West Visayas State University

EXTENSION CAMPUS AT HIMAMAYLAN CITY

Himamaylan City, Negros Occidental

DIVISION OF ENGLISH

Module in
LIT 202:
SURVEY OF PHILIPPINE
LITERATURE IN ENGLISH

by:

Jonalyn B. Duhaylungsod, MAEd

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Module in
LIT 202:
SURVEY OF PHILIPPINE
LITERATURE IN ENGLISH

by:
Jonalyn B. Duhaylungsod, MAEd

Notes to the Students

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This module is a part of the flexible learning spearheaded by the Office of the Dean of
Instruction and the Division of English, West Visayas State University-Himamaylan City Campus.

This is meant for LIT 202-SURVEY OF PHILIPPINE LITERATURE IN ENGLISH

Survey of Philippine Literature in English is created to provide the students an outline of

Philippine Literature from the beginning up to the present time. It familiarizes the students to the
development of literary genres which mirror Filipino life and values. Through discussion and analysis
of various literary genres and elements, this program works toward the enhancement of students’
awareness and appreciation of Philippine Literature.

There are 6 units in this module. They are as listed below.

UNIT 1. INTRODUCTION TO LITERATURE

UNIT 2. FICTION

UNIT 3. POETRY

UNIT 4. THE ESSAY

UNIT 5. THE DRAMA

The learning outcomes for LIT 202, specified below are unpacked by the specific objectives
of each unit. Generally, at the end of this module, you might have:

1. Shown strong Filipino values, gleaned from their reading of literary

masterpieces written in English by Filipino writers, through designed,
developed and presented creative works by groups.
2. Strengthened their reading and writing skills through critical analyses
of select literary pieces in English penned by Filipino writers.
3. Exhibited appreciation and pride in the contributions of Filipino
literary writers in the development of Philippine literature in English,
from 1900 to the contemporary times, through a digital portfolio
prepared by each group and presented to the class.
4. Identified and discussed substantially cultural realities and universal
truths reflected in the selections which had been assigned for
reporting or presentations using multi-media.

Before you begin learning what the module is about, please be familiar with some icons to
guide you through this instructional tool. You are right now reading the introduction entitled Notes
to the Students. This will be followed by the Table of Contents.

The lesson will then unfold in this sequence.

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How much do you know? This is a pre-test to check your knowledge on this subject

Activate Prior Knowledge. In here, you will do an activity that you already know and is related to
the lesson.

Acquire New Knowledge. This is where the lesson is presented. It may have several topics
as stipulated in the specific objectives.

Apply your Knowledge. In this part, you will practice what you have learned

Assess your Knowledge. You will be tested here and you will be able to know the gaps in
your understanding in this lesson. If you are not satisfied with the feedback, you may then
go back to some points that you may have missed.

Answer Key shows the feedback that comes after assessment. It can also be found in
every break exercises within the lesson

All I Know About this Lesson sums up what you would learn this module is about, a box
labelled follows.

References list down the resources and links from which the content of the lesson was
based from. These may take the form of books, internet sites, blogs, videos, photographs,
animation, Power point presentations, icons, etc.

How Much Have I Learned will be found at the end of the module. This will serve as the
Final examination of this course. Feedback will not be posted here but will be discussed
online with your Course professor.
Directions are found inside each lesson that tells you how long you are going to work on this
module. All formative activities must be answered and counter-checked. Honesty is a school policy. Be
serious about the learning activities you are working on. It will define who you are and what you will
become in the future. Pre-test and Post-test must be completed as well. At the end of the semester or as
instructed otherwise, you are to submit this module to your subject professor. Inquiries on some points
not fully understood will be made online via Group Chat (GC). This module is a self -contained learning kit
with instructions that will guide to the end. You are now ready to begin. You may browse or search for
more information and ideas. Make your time count. Enjoy!

Table of Contents

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Notes to the Students

How Much Do You Know

UNIT 1. INTRODUCTION TO LITERATURE

A. Functions of Literature
B. The Critical Lenses
C. The Different Time Frames in Philippine Literature in English (1900-present)
D. Types of Literature that flourished during the different periods of Philippine Literature in
English
E. The Great Filipino Literary Writers in English and their masterpieces.
F. All I know About this Module
G. References

UNIT 2. FICTION

A. Nature of Fiction
B. Elements of Fiction
C. The Great Filipino Fictionists in English
D. Selections for Analysis

a. Footnote to Youth by Jose Garcia Villa

b. Dead Stars by Paz Marquez Benitez
c. Harvest by Loreto Paras-Sulit
d. Scent of Apples by Bienvenido Santos
e. How my Brother Leon Brought Home a Wife by Manuel E. Arguilla
f. We or They by Hernando R. Ocampo
g. The Chieftest Mourner by Aida Rivera Ford
h. May Day Eve by Nick Joaquin
i. Children of the Ash Covered Loam by N.V.M. Gonzalez
j. The Wedding Dance by Amador T. Daguio
k. Hunger and Visitation of the God by Gilda Cordero Fernando
l. The Dog-Eaters & The Day of the Locust by Leoncio P. Deriada
m. Faith, Love, Time and Dr. Lazaro by Gregorio C. Brilliantes
n. The Virgin by Kerima Polotan- Tuvera
o. Zita - by Arturo B. Rotor
p. My Father Goes to Court by Carlos Bulosan
q. Without Seeing the Dawn by Stevan Javellana

E. Take the Quiz/Assessment

F. Reference

UNIT 3. POETRY

A. Nature of Poetry.
B. Figures of Speech
C. Types of Poetry that Flourished in the Philippines
D. Noted Filipino Poets in English
E. Selections for Analysis

a. Proem & Sonnet 1 by Jose Garcia Villa

b. The Rural Maid by Fernando M. Maramag
c. The Spouse by Luis G. Dato
d. The Brook & Change by Burce Bunao
e. To a Lost One by Angela Manalang –Gloria
f. Youth & When I See a Barong-Barong by Maximo Ramos

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g. Ink & Picture Show by Guillermo Castillo

h. Letter to Pedro, Also Called Pete by Rene Estella Amper
i. Valediction sa Hillcrest by Rolando Tinio
j. Like the Molave by Rafael Zulueta da Costa

F. Take the Quiz/Assessment

G. Reference

UNIT 4. THE ESSAY

A. Nature and Types of Essay

B. Elements of the Essay
C. Essays for Analysis:
a. What is an Educated Filipino by Francisco Benitez
b. College Uneducation by Jorge Bocobo
c. The World in a Train by Francisco Icasiano
d. Hail and Farewell & The Will of the River by Alfredo Gonzales
e. Sonia by Francisco B. Icasiano

D. Adding Up
E. Take the Quiz/Assessment
F. Reference

UNIT 5. THE DRAMA

A. Nature and Elements of Drama

B. Noted Filipino Playwrights in English
C. Selections in Drama

a. New Yorker in Tondo by Marcelino Agana, Jr.

b. The World is an Apple by Alberto S. Florentino

D. Adding Up
E. Take the Quiz/Assessment
F. Reference

How Much Do You Know?

Directions: Answer the following questions. Encircle the letter of your answer

1. These are stories originating in popular culture, typically passed on by word of mouth.
a. Legends
b. Myths
c. Folk tales
d. Poem
2. Into which genre do myths, legends and folktales belong?
a. Short Stories
b. Folk Literature
c. Written Literature
d. Poetry
3. In the 1600's, the Spanish language which became the literary language during this time lent many of
its words to our language.
a. True
b. False

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4. It is a form of literature that uses aesthetic and rhythmic qualities of language—such as sound
symbolism, and meter—to evoke meanings in addition to, or in place of, the prosaic meaning.
a. Poem
b. Essay
c. Speech
d. Narrative
5. It is a piece of prose fiction that can be read in one sitting.
a. Poem
b. Short Story
c. Novel
d. Essay
6. Generally, it is a piece of writing that gives the author's own argument.
a. Speech
b. Novel
c. Poem
d. Essay
7. In the 1600's, the Spanish language which became the literary language during this time lent many of
its words to our language.
a. True
b. False
8. DOCTRINA CRISTIANA (THE CHRISTIAN DOCTRINE). This was the first book printed in the Philippines
in 1593 in xylography.
a. True
b. False
9. This was the novel that gave spirit to the propaganda movement and paved the way to the revolution
against Spain.
a. La Solidaridad
b. Noli Me Tangere
c. El Filibusterismo
d. Mi Ultimo Adios
10. A perspective from which a story is told in 1st or 3rd person is called the __________.
a. Conflict
b. Plot
c. Point of View
d. Setting

How well did you do?

How do you feel about the test? Did it make you feel confident or insecure? Your feelings will be your
guide to go slow or breeze through this module.

Here is the answer key and category to your pre-test.

1. C. Folk tales
2. B. Folk Literature
3. A. True
4. A. Poem
5. B. Short Story
6. D. Essay
7. A. True
8. A. True
9. B. Noli Me Tangere
10. C. Point of View
Please continue to study this module as a review. If you go lower than 10, studying this module is a
must.
Now let us begin the exploration of this Module

Acquire New Knowledge

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Unit 1: UNIT 1. INTRODUCTION TO LITERATURE

Desired Learning Outcomes:

1. Identified and discussed substantially the functions of literature.

2. Distinguished the different critical lenses used in analyzing literary works.
3. Listed down chronologically the time frames in Philippine Literature in English.
4. Described the types of literature that flourished during different periods of Philippine
Literature in English.
5. Identified the authorial and text styles in the studied Philippine masterpieces in English.

Literature, in its broadest sense, is any written work. Etymologically, the term derives from Latin
litaritura/litteratura “writing formed with letters,” although some definitions include spoken or sung
texts. More restrictively, it is writing that possesses literary merit. Literature can be classified
according to whether it is fiction or non-fiction and whether it is poetry or prose. It can be further
distinguished according to major forms such as the novel, short story or drama, and works are often
categorized according to historical periods or their adherence to certain aesthetic features or
expectations (genre).

Taken to mean only written works, literature was first produced by some of the world’s earliest
civilizations—those of Ancient Egypt and Sumeria—as early as the 4th millennium BC; taken to
include spoken or sung texts, it originated even earlier, and some of the first written works may have
been based on a pre-existing oral tradition. As urban cultures and societies developed, there was a
proliferation in the forms of literature. Developments in print technology allowed for literature to be
distributed and experienced on an unprecedented scale, which has culminated in the twenty-first
century in electronic literature.

TOPICS:
1. Functions of Literature
2. The critical lenses
3. The different
Time Frames in Philippine Literature in English
(1900-present)
4. Types of Literature that flourished during the different periods of Philippine Literature
in English
5. The Great Filipino Literary Writers in English and their masterpieces.

LESSON 1. FUNCTIONS OF LITERATURE

What is Literature?

‫ ﷻ‬writings in prose or verse.

‫ ﷻ‬expression and expressing ideas of permanent or universal interest.
‫ ﷻ‬body of written works produced in a particular language, country or age.

Functions of Literature

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1. Entertainment
2. Social and Political
3. Ideological
4. Moral
5. Linguistic
6. Cultural
7. Educational
8. Historical

Entertainment

“pleasure reading”
Used to entertain its readers
Consumed for one’s enjoyment

Social and Political

Social and Political

Shows how society works around them
Helps readers “see” social and political constructions around him
Shows the state of the people and the world

Ideological

Shapes our way of thinking based on the ideas of other people

Displays a person’s ideology placed in the text consciously and unconsciously

Moral

Imparts values to readers

Shapes personality (whether good or bad)

Linguistic

Preserves language of every civilization from where it originated

Evidences that a certain civilization has existed by recording the language and preserving it
through wide spans of time.

Cultural

Orients us to the tradition, folklore and the arts of our ethnic group’s heritage.
Preserves entire culture and creates an imprint of the people’s way of living for others to
read, hear and learn.

Educational

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Teaches us many things about human experience (life)

Used to portray the facets of life that we see and those we will never dream of seeing

Historical

Ancient texts, illuminated scripts, stone tablets

Record of events that happened in the place where they originate
Serves as time capsules of letters that is studied by scholars and researchers of today

LESSON 2. THE CRITICAL LENSES

1. Archetypal Criticism
2. Feminist Criticism
3. Marxist Criticism
4. New Criticism
5. Psychological and Psychoanalytic Criticism
6. Reader-response Criticism
7. Deconstruction
8. Historical Criticism
9. Structuralism

THE ARCHETYPAL CRITICISM

Focuses on elemental, universal and primitive patterns whose effective embodiment in a

literary work evokes a profound response from the reader. e.g. journey underground,
heavenly ascent, earth goddess

FEMINIST CRITICISM

Sees cultural and economic disabilities in a patriarchal society that have hindered or
prevented women from realizing their creative possibilities and women’s cultural
identification as a merely negative object. e.g. concepts of gender

MARXIST CRITICISM

Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels

Evolving history of humanity, its institution and its way of thinking
Historical changes
Human consciousness

NEW CRITICISM

Directed against the prevailing concern of critics with the lives and psychology of authors,
with social background and literary history.

PSYCHOLOGICAL AND PSYCHOANALYTIC

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Deals with the work of literature primarily as an expression in fictional form of the
personality, state of mind, feelings and desires of its author.
The work of literature is correlated with its author’s mental traits.

READER-RESPONSE CRITICISM

Focuses on the activity of reading a work of literature.

Literary work is converted into an activity that goes on a reader’s mind in which features of
the text is less important. Through this interaction, meaning is made.

DECONSTRUCTION

Interpretation of a very smart person or very unstable who declares that literature means
nothing because language means nothing.
One cannot say that we know the meaning of the story because there is no way of knowing.

HISTORICAL CRITICISM

Requires that you apply to a text specific historical information about the time during which
an author wrote.
History in this case refers to the social, political, economic, cultural and intellectual climate
of the time.

STRUCTURALISM

Investigates the kind of patterns that are built up or broken down within a text and uses
them to get an interpretation.

LESSON 3. Time Frames of Philippine Literature in English

1898-1910 Period of Reorientation

1910-1925 Period of Imitation

1925-1941 Period of Self-discovery

1941-1945 Japanese Period

1945-1970 The Rebirth of Freedom

1970-1972 Period of Activism

1972- 1981 Period of the New Society

1981-1985 Period of the Third Republic

1985-Present Contemporary Period

Period of Reorientation
1898-1910
 Not much literary work was produced because writers are still adjusting to the idea of
democracy, the new phraseology of the English language and standard of the English literary
style.
 Periodicals and poetry emerged during this time.
 1907 – Sursum Corda (Justo Juliano) || LIT 202 (Ma’am Jonalyn)
 First work to be published in English
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Period of Imitation
1910-1925
 Filipino writers imitated heavily American and British Models which resulted
in a stilted, artificial and unnatural style, lacking vitality and spontaneity.
 Short Stories, novels and essays in English exist in this period.
 Fernando Maramag, the best Editorial Writer in this period.

Period of Self Discovery

1925-1941

 Poetry produced during this time were written original, spontaneous and
competently even socially conscious.
 Poetry, essay, Biography, History Publications and drama.
 1930-1940 –The Golden Era of Filipino Writing in English
 Jose Garcia Villa
 Footnote to Youth

Japanese Era
1941-1945

 Writings were journalistic in nature

 Writers felt suppressed
 Major writers waited for better climate to publish their work
 Carlos P. Romulo
 “I saw the Fall of the Philippines, I see the Philippines
Rise” and “My Brother Americans”

Rebirth of Freedom
1945-1970

 Longer pieces were being written by writers during this period.

 Many writers in English were recognized abroad.

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Period of Activism
1970-1972
 Took place when people wanted to see changes in the government.
 They had the desire for change and emphasize the importance of
nationalism and petitions.
 Rolando Tinio (Rage and Ritual)
 Rogelio Mangahas (Mga Duguang Plakard)
 Efren Abueg (Liwayway, Bulaklak, Tagumpay and Homelife

Period of New Society

1972- 1981
 All themes in most writings dealt with the development or progress of
the country.
 Bilingual Education was initiated by the board of National Education.
 Writers in this period were:
 Panciano Pineda
 Aniceto Silveste
 Jose Garcia Revelo

Period of Third Republic

1981-1985
 Poems during this period were romantic and revolutionary.
 Writers wrote openly of their criticisms against the government.
 Alfredo Navarro Salanga
 Panorama Magazine in his column “ Post-PrandalReflections”

Contemporary Period
1985-Present
 Filipino writers continue to write poetry, short stories, novels, and essays whether socially
committed, gender/ethnic related or are personal on intention or not.
 Macario Pineda
 Ginto sa Makiling
 Style of writing is closest to Balagtas.

Note: Please search/browse topic for further reading

Apply your Knowledge

Directions: Fill in the missing information below. Write your answers comprehensively.

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TIME FRAME OF PHILIPPINE LITERATURE IN ENGLISH

YEAR DURATION PERIOD SALIENT POINTS

1898-1910

1910-1925

1925-1941

1941-1945

1945-1970

1970-1972

1972- 1981

1981-1985

1985-Present

Assess your Knowledge

Directions: Identify the following being asked for. Write your answer on the space before the
number.

1. In what year did the Philippines regained its freedom and the Filipino waved joyously
alone.
2. This tells of the grim experiences of war during the Japanese Occupation. It was written by
Stevan Javellana.

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3. Why is it called the rebirth of freedom?

4. Common themes of most poems during the Spanish Occupation.
5. He won the Pulitzer Prize for his bestsellers I SAW THE FALL OF THE PHILIPPINES, I SEE THE
PHILIPPINES RISE and HIS MOTHER AMERICA and MY BROTHER AMERICANS.
6. In what year did English become the medium of instruction in the public schools?
7. The first woman poet in the Philippines who was good in Spanish.
8. The peace movement started as early as ______________.
9. Example of magazine during the Period of the New Society.
10. What newspaper became the opposition paper?

References:

Croghan, R.(1978). The development of Philippine literature in English ( since 1900). Quezon City:
Phoenix Publishing House.

Dones, M G. (2009). Philippine Literature. A Student Guide. Intramuros, Manila: Mindshapers co. Inc.

Kahayon, A. and Zulueta.,C (2000). Philippine literature through the years. Mandaluyong City:
National Book Store

Tan, A.B. (1991) Introduction to Literature. Metro Manila: NationalBookstore, Inc.

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Acquire New Knowledge

Unit 2:

Desired Learning Outcomes:

1. Identified and discussed the contributions of the famous fictionists in the development of the modern
short story.
2. Analyzed the stories using any of the critical lenses.
3. Discussed the relevance of the theme of each selection to real-life people and situations.
4. Created comics version of selected short stories or written a character sketch of selected fictional
characters.
5. Designed and presented multi-media works showing their creativity as a response to selections.

Fiction, literature created from the imagination, not presented as fact, though it may be based
on a true story or situation. Types of literature in the fiction genre include the novel, short story, and
novel. The word is from the Latin fictiō, “the act of making, fashioning, or molding”.
The work of fiction is created in the imagination of its author. The author invents the story and
makes up the characters, the plot or storyline, the dialogue and sometimes even the setting. A fictional
work does not claim to tell a true story. Instead, it immerses us in experiences that we may never have in
real life, introduces us to types of people we may never otherwise meet and takes us to places we may
never visit in any other way. Fiction can inspire us, intrigue us, scare us and engage us in new ideas. It can
help us see ourselves and our world in new and interesting ways. What's more, it's often just plain fun!

TOPICS:

1. Nature of Fiction
2. Elements of Fiction
3. The great Filipino fictionists in English
1. Selections for Analysis
a. Footnote to Youth by Jose Garcia Villa
b. Dead Stars by Paz Marquez Benitez
c. Harvest by Loreto Paras-Sulit
d. Scent of Apples by Bienvenido Santos
e. How my Brother Leon Brought Home a Wife by Manuel E. Arguilla
f. We or They by Hernando R. Ocampo
g. The Chieftest Mourner by Aida Rivera Ford
h. May Day Eve by Nick Joaquin
i. Children of the Ash Covered Loam by N.V.M. Gonzales
j. The Wedding Dance by Amador T. Daguio
k. Visitation of the Gods by Gilda Cordero Fernando
l. The Dog-Eaters by Leoncio P. Deriada
m. Faith, Love, Time and Dr. Lazaro by Gregorio C. Brilliantes
n. The Virgin by Kerima Polotan- Tuvera
o. Zita by Arturo B. Rotor
p. My Father Goes to Court by Carlos Bulosan
q. Without Seeing the Dawn by Stevan Javellana

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LESSON 1. THE NATURE OF FICTION

Fiction is something invented by the imagination or feigned,

specifically an invented story (Merriam-Webster).
It is a literature in the form of prose, especially short stories and novels, that describes
imaginary events and people (Oxford Dictionary).

According to Gregory Currie about the nature of fiction:

Fictional story is not “a set of distinct (atomic) propositions but one big proposition.”
It checks with our common view of literary fictions as unified wholes rather than atomized groupings
of disjointed statements.
He argues that the concept of fiction can be explained partly in terms of communicative
intentions, partly in terms of a condition which excludes relations of counterfactual dependence
between the world and text.

Functions:

Entertain Inspire

Encourage

Fiction Genres
REALISTIC FICTION
 A genre of a story that has believable events and
characteristics that could actually happen in real life.
 It can take place in a real setting, it is not based on history
or science.

HISTORICAL FICTION

 A mix of fiction and historical facts.

 It is based on historical events but the story is mostly untrue.
 It could possibly have historical character.

FANTASY

 The story couldn’t happen in real life.

 It typically involves magic or supernatural powers.
 Oftentimes, it takes place in another world or has
make believe characters.

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ROMANCE
 The love relationship between a man and a woman
pervades the plot.
 The bulk of the plot mostly focuses on the man and
woman falling in love and struggling to maintain that love.

HORROR
 Horror fiction is simply the intention to frighten readers by exploiting
their fears.
 It aims to evoke a combination of fear, fascination and revulsion in
readers.

MYSTERY

 A fiction story based on a mysterious event or a crime.

 The story provides clues throughout the story, but the
mystery isn’t typically solved until the end of the story.

ACTION/ADVENTURE

 It has a fast-paced plot with physical action and violence.

 It is usually based around a quest where the hero
must achieve some specific goal in the face of extreme
danger.

SCIENCE FICTION
 Science fiction can be defined as literature involving elements of science
and technology as a basis for conflict, or as the setting for a story.
 The science and technology are generally based from existing scientific
fact.
 “Speculative fiction”

TYPES OF FICTION

SHORT STORY

A short story is a piece of fiction that can be read in one sitting of about a half hour
to about two hours. -Edgar Allan Poe
 It contains between 1,000 and 20,000 words and typically run no more
than 25 or 30 pages.
 They generally focus on one major plot or storyline and a few characters.

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NOVEL/NOVELLA

Novel is an invented prose narrative with a considerable length.

- they usually have more than one plot or storyline and many well-developed
characters.
- over 50,000 words or 120 pages 
Novella is longer than short stories but shorter than novel.
- they typically have a more complex plot or storyline and more characters than
short stories.
- 20,000 to 50,000 words, usually between 60 and 120 pages.

FOLKLORE AND FOKLTALES

Folklore is a collection of fictional tales about people or animals.

Superstitions and unfounded beliefs are important elements in the folklore
tradition.
Folktale is a short, simple story told for entertainment and to teach values and morals
important to the culture it comes from.

MYTH

 A myth is a traditional story that may answer life's overarching questions, such
as the origins of the world, places, plants or of people.
 It can also be an attempt to explain mysteries, supernatural events, and cultural
traditions. 
 Sometimes sacred in nature, a myth can involve gods or other creatures.

LEGEND
A legend is a story that's purported to be historical in nature but that is without
substantiation. 
The story is handed down orally but continues to evolve with time.

LESSON 2: ELEMENTS OF FICTION

Characters
Characterization is a means by which writers present and reveal characters.
 a person, an animal, or an imaginary creature that takes the part in the action of
the story.
 Static characters - They remain the same from the beginning of a work to the
end.
 Dynamic characters- exhibit some kind of change as the story progresses.

Setting
The major elements of setting are the time, the place, and the social environment
that frames the characters.
Types of setting:

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 The physical setting is where the story takes place.  

 The chronological setting, the “when,” can be equally general or specific
Setting can be used to evoke a mood or atmosphere that will prepare the reader for
what is to come.

Plot
The arrangement of events that make up a story.

Conflict is the struggle between opposing forces, that is usually resolved by the end of the
story.

Point of View
It refers to WHO tells the story and HOW it is being told.
 First Person point of view- the story is told by the main character within
the story.
uses the first person pronoun “I”
 Third Person point of view- the story is not told by a character but by an
“invisible author”.
uses the third person pronoun (he, she, or it)
 Omniscient: The narrator is all-knowing and takes the reader inside the
characters’ thoughts, feelings, and motives, as well as shows what the
characters say and do.
 Limited : The narrator takes the reader inside one but neither the reader
nor the character has access to the inner lives of any of the other
characters in the story.

Symbols
A person, object, image, word, or event that evokes a range of additional meaning
beyond and usually more abstract than its literal significance.
 Conventional symbols have meanings that are widely recognized by a
society or culture.
 Literary or contextual symbol can be a setting, a character, action, object,
name, or anything else in a specific work that maintains its literal
significance while suggesting other meanings.

Style and Tone

Style- is the way a writer chooses words (diction), arranges them in sentences and longer
units of discourse (syntax) and exploits their significance.
The verbal identity of a writer.
Tone- is the author’s implicit attitude toward the reader, subject, and/or the people, places,
and events in a work.

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Theme
The central idea or meaning of a story. It provides a unifying point around where
the plot, characters, setting, point of view, symbols, and other elements of a story are
organized.
A theme is a statement about a topic.

LESSON 3: THE GREAT FILIPINO FICTIONISTS IN ENGLISH

Francisco Sionil Jose

 His novels and short stories depict the social underpinnings of class
struggles and colonialism in Filipino society.

Works:
 Rosales Saga novels
 The God Stealer and Other Stories (2001) 
 Puppy Love and Thirteen Short Stories
 Viajero(1993)

Peter Solis Nery

 a Filipino poet, fictionist, author, and filmmaker.
 In 2015, he became the first Filipino author to be invited to the Sharjah
International Book Fair in the United Arab Emirates.

Works:
 If the Shoe Fits: Or, The Five Men Imelda Marcos Meets in Heaven
 Cory, Full of Grace 
 Kakunyag: Erotic Sonnets in Hiligaynon 
 Stories in a Mellifluous Language

Francisco Arcellana
  a Filipino writer, poet, essayist, critic, journalist and teacher. 
 Arcellana pioneered the development of the short story as a lyrical prose-
poetic form within Filipino literature.

Notable works:
 Selected Stories (1962)
 The Francisco Arcellana Sampler
 The Flowers of May

Lualhati Torres Bautista

 One of the foremost filipino female novelists in the history of
contemporary philippine literature.
 Bautista as a writer became known for her honest realism.

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Works:
 Bulaklak sa City Jail
 Dekada '70
 Bata, Bata… Pa’no Ka Ginawa?
 Ang Babae sa Basag na Salamin (1994)

Ziolo Galang
 credited as one of the pioneering Filipino writers who worked with the English
language.
 A Child of Sorrow (1921) – first Philippine novel in English
 Tales of the Philippines (1921) – first volume of Philippine legends and folk
tales written in English
 The Box of Ashes and Other Stories (1924) – first volume of Philippine short
stories in English

LESSON 4: SELECTION FOR ANALYSIS

A. Jose Garcia Villa

 a Filipino poet, literary critic, short story writer, and painter.
 He is known to have used the extensive use of
punctuation marks, especially commas, which made him known as
the Comma Poet.

Works:
 Footnote to Youth in 1933
 Have Come, Am Here in 1942
 Philippine Short Stories: Best 25 Short Stories of 1928 in
1929

Footnote to Youth
Characters:
 Dodong- the husband of Teang
 Teang- Wife of Dodong
 Lucio- Suitor of Teang
 Blas- Son of Teang and Dodong
 Tona- the woman that Blas wanted to marry.
Setting
 Farm

THE STORY

Footnote to Youth

1The sun was salmon and hazy in the west. Dodong thought to himself he would tell his father about
Teang when he got home, after he had unhitched the carabao from the plow, and let it to

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its shed and fed it. He was hesitant about saying it, but he wanted his father to know. What
he had to say was of serious import as it would mark a climacteric in his life. Dodong finally
decided to tell it, at a thought came to him his father might refuse to consider it. His father
was silent hard-working farmer who chewed areca nut, which he had learned to do from his
mother, Dodong's grandmother.

