed the chair back and stood up. Soledad began to pile the dirty dishes one on top of the other.
“Here is the key to my trunk.” From the pocket of his khaki coat he pulled a string of non descript red which held together a big shiny key and another small, rather rusty looking one.
With deliberate care he untied the knot and, detaching the big key, dropped the small one back into his pocket. She watched him fixedly as he did this. The smile left her face and a strange look came into her eyes as she took the big key from him without a word. Together they left the dining room.
Out of the porch he put an arm around her shoulders and peered into her shadowed face.
“You look pale and tired,” he remarked softly. “What have you been doing all morning?”
“Nothing,” she said listlessly. “But the heat gives me a headache.”
“Then lie down and try to sleep while I am gone.” For a moment they looked deep into each other’s eyes.
“It is really warm,” he continued. “I think I will take off my coat.”
He removed the garment absent mindedly and handed it to her. The stairs creaked under his weight as he went down.
“Choleng,” he turned his head as he opened the gate, “I shall pass by Tia Maria’s house and tell her to come. I may not return before dark.”
Soledad nodded. Her eyes followed her husband down the road, noting the fine set of his head and shoulders, the case of his stride. A strange ache rose in her throat.
She looked at the coat he had handed to her. It exuded a faint smell of his favorite cigars, one of which he invariably smoked, after the day’s work, on his way home from the fields. Mechanically, she began to fold the garment.
As she was doing so, s small object fell from the floor with a dull, metallic sound. Soledad stooped down to pick it up. It was the small key! She stared at it in her palm as if she had never seen it before. Her mouth was tightly drawn and for a while she looked almost old.
She passed into the small bedroom and tossed the coat carelessly on the back of a chair. She opened the window and the early afternoon sunshine flooded in. On a mat spread on the bamboo floor were some newly washed garments.
She began to fold them one by one in feverish haste, as if seeking in the task of the moment in refuge from painful thoughts. But her eyes moved restlessly around the room until they rested almost furtively on a small trunk that was half concealed by a rolled mat in a dark corner.
It was a small old trunk, without anything on the outside that might arouse one’s curiosity. But it held the things she had come to hate with unreasoning violence, the things that were causing her so much unnecessary anguish and pain and threatened to destroy all that was most beautiful between her and her husband!
Soledad came across a torn garment. She threaded a needle, but after a few uneven stitches she pricked her finger and a crimson drop stained the white garment. Then she saw she had been mending on the wrong side.
“What is the matter with me?” she asked herself aloud as she pulled the thread with nervous and impatient fingers.
What did it matter if her husband chose to keep the clothes of his first wife?
“She is dead anyhow. She is dead,” she repeated to herself over and over again.
The sound of her own voice calmed her. She tried to thread the needle once more. But she could not, not for the tears had come unbidden and completely blinded her.
“My God,” she cried with a sob, “make me forget Indo’s face as he put the small key back into his pocket.”
She brushed her tears with the sleeves of her camisa and abruptly stood up. The heat was stifling, and the silence in the house was beginning to be unendurable.
She looked out of the window. She wondered what was keeping Tia Maria. Perhaps Pedro had forgotten to pass by her house in his hurry. She could picture him out there in the south field gazing far and wide at the newly plowed land with no thought in his mind but of work, work. For to the people of the barrio whose patron saint, San Isidro Labrador, smiled on them with benign eyes from his crude altar in the little chapel up the hill, this season was a prolonged hour during which they were blind and dead to everything but the demands of the land.
During the next half hour Soledad wandered in and out of the rooms in effort to seek escape from her own thoughts and to fight down an overpowering impulse. If Tia Maria would only come and talk to her to divert her thoughts to other channels!
But the expression on her husband’s face as he put the small key back into his pocket kept torturing her like a nightmare, goading beyond endurance. Then, with all resistance to the impulse gone, she was kneeling before the small trunk. With the long drawn breath she inserted the small key. There was an unpleasant metallic sound, for the key had not been used for a long time and it was rusty.
That evening Pedro Buhay hurried home with the usual cigar dangling from his mouth, pleased with himself and the tenants because the work in the south field had been finished. Tia Maria met him at the gate and told him that Soledad was in bed with a fever.
“I shall go to town and bring Doctor Santos,” he decided, his cool hand on his wife’s brow.
Soledad opened her eyes.
“Don’t, Indo,” she begged with a vague terror in her eyes which he took for anxiety for him because the town was pretty far and the road was dark and deserted by that hour of the night. “I shall be alright tomorrow.”
Pedro returned an hour later, very tired and very worried. The doctor was not at home but his wife had promised to give him Pedro’s message as soon as he came in.
Tia Maria decide to remain for the night. But it was Pedro who stayed up to watch the sick woman. He was puzzled and worried – more than he cared to admit it. It was true that Soledad did not looked very well early that afternoon. Yet, he thought, the fever was rather sudden. He was afraid it might be a symptom of a serious illness.
Soledad was restless the whole night. She tossed from one side to another, but toward morning she fell into some sort of troubled sleep. Pedro then lay down to snatch a few winks.
He woke up to find the soft morning sunshine streaming through the half-open window. He got up without making any noise. His wife was still asleep and now breathing evenly. A sudden rush of tenderness came over him at the sight of her – so slight, so frail.
Tia Maria was nowhere to be seen, but that did not bother him, for it was Sunday and the work in the south field was finished. However, he missed the pleasant aroma which came from the kitchen every time he had awakened early in the morning.
The kitchen was neat but cheerless, and an immediate search for wood brought no results. So shouldering an ax, Pedro descended the rickety stairs that led to the backyard.
The morning was clear and the breeze soft and cool. Pedro took in a deep breath of air. It was good – it smelt of trees, of the ricefields, of the land he loved.
He found a pile of logs under the young mango tree near the house and began to chop. He swung the ax with rapid clean sweeps, enjoying the feel of the smooth wooden handle in his palms.
As he stopped for a while to mop his brow, his eyes caught the remnants of a smudge that had been built in the backyard.
“Ah!” he muttered to himself. “She swept the yard yesterday after I left her. That, coupled with the heat, must have given her a headache and then the fever.”
The morning breeze stirred the ashes and a piece of white cloth fluttered into view.
Pedro dropped his ax. It was a half-burn panuelo. Somebody had been burning clothes. He examined the slightly ruined garment closely. A puzzled expression came into his eyes. First it was doubt groping for truth, then amazement, and finally agonized incredulity passed across his face. He almost ran back to the house. In three strides he was upstairs. He found his coat hanging from the back of a chair.
Cautiously he entered the room. The heavy breathing of his wife told him that she was still asleep. As he stood by the small trunk, a vague distaste to open it assailed to him. Surely he must be mistaken. She could not have done it, she could not have been that… that foolish.
Resolutely he opened the trunk. It was empty.
It was nearly noon when the doctor arrived. He felt Soledad’s pulse and asked question which she answered in monosyllables. Pedro stood by listening to the whole procedure with an inscrutable expression on his face. He had the same expression when the doctor told him that nothing was really wrong with his wife although she seemed to be worried about something. The physician merely prescribed a day of complete rest.
Pedro lingered on the porch after the doctor left. He was trying not to be angry with his wife. He hoped it would be just an interlude that could be recalled without bitterness. She would explain sooner or later, she would be repentant, perhaps she would even listen and eventually forgive her, for she was young and he loved her. But somehow he knew that this incident would always remain a shadow in their lives.
http://wiki.answers.com/Q/Small_key_by_paz_latorena
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