2I will tell it to him. I will tell it to him.

3The ground was broken up into many fresh wounds and fragrant with a sweetish earthy smell.
Many slender soft worms emerged from the furrows and then burrowed again deeper into
the soil. A short colorless worm marched blindly to Dodong's foot and crawled calmly over
it. Dodong go tickled and jerked his foot, flinging the worm into the air. Dodong did not
bother to look where it fell, but thought of his age, seventeen, and he said to himself he
was not young any more.

4Dodong unhitched the carabao leisurely and gave it a healthy tap on the hip. The beast turned its
head to look at him with dumb faithful eyes. Dodong gave it a slight push and the animal
walked alongside him to its shed. He placed bundles of grass before it land the carabao
began to eat. Dodong looked at it without interests.

5Dodong started homeward, thinking how he would break his news to his father. He wanted to
marry, Dodong did. He was seventeen, he had pimples on his face, the down on his upper
lip already was dark--these meant he was no longer a boy. He was growing into a man – he
was a man. Dodong felt insolent and big at the thought of it although he was by nature low
in statue.
Thinking himself a man grown, Dodong felt he could do anything.

6He walked faster, prodded by the thought of his virility. A small angled stone bled his foot, but he
dismissed it cursorily. He lifted his leg and looked at the hurt toe and then went on walking.
In the cool sundown he thought wild you dreams of himself and Teang. Teang, his girl. She
had a small brown face and small black eyes and straight glossy hair. How desirable she was
to him. She made him dream even during the day.

7Dodong tensed with desire and looked at the muscles of his arms. Dirty. This field work was
healthy, invigorating but it begrimed you, smudged you terribly. He turned back the way he
had come, then he marched obliquely to a creek.

8Dodong stripped himself and laid his clothes, a gray undershirt and red kundiman shorts, on the
grass. The he went into the water, wet his body over, and rubbed at it vigorously. He was
not long in bathing, then he marched homeward again. The bath made him feel cool.

9It was dusk when he reached home. The petroleum lamp on the ceiling already was lighted and the
low unvarnished square table was set for supper. His parents and he sat down on the floor
around the table to eat. They had fried fresh-water fish, rice, bananas, and caked sugar.

10Dodong ate fish and rice, but did not partake of the fruit. The bananas were overripe and when
one held them they felt more fluid than solid. Dodong broke off a piece of the cakes sugar,
dipped it in his glass of water and ate it. He got another piece and wanted some more, but
he thought of leaving the remainder for his parents.

11Dodong's mother removed the dishes when they were through and went out to the batalan to
wash them. She walked with slow careful steps and Dodong wanted to help her carry the
dishes out, but he was tired and now felt lazy. He wished as he looked at her that he had a
sister who could help his mother in the housework. He pitied her, doing all the housework
alone.

12His father remained in the room, sucking a diseased tooth. It was paining him again, Dodong
knew. Dodong had told him often and again to let the town dentist pull it out, but he was
afraid, his father was. He did not tell that to Dodong, but Dodong guessed it. Afterward
Dodong himself thought that if he had a decayed tooth he would be afraid to go to the
dentist; he would not be any bolder than his father.

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13Dodong said while his mother was out that he was going to marry Teang. There it was out, what
he had to say, and over which he had done so much thinking. He had said it without any
effort at all and without self-consciousness. Dodong felt relieved and looked at his father
expectantly. A decrescent moon outside shed its feeble light into the window, graying the
still black temples of his father. His father looked old now.

14"I am going to marry Teang," Dodong said.

15His father looked at him silently and stopped sucking the broken tooth. The silence became
intense and cruel, and Dodong wished his father would suck that troublous tooth again.
Dodong was uncomfortable and then became angry because his father kept looking at him
without uttering anything.

16"I will marry Teang," Dodong repeated. "I will marry Teang."

17His father kept gazing at him in inflexible silence and Dodong fidgeted on his seat.

18"I asked her last night to marry me and she said...yes. I want your permission. I... want... it...."
There was impatient clamor in his voice, an exacting protest at this coldness, this
indifference. Dodong looked at his father sourly. He cracked his knuckles one by one, and
the little sounds it made broke dully the night stillness.

19"Must you marry, Dodong?"

20Dodong resented his father's questions; his father himself had married. Dodong made a quick
impassioned easy in his mind about selfishness, but later he got confused.

21"You are very young, Dodong."

22"I'm... seventeen."

23"That's very young to get married at."

24"I... I want to marry...Teang's a good girl."

25"Tell your mother," his father said.

26"You tell her, Tatay."

27"Dodong, you tell your Inay."

28"You tell her."

29"All right, Dodong."

30"You will let me marry Teang?"

31"Son, if that is your wish... of course..." There was a strange helpless light in his father's eyes.
Dodong did not read it, so absorbed was he in himself.

32Dodong was immensely glad he had asserted himself. He lost his resentment for his father. For a
while he even felt sorry for him about the diseased tooth. Then he confined his mind to
dreaming of Teang and himself. Sweet young dream....

33Dodong stood in the sweltering noon heat, sweating profusely, so that his camiseta was damp. He
was still as a tree and his thoughts were confused. His mother had told him not to leave the
house, but he had left. He had wanted to get out of it without clear reason at all. He was
afraid, he felt. Afraid of the house. It had seemed to cage him, to compares his thoughts
with severe tyranny. Afraid also of Teang. Teang was giving birth in the house; she gave
screams that chilled his blood. He did not want her to scream like that, he seemed to be

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rebuking him. He began to wonder madly if the process of childbirth was really painful.
Some women, when they gave birth, did not cry.

34In a few moments he would be a father. "Father, father," he whispered the word with awe, with
strangeness. He was young, he realized now, contradicting himself of nine months
comfortable... "Your son," people would soon be telling him. "Your son, Dodong."

35Dodong felt tired standing. He sat down on a saw-horse with his feet close together. He looked at
his callused toes. Suppose he had ten children... What made him think that? What was the
matter with him? God!

36He heard his mother's voice from the house:

37"Come up, Dodong. It is over."

38Suddenly he felt terribly embarrassed as he looked at her. Somehow he was ashamed to his
mother of his youthful paternity. It made him feel guilty, as if he had taken something no
properly his. He dropped his eyes and pretended to dust dirt off his kundiman shorts.

39"Dodong," his mother called again. "Dodong."

40He turned to look again and this time saw his father beside his mother.

41"It is a boy," his father said. He beckoned Dodong to come up.

42Dodong felt more embarrassed and did not move. What a moment for him. His parents' eyes
seemed to pierce him through and he felt limp.

43He wanted to hide from them, to run away.

44"Dodong, you come up. You come up," he mother said.

45Dodong did not want to come up and stayed in the sun.

45"Dodong. Dodong."

46"I'll... come up."

47Dodong traced tremulous steps on the dry parched yard. He ascended the bamboo steps slowly.
His heart pounded mercilessly in him. Within, he avoided his parents’ eyes. He walked
ahead of them so that they should not see his face. He felt guilty and untrue. He felt like
crying.
His eyes smarted and his chest wanted to burst. He wanted to turn back, to go back to the yard.
He wanted somebody to punish him.

48His father thrust his hand in his and gripped it gently.

49"Son," his father said.

50And his mother: "Dodong..."

51How kind were their voices. They flowed into him, making him strong.

52"Teang?" Dodong said.

53"She's sleeping. But you go on..."

54His father led him into the small sawali room. Dodong saw Teang, his girl-wife, asleep on the
papag with her black hair soft around her face. He did not want her to look that pale.

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55Dodong wanted to touch her, to push away that stray wisp of hair that touched her lips, but again
that feeling of embarrassment came over him and before his parents he did not want to be
demonstrative.

56The hilot was wrapping the child, Dodong heard it cry. The thin voice pierced him queerly. He
could not control the swelling of happiness in him.
57“You give him to me. You give him to me," Dodong said.

58Blas was not Dodong's only child. Many more children came. For six successive years a new child
came along. Dodong did not want any more children, but they came. It seemed the coming
of children could not be helped. Dodong got angry with himself sometimes.

59Teang did not complain, but the bearing of children told on her. She was shapeless and thin now,
even if she was young. There was interminable work to be done. Cooking. Laundering. The
house. The children. She cried sometimes, wishing she had not married. She did not tell
Dodong this, not wishing him to dislike her. Yet she wished she had not married. Not even Dodong,
whom she loved. There has been another suitor, Lucio, older than Dodong by nine years,
and that was why she had chosen Dodong. Young Dodong. Seventeen. Lucio had married
another after her marriage to Dodong, but he was childless until now. She wondered if she
had married Lucio, would she have borne him children. Maybe not, either. That was a
better lot. But she loved Dodong...

60Dodong whom life had made ugly.

61One night, as he lay beside his wife, he rose and went out of the house. He stood in the
moonlight, tired and querulous. He wanted to ask questions and somebody to answer him.
He wanted to be wise about many things.

62One of them was why life did not fulfill all of Youth's dreams. Why it must be so. Why one was
forsaken... after Love.

63Dodong would not find the answer. Maybe the question was not to be answered. It must be so to
make youth Youth. Youth must be dreamfully sweet. Dreamfully sweet. Dodong returned to
the house humiliated by himself. He had wanted to know a little wisdom but was denied it.

64When Blas was eighteen he came home one night very flustered and happy. It was late at night
and Teang and the other children were asleep. Dodong heard Blas' steps, for he could not
sleep well of nights. He watched Blas undress in the dark and lie down softly. Blas was
restless on his mat and could not sleep. Dodong called him name and asked why he did not
sleep. Blas said he could not sleep.

65"You better go to sleep. It is late," Dodong said.

66Blas raised himself on his elbow and muttered something in a low fluttering voice.

67Dodong did not answer and tried to sleep.

68"Itay ...," Blas called softly.

69Dodong stirred and asked him what it was.

70"I am going to marry Tona. She accepted me tonight."

71Dodong lay on the red pillow without moving.

72"Itay, you think it over."

73Dodong lay silent.

74"I love Tona and... I want her."

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75Dodong rose from his mat and told Blas to follow him. They descended to the yard, where
everything was still and quiet. The moonlight was cold and white.

76"You want to marry Tona," Dodong said. He did not want Blas to marry yet. Blas was very young.
The life that would follow marriage would be hard...

77"Yes."

78"Must you marry?"

79Blas' voice stilled with resentment. "I will marry Tona."

80Dodong kept silent, hurt.

81"You have objections, Itay?" Blas asked acridly.

82"Son... n-none..." (But truly, God, I don't want Blas to marry yet... not yet. I don't want Blas to
marry yet....)

83But he was helpless. He could not do anything. Youth must triumph... now. Love must triumph...
now. Afterwards... it will be life.

84As long ago Youth and Love did triumph for Dodong... and then Life. Dodong looked wistfully at his
young son in the moonlight. He felt extremely sad and sorry for him.

B. Paz Marquez- Benitez

 a Filipina short-story writer.
 authored the first Filipino modern English language short story, Dead Stars
 Márquez-Benítez later became a teacher at the University of the Philippines,
who taught short-story writing.

Notable works:
 Dead Stars
 "Filipino Love Stories”

THE DEAD STARS

Characters:
 Alfredo Salazar- engage to Esperanza but still fleeting with Julia Salas
 Esperanza- wife of Alfredo
 Julia Salas- Other girl of Alfredo
 Don Jlian: Father of Alfredo and Carmen
 Carmen- sister of Alfredo
 Judge Del Valle- brother in-law of Julia Salas
 Donna Adella- sister of Jlia Salas
 Calixta- Note carrier of Alfredo and Esperanza
 Dionisio- Husband of Donna Adella
 Vicente: Husband of Carmen
 Brigida Samuy: illusive woman that Alfredo is looking for.
Setting:
 Don Julian house
 The time of the story is the Lenten Season

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THE STORY

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EXTENSION CAMPUS AT HIMAMAYLAN CITY
Himamaylan City, Negros Occidental

DIVISION OF ENGLISH

DEAD STARS
Sitting quietly in his room now, he could almost
THROUGH the open window the air-steeped revive the restlessness of those days, the feeling
outdoors passed into his room, quietly enveloping of tumultuous haste, such as he knew so well in
him, stealing into his very thought. Esperanza, his boyhood when something beautiful was going
Julia, the sorry mess he had made of life, the years on somewhere and he was trying to get there in
to come even now beginning to weigh down, to time to see. "Hurry, hurry, or you will miss it,"
crush--they lost concreteness, diffused into someone had seemed to urge in his ears. So he
formless melancholy. The tranquil murmur of had avidly seized on the shadow of Love and
conversation issued from the bricktiled azotea deluded himself for a long while in the way of
where Don Julian and Carmen were busy humanity from time immemorial. In the
puttering away among the rose pots. meantime, he became very much engaged to
Esperanza.
"Papa, and when will the 'long table' be set?"
Why would men so mismanage their lives? Greed,
"I don't know yet. Alfredo is not very specific, but I he thought, was what ruined so many. Greed--the
understand Esperanza wants it to be next month." desire to crowd into a moment all the enjoyment
it will hold, to squeeze from the hour all the
Carmen sighed impatiently. "Why is he not a bit emotion it will yield. Men commit themselves
more decided, I wonder. He is over thirty, is he when but half-meaning to do so, sacrificing
not? And still a bachelor! Esperanza must be tired possible future fullness of ecstasy to the craving
waiting." for immediate excitement. Greed-mortgaging the
future--forcing the hand of Time, or of Fate.
"She does not seem to be in much of a hurry
either," Don Julian nasally commented, while his "What do you think happened?" asked Carmen,
rose scissors busily snipped away. pursuing her thought.

"How can a woman be in a hurry when the man "I supposed long-engaged people are like that;
does not hurry her?" Carmen returned, pinching warm now, cool tomorrow. I think they are
off a worm with a careful, somewhat absent air. oftener cool than warm. The very fact that an
"Papa, do you remember how much in love he engagement has been allowed to prolong itself
was?" argues a certain placidity of temperament--or of
affection--on the part of either, or both." Don
Julian loved to philosophize. He was talking now
"In love? With whom?"
with an evident relish in words, his resonant, very
nasal voice toned down to monologue pitch. "That
"With Esperanza, of course. He has not had
phase you were speaking of is natural enough for
another love affair that I know of," she said with
a beginning. Besides, that, as I see it, was Alfredo's
good-natured contempt. "What I mean is that at
last race with escaping youth--"
the beginning he was enthusiastic--flowers,
serenades, notes, and things like that--"
Carmen laughed aloud at the thought of her
brother's perfect physical repose--almost
Alfredo remembered that period with a wonder
indolence--disturbed in the role suggested by her
not unmixed with shame. That was less than four
father's figurative language.
years ago. He could not understand those months
of a great hunger that was not of the body nor yet
"A last spurt of hot blood," finished the old man.
of the mind, a craving that had seized on him one
quiet night when the moon was abroad and under
the dappled shadow of the trees in the plaza, man Few certainly would credit Alfredo Salazar with
wooed maid. Was he being cheated by life? Love-- hot blood. Even his friends had amusedly
he seemed to have missed it. Or was the love that diagnosed his blood as cool and thin, citing
others told about a mere fabrication of perfervid incontrovertible evidence. Tall and slender, he
imagination, an exaggeration of the moved with an indolent ease that verged on
commonplace, a glorification of insipid grace. Under straight recalcitrant hair, a thin face
monotonies such as made up his love life? Was with a satisfying breadth of forehead, slow,
love a combination of circumstances, or sheer dreamer's eyes, and astonishing freshness of lips-
native capacity of soul? In those days love was, for indeed Alfredo Salazar's appearance betokened
him, still the eternal puzzle; for love, as he knew little of exuberant masculinity; rather a poet with
it, was a stranger to love as he divined it might be. wayward humor, a fastidious artist with keen,
clear brain.

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me, but my name is Manalang, Manalang.' You

He rose and quietly went out of the house. He know, I never forgave him!"
lingered a moment on the stone steps; then went
down the path shaded by immature acacias, He laughed with her.
through the little tarred gate which he left
swinging back and forth, "The best thing to do under the circumstances, I
now opening, now closing, on the gravel road have found out," she pursued, "is to pretend not
bordered along the farther side by madre cacao to hear, and to let the other person find out his
hedge in tardy lavender bloom. mistake without help."

The gravel road narrowed as it slanted up to the "As you did this time. Still, you looked amused
house on the hill, whose wide, open porches he every time I--"
could glimpse through the heat-shrivelled
tamarinds in the Martinez yard. "I was thinking of Mr. Manalang."

Six weeks ago that house meant nothing to him Don Julian and his uncommunicative friend, the
save that it was the Martinez house, rented and Judge, were absorbed in a game of chess. The
occupied by Judge del Valle and his family. Six young man had tired of playing appreciative
weeks ago Julia Salas meant nothing to him; he spectator and desultory conversationalist, so he
did not even know her name; but now-- and Julia Salas had gone off to chat in the vine-
covered porch. The lone piano in the
One evening he had gone "neighboring" with Don neighborhood alternately tinkled and banged
Julian; a rare enough occurrence, since he made it away as the player's moods altered. He listened,
a point to avoid all appearance of currying favor and wondered irrelevantly if Miss Salas could sing;
with the Judge. This particular evening however, she had such a charming speaking voice.
he had allowed himself to be persuaded. "A little
mental relaxation now and then is beneficial," the He was mildly surprised to note from her
old man had said. "Besides, a judge's good will, appearance that she was unmistakably a sister of
you know;" the rest of the thought--"is worth a the Judge's wife, although Doña Adela was of a
rising young lawyer's trouble"--Don Julian different type altogether. She was small and
conveyed through a shrug and a smile that plump, with wide brown eyes, clearly defined
derided his own worldly wisdom. eyebrows, and delicately modeled hips--a pretty
woman with the complexion of a baby and the
A young woman had met them at the door. It was expression of a likable cow. Julia was taller, not so
evident from the excitement of the Judge's obviously pretty. She had the same eyebrows and
children that she was a recent and very welcome lips, but she was much darker, of a smooth rich
arrival. In the characteristic Filipino way formal brown with underlying tones of crimson which
introductions had been omitted--the judge heightened the impression she gave of abounding
limiting himself to a casual "Ah, ya se conocen?"-- vitality.
with the consequence that Alfredo called her Miss
del Valle throughout the evening. On Sunday mornings after mass, father and son
would go crunching up the gravel road to the
He was puzzled that she should smile with evident house on the hill. The Judge's wife invariably
delight every time he addressed her thus. Later offered them beer, which Don Julian enjoyed and
Don Julian informed him that she was not the Alfredo did not. After a half hour or so, the
Judge's sister, as he had supposed, but his sister- chessboard would be brought out; then Alfredo
in-law, and that her name was Julia Salas. A very and Julia Salas would go out to the porch to chat.
dignified rather austere name, he thought. Still, She sat in the low hammock and he in a rocking
the young lady should have corrected him. As it chair and the hours--warm, quiet March hours-
was, he was greatly embarrassed, and felt that he sped by. He enjoyed talking with her and it was
should explain. evident that she liked his company; yet what
feeling there was between them was so
To his apology, she replied, "That is nothing, Each undisturbed that it seemed a matter of course.
time I was about to correct you, but I Only when Esperanza chanced to ask him
remembered a similar experience I had once indirectly about those visits did some uneasiness
before." creep into his thoughts of the girl next door.

"Oh," he drawled out, vastly relieved. Esperanza had wanted to know if he went straight
home after mass. Alfredo suddenly realized that
"A man named Manalang--I kept calling him for several Sundays now he had not waited for
Manalo. After the tenth time or so, the young Esperanza to come out of the church as he had
man rose from his seat and said suddenly, 'Pardon

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been wont to do. He had been eager to go

"neighboring." "So long?"

He answered that he went home to work. And, "I should like to."
because he was not habitually untruthful, added,
"Sometimes I go with Papa to Judge del Valle's." Those six weeks were now so swift--seeming in
the memory, yet had they been so deep in the
She dropped the topic. Esperanza was not prone living, so
to indulge in unprovoked jealousies. She was a charged with compelling power and sweetness.
believer in the regenerative virtue of institutions, Because neither the past nor the future had
in their power to regulate feeling as well as relevance or meaning, he lived only the present,
conduct. If a man were married, why, of course, day by day, lived it intensely, with such a willful
he loved his wife; if he were engaged, he could shutting out of fact as astounded him in his calmer
not possibly love another woman. moments.

That half-lie told him what he had not admitted Just before Holy Week, Don Julian invited the
openly to himself, that he was giving Julia Salas judge and his family to spend Sunday afternoon at
something which he was not free to give. He Tanda where he had a coconut plantation and a
realized that; yet something that would not be house on the beach. Carmen also came with her
denied beckoned imperiously, and he followed on. four energetic children. She and Doña Adela spent
most of the time indoors directing the preparation
It was so easy to forget up there, away from the of the merienda and discussing the likeable
prying eyes of the world, so easy and so absurdities of their husbands-how Carmen's
poignantly sweet. The beloved woman, he Vicente was so absorbed in his farms that he
standing close to her, the shadows around, would not even take time off to accompany her
enfolding. on this visit to her father; how Doña Adela's
Dionisio was the most absentminded of men,
"Up here I find--something--" sometimes going out without his collar, or with
unmatched socks.
He and Julia Salas stood looking out into the she
quiet night. Sensing unwanted intensity, laughed, After the merienda, Don Julian sauntered off with
womanlike, asking, "Amusement?" the judge to show him what a thriving young
coconut looked like--"plenty of leaves, close set,
"No; youth--its spirit--" rich green"-while the children, convoyed by Julia
Salas, found unending entertainment in the
"Are you so old?" rippling sand left by the ebbing tide. They were far
down, walking at the edge of the water,
"And heart's desire." indistinctly outlined against the gray of the out-
curving beach.
Was he becoming a poet, or is there a poet lurking
in the heart of every man? Alfredo left his perch on the bamboo ladder of the
house and followed. Here were her footsteps,
narrow, arched. He laughed at himself for his
"Down there," he had continued, his voice
black canvas footwear which he removed
somewhat indistinct, "the road is too broad, too
forthwith and tossed high up on dry sand.
trodden by feet, too barren of mystery."

When he came up, she flushed, then smiled with

"Down there" beyond the ancient tamarinds lay
frank pleasure.
the road, upturned to the stars. In the darkness
the fireflies glimmered, while an errant breeze
strayed in from somewhere, bringing elusive, "I hope you are enjoying this," he said with a
faraway sounds as of voices in a dream. questioning inflection.

"Mystery--" she answered lightly, "that is so "Very much. It looks like home to me, except that
brief--" we do not have such a lovely beach."

"Not in some," quickly. "Not in you." There was a breeze from the water. It blew the
hair away from her forehead, and whipped the
tucked-up skirt around her straight, slender figure.
"You have known me a few weeks; so the
In the picture was something of eager freedom as
mystery."
of wings poised in flight. The girl had grace,
distinction. Her face was not notably pretty; yet
"I could study you all my life and still not find it."
she had a tantalizing charm, all the more

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 West Visayas State University 2020

compelling because it was an inner quality, an as if that background claimed her and excluded
achievement of the spirit. The lure was there, of him.
naturalness, of an alert vitality of mind and body,
of a thoughtful, sunny temper, and of a piquant "Nothing? There is you."
perverseness which is sauce to charm.
"Oh, me? But I am here."
"The afternoon has seemed very short, hasn't it?"
Then, "This, I think, is the last time--we can visit." "I will not go, of course, until you are there."

"The last? Why?" "Will you come? You will find it dull. There isn't
even one American there!"
"Oh, you will be too busy perhaps."
"Well--Americans are rather essential to my
He noted an evasive quality in the answer. entertainment."

"Do I seem especially industrious to you?" She laughed.

"If you are, you never look it." "We live on Calle Luz, a little street with trees."

"Not perspiring or breathless, as a busy man "Could I find that?"

ought to be."
"If you don't ask for Miss del Valle," she smiled
"But--" teasingly.

"Always unhurried, too unhurried, and calm." She "I'll inquire about--"
smiled to herself.
"What?"
"I wish that were true," he said after a meditative
pause. "The house of the prettiest girl in the town."

She waited. "There is where you will lose your way." Then she
turned serious. "Now, that is not quite sincere."
"A man is happier if he is, as you say, calm and
placid." "It is," he averred slowly, but emphatically.

"Like a carabao in a mud pool," she retorted "I thought you, at least, would not say such
perversely things."

"Who? I?" "Pretty--pretty--a foolish word! But there is none

other more handy I did not mean that quite--"
"Oh, no!"
"Are you withdrawing the compliment?"
"You said I am calm and placid."
"Re-enforcing it, maybe. Something is pretty when
"That is what I think." it pleases the eye--it is more than that when--"

"I used to think so too. Shows how little we know "If it saddens?" she interrupted hastily.
ourselves."
"Exactly."
It was strange to him that he could be wooing
thus: with tone and look and covert phrase. "It must be ugly."

"I should like to see your home town." "Always?"

"There is nothing to see--little crooked streets, Toward the west, the sunlight lay on the dimming
bunut roofs with ferns growing on them, and waters in a broad, glinting streamer of crimsoned
sometimes squashes." gold.

That was the background. It made her seem less "No, of course you are right."
detached, less unrelated, yet withal more distant,

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"Why did you say this is the last time?" he asked stores and tailor shops, of dingy shoe-repairing
quietly as they turned back. establishments, and a cluttered goldsmith's
cubbyhole where a consumptive bent over a
"I am going home." magnifying lens; heart of old brick-roofed houses
with quaint hand-and-ball knockers on the door;
The end of an impossible dream! heart of grass-grown plaza reposeful with trees, of
ancient church and convento, now circled by
"When?" after a long silence. swallows gliding in flight as smooth and soft as the
afternoon itself. Into the quickly deepening
twilight, the voice of the biggest of the church
"Tomorrow. I received a letter from Father and
bells kept ringing its insistent summons. Flocking
Mother yesterday. They want me to spend Holy
came the devout with their long wax candles,
Week at home."
young women in vivid apparel (for this was Holy
Thursday and the Lord was still alive), older
She seemed to be waiting for him to speak. "That
women in sober black skirts. Came too the young
is why I said this is the last time."
men in droves, elbowing each other under the
talisay tree near the church door. The gaily decked
"Can't I come to say good-bye?" rice-paper lanterns were again on display while
from the windows of the older houses hung
"Oh, you don't need to!" colored glass globes, heirlooms from a day when
grasspith wicks floating in coconut oil were the
"No, but I want to." chief lighting device.

"There is no time." Soon a double row of lights emerged from the

church and uncoiled down the length of the street
The golden streamer was withdrawing, like a huge jewelled band studded with glittering
shortening, until it looked no more than a pool far clusters where the saints' platforms were. Above
away at the rim of the world. Stillness, a vibrant the measured music rose the untutored voices of
quiet that affects the senses as does solemn the choir, steeped in incense and the acrid fumes
harmony; a peace that is not contentment but a of burning wax.
cessation of tumult when all violence of feeling
tones down to the wistful serenity of regret. She The sight of Esperanza and her mother sedately
turned and looked into his face, in her dark eyes a pacing behind Our Lady of Sorrows suddenly
ghost of sunset sadness. destroyed the illusion of continuity and broke up
those lines of light into component individuals.
"Home seems so far from here. This is almost like Esperanza stiffened self-consciously, tried to look
another life." unaware, and could not.

"I know. This is Elsewhere, and yet strange The line moved on.
enough, I cannot get rid of the old things."
Suddenly, Alfredo's slow blood began to beat
"Old things?" violently, irregularly. A girl was coming down the
line--a girl that was striking, and vividly alive, the
"Oh, old things, mistakes, encumbrances, old woman that could cause violent commotion in his
baggage." He said it lightly, unwilling to mar the heart, yet had no place in the completed ordering
hour. He walked close, his hand sometimes of his life.
touching hers for one whirling second.
Her glance of abstracted devotion fell on him and
Don Julian's nasal summons came to them on the came to a brief stop.
wind.
The line kept moving on, wending its circuitous
Alfredo gripped the soft hand so near his own. At route away from the church and then back again,
his touch, the girl turned her face away, but he where, according to the old proverb, all
heard her voice say very low, "Good-bye." processions end.

At last Our Lady of Sorrows entered the church,

II and with her the priest and the choir, whose
voices now echoed from the arched ceiling. The
ALFREDO Salazar turned to the right where, bells rang the close of the procession.
farther on, the road broadened and entered the
heart of the town--heart of Chinese stores A round orange moon, "huge as a winnowing
sheltered under lowhung roofs, of indolent drug basket," rose lazily into a clear sky, whitening the

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iron roofs and dimming the lanterns at the

windows. Along the still densely shadowed streets "When is it going to be?"
the young women with their rear guard of males
loitered and, maybe, took the longest way home. "May," he replied briefly, after a long pause.

Toward the end of the row of Chinese stores, he "May is the month of happiness they say," she
caught up with Julia Salas. The crowd had said, with what seemed to him a shade of irony.
dispersed into the side streets, leaving Calle Real
to those who "They say," slowly, indifferently. "Would you
lived farther out. It was past eight, and Esperanza come?"
would be expecting him in a little while: yet the
thought did not hurry him as he said "Good "Why not?"
evening" and fell into step with the girl.
"No reason. I am just asking. Then you will?"
"I had been thinking all this time that you had
gone," he said in a voice that was both excited
"If you will ask me," she said with disdain.
and troubled.
"Then I ask you."
"No, my sister asked me to stay until they are
ready to go."
"Then I will be there."
"Oh, is the Judge going?"
The gravel road lay before them; at the road's end
the lighted windows of the house on the hill.
"Yes."
There swept over the spirit of Alfredo Salazar a
longing so keen that it was pain, a wish that, that
The provincial docket had been cleared, and Judge house were his, that all the bewilderments of the
del Valle had been assigned elsewhere. As lawyer- present were not, and that this woman by his side
and as lover--Alfredo had found that out long were his long wedded wife, returning with him to
before. the peace of home.

"Mr. Salazar," she broke into his silence, "I wish to "Julita," he said in his slow, thoughtful manner,
congratulate you." "did you ever have to choose between something
you wanted to do and something you had to do?"
Her tone told him that she had learned, at last.
That was inevitable. "No!"

"For what?" "I thought maybe you had had that experience;
then you could understand a man who was in
"For your approaching wedding." such a situation."

Some explanation was due her, surely. Yet what "You are fortunate," he pursued when she did not
could he say that would not offend? answer.

"I should have offered congratulations long "Is--is this man sure of what he should do?"
before, but you know mere visitors are slow about
getting the news," she continued. "I don't know, Julita. Perhaps not. But there is a
point where a thing escapes us and rushes
He listened not so much to what she said as to the downward of its own weight, dragging us along.
nuances in her voice. He heard nothing to Then it is foolish to ask whether one will or will
enlighten him, except that she had reverted to the not, because it no longer depends on him."
formal tones of early acquaintance. No revelation
there; simply the old voice--cool, almost detached "But then why--why--" her muffled voice came.
from personality, flexible and vibrant, suggesting "Oh, what do I know? That is his problem after
potentialities of song. all."

"Are weddings interesting to you?" he finally "Doesn't it--interest you?"

brought out quietly
"Why must it? I--I have to say good-bye, Mr.
"When they are of friends, yes." Salazar; we are at the house."

"Would you come if I asked you?"

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Without lifting her eyes she quickly turned and

walked away. "Why shouldn't it be? You talked like an--immoral
man. I did not know that your ideas were like
Had the final word been said? He wondered. It that."
had. Yet a feeble flutter of hope trembled in his
mind though set against that hope were three "My ideas?" he retorted, goaded by a deep,
years of engagement, a very near wedding, accumulated exasperation. "The only test I wish to
perfect understanding between the parents, his apply to conduct is the test of fairness. Am I
own conscience, and Esperanza herself-- injuring anybody? No? Then I am justified in my
Esperanza conscience. I am right. Living with a man to whom
waiting, Esperanza no longer young, Esperanza she is not
the efficient, the literal-minded, the intensely married--is that it? It may be wrong, and again it
acquisitive. may not."

He looked attentively at her where she sat on the "She has injured us. She was ungrateful." Her
sofa, appraisingly, and with a kind of aversion voice was tight with resentment.
which he tried to control.
"The trouble with you, Esperanza, is that you
She was one of those fortunate women who have are--" he stopped, appalled by the passion in his
the gift of uniformly acceptable appearance. She voice.
never surprised one with unexpected homeliness
nor with startling reserves of beauty. At home, in "Why do you get angry? I do not understand you
church, on the street, she was always herself, a at all! I think I know why you have been
woman past first bloom, light and clear of indifferent to me lately. I am not blind, or deaf; I
complexion, spare of arms and of breast, with a see and hear what perhaps some are trying to
slight convexity to thin throat; a woman dressed keep from me." The blood surged into his very
with self-conscious care, even elegance; a woman eyes and his hearing sharpened to points of acute
distinctly not average. pain. What would she say next?

She was pursuing an indignant relation about "Why don't you speak out frankly before it is too
something or other, something about Calixta, late? You need not think of me and of what
their note-carrier, Alfredo perceived, so he merely people will say." Her voice trembled.
halflistened, understanding imperfectly. At a
pause he drawled out to fill in the gap: "Well, Alfredo was suffering as he could not remember
what of it?" The remark sounded ruder than he ever having suffered before. What people will
had intended. say--what will they not say? What don't they say
when long engagements are broken almost on the
"She is not married to him," Esperanza insisted in eve of the wedding?
her thin, nervously pitched voice. "Besides, she
should have thought of us. Nanay practically "Yes," he said hesitatingly, diffidently, as if merely
brought her up. We never thought she would turn thinking aloud, "one tries to be fair--according to
out bad." his lights--but it is hard. One would like to be fair
to one's self first. But that is too easy, one does
What had Calixta done? Homely, middle-aged not dare--"
Calixta?
"What do you mean?" she asked with repressed
"You are very positive about her badness," he violence. "Whatever my shortcomings, and no
commented dryly. Esperanza was always positive. doubt they are many in your eyes, I have never
gone out of my way, of my place, to find a man."
"But do you approve?"
Did she mean by this irrelevant remark that he it
"Of what?" was who had sought her; or was that a covert
attack on Julia Salas?
"What she did."
"Esperanza--" a desperate plea lay in his stumbling
"No," indifferently. words. "If you--suppose I--" Yet how could a mere
man word such a plea?
"Well?"
"If you mean you want to take back your word, if
He was suddenly impelled by a desire to disturb you are tired of--why don't you tell me you are
the unvexed orthodoxy of her mind. "All I say is tired of me?" she burst out in a storm of weeping
that it is not necessarily wicked." that left him completely shamed and unnerved.

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The last word had been said. The vessel approached the landing quietly, trailing
a wake of long golden ripples on the dark water.
Peculiar hill inflections came to his ears from the
III crowd assembled to meet the boat--slow, singing
cadences, characteristic of the Laguna lake-shore
AS Alfredo Salazar leaned against the boat rail to speech. From where he stood he could not
watch the evening settling over the lake, he distinguish faces, so he had no way of knowing
wondered if Esperanza would attribute any whether the presidente was there to meet him or
significance to this trip of his. He was supposed to not. Just then a voice shouted.
be in
Sta. Cruz whither the case of the People of the "Is the abogado there? Abogado!"
Philippine Islands vs. Belina et al had kept him,
and there he would have been if Brigida Samuy "What abogado?" someone irately asked.
had not been so important to the defense. He had
to find that elusive old woman. That the search That must be the presidente, he thought, and
was leading him to that particular lake town which went down to the landing.
was Julia Salas' home should not disturb him
unduly Yet he was disturbed to a degree utterly It was a policeman, a tall pock-marked individual.
out of proportion to the prosaicalness of his The presidente had left with Brigida Samuy--
errand. That inner tumult was no surprise to him; Tandang "Binday"--that noon for Santa Cruz.
in the last eight years he had become used to such Señor Salazar's second letter had arrived late, but
occasional storms. He had long realized that he the wife had read it and said, "Go and meet the
could not forget Julia Salas. Still, he had tried to be abogado and invite him to our house."
content and not to remember too much. The
climber of mountains who has known the back- Alfredo Salazar courteously declined the
break, the lonesomeness, and the chill, finds a invitation. He would sleep on board since the boat
certain restfulness in level paths made easy to his would leave at four the next morning anyway. So
feet. He looks up sometimes from the valley the presidente had received his first letter?
where settles the dusk of evening, but he knows Alfredo did not know because that official had not
he must not heed the radiant beckoning. Maybe, sent an answer. "Yes," the policeman replied, "but
in time, he would cease even to look up. he could not write because we heard that
Tandang Binday was in San Antonio so we went
He was not unhappy in his marriage. He felt no there to find her."
rebellion: only the calm of capitulation to what he
recognized as irresistible forces of circumstance San Antonio was up in the hills! Good man, the
and of character. His life had simply ordered itself; presidente! He, Alfredo, must do something for
no more struggles, no more stirring up of him. It was not every day that one met with such
emotions that got a man nowhere. From his willingness to help.
capacity of complete detachment he derived a
strange solace. The essential himself, the himself Eight o'clock, lugubriously tolled from the bell
that had its being in the core of his thought, tower, found the boat settled into a somnolent
would, he reflected, always be free and alone. quiet. A cot had been brought out and spread for
When claims encroached too insistently, as him, but it was too bare to be inviting at that
sometimes they did, he retreated into the inner hour. It was too early to sleep: he would walk
fastness, and from that vantage he saw things and around the town. His heart beat faster as he
people around him as remote and alien, as picked his way to shore over the rafts made fast to
incidents that did not matter. At such times did sundry piles driven into the water.
Esperanza feel baffled and helpless; he was
gentle, even tender, but immeasurably far away, How peaceful the town was! Here and there a
beyond her reach. little tienda was still open, its dim light issuing
forlornly through the single window which served
Lights were springing into life on the shore. That as counter. An occasional couple sauntered by,
was the town, a little up-tilted town nestling in the the women's chinelas making scraping sounds.
dark greenness of the groves. A snubcrested From a distance came the shrill voices of children
belfry stood beside the ancient church. On the playing games on the street--tubigan perhaps, or
outskirts the evening smudges glowed red "hawk-and-chicken." The thought of Julia Salas in
through the sinuous mists of smoke that rose and that quiet place filled him with a pitying sadness.
lost themselves in the purple shadows of the hills.
There was a young moon which grew slowly How would life seem now if he had married Julia
luminous as the coral tints in the sky yielded to Salas? Had he meant anything to her? That
the darker blues of evening. unforgettable red-and-gold afternoon in early

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April haunted him with a sense of incompleteness

as restless as other unlaid ghosts. She had not So that was all over.
married--why? Faithfulness, he reflected, was not
a conscious effort at regretful memory. It was Why had he obstinately clung to that dream?
something unvolitional, maybe a recurrent
awareness of irreplaceability. Irrelevant trifles--a So all these years--since when?--he had been
cool wind on his forehead, far-away sounds as of seeing the light of dead stars, long extinguished,
voices in a dream--at times moved him to an yet seemingly still in their appointed places in the
oddly irresistible impulse to listen as to an heavens.
insistent, unfinished prayer.
An immense sadness as of loss invaded his spirit, a
A few inquiries led him to a certain little tree- vast homesickness for some immutable refuge of
ceilinged street where the young moon wove the heart far away where faded gardens bloom
indistinct filigrees of fight and shadow. In the again, and where live on in unchanging freshness,
gardens the cotton tree threw its angular shadow the dear, dead loves of vanished youth.
athwart the low stone wall; and in the cool, stilly
midnight the cock's first call rose in tall, soaring
jets of sound. Calle Luz.

Somehow or other, he had known that he would

find her house because she would surely be sitting
at the window. Where else, before bedtime on a
moonlit night? The house was low and the light in
the sala behind her threw her head into
unmistakable relief. He sensed rather than saw
her start of vivid surprise.

"Good evening," he said, raising his hat.

"Good evening. Oh! Are you in town?"

"On some little business," he answered with a

feeling of painful constraint.

"Won't you come up?"

He considered. His vague plans had not included

this. But Julia Salas had left the window, calling to
her mother as she did so. After a while, someone
came downstairs with a lighted candle to open the
door. At last--he was shaking her hand.

She had not changed much--a little less slender,

not so eagerly alive, yet something had gone. He
missed it, sitting opposite her, looking
thoughtfully into her fine dark eyes. She asked
him about the home town, about this and that, in
a sober, somewhat meditative tone. He conversed
with increasing ease, though with a growing
wonder that he should be there at all. He could
not take his eyes from her face. What had she
lost? Or was the loss his? He felt an impersonal
curiosity creeping into his gaze. The girl must have
noticed, for her cheek darkened in a blush.

Gently--was it experimentally?--he pressed her

hand at parting; but his own felt undisturbed and
emotionless. Did she still care? The answer to the
question hardly interested him.

The young moon had set, and from the uninviting

cot he could see one half of a star-studded sky.

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 West Visayas State University
EXTENSION CAMPUS AT HIMAMAYLAN CITY
Himamaylan City, Negros Occidental

DIVISION OF ENGLISH

C. Loreto- Paras Sulit

 was a Filipino writer best known for her English-language short stories.
 a member of the Philippine Writers Association and the Literary Guild of the
Philippines.
 One of the founders of the Writers Club at the University of the Philippines.

Notable Work:
 Harvest

HARVEST
 CHARACTERS
 
 Fabian- elder brother of Vidal
 Vidal- brother of Fabian
- model Miss Francia
 Miss Francia- the girl who caught the attention
 Milia- future wife of Vidal
 Tinay- wife of Fabian
 Trining- daughter of Fabian and Tinay
SETTING
 Rice Field
 In the late afternoon sun

THE STORY

[[ SCENE 1 ]] *continues working*

(Setting: Rice Field. Wind-swept Palay stalks. VIDAL’S POV

*edit to yellowish tint, afternoon *stands up straight and wipes sweat*
setting) (voice over) How does he manage it? No wonder
the master won’t let him go; he could harvest a
FABIAN – continuously cutting down Palays then field in a morning that would require three men to
later on scoops it up then look at Vidal. finish in a day. He can be quite scary. Always been
Camera to Vidal using scythe to cut down Palays. a daunting one. He, who couldn’t appreciate the
simple beauties in life…
FABIAN’S POV [FLASHBACKS OF FABIAN DESTROYING
(voice over) How stubborn, this younger brother of THINGS**]
mine, how hard-headed.
*scoops another bundle of Palays*
(voice over) It is because he knows how very good-
looking he is, how he is so much run-after by all
the women in town. The obstinate, young fool!
With his queer dreams, his strange adorations, his
wistfulness for a life not of these fields, not of their
quiet, colorless women and the dullness of long
nights of unbroken silence and sleep. But he would
bend… he must bend… one of these days. (He shall
fall. He would.)

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 West Visayas State University
EXTENSION CAMPUS AT HIMAMAYLAN CITY
Himamaylan City, Negros Occidental

DIVISION OF ENGLISH

*murmurs* How splendid! How

Camera to FABIAN’s 3 o’clock. splendid…
FABIAN: Harvest time is almost ended, Vidal. Soon
the planting season will be on us and we shall FABIAN: (soft, curt voice) Thank you…
have need of many carabaos. Milia’s father has
five. You have but to ask her and Milia will accept MASTER: Francia… * gestures for Francia to take
you anytime. Why do you delay… his arm*
MISS FRANCIA – takes and leans on the arm of the
Sfx: slow crunch of footsteps on dried soil, Master then walks away with him.
approaching.
VIDAL – suddenly stands up straight and smiles VIDAL, FABIAN – returns to work in silence.
shyly at Miss Francia and the Master, holding his VIDAL – whistles a few notes then stopped.
buri hat and fidgeting.
Camera to sunset.
MISS FRANCIA: Ah, it is my model! How are you, VIDAL, FABIAN – wipes sweat and starts walking
Vidal? to the end of the rice field.

FABIAN – tenses his muscles but continues to

work, not looking at whoever talked behind him. [[ SCENE 2 ]]

MISS FRANCIA, VIDAL – continues talking, smiles (Setting: Rough road with some trees on the
and gestures. sidewalk. SHOW FABIAN AND VIDAL WALKING IN
MASTER – looking around and joins the silent SILENCE)
conversation.
[ FLASHBACKS OF FABIAN ENCOUNTER WITH
Camera zooms in to Fabian’s sweat rolling from MISS FRANCIA
his forehead, his knitted eyebrows can be easily HIS SWEAT, HER FLOWING SKIRT, HER ARMS,
noticed. HER FACE, HER SMILE ]
Camera zooms out to show Fabian working and
Miss Francia talking to Vidal while standing near Camera to Fabian.
Fabian. FABIAN: *knitted eyebrows* Why is it her again?
FABIAN: (voice over) What’s with her voice? What’s it with her?
What... *brief grunt* and her scent…
Camera to a large fluttering moth landing on a
Camera back to the three talking together. tree trunk.
MISS FRANCIA: From now on, he must work for VIDAL – pauses walking while staring at the moth
me every morning, possibly all day.*looks at and slowly reach out to pick it up.
Master* FABIAN – suddenly hits the moth with the Palay
MASTER: Very well. *smiles at Miss Francia* stalks he’s holding.
Everything as you please. *gestures at Vidal* Camera to falling dead, quivering moth.
MISS FRANCIA: He is your brother, you say, Vidal? FABIAN – turns and continues walking.
*glances at Fabian* Oh, your elder brother. *looks VIDAL – looks at Fabian, gets up and continues
at Fabian up, down and focused on his arms* He walking in silence.
has very splendid arms.
Camera close up to brothers.
FABIAN – turns to look at Miss Francia. VIDAL: *looks inquisitively at Fabian* Why are
you that way?
Camera zooms in to Miss Francia’s beauty, her FABIAN: What is my way?
over-all appearance (whole body shot*), her pale VIDAL: That – that way of destroying things that
skin (half body shot*), hair to eyes to lips (then are beautiful like moths… like…
shoulder shot*) FABIAN: If the dust from the wings of a moth
should get into your eyes, you would be blind.
FABIAN: *whispers* Beautiful… VIDAL: That is not the reason.
MISS FRANCIA, FABIAN – short eye to eye FABIAN: Things that are beautiful have a way of
moment, Fabian looks away blushing. hurting. I destroy it when I feel a hurt.
VIDAL: Oh… *silence* But not all beautiful things
MISS FRANCIA: *tucks loose hair on her ear and hurt.
comes near Fabian to trail her finger on his arm* FABIAN: Just better to avoid such scruples.

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VIDAL: *silence* Remember the lady with Master (Setting: Batalan of Fabian’s home. Camera to
this afternoon? *looks down thoughtfully* I show the place lit by a kerosene lamp.)
reckon she’s a cousin. They call her Miss Francia.
But I know she has a lovely, hidden name… like her FABIAN – pours water on his feet, washed his face
beauty. She is convalescing from a very serious and his arms, scrubs his arms with a smooth
illness she had had and to pass the time, she pebble.
makes men out of clay, of stone. Sometimes she –Then flexes his muscles then trails his
uses her fingers, sometimes a chisel… finger to where Miss Francia touched it.

Sfx: Tinay crooning to the baby.

[[ SCENE 3 ]] FABIAN – looks at their direction then drops his
hand and goes inside the home.
(Setting: Master’s home, outside. VIDAL WAITING
FOR SOMEONE TO OPEN THE DOOR.)

MAID – opens the door for Vidal and motions for

him to enter the mansion. [[ SCENE 6 ]]
VIDAL – enters the mansion and looks around,
smiling uncertainly. (Setting: Dinner table, with supper already
prepared. Camera shows Tinay rocking the duyan
Camera to Miss Francia’s POV looking at Vidal and made of blanket tied to ropes and Trining playing
Master talking. The maid on standby. jackstone.)
Camera zoom out to show Miss Francia looking at
Vidal. (over her left shoulder shot*) FABIAN: Why don’t you eat?
TINAY: No, I can’t. I couldn’t leave the baby.
MISS FRANCIA – approaches the two men and
smiles at Vidal and the Master. FABIAN – looks down annoyed.
MASTER – smiles back and leaves the scene.
[ FLASHBACK MISS FRANCIA’S SMILE AND THE
MISS FRANCIA – smiles at Vidal again and gestures ENCOUNTER IN A FLASH THEN HER SMILE
at her sculpture. AGAIN ]
VIDAL – smiles back shyly and follows her to the
room where she’s sculpting a man. FABIAN – turns around to face Vidal who’s sitting
MISS FRANCIA – gestures at Vidal to pose like the on the supper table, angry but with controlled
sculpture. voice.
VIDAL – follows the sample and looks intensely at FABIAN: When I was your age, Vidal, I was already
Miss Francia. married. It is high time you should be settling
down. There is Milia.
Camera to Vidal and Miss Francia staring at each VIDAL: *looks at Fabian unbelievingly* I have no
other. Camera zoom out then dim. desire to marry her nor anybody else. Just– just –
for five carabaos!
*purses his lips and looks defiantly at
[[ SCENE 4 ]] Fabian*

(Setting: Dark sky, after rice field work again. FABIAN: (voice over) There, you finally said it…
VIDAL AND FABIAN WALKING TOGETHER.)
VIDAL – stands up and stretches his arms then
VIDAL: *looks at Fabian* Brother, her loveliness is walks to the door of his room (*away) and pause
one I cannot understand. When one talks to her to look at Trining.
forever so long in the patio, many dreams, many – catches the pebble/ball of Trining’s
desires come to me. I am lost… I am glad to be jackstone.
lost.
TRINING: * ”stands up” (just be on your knees so
Camera to Fabian looking far away. it’d look like you’re short :p)
[ FLASHBACK TO MISS FRANCIA’S SMILE ON and tries to snatch the pebble/ball
THE FIRST ENCOUNTER ] back from Vidal’s hand*
Camera zoom out to show the two walking in the Hey! Give it baaack~!! (ad-lib vying
distance. for the pebble/ball**)
*pinch, bite (..? XD) and shakes Vidal’s
pants (HAHAHAHAHA)*
VIDAL – laughing, amused by Trining’s attempts to
[[ SCENE 5 ]]
get the pebble/ball.

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VIDAL: What a very pretty woman Trining is going Vidal smiling at Miss
to be. Look at her skin; white as rice grains just Francia, Miss Francia caressing
husked; Vidal’s face with intense gaze,
and her nose, what a high bridge. Ah, she is Vidal posing for Miss
going to be a proud lady… and what deep, dark Francia, Miss Francia sculpting, them laughing…
eyes . ]
Let me see, let me see… *holds Trining’s
face*
[[ SCENE 9 ]]
TRINING – stare right back at Vidal, bemused by
his sudden compliments. (Setting: Night time at Fabian’s home. After
VIDAL: Why, you have a little mole on your lips. supper set. VIDAL STANDING BY THE WINDOW.)
That means you are very talkative. *pokes
Trining’s nose* VIDAL – Happily (silently) narrating the afternoon
TRINING – giggles at Vidal’s touch. with Miss Francia.
TRINING – sitting at a nearby chair, looking at
TINAY: *frowns and scoops up the baby then Vidal.
cradle the baby back to sleep again* TINAY – cradling the baby in her arms and timely
*whispers, looking at Vidal, over lapping conversing with Vidal.
what Vidal’s saying*
You will wake up the baby. Vidal! Vidal! FABIAN’S POV
*stares angrily at Vidal*
FABIAN: Trining… *gestures for her to leave (voice over) You – !!! It should have been Milia.
Vidal* [ SHOW FLASHES OF THE DEAD MOTH AND
VIDAL – looks at Trining going to Fabian. Trining’s THE FALLING BLACK HAIR ]
head bowed down, half sad, half scared. (voice over) Having five carabaos are worth a lot
more than the impossible…
FABIAN: *looks at Tinay* Why does she not braid [ FLASHBACK OF MISS FRANCIA’S FACE AND A
her hair? DEAD MOTH IN FABIAN’S HAND BEING
TINAY: Oh, but she is so pretty with her curls free CRUSHED ]
that way about her head.
FABIAN: *grunts* We shall have to trim her head. Camera dims as end of Fabian’s thoughts and
I will do it before going out to work tomorrow. Fabian exits the scene.

TRINING – stares in horror at her father.

TINAY – looks away sadly and busies herself with
[[ SCENE 10 ]]
the baby.
VIDAL – smile fades, balls his fist and stares in
(Setting: Night time at Fabian’s home again. VIDAL
anger to Fabian, uncurls his hand then exits the
ENTERS THE SCENE.)
scene.
VIDAL: *looks elated* I have news! News!
FABIAN, TINAY – simultaneously looks at Vidal.
TRINING – doing something by the background of
the scene.
[[ SCENE 7 ]]
VIDAL: Miss Francia… She said she’d be leaving
(Setting: Morning, same place as last night. within two days.
Camera shows Fabian’s feet and Trining’s feet, And she wanted me to go with her, and
hair falling down.) then she’d finish the figures she’s working on.

Sfx: Trining sobbing softly. FABIAN: (voice over) No, you don’t. You are not
Camera showing Fabian’s back and Vidal going going anywhere.
out. *glares at Vidal then continues
whatever he’s doing before Vidal came*

[[ SCENE 8 ]] VIDAL: She will pay me more than I can earn here,
and help me get a position there. And shall always
(Setting: Under the Ylang-Ylang tree where Miss be near her.
Francia is sculpting more men with Vidal’s face.) Oh, I am going! I am going!
TINAY: And live the life of a – a servant?
[ series of angles: Vidal approaching Miss VIDAL: What of that? I shall be near her always.
Francia, Miss Francia waving at Vidal’s arrival, TINAY: Why do you wish to be near her?

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VIDAL: Why? Why? Oh, my God! Why? (*A pang without a voice, a
dream without a plan… how could they be
understood with words?)
MISS FRANCIA: Your brother should never know you
[[ SCENE 11 ]]
have told me the real reason why he should not go
with me.
[ FLASHBACKS OF: MISS FRANCIA It would hurt him, I know. *pause for
SCULPTING AND SMILING AT VIDAL, silence*
VIDAL ADMIRING THE *gestures at the sculpture*
SCULPTURES MADE BY MISS FRANCIA, I have to finish this statue before I
MISS FRANCIA leave. The arms are still incomplete;
SERIOUSLY FOCUSED ON HER SCULPTURES, would it be too much to ask you to
VIDAL WIPING SWEAT pose for a little while?
FROM HIS BROWS (from scene 1*), *smooth the clay, pats it and
MISS FRANCIA molds it to look like Fabian’s splendid arms*
SCULPTING THEN LOOKS UP,
FABIAN POSING FOR Camera shows the afternoon run by, silence
HER SCULPTURES (instead of Vidal), hovering over them.
VIDAL LOOK-ALIKE [ FLASHES OF FABIAN’S IMAGINATION: MISS
SCULPTURES BY MISS FRANCIA ] FRANCIA SMILING FOR FABIAN,

MISS FRANCIA RUNNING IN THE RICE

FIELD,
[[ SCENE 12 ]]

(Setting: Under the Ylang-Ylang tree. MISS FRANCIA MISS FRANCIA TURNING AND LAUGHING
IS BUSY WITH SCULPTURES.) FOR FABIAN,

FABIAN – tense, staring intensely at Miss Francia, FABIAN REACHING OUT TO TOUCH MISS
uncertain what to do. FRANCIA,
– rolls up his sleeves then steps forward to
make his presence known. FABIAN CROUCHING IN AGONY AND
REGRET ]
MISS FRANCIA: *smiles at Fabian* Ah, the man with
the splendid arms. [ SHOW FABIAN AND MISS FRANCIA IN SILENCE
FABIAN: *nods curtly* I am the brother of Vidal. AS THE STATUE WAS FINISHED,
MISS FRANCIA: Yes, Vidal. Speaking of him, I wonder MISS FRANCIA IS APPRECIATING THE STATUE
why he still isn’t here. SHE HAD JUST FINISHED,
FABIAN: I am afraid he would not come today. FABIAN LOOKING DOWN AND LEAVING MISS
MISS FRANCIA: *glance at Fabian* Why so? FRANCIA IN SILENCE ]
FABIAN: He… happened to have some things to
settle. That’s why he couldn’t come. (Here. And the BGM: one of Yiruma’s sad piano melody.
city.)
MISS FRANCIA: *sound somewhat amused* To
marry the girl whose father has five carabaos. [[ SCENE 13 ]]
You see, Vidal told me about it.
FABIAN: *blushes when he realized one major (Setting: Night time at Batalan of Fabian’s home.
mistake and starts to feel guilty for what he was to FABIAN ENTERS THE SCENE.)
do*
That is the only reason to cover up VIDAL – looks haggard with a crumpled 20 php bill
something that would not be known.*silence* on his hand, his face turned in the direction of the
My brother has wronged this girl. There window
will be a child.
MISS FRANCIA: *stares at Fabian aghast in silence, VIDAL: (soft voice filled with sadness) Soon, all your
frozen in place* sampaguitas and camias will be gone, my dear
*bows down and softly said* sister-in-law,
I understand. He shall not go with because I shall
me. be seeing Milia every night… and her father.

MISS FRANCIA – calls for a servant and gives him 20 VIDAL – turns to glance at Fabian.
php with instructions. FABIAN – washing his face and arms, rubbing extra
MISS FRANCIA: Vidal, is he at your house? hard on his arms.
SERVANT – exits the scene with the 20 php bill. VIDAL – frowns, wondering why his brother is taking
too long to scrub his arms that night
FABIAN: (voice over) After this afternoon, I would
never see her, she would never know. But what had
she to know?

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 West Visayas State University 2020

D. Bienvenido Santos
 A novelist, short story writer, poet and an activist.
 His first two novels are Villa Magdalena and The Volcano
 Scent of Apples won the American Book Award from the Before Columbus
Foundation
Notable works:
 You Lovely People (1955)
 Brother, My Brother (1960)
 The Day the Dancers Came (1967, 1991)
 Scent of Apples (1979)

SCENT OF APPLES
 CHARACTERS
 
 Mr. Santos- main character and the writer of the story
 Celestino Fabia- a filipino farmer
 Ruth- wife of Celestino
 Roger- son of Celestino and Ruth
SETTING
 Kalamazoo, Michigan

THE STORY

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 West Visayas State University
EXTENSION CAMPUS AT HIMAMAYLAN CITY
Himamaylan City, Negros Occidental

DIVISION OF ENGLISH

|| LIT 202 (Ma’am Jonalyn)

 West Visayas State University
EXTENSION CAMPUS AT HIMAMAYLAN CITY
Himamaylan City, Negros Occidental

DIVISION OF ENGLISH

While I was trying to explain away the Kindly American friends talked to us, asked us
fact that it was not easy to make comparisons, a questions, said goodnight. So now I asked him
man rose from the rear of the hall, wanting to say whether he cared to step into the lobby with me
something. In the distance, he looked slight and and talk.
old and very brown. Even before he spoke, I knew "No, thank you," he said, "you are tired. And I
that he was, like me, a Filipino. don't want to stay out too late."
"I'm a Filipino," he began, loud and clear, in "Yes, you live very far."
a voice that seemed used to wide open spaces, "I got a car," he said, "besides . . . "
"I'm just a Filipino farmer out in the country." He Now he smiled, he truly smiled. All night I had
waved his hand toward the door. "I left the been watching his face and I wondered when he
Philippines more than twenty years ago and have was going to smile.
never been back. Never will perhaps. I want to "Will you do me a favor, please," he continued
find out, Sir, are our Filipino women the same like smiling almost sweetly. "I want you to have dinner
they were twenty years ago?" with my family out in the country. I'd call for
As he sat down, the hall filled with voices, you tomorrow afternoon, then drive you back.
hushed and intrigued. I weighed my answer Will that be alright?"
carefully. I did not want to tell a lie yet I did not "Of course," I said. "I'd love to meet your family." I
want to say anything that would seem was leaving Kalamazoo for Muncie, Indiana, in
platitudinous, insincere. But more important than two days. There was plenty of time.
these considerations, it seemed to me that "You will make my wife very happy," he said.
moment as I looked towards my countryman, I "You flatter me."
must give him an answer that would not make "Honest. She'll be very happy. Ruth is a country
him so unhappy. Surely, all these years, he must girl and hasn't met many Filipinos. I mean Filipinos
have held on to certain ideals, certain beliefs, younger than I, cleaner looking. We're just poor
even illusions peculiar to the exile. farmer folk, you know, and we don't get to town
"First," I said as the voices gradually died down very often. Roger, that's my boy, he goes to school
and every eye seemed upon me, "First, tell me in town. A bus takes him early in the morning and
what our women were like twenty years ago." he's back in the afternoon. He's nice boy."
The man stood to answer. "Yes," he said, "I bet he is," I agreed. "I've seen the children of
"you're too young . . . Twenty years ago our some of the boys by their American wives and the
women were nice, they were modest, they wore boys are tall, taller than their father, and very
their hair long, they dressed properly and went for good looking."
no monkey business. They were natural, they "Roger, he'd be tall. You'll like him."
went to church regular, and they were faithful." Then he said goodbye and I waved to him as he
He had spoken slowly, and now in what seemed disappeared in the darkness.
like an afterthought, added, "It's the men who The next day he came, at about three in the
ain't." afternoon. There was a mild, ineffectual sun
Now I knew what I was going to say. shining, and it was not too cold. He was wearing
"Well," I began, "it will interest you to know that an old brown tweed jacket and worsted trousers
our women have changed--but definitely! The to match. His shoes were polished, and although
change, however, has been on the outside only. the green of his tie seemed faded, a colored shirt
Inside, here," pointing to the heart, "they are the hardly accentuated it. He looked younger than he
same as they were twenty years ago. God-fearing, appeared the night before now that he was clean
faithful, modest, and nice." shaven and seemed ready to go to a party. He was
The man was visibly moved. "I'm very happy, grinning as we met.
sir," he said, in the manner of one who, having "Oh, Ruth can't believe it," he kept repeating as
stakes on the land, had found no cause to regret he led me to his car--a nondescript thing in faded
one's sentimental investment. black that had known better days and many
After this, everything that was said and done in hands. "I say to her, I'm bringing you a first class
that hall that night seemed like an anti-climax, Filipino, and she says, aw, go away, quit kidding,
and later, as we walked outside, he gave me his there's no such thing as first class Filipino. But
name and told me of his farm thirty miles east of Roger, that's my boy, he believed me
the city. immediately. What's he like, daddy, he asks. Oh,
We had stopped at the main entrance to the you will see, I say, he's first class. Like you daddy?
hotel lobby. We had not talked very much on the No, no, I laugh at him, your daddy ain't first class.
way. As a matter of fact, we were never alone. Aw, but you are, daddy, he says. So you can see

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 West Visayas State University 2020

what a nice boy he is, so innocent. Then Ruth the house, the gate closing heavily after me. And
starts griping about the house, but the house is a my brothers and sisters took up my father's hate
mess, she says. True it's a mess, it's always a mess, for me and multiplied it numberless times in their
but you don't mind, do you? We're poor folks, you own broken hearts. I was no good.
know. But sometimes, you know, I miss that house, the
The trip seemed interminable. We passed through roosting chickens on the low-topped walls. I miss
narrow lanes and disappeared into thickets, and my brothers and sisters, Mother sitting in her
came out on barren land overgrown with weeds in chair, looking like a pale ghost in a corner of the
places. All around were dead leaves and dry earth. room. I would remember the great live posts,
In the distance were apple trees. massive tree trunks from the forests. Leafy plants
"Aren't those apple trees?" I asked wanting to be grew on the sides, buds pointing downwards,
sure. wilted and died before they could become
"Yes, those are apple trees," he replied. "Do you flowers. As they fell on the floor, father bent to
like apples? I got lots of 'em. I got an apple pick them and throw them out into the coral
orchard, I'll show you." streets. His hands were strong. I have kissed these
All the beauty of the afternoon seemed in the hands . . . many times, many times.
distance, on the hills, in the dull soft sky. Finally we rounded a deep curve and suddenly
"Those trees are beautiful on the hills," I said. came upon a shanty, all but ready to crumble in a
"Autumn's a lovely season. The trees are getting heap on the ground, its plastered walls were
ready to die, and they show their colors, proud- rotting away, the floor was hardly a foot from the
like." ground. I thought of the cottages of the poor
"No such thing in our own country," I said. colored folk in the south, the hovels of the poor
That remark seemed unkind, I realized later. It everywhere in the land. This one stood all by itself
touched him off on a long deserted tangent, but as though by common consent all the folk that
ever there perhaps. How many times did lonely used to live here had decided to say away,
mind take unpleasant detours away from the despising it, ashamed of it. Even the lovely season
familiar winding lanes towards home for fear of could not color it with beauty.
this, the remembered hurt, the long lost youth, A dog barked loudly as we approached. A
the grim shadows of the years; how many times fat blonde woman stood at the door with a little
indeed, only the exile knows. boy by her side. Roger seemed newly scrubbed.
It was a rugged road we were traveling and the He hardly took his eyes off me. Ruth had a clean
car made so much noise that I could not hear apron around her shapeless waist. Now as she
everything he said, but I understood him. He was shook my hands in sincere delight I noticed
telling his story for the first time in many years. He shamefacedly (that I should notice) how rough her
was remembering his own youth. He was thinking hands were, how coarse and red with labor, how
of home. In these odd moments there seemed no ugly! She was no longer young and her smile was
cause for fear no cause at all, no pain. That would pathetic.
come later. In the night perhaps. Or lonely on the As we stepped inside and the door closed
farm under the apple trees. behind us, immediately I was aware of the familiar
In this old Visayan town, the streets are narrow scent of apples. The room was bare except for a
and dirty and strewn with coral shells. You have few ancient pieces of second-hand furniture. In
been there? You could not have missed our the middle of the room stood a stove to keep the
house, it was the biggest in town, one of the family warm in winter. The walls were bare. Over
oldest, ours was a big family. The house stood the dining table hung a lamp yet unlighted.
right on the edge of the street. A door opened Ruth got busy with the drinks. She kept
heavily and you enter a dark hall leading to the coming in and out of a rear room that must have
stairs. There is the smell of chickens roosting on been the kitchen and soon the table was heavy
the low-topped walls, there is the familiar sound with food, fried chicken legs and rice, and green
they make and you grope your way up a massive peas and corn on the ear. Even as we ate, Ruth
staircase, the bannisters smooth upon the kept standing, and going to the kitchen for more
trembling hand. Such nights, they are no better food. Roger ate like a little gentleman.
than the days, windows are closed against the "Isn't he nice looking?" his father asked.
sun; they close heavily. "You are a handsome boy, Roger," I said.
Mother sits in her corner looking very white and The boy smiled at me. You look like Daddy," he
sick. This was her world, her domain. In all these said.
years, I cannot remember the sound of her voice. Afterwards I noticed an old picture leaning
Father was different. He moved about. He on the top of a dresser and stood to pick it up. It
shouted. He ranted. He lived in the past and was yellow and soiled with many fingerings. The
talked of honor as though it were the only thing. faded figure of a woman in Philippine dress could
I was born in that house. I grew up there into a yet be distinguished although the face had
pampered brat. I was mean. One day I broke their become a blur.
hearts. I saw mother cry wordlessly as father "Your . . . " I began.
heaped his curses upon me and drove me out of "I don't know who she is," Fabia hastened to say.

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"I picked that picture many years ago in a room on she kept rubbing the man's arms and legs as she
La Salle street in Chicago. I have often wondered herself nearly froze to death.
who she is." "Go back to the house, Ruth!" her husband
"The face wasn't a blur in the beginning?" cried, "you'll freeze to death."
"Oh, no. It was a young face and good." But she clung to him wordlessly. Even as she
Ruth came with a plate full of apples. massaged his arms and legs, her tears rolled down
"Ah," I cried, picking out a ripe one. "I've been her cheeks. "I won't leave you," she repeated.
thinking where all the scent of apples came from. Finally the U.S. Mail car arrived. The
The room is full of it." mailman, who knew them well, helped them
"I'll show you," said Fabia. board the car, and, without stopping on his usual
He showed me a backroom, not very big. It was route, took the sick man and his wife direct to the
half-full of apples. nearest hospital.
"Every day," he explained, "I take some of them to Ruth stayed in the hospital with Fabia. She
town to sell to the groceries. Prices have been slept in a corridor outside the patients' ward and
low. I've been losing on the trips." in the day time helped in scrubbing the floor and
"These apples will spoil," I said. washing the dishes and cleaning the men's things.
"We'll feed them to the pigs." They didn't have enough money and Ruth was
Then he showed me around the farm. It willing to work like a slave.
was twilight now and the apple trees stood bare "Ruth's a nice girl," said Fabia, "like our own
against a glowing western sky. In apple blossom Filipino women."
time it must be lovely here. But what about Before nightfall, he took me back to the
wintertime? hotel. Ruth and Roger stood at the door holding
One day, according to Fabia, a few years hands and smiling at me. From inside the room of
ago, before Roger was born, he had an attack of the shanty, a low light flickered. I had a last
acute appendicitis. It was deep winter. The snow glimpse of the apple trees in the orchard under
lay heavy everywhere. Ruth was pregnant and the darkened sky as Fabia backed up the car. And
none too well herself. At first she did not know soon we were on our way back to town. The dog
what to do. She bundled him in warm clothing and had started barking. We could hear it for some
put him on a cot near the stove. She shoveled the time, until finally, we could not hear it anymore,
snow from their front door and practically carried and all was darkness around us, except where the
the suffering man on her shoulders, dragging him headlamps revealed a stretch of road leading
through the newly made path towards the road somewhere.
where they waited for the U.S. Mail car to pass. Fabia did not talk this time. I didn't seem to have
Meanwhile snowflakes poured all over them and anything to say myself. But when finally we came

to the hotel and I got down, Fabia said,

"Well, I guess I won't be seeing you again."
It was dimly lighted in front of the hotel
and I could hardly see Fabia's face. Without
getting off the car, he moved to where I had sat,
and I saw him extend his hand. I gripped it.
"Tell Ruth and Roger," I said, "I love them."
He dropped my hand quickly. "They'll be waiting
for me now," he said.
"Look," I said, not knowing why I said it, "one of
these days, very soon, I hope, I'll be going home. I
could go to your town."
"No," he said softly, sounding very much defeated
but brave, "Thanks a lot. But, you see, nobody
would remember me now."
Then he started the car, and as it moved
away, he waved his hand.
"Goodbye," I said, waving back into the

darkness. And suddenly the night was

cold like winter straying early in these northern
woodlands.
I hurried inside. There was a train the next
morning that left for Muncie, Indiana, at a quarter
after eight.

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 West Visayas State University
EXTENSION CAMPUS AT HIMAMAYLAN CITY
Himamaylan City, Negros Occidental

DIVISION OF ENGLISH

E. Manuel E. Arguilla
Manuel Arguilla was an Ilocano writer who writes in English and best
known for his short story “How My Brother Leon Brought Home a Wife” which
received the first place in the Commonwealth Literary Contest in 1940.

Works:
 Though Young He Is Married
 The Maid, the Man, and the Wife
 Elias
 Imperfect Farewell

HOW MY BROTHER LEON BROUGHT HOME A WIFE

 
Characters:
Leon/Noel - Maria's husband, older brother of Baldo
Maria - Leon's wife
Baldo - Leon's younger brother, also the narrator of this story
Mother and Father of Leon and Baldo
Aurelia - Leon and Baldo's younger sister
Labang - the carabao

THE STORY

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West Visayas State University 2020

|| LIT 202 (Ma’am Jonalyn)

 West Visayas State University
EXTENSION CAMPUS AT HIMAMAYLAN CITY
Himamaylan City, Negros Occidental

DIVISION OF ENGLISH

E. Manuel E. Arguilla stopped chewing his cud. He swallowed and

brought up to his mouth more cud and the sound
of his insides was like a drum.
Manuel Arguilla was 3  I laid a hand on Labang's massive neck
an Ilocano writer who writes and said to her: "You may scratch his forehead
in English and best known for now."
his short story “How My 4 She hesitated and I saw that her eyes
Brother Leon Brought Home were on the long, curving horns. But she came
a Wife” which received the and touched Labang's forehead with her long
fingers, and Labang never stopped chewing his
first place in the
cud except that his big eyes half closed. And by
Commonwealth Literary and by, she was scratching his forehead very
Contest in 1940. daintily. 
Works: 5 My brother Leon put down the two
 Though trunks on the grassy side of the road. He paid Ca
Young He Is Celin twice the usual fare from the station to the
Married edge of Nagrebcan. Then, he was standing beside
 The Maid, us, and she turned to him eagerly. I watched Ca
the Man, and Celin, where he stood in front of his horse, and he
ran his fingers through its forelock and could not
the Wife
keep his eyes away from her.
 Elias
6 "Maria---" my brother Leon said. 
 Imperfect 7 He did not say Maring. He did not say
Farewell Mayang. I knew then that he had always called
her Maria and that to us all she would be Maria;
and in my mind I said 'Maria' and it was a
HOW MY BROTHER LEON beautiful name. 
BROUGHT HOME A WIFE 8 "Yes, Noel."
9 Now, where did she get that name? I
pondered the matter quietly to myself, thinking
Characters: Father might not like it. But it was only the name
Leon/Noel - Maria's husband, older of my brother Leon said backward and it sounded
brother of Baldo much better that way. 
Maria - Leon's wife 10 "There is Nagrebcan, Maria," my brother
Baldo - Leon's younger brother, also Leon said, gesturing widely toward the west. 
the narrator of this story 11 She moved close to him and slipped her
arm through his. And after a while she said
Mother and Father of Leon and Baldo
quietly. 
Aurelia - Leon and Baldo's younger 12 "You love Nagrebcan, don't you, Noel?"
sister 13 Ca Celin drove away hi-yi-ing to his horse
Labang - the carabao loudly. At the bend of the camino real where the
big duhat tree grew, he rattled the handle of his
braided rattan whip against the spokes of the
THE STORY wheel. 
14 We stood alone on the roadside. 
15 The sun was in our eyes, for it was
1 She stepped down from the carretela of Ca Celin dipping into the bright sea. The sky was wide and
with a quick, delicate grace. She was lovely. She deep and very blue above us: but along the saw-
was tall. She looked up to my brother with a tooth rim of the Katayaghan hills to the southwest
smile, and her forehead was on a level with his flamed huge masses of clouds. Before us the fields
mouth.  swam in a golden haze through which floated big
2 "You are Baldo," she said and placed her purple and red and yellow bubbles when I looked
hand lightly on my shoulder. Her nails were long, at the sinking sun. Labang's white coat, which I
but they were not painted. She was fragrant like a had washed and brushed that morning with
morning when papayas are in bloom. And a small coconut husk, glistened like beaten cotton under
dimple appeared momently high on her right the lamplight and his horns appeared tipped with
cheek.  "And this is Labang of whom I have heard fire.
so much." She held the wrist of one hand with the 16 He faced the sun and from his mouth
other and looked at Labang, and Labang never came a call so loud and vibrant that the earth

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 West Visayas State University 2020

seemed to tremble underfoot. And far away in the fingers the rump of Labang; and away we went---
middle of the field a cow lowed softly in answer.  back to where I had unhitched and waited for
17 "Hitch him to the cart, Baldo," my them. The sun had sunk and down from the
brother Leon said, laughing, and she laughed with wooded sides of the Katayaghan hills shadows
him a big uncertainly, and I saw that he had put were stealing into the fields. High up overhead the
his arm around her shoulders.  sky burned with many slow fires. 
18 "Why does he make that sound?" she 29 When I sent Labang down the deep cut
asked. "I have never heard the like of it." that would take us to the dry bed of the Waig
19 "There is not another like it," my brother which could be used as a path to our place during
Leon said. "I have yet to hear another bull call like the dry season, my brother Leon laid a hand on
Labang. In all the world there is no other bull like my shoulder and said sternly: 
him." 30 "Who told you to drive through the fields
20 She was smiling at him, and I stopped in tonight?"
the act of tying the sinta across Labang's neck to 31 His hand was heavy on my shoulder, but I
the opposite end of the yoke, because her teeth did not look at him or utter a word until we were
were very white, her eyes were so full of laughter, on the rocky bottom of the Waig. 
and there was the small dimple high up on her 32 "Baldo, you fool, answer me before I lay
right cheek.  the rope of Labang on you. Why do you follow the
21 "If you continue to talk about him like Waig instead of the camino real?"
that, either I shall fall in love with him or become 33 His fingers bit into my shoulder. 
greatly jealous." 34 "Father, he told me to follow the Waig
22 My brother Leon laughed and she tonight, Manong."
laughed and they looked at each other and it 35 Swiftly, his hand fell away from my
seemed to me there was a world of laughter shoulder and he reached for the rope of Labang.
between them and in them.  Then, my brother Leon laughed, and he sat back,
23 I climbed into the cart over the wheel and laughing still, he said: 
and Labang would have bolted, for he was always 36 "And I suppose Father also told you to
like that, but I kept a firm hold on his rope. He was hitch Labang to the cart and meet us with him
restless and would not stand still, so that my instead of with Castano and the calesa."
brother Leon had to say "Labang" several times. 37 Without waiting for me to answer, he
When he was quiet again, my brother Leon lifted turned to her and said, "Maria, why do you think
the trunks into the cart, placing the smaller on Father should do that, now?" He laughed and
top.  added, "Have you ever seen so many stars
24 She looked down once at her high-heeled before?"
shoes, then she gave her left hand to my brother 38 I looked back and they were sitting side
Leon, placed a foot on the hub of the wheel, and by side, leaning against the trunks, hands clasped
in one breath she had swung up into the cart. Oh, across knees. Seemingly, but a man's height above
the fragrance of her. But Labang was fairly the tops of the steep banks of the Wait, hung the
dancing with impatience and it was all I could do stars. But in the deep gorge the shadows had
to keep him from running away.  fallen heavily, and even the white of Labang's coat
25 "Give me the rope, Baldo," my brother was merely a dim, grayish blur. Crickets chirped
Leon said. "Maria, sit down on the hay and hold from their homes in the cracks in the banks. The
on to anything." Then, he put a foot on the left thick, unpleasant smell of dangla bushes and
shaft and that instant, Labang leaped forward. My cooling sun-heated earth mingled with the clean,
brother Leon laughed as he drew himself up to sharp scent of arrais roots exposed to the night air
the top of the side of the cart and made the slack and of the hay inside the cart. 
of the rope hiss above the back of Labang. The 39 "Look, Noel, yonder is our star!" Deep
wind whistled against my cheeks and the rattling surprise and gladness were in her voice. Very low
of the wheels on the pebbly road echoed in my in the west, almost touching the ragged edge of
ears.  the bank, was the star, the biggest and brightest
26 She sat up straight on the bottom of the in the sky. 
cart, legs bent together to one side, her skirts 40 "I have been looking at it," my brother
spread over them so that only the toes and heels Leon said. "Do you remember how I would tell
of her shoes were visible. Her eyes were on my you that when you want to see stars you must
brother Leon's back; I saw the wind on her hair. come to Nagrebcan?"
When Labang slowed down, my brother Leon 41 "Yes, Noel," she said. "Look at it," she
handed to me the rope. I knelt on the straw inside murmured, half to herself. "It is so many times
the cart and pulled on the rope until Labang was bigger and brighter than it was at Ermita beach."
merely shuffling along, then I made him turn 42 "The air here is clean, free of dust and
around.  smoke."
27 "What is it you have forgotten now, 43 "So it is, Noel," she said, drawing a long
Baldo?" my brother Leon said.  breath. 
28 I did not say anything but tickled with my 44 "Making fun of me, Maria?"

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 West Visayas State University 2020

45 She laughed then and they laughed foot of the Katayaghan hills and passes by our
together and she took my brother Leon's hand house. We drove through the fields because---but
and put it against her face.  I'll be asking Father as soon as we get home."
46 I stopped Labang, climbed down, and 62 "Noel," she said. 
lighted the lantern that hung from the cart 63 "Yes, Maria."
between the wheels.  64 "I am afraid. He may not like me."
47 "Good boy, Baldo," my brother Leon said 65 "Does that worry you still, Maria?" my
as I climbed back into the cart, and my heart brother Leon said. "From the way you talk, he
sank.  might be an ogre, for all the world. Except when
48 Now the shadows took fright and did not his leg that was wounded in the Revolution is
crowd so near. Clumps of andadasi and arrais troubling him, Father is the mildest-tempered,
flashed into view and quickly disappeared as we gentlest man I know."
passed by. Ahead, the elongated shadow of 66 We came to the house of Lacay Julian
Labang bobbled up and down and swayed and I spoke to Labang loudly, but Moning did not
drunkenly from side to side, for the lantern rocked come to the window, so I surmised she must be
jerkily with the cart.  eating with the rest of her family. And I thought of
49 "Have we far to go yet, Noel?" she the food being made ready at home and my
asked.  mouth watered. We met the twins, Urong and
50 "Ask Baldo," my brother Leon said, "we Celin, and I said "Hoy!" calling them by name. And
have been neglecting him." they shouted back and asked if my brother Leon
51 "I am asking you, Baldo," she said.  and his wife were with me. And my brother Leon
52 Without looking back, I answered, picking shouted to them and then told me to make
my words slowly:  Labang run; their answers were lost in the noise of
53 "Soon we will get out of the Waig and the wheels. 
pass into the fields. After the fields is home--- 67 I stopped Labang on the road before our
Manang." house and would have gotten down but my
54 "So near already." brother Leon took the rope and told me to stay in
55 I did not say anything more because I did the cart. He turned Labang into the open gate and
not know what to make of the tone of her voice as we dashed into our yard. I thought we would
she said her last words. All the laughter seemed to crash into the camachile tree, but my brother
have gone out of her. I waited for my brother Leon reined in Labang in time. There was light
Leon to say something, but he was not saying downstairs in the kitchen, and Mother stood in
anything. Suddenly he broke out into song and the the doorway, and I could see her smiling shyly. My
song was 'Sky Sown with Stars'---the same that he brother Leon was helping Maria over the wheel.
and Father sang when we cut hay in the fields at The first words that fell from his lips after he had
night before he went away to study. He must have kissed Mother's hand were: 
taught her the song because she joined him, and 68 "Father... where is he?"
her voice flowed into his like a gentle stream 69 "He is in his room upstairs," Mother said,
meeting a stronger one. And each time the wheels her face becoming serious. "His leg is bothering
encountered a big rock, her voice would catch in him again."
her throat, but my brother Leon would sing on, 70 I did not hear anything more because I
until, laughing softly, she would join him again.  had to go back to the cart to unhitch Labang. But I
56 Then we were climbing out into the hardly tied him under the barn when I heard
fields, and through the spokes of the wheels the Father calling me. I met my brother Leon going to
light of the lantern mocked the shadows. Labang bring up the trunks. As I passed through the
quickened his steps. The jolting became more kitchen, there were Mother and my sister Aurelia
frequent and painful as we crossed the low dikes.  and Maria and it seemed to me they were crying,
57 "But it is so very wide here," she said. all of them. 
The light of the stars broke and scattered the 71 There was no light in Father's room.
darkness so that one could see far on every side, There was no movement. He sat in the big
though indistinctly.  armchair by the western window, and a star
58 "You miss the houses, and the cars, and shone directly through it. He was smoking, but he
the people and the noise, don't you?" My brother removed the roll of tobacco from his mouth when
Leon stopped singing.  he saw me. He laid it carefully on the windowsill
59 "Yes, but in a different way. I am glad before speaking. 
they are not here." 72 "Did you meet anybody on the way?" he
60 With difficulty I turned Labang to the left, asked. 
for he wanted to go straight on. He was breathing 73 "No, Father," I said. "Nobody passes
hard, but I knew he was more thirsty than tired. In through the Waig at night."
a little while, we drove up the grassy side onto the 74 He reached for his roll of tobacco and
camino real.  hitched himself up in the chair. 
61 "---you see," my brother Leon was 75 "She is very beautiful, Father."
explaining, "the camino real curves around the 76 "Was she afraid of Labang?" My father

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had not raised his voice, but the room seemed to

resound with it. And again I saw her eyes on the
long curving horns and the arm of my brother
Leon around her shoulders. 
77 "No, Father, she was not afraid."
78 "On the way---"
79 "She looked at the stars, Father. And
Manong Leon sang."
80 "What did he sing?"
81 "---Sky Sown with Stars... She sang with
him."
82 He was silent again. I could hear the low
voices of Mother and my sister Aurelia
downstairs. There was also the voice of my
brother Leon, and I thought that Father's voice
must have been like it when Father was young. He
had laid the roll of tobacco on the windowsill once
more. I watched the smoke waver faintly upward
from the lighted end and vanish slowly into the
night outside. 
83 The door opened and my brother Leon
and Maria came in. 
84 "Have you watered Labang?" Father
spoke to me. 
85 I told him that Labang was resting yet
under the barn. 
86 "It is time you watered him, my son," my
father said. 
87 I looked at Maria and she was lovely. She
was tall. Beside my brother Leon, she was tall and
very still. Then I went out, and in the darkened
hall, the fragrance of her was like a morning when
papayas are in bloom.

|| LIT 202 (Ma’am Jonalyn)

 West Visayas State University
EXTENSION CAMPUS AT HIMAMAYLAN CITY
Himamaylan City, Negros Occidental

DIVISION OF ENGLISH

|| LIT 202 (Ma’am Jonalyn)

 West Visayas State University
EXTENSION CAMPUS AT HIMAMAYLAN CITY
Himamaylan City, Negros Occidental

DIVISION OF ENGLISH

F. Hernando R. Ocampo
 His works provided an
understanding and
awareness of the harsh social
realities in the country
immediately after the Second
World War.
Notable works:
 "Ikalawang
Pagdalaw,"
 "Unang
Pamumulaklak,"
 "Rice and
Bullets,"
 "Bakia" 

WE/THEY
 
Characters:
 Tura – Head of the
family,husband of Marta
 Marta-wife of Tura
 Totoy- Tura's son
 Ine and Clara- daughters of
Tura
 Policemen officers – guarded
the warehouse.
 Mr. Remulla- leader of an
activist who came from
America.

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 West Visayas State University
EXTENSION CAMPUS AT HIMAMAYLAN CITY
Himamaylan City, Negros Occidental

DIVISION OF ENGLISH

G. Aida Rivera Ford me to see what had happened, I could only point
to the item on the front page with my uncle’s
picture taken when he was still handsome.
 "Love in the Cornhusks" is one of Everybody suddenly spoke in a low voice and Ning
five well-crafted stories for who worshipped me said that I shouldn’t be so
which Rivera-Ford won the Jules unhappy because my uncle was now with the
and Avery Hopwood prize in other great poets in heaven–at which I really
Michigan. howled in earnest because my uncle had not only
 The first editor of Sands and deserted poor Aunt Sophia but had also been
living with another woman these many years and,
Coral, the schools literary folio.
most horrible of all, he had probably died in her
In 1954. embrace!
Notable work:
"Love in the Cornhusks" Perhaps I received an undue amount of
“Love in the Farm.” commiseration for the death of the delinquent
husband of my aunt, but it wasn’t my fault
because I never really lied about anything; only,
nobody thought to ask me just how close an uncle
THE CHIEFTEST he was. It wasn’t my doing either when, some
months after his demise, my poem entitled The
MOURNER Rose Was Not So Fair O Alma Mater was
  captioned “by the niece of the late beloved
Characters: Filipino Poet.” And that having been printed, I
 Poet- husband of Sofia who couldn’t possibly refuse when I was asked to write
passed away on My Uncle–The Poetry of His Life. The article, as
 Esa- the mistress of the poet printed, covered only his boyhood and early
manhood because our adviser cut out everything
 Sofia- the wife of the poet
that happened after he was married. She said that
 Narrator- the niece of the
the last half of his life was not exactly poetic,
poet and Sofia although I still maintain that in his vices, as in his
Setting: poetry, he followed closely the pattern of the
Place -at a big girl's college in great poets he admired.
Manila
-in the little chapel My aunt used to relate that he was an
extremely considerate man–when he was sober,
and on those occasions he always tried to make
THE STORY up for his past sins. She said that he had never
meant to marry, knowing the kind of husband he
would make, but that her beauty drove him out of
He was my uncle because he married my his right mind. My aunt always forgave him but
aunt (even if he had not come to her these past one day she had more than she could bear, and
ten years), so when the papers brought the news when he was really drunk, she tied him to a chair
of his death, I felt that some part of me had died, with a strong rope to teach him a lesson. She
too. never saw him drunk again, for as soon as he was
able to, he walked out the door and never came
I was boarding then at a big girls’ college back.
in Manila and I remember quite vividly that a few
other girls were gathered about the lobby of our I was very little at that time, but I
school, looking very straight and proper since it remembered that shortly after he went away, my
was seven in the morning and the starch in our aunt put me in a car and sent me to his hotel with
long-sleeved uniform had not yet given way. I a letter from her. Uncle ushered me into his room
tried to be brave while I read that my uncle had very formally and while I looked all around the
actually been “the last of a distinct school of place, he prepared a special kind of lemonade for
Philippine poets.” I was still being brave all the the two of us. I was sorry he poured it out into
way down the lengthy eulogies, until I got to the wee glasses because it was unlike any lemonade I
line which said that he was “the sweetest lyre that had ever tasted. While I sipped solemnly at my
ever throbbed with Malayan chords.” Something glass, he inquired after my aunt. To my surprise, I
caught at my throat and I let out one sob–the rest found myself answering with alacrity. I was happy
merely followed. When the girls hurried over to to report all details of my aunt’s health, including

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the number of crabs she ate for lunch and the way; she even denied him those little drinks which
amazing fact that she was getting fatter and fatter he took merely to aid him into poetic
without the benefit of Scott’s Emulsion or Ovaltine composition. Because the woman brazenly
at all. Uncle smiled his beautiful somber smile and followed Uncle everywhere, calling herself his
drew some poems from his desk. He scribbled a wife, a confusing situation ensued. When people
dedication on them and instructed me to give mentioned Uncle’s wife, there was no way of
them to my aunt. I made much show of putting knowing whether they referred to my aunt or to
the empty glass down but Uncle was dense to the the woman. After a while a system was worked
hint. At the door, however, he told me that I could out by the mutual friends of the different parties.
have some lemonade every time I came to visit No. 1 came to stand for Aunt Sophia and No. 2 for
him. Aunt Sophia was so pleased with the poems the woman.
that she kissed me. And then all of a sudden she
looked at me queerly and made a most peculiar I hadn’t seen Uncle since the episode of
request of me. She asked me to say ha-ha, and the lemonade, but one day in school all the girls
when I said ha-ha, she took me to the sink and were asked to come down to the lecture room–
began to wash the inside of my mouth with soap Uncle was to read some of his poems! Up in my
and water while calling upon a dozen of the saints room, I stopped to fasten a pink ribbon to my hair
to witness the act. I never got a taste of Uncle’s thinking the while how I would play my role to
lemonade. perfection–for the dear niece was to be presented
to the uncle she had not seen for so long. My
It began to be a habit with Aunt Sophia to musings were interrupted, however, when a girl
drop in for a periodic recital of woe to which came up and excitedly bubbled that she had seen
Mama was a sympathetic audience. The topic of my uncle–and my aunt, who was surprisingly
the conversation was always the latest low on young and so very modern!
Uncle’s state of misery. It gave Aunt Sophia
profound satisfaction to relay the report of friends I couldn’t go down after all; I was
on the number of creases on Uncle’s shirt or the indisposed.
appalling decrease in his weight. To her, the fact
that Uncle was getting thinner proved conclusively Complicated as the situation was when
that he was suffering as a result of the separation. Uncle was alive, it became more so when he died.
It looked as if Uncle would not be able to hold I was puzzling over who was to be the official
much longer, the way he was reported to be widow at his funeral when word came that I was
thinner each time, because Uncle didn’t have to keep Aunt Sophia company at the little chapel
much weight to start with. The paradox of the where the service would be held. I concluded with
situation, however, was that Aunt Sophia was now relief that No. 2 had decamped.
crowding Mama off the sofa and yet she wasn’t
looking very happy either.
The morning wasn’t far gone when I
arrived at the chapel and there were only a few
When I was about eleven, there began to people present. Aunt Sophia was sitting in one of
be a difference. Everytime I came into the room the front pews at the right section of the chapel.
when Mama and Aunt Sophia were holding She had on a black and white print which
conference, the talk would suddenly be switched managed to display its full yardage over the seat.
to Spanish. It was about this time that I took an Across the aisle from her was a very slight woman
interest in the Spanish taught in school. It was also in her early thirties who was dressed in a dramatic
at this time that Aunt Sophia exclaimed over my black outfit with a heavy veil coming up to her
industry at the piano–which stood a short forehead. Something about her made me
distance from the sofa. At first, I couldn’t gather suddenly aware that Aunt Sophia’s bag looked
much except that Uncle was not any more the paunchy and worn at the corners. I wanted to ask
main topic. It was a woman by the name of Esa–or my aunt who she was but after embracing me
so I thought she was called. Later I began to when I arrived, she kept her eyes stolidly fixed
appreciate the subtlety of the Spanish la mujer before her. I directed my gaze in the same
esa. direction. At the front was the president’s
immense wreath leaning heavily backward, like
And so I learned about the woman. She that personage himself; and a pace behind, as
was young, accomplished, a woman of means. (A though in deference to it, were other wreaths
surprising number of connotations were attached arranged according to the rank and prominence of
to these terms.) Aunt Sophia, being a loyal wife, the people who had sent them. I suppose protocol
grieved that Uncle should have been ensnared by had something to do with it.
such a woman, thinking not so much of herself
but of his career. Knowing him so well, she was I tiptoed over to the muse before Uncle as
positive that he was unhappier than ever, for that he lay in the dignity of death, the faintest trace of
horrid woman never allowed him to have his own his somber smile still on his face. My eyes fell

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 West Visayas State University 2020

upon a cluster of white flowers placed at the foot ahead of the other. I could appreciate my aunt’s
of the casket. It was ingeniously fashioned in the delicadeza in this matter but then got hungry and
shape of a dove and it bore the inscription “From therefore grew resourceful: I called a taxi and told
the Loyal One.” I looked at Aunt Sophia and didn’t her it was at the door with the meter on. Aunt
see anything dove-like about her. I looked at the Sophia’s unwillingness lasted as long as forty
slight woman in black and knew of a sudden that centavos.
she was the woman. A young man, obviously a
brother or a nephew, was bending over her We made up for leaving ahead of the
solicitously. I took no notice of him even though woman by getting back to the chapel early. For a
he had elegant manners, a mischievous cowlick, long time she did not come and when Uncle’s
wistful eyes, a Dennis Morgan chin, and a pin kinswomen arrived, I thought their faces showed
which testified that he belonged to what we girls a little disappointment at finding the left side of
called our “brother college.” I showed him that he the chapel empty. Aunt Sophia, on the other
absolutely did not exist for me, especially when I hand, looked relieved. But at about three, the
caught him looking in our direction. woman arrived and I perceived at once that there
was a difference in her appearance. She wore the
I always feel guilty of sacrilege everytime I same black dress but her thick hair was now
think of it, but there was something grimly carefully swept into a regal coil; her skin glowing;
ludicrous about my uncle’s funeral. There were her eyes, which had been striking enough, looked
two women, each taking possession of her portion even larger. The eyebrows of the women around
of the chapel just as though stakes had been laid, me started working and finally, the scrawniest of
seemingly unmindful of each other, yet revealing the poet’s relations whispered to the others and
by this studied disregard that each was very much slowly, together, they closed in on the woman.
aware of the other. As though to give balance to
the scene, the young man stood his full height I went over to sit with my aunt who was
near the woman to offset the collective bulk of gazing not so steadily at nothing in particular.
Aunt Sophia and myself, although I was merely a
disproportionate shadow behind her. At first the women spoke in whispers, and
then the voices rose a trifle. Still, everybody was
The friends of the poet began to come. polite. There was more talking back and forth, and
They paused a long time at the door, surveying suddenly the conversation wasn’t polite any
the scene before they marched self-consciously more. The only good thing about it was that now I
towards the casket. Another pause there, and could hear everything distinctly.
then they wrenched themselves from the spot
and moved–no, slithered–either towards my aunt “So you want to put me in a corner, do
or towards the woman. The choice must have you? You think perhaps you can bully me out of
been difficult when they knew both. The women here?” the woman said.
almost invariably came to talk to my aunt whereas
most of the men turned to the woman at the left.
“Shh! Please don’t create a scene,” the
I recognized some important Malacañang men
poet’s sisters said, going one pitch higher.”
and some writers from seeing their pictures in the
papers. Later in the morning a horde of black-clad
It’s you who are creating a scene. Didn’t
women, the sisters and cousins of the poet, swept
you come here purposely to start one?”
into the chapel and came directly to where my
aunt sat. They had the same deep eye-sockets and
hollow cheek-bones which had lent a sensitive “We’re only trying to make you see
expression to the poet’s face but which on them reason…. If you think of the dead at all…”
suggested. The air became dense with the sickly-
sweet smell of many flowers clashing and I went “Let’s see who has the reason. I
over to get my breath of air. As I glanced back, I understand that you want me to leave, isn’t it?
had a crazy surrealist impression of mouths Now that he is dead and cannot speak for me you
opening and closing into Aunt Sophia’s ear, and think I should quietly hide in a corner?” The
eyes darting toward the woman at the left. woman’s voice was now pitched up for the benefit
Uncle’s clan certainly made short work of my aunt of the whole chapel. “Let me ask you. During the
for when I returned, she was sobbing. As though war when the poet was hard up do you suppose I
to comfort her, one of the women said, in a deserted him? Whose jewels do you think we sold
whisper which I heard from the door, that the when he did not make money… When he was ill,
president himself was expected to come in the who was it who stayed at his side… Who took care
afternoon. of him during all those months… and who peddled
his books and poems to the publishers so that he
Toward lunchtime, it became obvious that could pay for the hospital and doctor’s bills? Did
neither my aunt nor the woman wished to leave any of you come to him then? Let me ask you
that! Now that he is dead you want me to leave

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his side so that you and that vieja can have the “The woman’s face went livid with shock
honors and have your picture taken with the and rage. She stood wordless while her young
president. That’s what you want, isn’t it–to pose protector, his eyes blazing, came between her and
with the president….” the poet’s kinswomen. Her face began to twitch.
And then the sobs came. Big noisy sobs that shook
“Por Dios! Make her stop it–somebody her body and spilled the tears down her carefully
stop her mouth!” cried Aunt Sophia, her eyes made-up face. Fitfully, desperately, she tugged at
going up to heaven. her eyes and nose with her widow’s veil. The
young man took hold of her shoulders gently to
“Now you listen, you scandalous woman,” lead her away, but she shook free; and in a few
one of the clan said, taking it up for Aunt Sophia. quick steps she was there before the casket,
“We don’t care for the honors–we don’t want it looking down upon that infinitely sad smile on
for ourselves. But we want the poet to be Uncle’s face. It may have been a second that she
honored in death… to have a decent and stood there, but it seemed like a long time.
respectable funeral without scandal… and the
least you can do is to leave him in peace as he lies “All right,” she blurted, turning about. “All
there….” right. You can have him–all that’s left of him!”

“Yes,” the scrawny one said. “You’ve At that moment before she fled, I saw
created enough scandal for him in life–that’s why what I had waited to see. The mascara had indeed
we couldn’t go to him when he was sick… because run down her cheeks. But somehow it wasn’t
you were there, you–you shameless bitch. funny at all.

H. Nick Joaquin
 He wrote using the pen name Quijano de Manila.
 A Filipino writer, historian and journalist, best known for his short stories and novels
in the English language.
Works:
 May Day Eve (1947)
 Prose and Poems (1952)
 The House On Zapote Street (1960)
 The Woman Who had Two Navels (1961)

MAY DAY EVE

 Characters:
 Don Badoy- characterized in the beginning as a promiscuous young man who
wanted yo prove his machismo.
 Agueda- described to be a bold,liberated and a non-conformista young woman.
 Anastasia- Aguida's daughter
 Voltaire- Badoy's grandson
Setting:
Intramuros,Manila

THE STORY

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EXTENSION CAMPUS AT HIMAMAYLAN CITY
Himamaylan City, Negros Occidental

DIVISION OF ENGLISH

The old people had ordered that the night of divination, and night of lovers, and those
dancing should stop at ten o’clock but it was who cared might peer into a mirror and would
almost midnight before the carriages came filing there behold the face of whoever it was they were
up the departing guests, while the girls who were fated to marry, said the old Anastasia as she
staying were promptly herded upstairs to the hobble about picking up the piled crinolines and
bedrooms, the young men gathering around to folding up shawls and raking slippers in corner
wish them a good night and lamenting their while the girls climbing into four great poster-
ascent with mock signs and moaning, proclaiming beds that overwhelmed the room began shrieking
themselves disconsolate but straightway going off with terror, scrambling over each other and
to finish the punch and the brandy though they imploring the old woman not to frighten them.
were quite drunk already and simply bursting with
wild spirits, merriment, arrogance and audacity, "Enough, enough, Anastasia! We want to
for they were young bucks newly arrived from sleep!"
Europe; the ball had been in their honor; and they
had waltzed and polka-ed and bragged and "Go scare the boys instead, you old
swaggered and flirted all night and where in no witch!"
mood to sleep yet--no, caramba, not on this moist
tropic eve! not on this mystic May eve! --with the
"She is not a witch, she is a maga. She is a
night still young and so seductive that it was
maga. She was born of Christmas Eve!"
madness not to go out, not to go forth---and
serenade the neighbors! cried one; and swim in
"St. Anastasia, virgin and martyr."
the Pasid! cried another; and gather fireflies! cried
a third—whereupon there arose a great clamor
for coats and capes, for hats and canes, and they "Huh? Impossible! She has conquered
were a couple of street-lamps flickered and a last seven husbands! Are you a virgin, Anastasia?"
carriage rattled away upon the cobbles while the
blind black houses muttered hush-hush, their tile "No, but I am seven times a martyr
roofs looming like sinister chessboards against a because of you girls!"
wile sky murky with clouds, save where an evil
young moon prowled about in a corner or where a "Let her prophesy, let her prophesy!
murderous wind whirled, whistling and whining, Whom will I marry, old gypsy? Come, tell me."
smelling now of the sea and now of the summer
orchards and wafting unbearable childhood "You may learn in a mirror if you are not
fragrances or ripe guavas to the young men afraid."
trooping so uproariously down the street that the
girls who were desiring upstairs in the bedrooms "I am not afraid, I will go," cried the young
catered screaming to the windows, crowded cousin Agueda, jumping up in bed.
giggling at the windows, but were soon sighing
amorously over those young men bawling below;
"Girls, girls---we are making too much
over those wicked young men and their
noise! My mother will hear and will come and
handsome apparel, their proud flashing eyes, and
pinch us all. Agueda, lie down! And you Anastasia,
their elegant mustaches so black and vivid in the
I command you to shut your mouth and go
moonlight that the girls were quite ravished with
away!""Your mother told me to stay here all
love, and began crying to one another how
night, my grand lady!"
carefree were men but how awful to be a girl and
what a horrid, horrid world it was, till old
Anastasia plucked them off by the ear or the "And I will not lie down!" cried the
pigtail and chases them off to bed---while from up rebellious Agueda, leaping to the floor. "Stay, old
the street came the clackety-clack of the woman. Tell me what I have to do."
watchman’s boots on the cobble and the clang-
clang of his lantern against his knee, and the "Tell her! Tell her!" chimed the other girls.
mighty roll of his great voice booming through the
night, "Guardia serno-o-o! A las doce han dado-o- The old woman dropped the clothes she
o.” had gathered and approached and fixed her eyes
on the girl. "You must take a candle," she
And it was May again, said the old instructed, "and go into a room that is dark and
Anastasia. It was the first day of May and witches that has a mirror in it and you must be alone in
were abroad in the night, she said--for it was a the room. Go up to the mirror and close your eyes

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and shy: "And what did you see, Mama? Oh, what
was it?" But Dona Agueda had forgotten the little
Mirror, mirror, show to me him whose girl on her lap: she was staring pass the curly head
woman I will be. If all goes right, just above your nestling at her breast and seeing herself in the big
left shoulder will appear the face of the man you mirror hanging in the room. It was the same room
will marry." A silence. Then: "And that if all does and the same mirror out the face she now saw in
not go right?" asked Agueda. "Ah, then the Lord it was an old face---a hard, bitter, vengeful face,
have mercy on you!" "Why." "Because you may framed in graying hair, and so sadly altered, so
see--the Devil!" sadly different from that other face like a white
mask, that fresh young face like a pure mask than
The girls screamed and clutched one she had brought before this mirror one wild May
another, shivering. "But what nonsense!" cried Day midnight years and years ago.
Agueda. "This is the year 1847. There is no devil
anymore!" Nevertheless, she had turned pale. "But what was it Mama?”
"But where could I go, hugh? Yes, I know! Down
to the sala. It has that big mirror and no one is “Oh, please go on! What did you see?"
there now." "No, Agueda, no! It is a mortal sin! Dona Agueda looked down at her daughter but
You will see the devil!" "I do not care! I am not her face did not soften though her eyes filled with
afraid! I will go!" "Oh, you wicked girl! Oh, you tears. "I saw the devil." she said bitterly. The child
mad girl!" "If you do not come to bed, Agueda, I blanched. "The devil, Mama? Oh... Oh..." "Yes, my
will call my mother." "And if you do, I will tell her love. I opened my eyes and there in the mirror,
who came to visit you at the convent last March. smiling at me over my left shoulder, was the face
Come, old woman---give me that candle. I go." of the devil." "Oh, my poor little Mama! And were
"Oh girls---give me that candle, I go." you very frightened?" "You can imagine. And that
is why good little girls do not look into mirrors
But Agueda had already slipped outside; except when their mothers tell them. You must
was already tiptoeing across the hall; her feet stop this naughty habit, darling, of admiring
bare and her dark hair falling down her shoulders yourself in every mirror you pass- or you may see
and streaming in the wind as she fled down the something frightful someday." "But the devil,
stairs, the lighted candle sputtering in one hand Mama---what did he look like?" "Well, let me
while with the other she pulled up her white gown see... he has curly hair and a scar on his cheek---"
from her ankles. She paused breathless in the "Like the scar of Papa?" "Well, yes. But this of the
doorway to the sala and her heart failed her. She devil was a scar of sin, while that of your Papa is a
tried to imagine the room filled again with lights, scar of honor. Or so he says." "Go on about the
laughter, whirling couples, and the jolly jerky devil." "Well, he had mustaches." "Like those of
music of the fiddlers. But, oh, it was a dark den, a Papa?" "Oh, no. Those of your Papa are dirty and
weird cavern for the windows had been closed graying and smell horribly of tobacco, while these
and the furniture stacked up against the walls. She of the devil were very black and elegant--oh, how
crossed herself and stepped inside. elegant!" "And did he speak to you, Mama?"
"Yes… Yes, he spoke to me," said Dona Agueda.
The mirror hung on the wall before her; a And bowing her graying head; she wept.
big antique mirror with a gold frame carved into
leaves and flowers and mysterious curlicues. She "Charms like yours have no need for a
saw herself approaching fearfully in it: a small candle, fair one," he had said, smiling at her in the
while ghost that the darkness bodied forth---but mirror and stepping back to give her a low
not willingly, not completely, for her eyes and hair mocking bow. She had whirled around and glared
were so dark that the face approaching in the at him and he had burst into laughter. "But I
mirror seemed only a mask that floated forward; a remember you!" he cried. "You are Agueda,
bright mask with two holes gaping in it, blown whom I left a mere infant and came home to find
forward by the white cloud of her gown. But when a tremendous beauty, and I danced a waltz with
she stood before the mirror, she lifted the candle you but you would not give me the polka." "Let
level with her chin and the dead mask bloomed me pass," she muttered fiercely, for he was
into her living face. barring the way. "But I want to dance the polka
with you, fair one," he said. So, they stood before
She closed her eyes and whispered the the mirror; their panting breath the only sound in
incantation. When she had finished such a terror the dark room; the candle shining between them
took hold of her that she felt unable to move, and flinging their shadows to the wall. And young
unable to open her eyes and thought she would Badoy Montiya (who had crept home very drunk
stand there forever, enchanted. But she heard a to pass out quietly in bed) suddenly found himself
step behind her, and a smothered giggle, and cold sober and very much awake and ready for
instantly opened her eyes. anything. His eyes sparkled and the scar on his
face gleamed scarlet. "Let me pass!" she cried

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again, in a voice of fury, but he grasped her by the the window and flung open the casements and
wrist. "No," he smiled. "Not until we have the beauty of the night struck him back like a
danced." "Go to the devil!" "What a temper has blow. It was May, it was summer, and he was
my serrana!" "I am not your serrana!" "Whose, young---young! ---and deliriously in love. Such a
then? Someone I know? Someone I have offended happiness welled up within him that the tears
grievously? Because you treat me, you treat all my spurted from his eyes. But he did not forgive her--
friends like your mortal enemies." "And why not?" no! He would still make her pay, he would still
she demanded, jerking her wrist away and have his revenge, he thought viciously, and kissed
flashing her teeth in his face. "Oh, how I detest his wounded fingers. But what a night it had been!
you, you pompous young men! You go to Europe "I will never forget this night! he thought aloud in
and you come back elegant lords and we poor an awed voice, standing by the window in the
girls are too tame to please you. We have no dark room, the tears in his eyes and the wind in
grace like the Parisiennes, we have no fire like the his hair and his bleeding knuckles pressed to his
Sevillians, and we have no salt, no salt, no salt! mouth.
Aie, how you weary me, how you bore me, you
fastidious men!" "Come, come---how do you But, alas, the heart forgets; the heart is
know about us?" distracted; and May time passes; summer lends;
the storms break over the rot-type orchards and
"I was not admiring myself, sir!" "You the heart grows old; while the hours, the days, the
were admiring the moon perhaps?" "Oh!" she months, and the years pile up and pile up, till the
gasped, and burst into tears. The candle dropped mind becomes too crowded, too confused: dust
from her hand and she covered her face and gathers in it; cobwebs multiply; the walls darken
sobbed piteously. The candle had gone out and and fall into ruin and decay; the memory
they stood in darkness, and young Badoy was perished...and there came a time when Don
conscience-stricken. "Oh, do not cry, little one!" Badoy Montiya walked home through a May Day
Oh, please forgive me! Please do not cry! But midnight without remembering, without even
what a brute I am! I was drunk, little one, I was caring to remember; being merely concerned in
drunk and knew not what I said." He groped and feeling his way across the street with his cane; his
found her hand and touched it to his lips. She eyes having grown quite dim and his legs
shuddered in her white gown. "Let me go," she uncertain--for he was old; he was over sixty; he
moaned, and tugged feebly. "No. Say you forgive was a very stopped and shivered old man with
me first. Say you forgive me, Agueda." But instead white hair and mustaches coming home from a
she pulled his hand to her mouth and bit it - bit so secret meeting of conspirators; his mind still
sharply in the knuckles that he cried with pain and resounding with the speeches and his patriot
lashed cut with his other hand--lashed out and hit heart still exultant as he picked his way up the
the air, for she was gone, she had fled, and he steps to the front door and inside into the
heard the rustling of her skirts up the stairs as he slumbering darkness of the house; wholly
furiously sucked his bleeding fingers. Cruel unconscious of the May night, till on his way down
thoughts raced through his head: he would go and the hall, chancing to glance into the Sala, he
tell his mother and make her turn the savage girl shuddered, he stopped, his blood ran cold-- for he
out of the house--or he would go himself to the had seen a face in the mirror there---a ghostly
girl’s room and drag her out of bed and slap, slap, candlelight face with the eyes closed and the lips
slap her silly face! But at the same time, he was moving, a face that he suddenly felt he had been
thinking that they were all going to Antipolo in the there before though it was a full minutes before
morning and was already planning how he would the lost memory came flowing, came tiding back,
maneuver himself into the same boat with her. so overflooding the actual moment and so swiftly
Oh, he would have his revenge, he would make washing away the piled hours and days and
her pay, that little harlot! She should suffer for months and years that he was left suddenly young
this, he thought greedily, licking his bleeding again; he was a gay young buck again, lately came
knuckles. But---Judas! He remembered her bare from Europe; he had been dancing all night; he
shoulders: gold in her candlelight and delicately was very drunk; he s stepped in the doorway; he
furred. He saw the mobile insolence of her neck, saw a face in the dark; he called out...and the lad
and her taut breasts steady in the fluid gown. Son standing before the mirror (for it was a lad in a
of a Turk, but she was quite enchanting! How night go jumped with fright and almost dropped
could she think she had no fire or grace? And no his candle, but looking around and seeing the old
salt? An arroba she had of it! man, laughed out with relief and came running.

"... No lack of salt in the chrism at the "Oh Grandpa, how you frightened me.
moment of thy baptism!" He sang aloud in the Don Badoy had turned very pale. "So, it was you,
dark room and suddenly realized that he had you young bandit! And what is all this, hey? What
fallen madly in love with her. He ached intensely are you doing down here at this hour?" "Nothing,
to see her again---at once! ---to touch her hands Grandpa. I was only... I am only ..." "Yes, you are
and her hair; to hear her harsh voice. He ran to the great Señor only and how delighted I am to

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make your acquaintance, Señor Only! But if I "Oh, my poor little Grandpa! Why have
break this cane on your head you will wish you you never told me! And she very horrible?
were someone else, Sir!" "It was just foolishness,
Grandpa. They told me I would see my wife." "Horrible? God, no--- she was the most
beautiful creature I have ever seen! Her eyes were
"Wife? What wife?" "Mine. The boys at somewhat like yours but her hair was like black
school said I would see her if I looked in a mirror waters and her golden shoulders were bare. My
tonight and said: Mirror, mirror show to me her God, she was enchanting! But I should have
whose lover I will be. known---I should have known even then---the
dark and fatal creature she was!"
Don Badoy cackled ruefully. He took the
boy by the hair, pulled him along into the room, A silence. Then: "What a horrid mirror this
sat down on a chair, and drew the boy between is, Grandpa," whispered the boy.
his knees. "Now, put your cane down the floor,
son, and let us talk this over. So, you want your "What makes you slay that, hey?"
wife already, hey? You want to see her in
advance, hey? But so you know that these are "Well, you saw this witch in it. And Mama
wicked games and that wicked boys who play once told me that Grandma once told her that
them are in danger of seeing horrors?" Grandma once saw the devil in this mirror. Was it
of the scare that Grandma died?"
"Well, the boys did warn me I might see a
witch instead." Don Badoy started. For a moment he had
forgotten that she was dead, that she had
"Exactly! A witch so horrible you may die perished---the poor Agueda; that they were at
of fright. And she will be witch you, she will peace at last, the two of them, her tired body at
torture you, she will eat your heart and drink your rest; her broken body set free at last from the
blood!" brutal pranks of the earth---from the trap of a
May night; from the snare of summer; from the
"Oh, come now Grandpa. This is 1890. terrible silver nets of the moon. She had been a
There are no witches anymore." mere heap of white hair and bones in the end: a
whimpering withered consumptive, lashing out
"Oh-ho, my young Voltaire! And what if I with her cruel tongue; her eye like live coals; her
tell you that I myself have seen a witch. face like ashes... Now, nothing--- nothing saves a
name on a stone; save a stone in a graveyard---
"You? Where? nothing! was left of the young girl who had flamed
so vividly in a mirror one wild May Day midnight,
long, long ago.
"Right in this room land right in that
mirror," said the old man, and his playful voice
had turned savage. And remembering how she had sobbed so
piteously; remembering how she had bitten his
hand and fled and how he had sung aloud in the
"When, Grandpa?"
dark room and surprised his heart in the instant of
falling in love: such a grief tore up his throat and
"Not so long ago. When I was a bit older eyes that he felt ashamed before the boy; pushed
than you. Oh, I was a vain fellow and though I was the boy away; stood up and looked out----looked
feeling very sick that night and merely wanted to out upon the medieval shadows of the foul street
lie down somewhere and die I could not pass that where a couple of street-lamps flickered and a last
doorway of course without stopping to see in the carriage was rattling away upon the cobbles, while
mirror what I looked like when dying. But when I the blind black houses muttered hush-hush, their
poked my head in what should I see in the mirror tiled roofs looming like sinister chessboards
but...but..." against a wild sky murky with clouds, save where
an evil old moon prowled about in a corner or
"The witch?" where a murderous wind whirled, whistling and
whining, smelling now of the sea and now of the
"Exactly!" summer orchards and wafting unbearable the
window; the bowed old man sobbing so bitterly at
"And then she bewitches you, Grandpa!" the window; the tears streaming down his cheeks
and the wind in his hair and one hand pressed to
"She bewitched me and she tortured me. l his mouth---while from up the street came the
She ate my heart and drank my blood." said the clackety-clack of the watchman’s boots on the cobbles,
old man bitterly. and the clang-clang of his lantern against his knee, and
the mighty roll of his voice booming through the night:

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"Guardia sereno-o-o! A las doce han dado-o- o!"

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EXTENSION CAMPUS AT HIMAMAYLAN CITY
Himamaylan City, Negros Occidental

DIVISION OF ENGLISH

I. Nestor Vicente Madali Gonzales

A Filipino novelist, short story writer, essayist and poet. Conferred as the National Artist of
the Philippines for Literature in 1997.
Works:
 Children of the Ash-Covered Loam and Other Stories.
 "The Tomato Game“
 The Winds of April (1941)
 A Season of Grace (1956)
 The Bamboo Dancers (1988)

CHILDREN OF THE ASH-COVERED LOOM

CHARACTERS:
Tarang- the main character, a seven years old boy hungry for knowledge
Tatay- Tarang's father
Nanay-Tarang's mother
Cris- Tarang's baby sister
Paula- the woman who gave pig to Tarang
Tia Orang- the midwife
Tio Longinos- tarang's uncle; owns the clearing
Tia Paulin and Tia Adang- Tarang's aunts who were there during the offering
Bokal- the carabao
 
SETTING:
Malig, Mindoro

THE STORY

One day when Tarang was seven, his So, what he had done was keep silent
father came home from Malig with the carabao when she called. And then afterward she was
Bokal, which belonged to their neighbor Longinos, spanking Cris for not taking an afternoon nap; and
who lived in the clearing across the river. The Tarang heard her calling to him: “You’ll see when
carabao pulled a sled which had a lone basket for your tatay comes!”
its load. “Harao!” his father said, pulling Bokal to
stop. And so he walked to the riverbank and
gathered some guavas, and ate the ripe ones as
As Tarang ran to catch the lead rope that fast as he got them; and now he was belching, his
his had tossed over to him, Bokal flared its nostrils breath smelling of guava. Perhaps his hair, too,
and give him a goog look with its big watery eyes, smelled of guava, for why should Bokal flare its
as if to say, “Well, Anak, here we are! Have you nostrils that way.
been good?” He had been playing alone in the
yard, in the long slack of afternoon, and had been With Cris astride her hip, Nanay came
good, except that once Nanay had said why didn’t down at the hut, saying, “You might give that
he go to the hut and do his playing there so that hardheaded son of yours a thrashing for staying
at the same time he could look after his little sister out in the sunshine all afternoon;
Cris, just learning to crawl. Bu that was because
Nanay had wanted to go there in the shade and But Tarang only laughed, “Really?” he
pound rice when what she ought to have done said, and then asked, “That you would know what
was wait for Tatay to help her, or wait for him to I’ve brought here!”
grow up, even!

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“What is this time?” Nanay asked. Tarang meant not to get even a shadow of her.”
looked at the basket on the sled. “ If you must
know, it’s a pig!” Tatay said. He had unhitched the Tarang stared at both of them, not knowing
sled and was leading the carabao away. what they were talking about. Cris sat on Nanay’s arm,
watching the pig also, and making little bubbling sounds
with her mouth.
“Now don’t you try touching it,” his
mother warned Tarang.
“We shall pay everything we owe them next
harvest’” Nanay said.
“It’s so the boy will have something to
look after,” Tatay was saying from under the tree
“Well, there I was and she saw me,” Tatay
across the yard, where he had gathered the went on. “She asked could I go to her house and have
carabao. From down the sled Tarang pulled the my noon meal there? So I went, and ate in the kitchen.
basket, and indeed, two black feet presently Then she asked could I fetch some water and fill the
thrust out of it. The corner of the basket had a big jars? and could I split some firewood? And could I go
hole, and now there sprang forth another foot. out there in the corner of the yard and have a look at
Tatay cut the basket with his bolo, and the pig her pigs? “She had three of them, one a boar,” Tatay
struggled out. went on. “And if I wasn’t really afraid that I’d be told to
fix the fence or the pen, I ama liar this very moment.”
“It’s for you to look after,” he told the
“But for a ganta or five chupas of salt, maybe.
boy. Nanay was standing there beside him and,
Why not?” Nanay asked.
having swung Cris over to other hip, began
scratching the belly of the pig with her big toe.
“You guess right. She said, “Fix it, for the ganta
of salt that you got from the store last time.”
“Do this quite often, and it will become
tame,” she said. “Well, there you are!”

And to Tatay; “Now if you hold Cris a “That’s the trouble, there I was. But she said,
while – “Then she took the bolo and, crossing the “For your little boy to look after-if you like. Yes, why not
yard, she went past the Hinagdong tree where take one sow with you?”
Bokal was and into the underbrush. She returned
with six freshly ripe papayas, she wanted then and And I said: “For my boy? Because, believe me I
there to cut them up and feed the pig with them. was proud and happy Paula remembered our son.

But Tatay said, “Here, you hold Cris She said: “ If you can fatten it and let it have a
yourself.” He got back the bolo from Nanay; litter, the all the better for us.” So I’ve brought home
slipped it into its sheath and hurried down the the pig.
path to the kaingin.
”Nanay threw more bits of ripe papaya into the
trough. Tarang scratched the pig’s with something else
Tarang could see the tall dead trees of the inside its belly.
clearing beyond the Hinagdong tree and the
second growth. The afternoon sun made the barks
‘‘If there is a litter, we are to half,” his father
of the trees glisten like the bolo blade itself. He was saying; and then his mother said: “That is good
thought his father would be away very long but enough.”
Tatay was back soon with a length of tree trunk
which have not been completely burned that day “Well, then, feed it well, Anak!” his father said.
they set fire to the clearing. The fire had devoured
only the hollow of the trunk, so that what Tatay “And you said, there was a boar in that pen?”
had brought was really a trough that the kaingin his mother asked.
had made. Now Tatay cut the ends neatly and
flattened one sided so that the trough would sit “A big and vigorous boar,” his father said.
firm on the ground. They all sat there watching Nanay smiled and then walked over to the kitchen to
the pig eating off the trough. In a short while its start a fire in the stove. When the pig had devoured all
snout was black from rubbing against the burned the ripe papayas, Tatay got a rope and made a harness
bottom and sides. of it round the pig’s shoulder.

“Where did this pig come from? You have “Here, better get it used to you,” Tatay said. So
not said one word,” Nanay said. Tarang pulled the rope and dragged the pig across the
yard. His father led the way through the bush, to the
edge of the kaingin nearest the hut. There they tied the
“Well, there was I in the barrio. And pig to a tree stump. Then his father cut some stakes to
whom do I see but Paula – when all the time I make the pen with.

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|| LIT 202 (Ma’am Jonalyn)

 West Visayas State University
EXTENSION CAMPUS AT HIMAMAYLAN CITY
Himamaylan City, Negros Occidental

DIVISION OF ENGLISH

J. Amador Daguio The sound of the gangsas beat through the walls
of the dark house like muffled roars of falling
waters. The woman who had moved with a start
A Filipino writer and poet during when the sliding door opened had been hearing
pre-war Philippines. He was a the gangsas for she did not know how long. There
Republic Cultural Heritage was a sudden rush of fire in her. She gave no sign
that she heard Awiyao, but continued to sit
awardee for his works. unmoving in the darkness.
Notable Works:
 The Flaming But Awiyao knew that she heard him and his heart
Lyre  pitied her. He crawled on all fours to the middle of
 The Thrilling the room; he knew exactly where the stove was.
With bare fingers he stirred the covered
Poetical Jousts smoldering embers, and blew into the stove.
of When the coals began to glow, Awiyao put pieces
Balagtasan (19 of pine on them, then full round logs as his arms.
60) The room brightened.
 Bataan Ha
"Why don't you go out," he said, "and join the
rvest  dancing women?" He felt a pang inside him,
 The Woman because what he said was really not the right
Who Looked thing to say and because the woman did not stir.
Out the "You should join the dancers," he said, "as if--as if
Window (a nothing had happened." He looked at the woman
huddled in a corner of the room, leaning against
collection of the wall. The stove fire played with strange
short stories) moving shadows and lights
upon her face. She was partly sullen, but her
THE WEDDING DANCE sullenness was not because of anger or hate.

"Go out--go out and dance. If you really don't hate

 CHARACTERS: me for this separation, go out and dance. One of
  the men will see you dance well; he will like your
1. Lumnay- a woman who was left by dancing, he will marry you. Who knows but that,
her husband because he had to marry with him, you will be luckier than you were with
another woman. me."
2. Awiyao- the husband stated above
3. Madulimay- Awiyao's new wife "I don't want any man," she said sharply. "I don't
SETTING: want any other man."
a) Place - in the mountains
He felt relieved that at least she talked: "You
somewhere in the Philippines
know very well that I won't want any other
woman either. You know that, don't you? Lumnay,
you know it, don't you?"

THE STORY She did not answer him.

"You know it Lumnay, don't you?" he repeated.

Awiyao reached for the upper horizontal log
which served as the edge of the headhigh "Yes, I know," she said weakly.
threshold. Clinging to the log, he lifted himself
with one bound that carried him across to the "It is not my fault," he said, feeling relieved. "You
narrow door. He slid back the cover, stepped cannot blame me; I have been a good husband to
inside, then pushed the cover back in place. After you."
some moments during which he seemed to wait,
he talked to the listening darkness. "Neither can you blame me," she said. She
seemed about to cry.
"I'm sorry this had to be done. I am really sorry.
But neither of us can help it."

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"No, you have been very good to me. You have hands and looked longingly at her beauty. But her
been a good wife. I have nothing to say against eyes looked away. Never again would he hold her
you." He set some of the burning wood in place. face. The next day she would not be his any
"It's only that a man must have a child. Seven more. She would go back to her parents. He let go
harvests is just too long to wait. Yes, we have of her face, and she bent to the floor again and
waited too long. We should have another chance looked at her fingers as they tugged softly at the
before it is too late for both of us." split bamboo floor.

This time the woman stirred, stretched her right "This house is yours," he said. "I built it for you.
leg out and bent her left leg in. She wound the Make it your own, live in it as long as you wish. I
blanket more snugly around herself. will build another house for Madulimay."

"You know that I have done my best," she said. "I "I have no need for a house," she said slowly. "I'll
have prayed to Kabunyan much. I have sacrificed go to my own house. My parents are old. They will
many chickens in my prayers." need help in the planting of the beans, in the
pounding of the rice."
"Yes, I know."
"I will give you the field that I dug out of the
"You remember how angry you were once when mountains during the first year of our marriage,"
you came home from your work in the terrace he said. "You know I did it for you. You helped me
because I butchered one of our pigs without your to make it for the two of us."
permission? I did it to appease Kabunyan,
because, like you, I wanted to have a child. But "I have no use for any field," she said.
what could I do?"
He looked at her, then turned away, and became
"Kabunyan does not see fit for us to have a child," silent. They were silent for a time.
he said. He stirred the fire. The spark rose through
the crackles of the flames. The smoke and soot "Go back to the dance," she said finally. "It is not
went up the ceiling. right for you to be here. They will wonder where
you are, and Madulimay will not feel good. Go
Lumnay looked down and unconsciously started back to the dance."
to pull at the rattan that kept the split bamboo
flooring in place. She tugged at the rattan flooring. "I would feel better if you could come, and
Each time she did this the split bamboo went up dance---for the last time. The gangsas are
and came down with a slight rattle. The gong of playing."
the dancers clamorously called in her care
through the walls. "You know that I cannot."

Awiyao went to the corner where Lumnay sat, "Lumnay," he said tenderly. "Lumnay, if I did this
paused before her, looked at her bronzed and it is because of my need for a child. You know that
sturdy face, then turned to where the jars of life is not worth living without a child. The man
water stood piled one over the other. Awiyao took have mocked me behind my back. You know
a coconut cup and dipped it in the top jar and that."
drank. Lumnay had filled the jars from the
mountain creek early that evening. "I know it," he said. "I will pray that Kabunyan will
bless you and Madulimay."
"I came home," he said. "Because I did not find
you among the dancers. Of course, I am not She bit her lips now, then shook her head wildly,
forcing you to come, if you don't want to join my and sobbed.
wedding ceremony. I came to tell you that
Madulimay, although I am marrying her, can She thought of the seven harvests that had
never become as good as you are. She is not as passed, the high hopes they had in the beginning
strong in planting beans, not as fast in cleaning of their new life, the day he took her away from
water jars, not as good keeping a house clean. You her parents across the roaring river, on the other
are one of the best wives in the side of the mountain, the trip up the trail which
whole village." they had to climb, the steep canyon which they
had to cross. The waters boiled in her mind in
"That has not done me any good, has it?" She forms of white and jade and roaring silver; the
said. She looked at him lovingly. She almost waters tolled and growled,
seemed to smile. resounded in thunderous echoes through the
walls of the stiff cliffs; they were far away now
He put the coconut cup aside on the floor and from somewhere on the tops of the other ranges,
came closer to her. He held her face between his and they had looked carefully at the buttresses of

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rocks they had to step on---a slip would have "If I fail," he said, "I'll come back to you. Then both
meant death. of us will die together. Both of us will vanish from
the life of our tribe."
They both drank of the water then rested on the
other bank before they made the final climb to The gongs thundered through the walls of their
the other side of the mountain. house, sonorous and faraway.

She looked at his face with the fire playing upon "I'll keep my beads," she said. "Awiyao, let me
his features---hard and strong, and kind. He had a keep my beads," she half-whispered.
sense of lightness in his way of saying things
which often made her and the village people "You will keep the beads. They come from far-off
laugh. How proud she had been of his humor. The times. My grandmother said they come from up
muscles where taut and firm, bronze and compact North, from the slant-eyed people across the sea.
in their hold upon his skull---how frank his bright You keep them, Lumnay. They are worth twenty
eyes were. She looked at his body the carved out fields."
of the mountains
five fields for her; his wide and supple torso "I'll keep them because they stand for the love
heaved as if a slab of shining lumber were you have for me," she said. "I love you. I love you
heaving; his arms and legs flowed down in fluent and have nothing to give."
muscles--he was strong and for that she had lost
him. She took herself away from him, for a voice was
calling out to him from outside. "Awiyao! Awiyao!
She flung herself upon his knees and clung to O Awiyao! They are looking for you at the dance!"
them. "Awiyao, Awiyao, my husband," she cried.
"I did everything to have a child," she said "I am not in hurry."
passionately in a hoarse whisper. "Look at me,"
she cried. "Look at my body. Then it was full of "The elders will scold you. You had better go."
promise. It could dance; it could work fast in the
fields; it could climb the mountains fast. Even now "Not until you tell me that it is all right with you."
it is firm, full. But, Awiyao, I am useless. I must
die." "It is all right with me."

"It will not be right to die," he said, gathering her He clasped her hands. "I do this for the sake of the
in his arms. Her whole warm naked naked breast tribe," he said.
quivered against his own; she clung now to his
neck, and her hand lay upon his right shoulder; "I know," she said.
her hair flowed down in cascades of gleaming
darkness. He went to the door.

"I don't care about the fields," she said. "I don't "Awiyao!"
care about the house. I don't care for anything but
you. I'll have no other man." He stopped as if suddenly hit by a spear. In pain
he turned to her. Her face was in agony. It pained
"Then you'll always be fruitless." him to leave. She had been wonderful to him.
What was it that made a man wish for a child?
"I'll go back to my father, I'll die." What was it in life, in the work in the field, in the
planting and harvest, in the silence of the night, in
"Then you hate me," he said. "If you die it means the communing with husband and wife, in the
you hate me. You do not want me to have a child. whole life of the tribe itself that made man wish
You do not want my name to live on in our tribe." for the laughter and speech of a child? Suppose he
changed his mind? Why did the unwritten law
She was silent. demand, anyway, that a man, to be a man, must
have a child to come after him? And if he was
"If I do not try a second time," he explained, "it fruitless--but he loved Lumnay. It was like taking
means I'll die. Nobody will get the fields I have away of his life to leave her like this.
carved out of the mountains; nobody will come
after me." "Awiyao," she said, and her eyes seemed to smile
in the light. "The beads!" He turned back and
"If you fail--if you fail this second time--" she said walked to the farthest corner of their room, to the
thoughtfully. The voice was a shudder. "No--no, I trunk where they kept their worldly possession---
don't want you to fail." his battle-ax and his spear points, her betel nut
box and her beads. He dug out from the darkness
the beads which had been given to him by his

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grandmother to give to Lumnay on the beads on, heat in her blood welled up, and she started to
and tied them in place. The white and jade and run. But the gleaming brightness of the bonfire
deep orange obsidians shone in the firelight. She commanded her to stop. Did anybody see her
suddenly clung to him, clung to his neck as if she approach?
would never let him go. She stopped. What if somebody had seen her
coming? The flames of the bonfire leaped in
"Awiyao! Awiyao, it is hard!" She gasped, and she countless sparks which spread and rose like
closed her eyes and huried her face in his neck. yellow points and died out in the night. The blaze
reached out to her like a spreading radiance. She
The call for him from the outside repeated; her did not have the courage to break into the
grip loosened, and he buried out into the night. wedding feast.

Lumnay sat for some time in the darkness. Then Lumnay walked away from the dancing ground,
she went to the door and opened it. The away from the village. She thought of the new
moonlight struck her face; the moonlight spilled clearing of beans which Awiyao and she had
itself on the whole village. started to make only four moons before. She
followed the trail above the village.
She could hear the throbbing of the gangsas
coming to her through the caverns of the other When she came to the mountain stream she
houses. She knew that all the houses were empty crossed it carefully. Nobody held her hand, and
that the whole tribe was at the dance. Only she the stream water was very cold. The trail went up
was absent. And yet was she not the best dancer again, and she was in the moonlight shadows
of the village? Did she not have the most lightness among the trees and shrubs. Slowly she climbed
and grace? Could she not, alone among all the mountain.
women, dance like a bird tripping for grains on the
ground, beautifully When Lumnay reached the clearing, she cold see from
timed to the beat of the gangsas? Did not the men where she stood the blazing bonfire at the edge of the
village, where the wedding was. She could hear the far-
praise her supple body, and the women envy the
off clamor of the gongs, still rich in their sonorousness,
way she stretched her hands like the wings of the
echoing from mountain to mountain. The sound did not
mountain eagle now and then as she danced? mock her; they seemed to call far to her, to speak to
How long ago did she dance at her own wedding? her in the language of unspeaking love. She felt the pull
Tonight, all the women who counted, who once of their gratitude for her
danced in her honor, were dancing now in honor sacrifice. Her heartbeat began to sound to her like
of another whose only claim was that perhaps she many gangsas.
could give her
husband a child. Lumnay though of Awiyao as the Awiyao she had
known long ago-- a strong, muscular boy carrying his
heavy loads of fuel logs down the mountains to his
"It is not right. It is not right!" she cried. "How
home. She had met him one day as she was on her way
does she know? How can anybody know? It is not to fill her clay jars with water. He had stopped at the
right," she said. spring to drink and rest; and she had made him drink
the cool mountain water from her coconut shell. After
Suddenly she found courage. She would go to the that it did not take him long to decide to throw his
dance. She would go to the chief of the village, to spear on the stairs of her father's house in token
the elders, to tell them it was not right. Awiyao on his desire to marry her.
was hers; nobody could take him away from her.
Let her be the first woman to complain, to The mountain clearing was cold in the freezing
denounce the unwritten rule that a man may take moonlight. The wind began to stir the leaves of the
another woman. She would tell Awiyao to come bean plants. Lumnay looked for a big rock on which to
back to her. He surely would relent. Was not their sit down. The bean plants now surrounded her, and she
love as strong as the was lost among them.
river?
A few more weeks, a few more months, a few more
harvests---what did it matter? She would be holding the
She made for the other side of the village where bean flowers, soft in the texture, silken almost, but
the dancing was. There was a flaming glow over moist where the dew got into them, silver to look at,
the whole place; a great bonfire was burning. The silver on the light blue, blooming whiteness, when the
gangsas clamored more loudly now, and it morning comes. The stretching of the bean pods full
seemed they were calling to her. She was near at length from the hearts of the wilting petals would go
last. She could see the dancers clearly now. The on.
man leaped lightly with their gangsas as they
Lumnay's fingers moved a long, long time among the
circled the dancing women decked in feast
growing bean pods.
garments and beads, tripping on the ground like
graceful birds, following their men. Her heart
warmed to the flaming call of the dance; strange

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 West Visayas State University
EXTENSION CAMPUS AT HIMAMAYLAN CITY
Himamaylan City, Negros Occidental

DIVISION OF ENGLISH

K. Gilda Cordero Fernando

 A writer and publisher from the Philippines.
 Cordero-Fernando is also a visual artist, fashion designer, playwright, art curator and
producer.
Notable works:
 The Butcher,The Baker and The Candlestick
Maker (1962)
 A Wilderness of Sweets (1973)
 Luna: An Aswang Romance.

THE VISITATION OF THE GODS

 CHARACTERS:
• Miss Noel- The main character of the story. A teacher who is beautiful and
righteous.  
• Mr. Olbes- Principal of Pugad Lawin.
• Mrs. Olbes- wife of Mr. Olbes. She was not in good terms with Miss Noel, but after
a certain lavatory incident, was able to forgive her.
• Mr. Ampil - former English Supervisor, who is looked up to by Miss Noel for his
righteous ways.
Setting:
Pugad Lawin High School

THE STORY
The letter announcing the visitation (a the stag-horn hat rack. The sink, too, had been
yearly descent upon the school by the repaired and the spent bulbs replaced; a block of
superintendent, the district supervisors and the ice with patches of sawdust rested in the hollow
division supervisors for "purposes of inspection of the small unpainted icebox. There was a brief
and evaluation") had been delivered in the discussion on whether the French soap poster
morning by a sleepy janitor to the principal. The behind the kitchen door was to go or stay: it
party was, the attached circular revealed a hurried depicted a trio of languorous nymphs in various
glance, now at Pagkabuhay, would be in Mapili by stages of deshabille reclining upon a scroll bearing
lunchtime, and barring typhoons, floods, volcanic the legend Parfumerie et Savonerie but the
eruptions and other acts of God, would be upon woodworking instructor remembered that it had
Pugad Lawin by afternoon. been put there to cover a rotting jagged hole - and
the nymphs had stayed.
Consequently, after the first period, all the
morning classes were dismissed. The Home The base of the flagpole, too, had been
Economics building, where the fourteen visiting cemented and the old gate given a whitewash.
school officials were to be housed, became the The bare grounds were, within the remarkable
hub of a general cleaning. Long-handled brooms space of two hours, transformed into a riotous
ravished the homes of peaceful spiders from cross bougainvillea garden. Potted blooms were still
beams and transoms, the capiz of the windows coming in through the gate by wheelbarrow and
were scrubbed to an eggshell whiteness, and the bicycle. Buried deep in the secret earth, what
floors became mirrors after assiduous bouts with supervisor could tell that such gorgeous
husk and candlewax. Open wood boxes of specimens were potted, or that they had merely
Coronas largas were scattered within convenient been borrowed from the neighboring houses for
reach of the carved sofa, the Vienna chairs and the visitation? Every school in the province had its

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special point of pride - a bed of giant squashes, an the grounds, miraculously abloom - with cartolina
enclosure or white king pigeons, a washroom illustrations of Parsing, Amitosis Cell Division and
constructed by the PTA. Yearly, Pugad Lawin High the Evolution of the Filipina Dress - thanks to the
School had made capital of its topography: rooted Group Two leader, Mr. Buenaflor (Industrial Arts)
on the firm ledge of a hill, the schoolhouse was who, forsaken, sat hunched over a rainfall graph.
accessible by a series of stone steps carved on the The distaff side of Group Two were either
hard face of the rocks; its west windows looked practicing tango steps or clustered around a
out on the misty grandeur of a mountain chain vacationing teacher who had taken advantage of
shaped like a sleeping woman. Marvelous, but the her paid maternity leave to make a mysterious
supervisors were expecting something tangible, trip to Hongkong and had now returned with a
and so this year there was the bougainvillea. provocative array of goods for sale.

The teaching staff and the student body The rowdiest freshman boys composed
had been divided into four working groups. The the fourth and discriminated group. Under the
first group, composed of Mrs. Divinagracia, the stewardship of Miss Noel (English), they had, for
harassed Home Economics instructor, and some the past two days been "Landscaping the
of the less attractive lady teachers, were banished Premises," as assignment which, true to its
to the kitchen to prepare the menu: it consisted of appellation, consisted in the removal of all
a 14-lb. suckling pig, macaroni soup, embutido, unsightly objects from the landscape. That the
chicken salad, baked lapu-lapu, morcon, leche flan dirty assignment had not fallen on the hefty Mr.
and ice cream, the total cost of which had already de Dios (Physics) or the crafty Mr. Baz (National
been deducted from the teachers' pay envelopes. Language), both of whom were now hanging
Far be it to be said that Pugad Lawin was lacking curtains, did not surprise Miss Noel. She had long
in generosity, charm or good tango dancers! been at odds with the principal, or rather, the
Visitation was, after all, 99% impression - and Mr. principal's wife - ever since the plump Mrs. Olbes
Olbes, the principal, had promised to remember had come to school in a fashionable sack dress
the teachers' cooperation in that regard in the and caught on Miss Noel's mouth a half-effaced
efficiency reports. smile.

The teachers of Group Two had been "We are such a fashionable group," Miss
assigned to procure the beddings and the dishes Noel had joked once at a faculty meeting. "If only
to be used for the supper. In true bureaucratic our reading could also be in fashion!" -- which
fashion they had relegated the assignment to statement obtained for her the ire of the only two
their students, who in turn had denuded their teachers left talking to her. That Miss Noel spent
neighbors' homes of cots, pillows, and sleeping her vacations taking a summer course for teachers
mats. The only bed properly belonging to the in Manila made matters even worse - for Mr.
Home Economics Building was a four-poster with Olbes believed that the English teacher attended
a canopy and the superintendent was to be given these courses for the sole purpose of showing
the honor of slumbering upon it. Hence it was them up. And Miss Noel's latest wrinkle, the
endowed with the grandest of the sleeping mats, Integration Method, gave Mr. Olbes a pain where
two sizes large, but interwoven with a detailed he sat.
map of the archipelago. Nestling against the
headboard was a quartet of the principal's wife's Miss Noel, on the other hand, thought
heart-shaped pillows - two hard ones and two soft utterly unbecoming and disgusting the manner in
ones- Group Two being uncertain of the sleeping which the principal's wife praised a teacher's new
preferences of division heads. purse of shawl. ("It's so pretty, where can I get
one exactly like it?" - a heavy-handed and
"Structuring the Rooms" was the graceless hint) or the way she had of announcing,
responsibility of the third group. It consisted in well in advance, birthdays and baptisms in her
the construction (hurriedly) of graphs, charts, and family (in other words, "Prepare!"). The lady
other visual aids. There was a scurrying to teachers were, moreover, for lack of household
complete unfinished lesson plans and correct help, "invited" to the principal's house to make a
neglected theme books; precipitate trips from special salad, stuff a chicken or clean the
bookstand to broom closet in a last desperate silverware. But this certainly was much less than
attempt to keep out of sight the dirty spelling expected of the vocational staff - the
booklets of a preceding generation, unfinished Woodworking instructor who was detailed to do
projects and assorted rags - the key later all the painting and repair work on the principal's
conveniently "lost" among the folds of Mrs. Olbes' house, the Poultry instructor whose stock of
(the principal's wife) balloonskirt. leghorns was depleted after every party of the
Olbeses, and the Automotive instructor who was
All year round the classroom walls had forever being detailed behind the wheel of the
been unperturbably blank. Now they were, like principal's jeep and Miss Noel had come to take

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it in stride as one of the hazards of the profession. shoe among the squawking chickens and someone
had stepped on the puto seco. There were
But today, accidentally meeting in the overnight bags and reed baskets to unload,
lavatory, a distressed Mrs. Olbes had appealed to bundles of perishable and unperishable going-
Miss Noel for help with her placket zipper, after away gifts. (The Home Economics staff's dilemma:
which she brought out a bottle of lotion and sans ice box, how to preserve all the food till the
proceeded to douse the English teacher gratefully next morning). A safari of Pugad Lawin instructors
with it. Fresh from the trash pits, Miss Noel, with lent their shoulders gallantly to the occasion.
supreme effort, resisted from making an
untoward observation - and friendship was Vainly, Miss Noel searched in the crowd
restored on the amicable note of a stuck zipper. for the old Language Arts supervisor. All the years
she had been in Pugad Lawin, Mr. Ampil had
At 1:30, the superintendent's car and the come: in him there was no sickening bureaucracy,
weapons carrier containing the supervisors drove none of the self-importance and pettiness that
through the town arch of Pugad Lawin. A runner, often characterized the small public official . He
posted at the town gate since morning, came was dedicated to the service of education, had
panting down the road but was outdistanced by grown old in it. He was about the finest man Miss
the vehicles. The principal still in undershirt and Noel had ever known.
drawers, shaving his jowls by the window, first
sighted the approaching party. Instantly, the room How often had the temporary teachers
was in a hustle. Grimy socks, Form 137's and a half had to court the favor of their supervisors with
bottle of beer found their way into Mr. Olbes' lavish gifts of sweets, de hilo, portfolios and what-
desk drawer. A sophomore breezed down the not, hoping that they would be given a favorable
corridor holding aloft a newly-pressed barong on a recommendation! A permanent position for the
wire hanger. Behind the closed door, Mrs. Olbes highest bidder. But Miss Noel herself had never
wriggled determinedly into her corset. experienced this rigmarole . She had passed her
exams and had been recommended to the first
The welcoming committee was waiting on vacancy by Mr. Ampil without having uttered a
the stone steps when the visitors alighted. It being word of flattery or given a single gift. It was ironic
Flag Day, the male instructors were attired in that even in education, you found the highest and
barong, the women in red, white or blue dresses the meanest forms of men.
in obedience to the principal's circular. The
Social Studies teacher, hurrying down the Through the crowd came a tall unfamiliar
steps to present the Sampaguita garlands, figure in a loose coat, a triad of pens leaking in his
tripped upon an unexpected pot of borrowed pocket. Under the brave nose, the chin had
bougainvillea. Peeping from an upstairs window, receded like a gray hermit crab upon the coming
the kitchen group noted that there were only of a great wave. "Miss Noel, I presume?" said the
twelve arrivals. Later it was brought out that the stranger.
National Language Supervisor had gotten a severe
stomach cramp and had to be left at the Health The English teacher nodded. "I am the
Center; that Miss Santos (PE) and Mr. del Rosario new English supervisor - Sawit is the name." The
(Military Tactics) had eloped at dawn. tall man shook her hand warmly.

Four pairs of hands fought for the singular "Did you have a good trip, Sir?" Mr.
honor of wrenching open the car door, and Mr. Sawit made a face. "Terrible!" Miss Noel laughed.
Alava emerged into the sunlight. He was brown as "Shall I show you to your quarters? You must
a sampaloc seed. Mr. Alava gazed with betired."
satisfaction upon the patriotic faculty and belched
his approval in cigar smoke upon the landscape. "Yes, indeed," said Mr. Sawit. "I'd like to
The principal, rivaling a total eclipse, strode freshen up. And do see that someone takes care
towards Mr. Alava minus a cuff link. of my orchids, or my wife will skin me alive."
"Compañero!" boomed the superintendent with
outstretched arms.
The new English supervisor gathered his
portfolios and Miss Noel picked up the heavy load
"Compañero!" echoed Mr. Olbes. They of orchids. Silently, they walked down the corridor
embraced darkly. of the Home Economics building, hunter and
laden Indian guide.
There was a great to-do in the weapons
carrier. The academic supervisor's pabaon of live "I trust nothing's the matter with Mr.
crabs from Mapili had gotten entangled with the Ampil, sir?"
kalamay in the Home Economics supervisor's
basket. The district supervisor had mislaid his left
"Then you haven't heard? The old fool

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 West Visayas State University 2020

broke a collar bone. He's dead." were reciting like machine guns. I think it's some
kind of a code they have, like if the student knows
"Oh." the answer he is to raise his left hand, and if he
doesn't he is to raise his right, something to that
"You see, he insisted on doing all the effect." Mr. Sawit reached for the towel hanging
duties expected of him - he'd be ahead of us in on Miss Noel's arm.
the school we were visiting if he felt we were
dallying on the road. He'd go by horseback, or "What I mean to say is, hell, what's the
carabao sled to the distant ones where the road use of going through all that palabas? As I always
was inaccessible by bus - and at his age! Then, on say," Mr. Sawit raised his arm and pumped it
our visitation to barrio Tungkod- you know that vigorously in the air, "Let's get to the heart of
place, don't you?" what matters."

Miss Noel nodded. Miss Noel looked up with interest. "You

mean get into the root of the problem?"
"On the way to the godforsaken island,
that muddy hellhole, he slipped on the banca - "Hell no!" the English supervisor said, "I
and well, that's it." mean the dance! I always believe there's no
school problem that a good round of tango
"How terrible." will not solve!"

"Funny thing is - they had to pass the hat Mr. Sawit groped blindly for the towel to
around to buy him a coffin. It turned out the wipe his dripping face and came up to find Miss
fellow was as poor as a churchmouse. You'd think, Noel smiling.
why this old fool had been thirty-three years in
the service. Never a day absent. Never a day late. "Come, girl," he said lamely. "I was really
Never told a lie. You'd think at least he'd get a only joking."
decent burial but he hadn't reached 65 and wasn't
going to get a cent he wasn't working for. Well, As soon as the bell rang, Miss Noel
anyway, that's a thorn off your side." entered I-B followed by Mr. Sawit. The students
were nervous. You could see their hands twitching
Miss Noel wrinkled her brow, puzzled. under the desks. Once in a while they glanced
apprehensively behind to where Mr. Sawit sat on
"I thought all teachers hated strict a cane chair, straight as a bamboo. But as the
supervisors." Mr. Sawit elucidated. "Didn't you all class began, the nervousness vanished and the
quake for your life when Mr. Ampil was there boys launched into the recitation with aplomb.
waiting at the door of the classroom even before Confidently, Miss Noel sailed through a sea of
you opened it with your key?" prepositions using the Oral Approach Method:

"Feared him, yes," said Miss Noel. "But "I live in a barrio."
also respected and admired him for what he stood
for." "I live in a town."

Mr. Sawit shook his head smiling. "So "I live in Pugad Lawin."
that's how the wind blows," he said, scratching a
speck of dust off his earlobe. "I live on a street."

Miss Noel deposited the supervisor's "I live on Calle Real."

orchids in the corridor. They had reached the
reconverted classroom that Mr. Sawit was to Mr. Sawit scribbled busily on his pad.
occupy with two others.
Triumphantly, Miss Noel ended the period
"You must be kind to us poor supervisors," with a trip to the back of the building where the
said Mr. Sawit as Miss Noel took a cake of soap students had constructed a home-made
and a towel from the press. "The things we go printing press and were putting out their first
through!" Meticulously, Mr. Sawit peeled back his school paper.
shirt sleeves to expose his pale hairless wrists. "At
Pagkabuhay, Miss What's-her-name, the grammar The inspection of the rest of the building
teacher, held a demonstration class under the took exactly half an hour. It was characterized by
mango trees. Quite impressive, and modern; but a steering away from the less presentable parts of
the class had been so well rehearsed that they the school (except for the Industrial Arts

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 West Visayas State University 2020

supervisor who, unwatched, had come upon and smoke. Mr. Olbes took Miss Noel firmly by the
stood gaping at the French soap poster). The elbow and steered her towards Mr. Alava who,
twenty-three strains of bougainvillea received deep in a cigar, sat wide-legged on the carved
such a chorus of praise and requests for cutting sofa. "Mr. Superintendent," said the principal.
that the poor teachers were nonplussed on how "This is Miss Noel, our English teacher. She would
to meet them without endangering life and limb be greatly honored if you open the dance with
from their rightful owners. The Academic her."
supervisor commented upon the surprisingly fresh
appearance of the Amitosis chart and this was of "Compañero," twinkled the
course followed by a ripple of nervous laughter. superintendent. "I did not know Pugad Lawin
Mr. Sawit inquired softly of Miss Noel what the grew such exquisite flowers."
town's cottage industry was upon instructions
of his uncle, the supervisor. Miss Noel smiled thinly. Mr. Alava's
terpsichorean knowledge had never advanced
"Buntal hats," said Miss Noel. beyond a bumbling waltz. They rocked, gyrated,
stumbled, recovered, rolled back into the center,
The tour ended upon the sound of the amid a wave of teasing and applause. To each of
dinner bell and at 7 o'clock the guests sat down to the supervisors, in turn, the principal presented a
supper. The table, lorded over by a stuffed Bontoc pretty instructor, while the rest, unattractive or
eagle, was indeed an impressive sight. The painfully shy, and therefore unfit offering to the
flowered soup plates borrowed from Mrs. gods, were left to fend for themselves. The first
Valenton vied with Mrs. De los Santos' bone number was followed by others in three-quarter
china. Mrs. Alejandro's willoware server rivalled time and Miss Noel danced most of them with Mr.
but could not quite outshine the soup tureens of Sawit.
Mrs. Cruz. Pink paper napkins blossomed
grandly in a water glass. At ten o'clock, the district supervisor
suggested that they all drive to the next town
The superintendent took the place of where the fiesta was being celebrated with a big
honor at the head of the table with Mr. Olbes at dance in the plaza. All the prettier lady teachers
his right. And the feast began. Everyone partook were drafted and the automotive instructor was
heavily of the elaborate dishes; there were second ordered behind the wheel of the weapons carrier.
helpings and many requests for toothpicks. On Miss Noel remained behind together with Mrs.
either side of Mr. Alava, during the course of the Divinagracia and the Home Economics staff,
meal, stood Miss Rosales and Mrs. Olbes, the pleading a headache. Graciously, Mr. Sawit also
former fanning him, the latter boning the lapu- remained behind.
lapu on his plate. The rest of the Pugad Lawin
teachers, previously fed on hopia and coke, acted As Miss Noel repaired to the kitchen, Mr.
as waitresses. Never was a beer glass empty, Sawit followed her. "The principal tells me you are
never a napkin out of reach, and the supervisors, quite headstrong, Miss Noel," he said. "But then I
with murmured apologies, belched approvingly. don't put much stock by what principals say."
Towards the end of the meal, Mr. Alava inquired
casually of the principal where he could purchase Miss Noel emptied the ashtrays in the
some buntal hats. Elated, the latter replied that it trash can. "If he meant why I refused to dance
was the cottage industry right here in Pugad with Mr. Lucban…"
Lawin. They were, however, the principal said, not
for sale to colleagues. The Superintendent shook
"No, just things in general," said Mr.
his head and said he insisted on paying, and
Sawit. "The visitation, for instance. What do you
brought out his wallet, upon which the principal
think of it?" Miss Noel looked into Mr. Sawit's yes
was so offended he would not continue eating. At
steadily.
last the superintendent said, “All right,
compañero, give me one or two hats, but the
"Do you want my frank opinion, Sir?"
principal shook his head and ordered his alarmed
teachers to round up fifty; and the ice cream was
served. "Yes, of course."

Close upon the wings of the dinner "Well, I think it's all a farce."
tripped the Social Hour. The hosts and the guests
repaired to the sala where a rondalla of high "That's what I've heard- what makes you
school boys were playing an animated rendition of think that?"
"Merry Widow" behind the hat rack. There was a
concerted reaching for open cigar boxes and "Isn't it obvious? You announce a whole
presently the room was clouded with acrid black month ahead that you're visiting. We clean the

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 West Visayas State University 2020

schoolhouse, tuck the trash in the drawers, bring "How are you so sure?" asked Miss Noel
out our best manners. As you said before, we narrowly.
rehearse our classes. Then we roll out the red
carpet - and you believe you observe us in our "They all do. There are thousands of
everyday surrounding, in our everyday teachers. They're mostly disillusioned but they go
comportment?" on teaching - it's the only place for a woman
to go."
"Oh, we know that." "That's what I mean -
we know that you know. And you know that we "There will be a reclassification next
know that you know." Mr. Sawit gave out an month," continued Mr. Sawit. "Mr. Olbes is out to
embarrassed laugh. "Come now, isn't that putting get you - he can, too, on grounds of
it a trifle strongly?" insubordination, you know that. But I'm willing to
stick my neck out for you if you stop being such an
"No," replied Miss Noel. "In fact, I idealistic fool and henceforth express no more
overheard one of your own companions say just a personal opinions. Let sleeping dogs lie, Miss
while ago that if your lechon were crisper than Noel. I shall give you a good rating after this
that of the preceding school, if our pabaon were visitation because you remind me of my younger
more lavish, we would get a higher efficiency sister, if for no other reason. Then after a year,
rating." when I find that you learned to curb your tongue,
I will recommend you for a post in Manila where
"Of course, he was merely joking. I see what your talents will not be wasted. I am related to
Mr. Olbes meant about your being stubborn." Mr. Alava, you know."

"And what about one supervisor, an Miss Noel bit her lip in stunned silence. Is
acquaintance of yours, I know, who used to come this what she had been wasting her years on? She
just before the town fiesta and assign us the had worked, she had slaved - with a sting of tears
following items: 6 chickens, 150 eggs, 2 goats, 12 she remembered all the parties missed ("Can't
leche flans. I know the list by heart - I was wake up early tomorrow, Clem"), alliances
assigned the checker." forgone ("Really, I haven't got the time, maybe
some other year?") the chances by-passed ("Why,
"There are a few miserable exceptions." she's become a spinster!") - then to come face to
face with what one has worked for - a boor like
Mr. Sawit! How did one explain him away? What
"What about the sweepstakes agent
syllogisms could one invent to rub him out of the
supervisor who makes a ticket of the teacher's
public-school system? Below the window, Miss
clearance for the withdrawal of his pay?
Noel heard a giggle as one of the Pugad Lawin
How do you explain him?"
teachers was pursued by a mischievous supervisor
in the playground.
Mr. Sawit shook his head as if to clear
it.
"You see," the voice continued,
"education is not so much a matter of brains as
"Sir, during the five years that I've taught, getting along with one's fellowmen, else how
I've done my best to live up to my ideals. Yet I could I have risen to my present position?" Mr.
please nobody. It's the same old narrow Sawit laughed harshly. "All the fools I started out
conformism and favor-currying. What matters is with are still head-teachers in godforsaken
not how well one teaches but how well one has barrios, and how can one be idealistic in a
learned the art of pleasing the powers-that-be mudhole? Goodnight, my dear." Mr. Sawit's hot
and it's the same all the wayup." trembling hand (the same mighty hand that
fathered the 8-A's that made or broke English
Mr. Sawit threw his cigar out of the teachers) found its way swiftly around her waist,
window in an arc. " So you want to change the and hot on her forehead Miss Noel endured the
world. I've been in the service a long time, Miss supreme insult of a wet, fatherly kiss.
Noel. Seventeen years. This bald spot on my head
caused mostly by new teachers like you who want Give up your teaching, she heard her aunt
to set the world on fire. In my younger days I say again for the hundredth time, and in a couple
wouldn't hesitate to recommend you for of months you might be the head. We need
expulsion for your rash opinions. But I've grown someone educated because we plan to export.
old and mellow - I recognize spunk and am willing
to give it credit. But spunk is only hard-
Oh, to be able to lie in a hammock on the
headedness when not directed towards the
top of the hill and not have to worry about the
proper channels. But you're young enough and
next lesson plan! To have time to meet people, to
you'll learn, the hard way, singed here and there –
party, to write.
but you'll learn."

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 West Visayas State University 2020

She remembered Clem coming into the night and the silence outside flickered an
house (after the first troubled months of teaching) occasional gaslight in a hut on the mountain
and persuading her to come to Manila because his shaped like a sleeping woman. Was Porfirio deep
boss was in need of a secretary. Typing! Filing! in a Physics book? (Oh, but he mustn't blow up
Shorthand! She had spat the words any more pigshed.) What was Juanita composing
contemptuously back at him. I was given a head tonight? (An ode on starlight on the trunk of a
so I could think! Pride goeth. Miss Noel bowed her banana tree?) Leon walked swiftly under the
head in silence. Could anyone in the big, lighted window: in Miss Noel's eyes he had already won a
offices of the city possibly find use for stubborn, case. Why do I have to be such a darn missionary?
cranky, BSE major?
Unafraid, the boy Leon stepped into the
As Miss Noel impaled the coffee cups night, the burden of bottles light on his back.
upon the spokes of the drainboard, she heard the
door open and the student named Leon After breakfast the next morning, the
come in for the case of beer supervisors packed their belongings and were
empties. soon ready. Mr. Buenaflor fetched a camera and
they all posed on the sunny steps for a souvenir
"Pandemonium over, Ma'am?" he asked. photo: the superintendent with Mr. and Mrs.
Miss Noel smile dimly. Dear perceptive Leon. He Olbes on either side of him and the minor gods in
wanted to become a lawyer. Pugad Lawin's first. descending order on the Home Economics stairs.
What kind of a piker was she to betray a dream Miss Noel was late - but she ran to take her place
like that? What would happen to him if she wasn't with pride and humility on the lowest rung of the
there to teach him his p's and f's? Deep in the school's hierarchy.

L. Leoncio P. Deriada
 He is a multi-lingual writer having produced works in English, Filipino, Hiligaynon,
Kinaray-a and Cebuano.
 His seventeen Palanca Awards include works in English, Filipino and Hiligaynon.
Notable works:
 The Road to Mawab and Other Stories
 The Dog Eaters and Other Plays
 The Week of the Whales and Other Stories
 Little Lessons, Little Lectures

THE DOG-EATERS
 CHARACTERS:
 Victor- a lazy husband who always drink tuba with his dog-eaters friends.
 Mariana- a wife who always mad to her husband because of his habits
 Aling Elpidia- a seller of herbal liquid for abortion.
 Ramir- Victor's dog that being killed by his wife Mariana
SETTING:
Artiaga Street, Davao City

  
THE STORY

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 West Visayas State University
EXTENSION CAMPUS AT HIMAMAYLAN CITY
Himamaylan City, Negros Occidental

DIVISION OF ENGLISH

Mariana looked out of the window toward In his rattan crib that looked like a rat's
the other side of Artiaga Street. A group of men nest, the baby cried louder. Mariana shook the
had gathered around a low table in front of crib vehemently. The baby - all mouth and all legs
Sergio's sari-sari store. It was ten o'clock, Tuesday - thrust in awkward arms into the air, blindly
morning. Yet these men did not find it too early to searching for accustomed nipple.
drink, and worse. They wanted her husband to be
with them. Victor was now reaching for his shirt The baby sucked the rubber nipple easily.
hooked on the wall between Nora Aunor and But Mariana's mind was outside the room as she
Vilma Santos. Mariana turned to him, her eyes watched her husband lean out of the window to
wild in repulsion and anger. answer the invitation of the dog-eaters of Artiaga
Street.
"Those filthy men!" she snarled. "Whose dog did
they slaughter today?" "Aren't you inviting your wife?" she spoke
loud, the hostility in her voice unchecked by the
Victor did not answer. He put on his shirt. dirty plywood wall. "Perhaps your friends have
Presently, he crawled on the floor and searched reserved the best morsel for me. Which is the
for his slippers under the table. Mariana watched most delicious part of a dog, ha, Victor? Its heart?
him strain his body toward the wall, among the Its liver? Its brain? Blood? Bone? Ears? Tongue?
rattan tools. He looked like a dog tracking the Tail? I wish to God you'd all die of hydrophobia!"
smell hidden carrion.
"Can you feed the baby and talk at the
"My God, Victor, do you have to join them same time?" Victor said. She did not expect him to
every time they stew somebody's pet?" answer and now that he had, she felt angrier. The
heat from the unceilinged roof had become
Victor found his slippers. He emerged terrible and it had all seeped into her head. She
from under the table, smoothed his pants and was ready for a fight.
unbutton his shirt. He was sweating. He looked at
his wife and smiled faintly, the expression The baby had gone back to sleep. Mariana
sarcastic, and in an attempt to be funny, "it's dashed out of the room, her right hand tight
barbecue today." around the empty bottle. She had to have a
weapon. She came upon her husband opening the
"I'm not in the mood for jokes!" Mariana door to little porch. The porch was at the top of
raised her voice. "It's time you stop going with the stairs that led out into Artiaga Street.
those good-for-nothing scavengers."
"Why don't you do something instead of
Her words stung. For now she noted an drinking their stinking tuba and eating that filthy
angry glint in Victor's eyes. "They are my friends, meat? Why don't you decent for a change?"
Mariana," he said.
Victor turned her off. It seemed he was
"You should have married one of them!" also ready for a fight. The glint in his eyes had
she snapped back. Suddenly, she straightened. become sinister.
She heard Sergio's raspy voice, calling from his
store across the street. It was an ugly voice, and it And what's so indecent about eating dog
pronounced Victor's name in a triumphant meat?" His voice sounded canine, too, like
imitation of a dog's bark. Sergio's. "The people of Artiaga Street have been
eating dog meat for as long as I can remember."
"Victor! Victor! Aw! Aw!" the canine growl
floated across Artiaga Street. Mariana glared at "No wonder their manners have gone to
her husband as he brushed her aside on his way the dogs!"
to the window. She felt like clawing his face, biting
his arms, ripping the smelly shirt off his back. "I'm "You married one of them."
coming," Victor answered, leaning out of the
window. Mariana opened her mouth for harsher "Yes, to lead a dog's life!"
invectives but a sharp cry from the bedroom
arrested her. It was her baby. She rushed to the
Victor stepped closer, breathing hard.
table, pick a cold bottle of milk, and entered.
Marina did not move. "What's eating you?" he
demanded.

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"What's eating me?" she yelled. "Dog's! accumulated these last two years.
I'm ready to say aw-aw, don't you know?"
Mariana closed the window. The slight
Victor repaired his face, amused by this darkening of the room intensified the heat on the
type of quarrel. Again, he tried to be funny. roof and in her head. She pulled a stool and sat
beside the sewing machine under the huge
"Come, come, Mariana darling," he said, pictures of Nora Aunor and Vilma Santos, under
smiling condescendingly. the altar-like alcove on the wall where a transistor
radio was enshrined like an idol.
Mariana was not amused. She was all set
to proceed with the fight. Now she tried to be She felt tired. Once again, her eyes
acidly ironic. surveyed the room with repulsion. She had stayed
in this rented house for two years, tried to paste
“Shall I slaughter Ramir for you? That pet pictures on the wall, hung up classic curtains that
of yours does nothing but bark at strangers and could not completely ward off the stink from the
dirty the doorstep. Perhaps you can invite your street. Instead of cheering up the house, they
friends tonight. Let’s celebrate.” made it sadder, emphasizing the lack of the things
she had dreamed of having when she eloped with
Victor two years ago.
“Leave Ramir alone,” Victor said,
seriously.
Victor was quite attractive. When he was
teen-ager, he was a member of the Gregory Body
“That dog is enslaving me!”
Building Club on Cortes Street. He dropped out of
freshmen year at Harvadian and instead
Victor turned to the door. It was the final developed his chest and biceps at the club. His
insult, Mariana thought. The bastard! How dare was to be Mr. Philippines, until one day, Gregory
he turn his back on her? cancelled his membership. Big Boss Gregory - who
was not interested in girls but in club members
“Punyeta!” she screeched and flung the with the proportions of Mr. Philippines – had
bottle at her husband. Instinctively, Victor turned discovered that Victor was dating a manicurist
and parried the object with his arm. The bottle fell named Fely.
to the floor but did not break. It rolled noisily
under the table where Victor moment had hunted Victor found work as a bouncer at Three
for his rubber slippers. Diamonds, a candlelit bar at the end of Artiaga,
near Jacinto Street. All the hostesses there were
He looked at her, but there was no reaction in his Fely’s customers. Mariana, who came from a
face. Perhaps he thought it was all a joke. He better neighborhood, was a third year BSE student
opened the door and stepped out into the street. at Rizal Memorial Colleges. They eloped during
the second semester, the very week Fey drowned
Mariana ran to the door and banged it in the pool behind Three Diamonds. Just as
once, twice, thrice, all the while shrieking, “Go! Mariana grew heavy with a child, Victor lost his
Eat and drink until your tongue hangs like a mad job at the bar. He quarreled with the manager. An
dog’s. Then I’ll call a veterinarian.” uncle working in a construction company found
him a new job. But he showed up only when the
Mariana leaned out of the window and man did not report for work.
shouted to the men gathered in front of Sergio’s
store. These last few days, not one of the carpenters got
sick. So Victor had to stay home. Mariana felt a
“Why don’t you leave my husband alone? stirring in her womb. She felt her belly with both
You dogs!” hands. Her tight faded dress could not quite
conceal this most unwanted pregnancy. The baby
The men laughed louder, obscenely. Their in the crib in the other room was only eight
voices offended the ears just as the stench from months, and here she was - carrying another
the garbage dump at the Artiaga-Mabini junction child. She closed her eyes and pressed her belly
offended the nostrils. There were five other men hard. She felt the uncomfortable swell, and in a
aside from the chief drinker, Sergio. Downing a moment, she had ridiculous thought. What if she
gallon of tuba at ten o’clock in the morning with bore a pair or a trio of puppies? She imagined
of Artiaga’s idle men was his idea of brotherhood. herself as a dog, a spent bitch with hind legs
It was good for his store, he thought, though his spread out obscenely as her litter of three, or four,
wife languish behind the row of glass jars and or five, fought for her tits while the mongrel who
open cartons of dried fish – the poor woman deep was responsible for all this misery flirted with the
in notebooks of unpaid bills the neighbors had other dogs of the neighborhood.

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A dog barked. Mariana was startled. It was Aling Elpidia sat down again. “What is so
Ramir. His chain clanked and she could picture the terrible about that?” she asked.
dog going up the stairs, his lethal fangs bared in
terrible growl. Mariana looked at the old woman. For the
first time she noticed that Aling Elpidia had been
“Ay, ay, Mariana!” a familiar, nervous dying her hair. But the growth of hair this week
voice rose from the din. “Your dog! He’ll bite me. had betrayed her.
Shoo! Shoo!”
“Do you eat dog meat, Aling Elpidia?”
It was Aling Elpidia, the fish and vegetable Mariana asked.
vendor.
“It’s better than goat’s meat: And a dog is
“Stay away from the beast, Aling Elpidia!” definitely cleaner than a pig. With the price of
Mariana shouted. She opened the door. Aling pork and beef as high as Mount Apo – one would
Elpidia was in the little yard, her hands nervously rather eat dog meat. How’s the baby?”
holding her basket close to her like a shield. Ramir
was at the bottom of the stairs, straining at his “Asleep”
chain, barking at the old woman.
Aling Elpidia picked up her basket from
Mariana pulled the chain. The dog the floor. “Here’s your day’s supply of vegetables.
resisted. But soon he relaxed and stopped I also brought some bangus. Cook Victor a pot of
barking. He ran upstairs, encircled Mariana once, sinigang and he’ll forget the most delicious chunk
and then sniffed her hands. of aw-aw meat. Go, get a basket.”

“Come on up, Aling Elpidia. Don’t be Mariana went to the kitchen to get a
afraid. I’m holding Ramir’s leash.” basket as Aling Elpidia busied herself sorting out
the vegetables.
The old woman rushed upstairs, still
shielding herself with her basket of fish and “I hope you haven’t forgotten the green
vegetables. mangoes and – and that thing you promised me,”
Mariana said, laying her basket on the floor.
“Naku, Mariana. Why do you keep that
crazy dog at the door? He’ll bite a kilo off every “I brought all of them,” assured the old
visitor. The last time I was here I almost had a woman. She began transferring the vegetables
heart attack.” and fish into Mariana’s basket. Mariana helped
her.
“That’s Victor’s idea of a house guard.
Come, sit down.” “I haven’t told Victor anything,” Mariana
said in a low, confidential tone.
Aling Elpidia dragged a stool to the
window. “Why, I’m still trembling!” she said. “He does not have to know,” Aling Elpidia
“Why must you close the window, Mariana?” said.

Mariana opened the window. “Those The old woman produced from the
horrible men across the street, I can’t stand their bottom of the basket a tall bottle filled with a dark
noise.” liquid and some leaves and tiny, gnarled roots.
She held the bottle against the light. Mariana
“Where’s Victor?” regarded it with interest and horror. “I’m afraid,
Aling Elpidia,” she whispered.
“There!” Mariana said contemptuously.
“With them.” The old woman looked out of the “Nonsense. Go, take these vegetables to
window. the kitchen.”

“He is one of them!” Mariana sped to the kitchen. Aling Elpidia

moved to the table, pushed the dish rack that held
“One of what?” some five or six tin plates, and set the bottle
beside a plastic tumbler that contained spoon and
“The dog-eaters of Artiaga Street!” forks. She pulled a stool from beneath the table
Mariana spat out the words, her eyes wild in and sat down. Soon Mariana was beside her.
anger.
“Is it effective?” Mariana asked nervously.

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“Very effective. Come on let me touch picked up her basket and walked to the door.
you.” Suddenly she stopped. “Your dog, Mariana.” Her
voice became nervous again.
Mariana stood directly in front of the old
woman, her belly her belly almost touching the Mariana held Ramir’s leash as the old
vendor’s face. Aling Elpidia felt Mariana’s belly woman hurried down the stairs. “You may start
with both hands. taking it tonight.” It was her last piece of medical
advice. Loud laughter rose from the store across
“Three months did you say, Mariana?” the street. Mariana stiffened. Her anger returned.
Then her baby cried.
“Three months and two weeks.”
She hurried to the bedroom. The tall
“Are you sure you don’t want this child?” bottle looked grotesque on the table: tiny, gnarled
Aling Elpidia asked one hand flat on Mariana’s roots seemed to twist like worms or miniature
belly. “It feels so healthy.” umbilical cords. With a shudder, she glanced at
the bottle. The sharp cry became louder. Mariana
rushed inside and discovered that the baby had
“I don’t want another child,” Mariana
wetted its clothes.
said. And to stress the finality of her decision, she
grabbed the bottle and stepped away from the old
woman. The bottle looked like atrophy in her She heard somebody coming up the stairs.
hand. It must be Victor. Ramir did not bark.

“Well, it’s your decision,” Aling Elpidia said “Mariana!” Victor called out. “Mariana!”
airily. “The bottle is yours.”
“Quiet!” she shouted back. “The baby’s
“Is it bitter?” going back to sleep.”

“Yes.” The house had become hotter. Mariana

went out of the bedroom, ready to resume the
unfinished quarrel. Victor was now in the room,
Mariana squirmed. “How shall I take
sweating and red-eyed. He had taken off his shirt
this?”
and his muscular body glistened wit animal
attractiveness. But now Mariana was in a different
“A spoonful before you sleeps in the type of heat.
evening and another spoonful after breakfast.”
“I met that old witch Elpidia,” Victor said,
“May I take it with a glass of milk or a “What did she bring you today?”
bottle of coke?”
“The same things. Vegetables. Some fish.”
“No. You must take it pure.”
“Fish! Again?”
“It’s not dangerous, is it, Aling Elpidia?”
“You are drunk!”
“Don’t you worry. It is bitter but it is
harmless. It will appear as an accident. Like falling
“I’m not drunk. Come Mariana dear. Let
down the stairs. Moreover, there will be less pain
me hold you.”
and blood.”

“Don’t touch me!” she screamed. “You

“Please come everyday. Things might go
stink!”
wrong.”

Victor moved back, offended. “I don’t

Aling Elpidia nodded and stood up. “I
stink and I’m not drunk.”
think I must go now,” she said. Then she lowered
her voice and asked, “Do you have the money?”
Mariana stepped closer to her husband.
He smelled of cheap pomade, onions, and vinegar.
“Yes, yes,” Mariana said. She went to the
sewing machine and opened a drawer. She
handed Aling Epidia some crumpled bills. “Do you have to be like this all the time?
Quarreling every day? Why don’t you get a steady
job like any decent husband? You would be out
The vendor counted the bills expertly, and
the whole day, and perhaps, I would miss you.”
then dropped the little bundle into her breast. She

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“You don’t have to complain,” Victor said “There will be no second baby.”
roughly. “True, my work is not permanent but I
think we have enough. We are not starving, are “What do you mean?”
we?”
“You met Aling Elpidia on your way.”
“You call this enough?” her hands
gesticulated madly. “You call this rat’s nest, this “And what did that witch do? Curse my
hell of a neighborhood – enough? You call these baby? Is a vampire?”
tin plates, this plastic curtains – enough? This is
not the type of life I expect. I should have
“She came to help me.”
continued school. You fooled me!”
Mariana went to the table and snatched
“I thought you understood. I-“
the bottle. She held high in Victor’s face. “See this,
Victor?” she taunted him. Victor was not
“No, no I didn’t understand. And still I interested. “You don’t want me to drink tuba, and
don’t understand why you – you –“ here you are with a bottle of sioktong.”

“Let’s not quarrel,” Victor said abruptly. I “How dull you are!” her lips twisted in
don’t want to quarrel with you.” derision. “See those leaves? See those roots? They
are very potent, Victor.”
“But I want to quarrel with you!” Mariana
shouted. “I don’t understand.”

“Be reasonable.” “One spoonful in the morning and one

spoonful in the evening. It’s bitter, Victor, but I
“You are not reasonable. You never tried will bear it.”
to please me. You would rather be with your
stinking friends and drink their dirty wine and eat Like a retarded, Victor stared at his wife.
their dirty meat. Oh, how I hate it, Victor!” Then the truth dawned upon him and exclaimed
in horror, “What? What? My baby!”
“What do you want me to do – stay here
and boil the baby’s milk?” Mariana faced her husband squarely.
“Yes! And I’m not afraid!” she jeered.
“I wish you would!”
“You won’t do it.”
“That’s your job. You’re a woman.”
“I’m not afraid.”
“Oh, how are you admire yourself for
being a man,” Mariana sneered in utter sarcasm. “Give me that bottle.”
“You miserable-“
“No!”
“Don’t yell. You wake up the baby.”
“What kind of woman are you?”
“To hell with your baby!”
“And what kind of man are you?”
“You are mad, Mariana.”
“It’s my baby!”
“And so I’m mad. I’m mad because I don’t
eat dog meat. I’m mad because I want my
“It’s mine. I have the right to dispose of it,
husband to make a man of himself, I’m mad
I don’t want another child.”
because – “
“Why, Mariana, why?”
“Stop it!”
“Because you cannot afford it! What
“Punyeta!”
would you feed your another child, ha, Victor?
Tuba milk? Dog meat for rice?”
“Relax, Mariana. You are excited. That’s
not good for you. I want my second baby
“We shall manage, Mariana. Everything
healthy.”
will be all right.”

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“Sure, sure, everything will be all right – – cut children’s dresses?”

for you. I don’t believe in that anymore.”
“You are unnatural. You don’t act like a
“Give me that bottle!” mother, you want to kill your own child.”

“No!” “It’s my own child.”

They grappled for a moment. Mariana “It’s murder!”

fought like an untamed animal. At last Victor took
hold the bottle. He pushed his wife against the “Nobody will know.”
wall and ran to the window, his right hand holding
the bottle above his head. “I will know. You will know. And God –
and God – will know!”
And like a man possessed, he hurled the
bottle out f the window. The crash of the glass “Ahhh!” Mariana sneered
against the gravel on the road rendered Mariana sontemptuously. “Now who’s talking? When was
speechless. But she recovered. She dashed to the the last time you went to church, ha Victor? That
window and gave out almost inhuman scream at was the time the Legion of Mary brought us to
what she saw. The bottle was broken into Fatima Church to be married and you fought with
countless splinters and the dark liquid stained the the priest in the confessional. And now here you
dry gravel street. Bits of leaves and roots stuck to are mentioning God’s name to me.”
the dust. Presently, a dog came along and sniffed
the wet ground suspiciously, then left with his tail
“Please, please, Mariana,” Victor was
between his legs.
begging now. “That’s our child!”

Mariana screamed again in horror and

“I told you I didn’t want another child. You
frustration. In the glare of the late morning sun
broke that bottle but I’ll look for other means. I’ll
she had a momentary image of the men – now
starve myself. I’ll jump out of the window. I’ll fall
faceless and voiceless – in front of the store
down the stairs.”
across the street. This time they did not laugh, but
they watched her from certain blankness. She
“Mariana!”
turned to her husband and flung herself at him,
raising her arms, her fingers poised like claws. She
scratched his face and pounded his chest with her “You cannot afford to buy pills or hire a
fists. doctor.”

“Damn you! Damn you!” she shrieked in “I want a child.”

fury.
“You men can talk because you don’t have
Victor caught her arms and shook her. to bear the children. You coward!”
“Stop it, Mariana!” he mumbled under his breath.
Victor raised his hand to strike her.
“Let me go! You are hurting me!” Mariana offered her face, daring him to complete
his own humiliation. Victor dropped his hand. He
was lost, totally unmanned.
“Behave you woman!” Victor shook her
harder.
A bit of his male vanity stirred inside him.
He raised his hand again, but Mariana was quick
Mariana spat on his face. Then she bit on
with the nearest weapon. She seized a stool with
the right arm. She spat again, for she had a quick
both hands, and with the strength all her arms
taste of salt and dirt.
could muster, throws the stool at him. Victor
caught the object with his strong shoulder. The
Victor released her. She moved back, her
stool dropped to the floor as Mariana made ready
uncontrollable rage shaking her. “You threw it
with another weapon, a vase of plastic flowers.
away! You destroy it! I paid forty pesos for it and
it’s not your money!”
“Go away from me! Get out! Get out!”
“Forty pesos,” Victor murmured. “That is a
Victor went out of the room. Mariana was
lot of milk.”
left panting, giving vent to her anger by pulling
down the plastic curtains and the printed cover of
Mariana caught her breath. She allowed
the sewing machine. She stooped to the table and
dryly and said, “What do you want me to do now
with a furious sweep of her hand, cleared it of

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 West Visayas State University 2020

dish rack, tin plates, spoons, and forks. Then she saliva.
went to the kitchen and tossed the basket of
vegetables and fish out of the kitchen window. A Meanwhile, Mariana was untying the
trio of dogs rushed in from nowhere and fought chain on the top of the stairs.
over the fish strewn in the muddy space under the
sink. And the dog rushed into the roaring
attack. Quicker than she thought she was,
Then Ramir barked. Mariana slipped the end of the chain under the
makeshift railing of the stairway and pulled the
“Shut up, you miserable dog!” leash with all her might. As she had expected, the
dog hurtled into the space between the broken
Ramir continued barking. banisters and fell. The weight of the animal pulled
her to her knees, but she was prepared for that,
Mariana paused. Ramir, she taught. too. She braced herself against the rails of the
Victor’s dog. A cruel thought crossed her mind porch, and now, the dog was dangling below her.
and stayed there. Now she knew exactly what to A crowd had now gathered in front of the house
do. She reached for the big kitchen knife of a shelf to witness the unexpected execution. But Mariana
above the sink. Kicking the scattered tin plates on neither saw their faces nor heard their voices.
the floor, she crossed the main room to the porch.
Ramir gave a final yelp and stopped
Downstairs, Ramir was barking at some kicking the air.
object in the street. Noticing Mariana’s presence,
he stopped barking. Mariana stared at the dog. Mariana laughed deliriously. She watches
The dog stared back, and Mariana noticed the the hanging animal and addressed it in triumph:
change in the animal’s eyes. They became fiery, “I’ll slit your throat and drink your blood and cut
dangerous. My God, Mariana thought. This you to pieces and stew you and eat you! Damn
creature knew! Ramir’s ears stood. The hair on you Victor. Damn this child. Damn everything. I’ll
the back of its neck stood, too. Then he bared his cook you, Ramir. I’ll cook you and eat you and eat
fangs viscously and growled. you and eat you!”

Mariana dropped the knife. She did not She released the chain and the canine
know how to use it at this moment. She was carcass dropped with a thud on the ground below.
beginning to be afraid.
Mariana sat on the topmost step of the
Slowly, she climbed up the stairs. He stairs; she put her hands between her legs and
moved softly but menacingly. Like a hunter sizing stared blankly at the rusty rooftops in front of her.
up his quarry. His yellowing fangs dropped with And for the first in all her life on the Artiaga
Street, Mariana cried.

M. Gregorio C. Brillantes
 He is a Palanca Award Hall of Famer and a Multi – Awarded fiction writer.
 Known for his sophisticated and elegant style.
Notable works:
 The Distance to Andromeda and Other Stories.
 The Apollo Centennial, Help 
 On a Clear Day in November Shortly Before the
Millennium, Stories for a Quarter Century.

FAITH, LOVE, TIME AND DR. LAZARO

 CHARACTERS:
Dr. Lazaro – protagonist; distant to his family.
Ben – foil character; son of Dr. Lazaro; wanting to be a priest.
Mrs. Lazaro – flat character; religious wife; latent behavior.

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 West Visayas State University
EXTENSION CAMPUS AT HIMAMAYLAN CITY
Himamaylan City, Negros Occidental

DIVISION OF ENGLISH

Pedro Esteban and Family – in a voice that was frantic yet oddly subdued and
flat characters, strong believers, courteous. Dr. Lazaro thad heard it countless
Pedro need assistance for his sick times, in the corridors of the hospitals, in waiting
newborn child. rooms: the perpetual awkward misery. He was
Pedro Esteban, the brother of the doctor’s tenant
 SETTING:
in Nambalan, said the voice, trying to make itself
 The story happened 1980’s – less sudden remote.
2000. But the connection was faulty, there was a
 The set in the story is humming in the wires, as though darkness had
constantly in darkness. added to the distance between the house in the
 The story took place on the town and the gas station beyond the summer
house of Dr. Lazaro and hut of fields. Dr. Lazaro could barely catch the severed
Esteban in a barrio, San phrases. The man’s week-old child had a high
Miguel near gasoline station. fever, a bluish skin; its mouth would not open to
suckle. They could not take the baby to the
 The story happened during
poblacion, they would not dare move it; its body
night time.
turned rigid at the slightest touch. If the doctor
would consent to come at so late an hour,
Esteban would wait for him at the station. If the
THE STORY doctor would be so kind.
Tetanus of the newborn: that was
elementary, and most likely it was so hopeless, a
From the upstairs veranda, Dr. Lazaro had waste of time. Dr. Lazaro said yes, he would be
a view of stars, the country darkness, the lights on there; he had committed himself to that answer,
the distant highway at the edge of town. The long ago; duty had taken the place of an
phonograph in the sala played Chopin – like a vast exhausted compassion. The carelessness of the
sorrow controlled, made familiar, he had wont to poor, the infected blankets, the toxin moving
think. But as he sat there, his lean frame in the toward the heart: they were casual scribbled
habitual slack repose took after supper, and items in a clinical report. But outside the grilled
stared at the plains of night that had evoked windows, the night suddenly seemed alive and
gentle images and even a kind of peace (in the waiting. He had no choice left now but action: it
end, sweet and invincible oblivion), Dr. Lazaro was the only certitude – he sometimes reminded
remembered nothing, his mind lay untouched by himself – even if it would prove futile, before, the
any conscious thought, he was scarcely aware of descent into nothingness.
the April heat; the pattern of music fell around His wife looked up from her needles and
him and dissolved swiftly, uncomprehended. It twine, under the shaded lamp of the bedroom;
was as though indifference were an infection that she had finished the pullover for the grandchild in
had entered his blood it was everywhere in his Bagiuo and had begun work, he noted, on another
body. In the scattered light from the sala his of those altar vestments for the parish church.
angular face had a dusty, wasted quality, only his Religion and her grandchild certainly kept her
eyes contained life. He could have remained there busy … She looked at him, into so much to inquire
all evening, unmoving, and buried, it is where, in a as to be spoken to: a large and placid woman.
strange half-sleep, had his wife not come to tell “Shouldn’t have let the drive go home so
him he was wanted on the phone. early,” Dr. Lazaro said. “They had to wait till now
Gradually his mind stirred, focused; as he to call … Child’s probably dead…”
rose from the chair he recognized the somber “Ben can drive for you.”
passage in the sonata that, curiosly, made him “I hardly see that boy around the house.
think of ancient monuments, faded stone walls, a He seems to be on vacation both from home and
greyness. The brain filed away an image; and in school.”
arrangement of sounds released it… He switched “He’s downstairs,” his wife said.
off the phonograph, suppressed and impatient Dr. Lazaro put on fresh shirt, buttoned it
quiver in his throat as he reached for the phone: with tense, abrupt motions, “I thought he’d gone
everyone had a claim on his time. He thought: out again… Who’s that girl he’s been seeing?...It’s
Why not the younger ones for a change? He had not just warm, it’s hot. You should’ve stayed on in
spent a long day at the provincial hospital. Baguio… There’s disease, suffering, death,
The man was calling from a service station because Adam ate the apple. They must have an
outside the town – the station after the answer to everything… “He paused at the door, as
agricultural high school, and before the San though for the echo of his words.
Miguel bridge, the man added rather needlessly, Mrs. Lazaro had resumed the knitting; in

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the circle of yellow light, her head bowed, she between open fields, a succession of narrow
seemed absorbed in some contemplative prayer. wooden bridges breaking the crunching drive of
But her silences had ceased t disturb him, like the the wheels. Dr. Lazaro gazed at the wide darkness
plaster saints she kept in the room, in their cases around them, the shapes of trees and bushes
of glass, or that air she wore of conspiracy, when hurling toward them and sliding away and he saw
she left with Ben for Mass in the mornings. Dr. the stars, hard glinting points of light yards, black
Lazaro would ramble about miracle drugs, politics, space, infinite distances; in the unmeasured
music, the common sense of his unbelief; universe, man’s life flared briefly and was gone,
unrelated things strung together in a monologue; traceless in the void. He turned away from the
he posed questions, supplied with his own emptiness. He said: “You seem to have had a lot
answers; and she would merely nod, with an of practice, Ben.”
occasional “Yes?” and “Is that so?” and something “A lot of what, Pa?”
like a shadow of anxiety in her gaze. “The ways you drive. Very professional.”
He hurried down the curving stairs, under In the glow of the dashboard lights, the
the votive lamps of the Sacred Heart. Ben lay boy’s face relaxed, smiled. “Tio Cesar let me use
sprawled on the sofa, in the front parlor; his car, in Manila. On special occasions.”
engrossed in a book, one leg propped against the “No reckless driving now,” Dr. Lazaro said.
back cushions. “Come along, we’re going “Some fellows think it’s smart. Gives them a thrill.
somewhere,” Dr. Lazaro said, and went into the Don’t be like that.”
clinic for his medical bag. He added a vial of “No, I won’t, Pa. I just like to drive and –
penstrep, an ampule of caffeine to the satchel’s and go place, that’s all.”
content’s; rechecked the bag before closing it; the Dr. Lazaro watched the young face intent
cutgut would last just one more patient. One can on the road, a cowlick over the forehead, the mall
only cure, and know nothing beyond one’s work… curve of the nose, his own face before he left to
There had been the man, today, in the hospital: study in another country, a young student of full
the cancer pain no longer helped by the doses of illusions, a lifetime ago; long before the loss of
morphine; the patients’s eyes flickering their faith, God turning abstract, unknowable, and
despair in the eroded face. Dr. Lazaro brushed everywhere, it seemed to him, those senseless
aside the stray vision as he strode out of the accidents of pain. He felt a need to define
whitewashed room; he was back in his element, unspoken things, to come closer somehow to the
among syringes, steel instruments, quick decisions last of his sons; one of these days, before the
made without emotion, and it gave him a kind of boy’s vacation was over, they might to on a picnic
blunt energy. together, a trip to the farm; a special day for the
I’ll drive, Pa?” Ben followed him through two of them – father and son, as well as friends. In
the kitchen, where the maids were ironing the the two years Ben had been away in college, they
week’s wash, gossiping, and out to the yard had written a few brief, almost formal letters to
shrouded in the dimness of the single bulb under each other: your money is on the way, these are
the eaves. The boy push back the folding doors of the best years, make the most of them…
the garage and slid behind the wheel. Time was moving toward them, was
“Somebody’s waiting at the gas station swirling around and rushing away and it seemed
near San Miguel. You know the place?” Dr. Lazaro could almost hear its hallow receding
“Sure,” Ben said. roar; and discovering his son’s profile against the
The engine sputtered briefly and stopped. flowing darkness, he had a thirst to speak. He
“Battery’s weak,” Dr. Lazaro said. “Try it without could not find what it was he had meant to say.
the lights,” and smelled the gasoline overflow as The agricultural school buildings came up
the old Pontiac finally lurched around the house in the headlights and glided back into blurred
and through the trellised gate, its front sweeping shapes behind a fence.
over the dry dusty street. “What was that book you were reading,
But he’s all right, Dr. Lazaro thought as Ben?”
they swung smoothly into the main avenue of the “A biography,” the boy said.
town, past the church and the plaza, the kiosko “Statesman? Scientist maybe?”
bare for once in a season of fiestas, the lam-posts It’s about a guy who became a monk.”
shining on the quiet square. They did not speak; “That’s your summer reading?” Dr. Lazaro
he could sense his son’s concentration on the asked with a small laugh, half mockery, half
road, and he noted, with a tentative amusement, affection. “You’re getting to be a regular saint, like
the intense way the boy sat behind the wheel, his your mother.”
eagerness to be of help. They passed the drab “It’s an interesting book,” Ben said.
frame houses behind the marketplace, and the “I can imagine…” He dropped the
capitol building on its landscaped hill, the gears bantering tone. “I suppose you’ll go on to
shifting easily as they went over the railroad medicine after your AB?”
tracks that crossed the asphalted street. “I don’t know yet, Pa.”
Then the road was pebbled and uneven, Tiny moth like blown bits of paper flew
the car bucking slightly; and they were speeding toward the windshield and funneled away above

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them. “You don’t have to be a country doctor like dragged, helplessly, toward some huge and
me, Ben. You could build up a good practice in the complicated error, a meaningless ceremony.
city. Specialized in cancer, maybe or neuro- Somewhere to his left rose a flapping of wings, a
surgery, and join a good hospital.” It was like bird cried among unseen leaves: they walked
trying to recall some rare happiness, in the car, in swiftly, and there was only the sound of the
the shifting darkness. silence, the constant whirl of crickets and the
“I’ve been thinking about it,” Ben said. It’s whisper of their feet on the path between the
a vocation, a great one. Being able to really help stubble fields.
people, I mean.” With the boy close behind him, Dr. Lazaro
“You’ve done well in math, haven’t you?” followed Esteban down a clay slope to the slope
“Well enough, I guess,” Ben said. and ripple of water in the darkness. The flashlight
Engineering is a fine course too, “ Dr. showed a banca drawn up at the river’s edge.
Lazaro said. “There’ll be lots of room for Esteban wade waist-deep into the water, holding
engineers. Planners and builders, they are what the boat steady as Dr. Lazaro and Ben stepped on
this country needs. Far too many lawyers and the board. In the darkness, with the opposite bank
salesmen these days. Now if your brother –“ He like the far rise of an island, Dr. Lazaro had a
closed his eyes, erasing the slashed wrists, part of moment’s tremor of fear as the boar slide out
the future dead in a boarding-house room, the over the black water; below prowled the deadly
landlady whimpering, “He was such a nice boy, currents; to drown her in the depths of the night…
doctor, your son…” Sorrow lay in ambush among But it took only a minute to cross the river. “We’re
the years. here doctor,” Esteban said, and they padded p a
“I have all summer to think about, “ Ben stretch of sand to a clump of trees; a dog started
said. to bark, the shadows of a kerosene lamp wavered
“There’s no hurry,” Dr. Lazaro said. What at a window.
was it he had wanted to say? Something about Unsteady on a steep ladder, Dr. Lazaro
knowing each other, about sharing; no, it was not entered the cave of Esteban’s hut. The single
that at all. room contained the odors he often encountered
The stations appeared as they coasted but had remained alien to, stirring an impersonal
down the incline of a low hill, its fluorescent lights disgust: the sourish decay, the smells of the
the only brightness on the plain before them, on unaired sick. An old man greeted him, lisping
the road that led farther into deeper darkness. A incoherently; a woman, the grandmother, sat
freight truck was taking on a load of gasoline as crouched in a corner, beneath a famed print of
they drove up the concrete apron and came to a the Mother of Perpetual Help; a boy, about ten,
stop beside the station shed. slept on, sprawled on a mat. Esteban’s wife, pale
A short barefoot man in a patchwork shirt and thin, lay on the floor with the sick child beside
shuffled forward to meet them. her.
I am Esteban, doctor,” the man said, his Motionless, its tiny blue-tinged face
voice faint and hoarse, almost inaudible, and he drawn way from its chest in a fixed wrinkled
bowed slightly with a careful politeness. He stood grimace, the infant seemed to be straining to
blinking, looking up at the doctor, who had taken express some terrible ancient wisdom.
his bag and flashlight form the car. Dr. Lazaro made a cursory check – skin
In the windless space, Dr. Lazaro could dry, turning cold; breathing shallow; heartbeat
hear Esteban’s labored breathing, the clank of the fast and irregular. And I that moment, only the
metal nozzle as the attendant replaced it in the child existed before him; only the child and his
pump. The men in the truck stared at them own mind probing now like a hard gleaming
curiously. instrument. How strange that it should still live,
Esteban said, pointing at the darkness his mind said as it considered the spark that
beyond the road: “We will have to go through persisted within the rigid and tortured body. He
those fields, doctor, then cross the river,” The was alone with the child, his whole being focused
apology for yet one more imposition was a on it, in those intense minutes shaped into a habit
wounded look in his eyes. He added, in his now by so many similar instances: his physician’s
subdued voice: “It’s not very far…” Ben had knowledge trying to keep the heart beating, to
spoken to the attendants and was locking the car. revive an ebbing life and somehow make it rise
The truck rumbled and moved again.
ponderously onto the road, its throb strong and Dr. Lazaro removed the blankets that
then fading in the warm night stillness. bundled the child and injected a whole ampule to
“Lead the way, “ Dr. Lazaro said, handing check the tonic spasms, the needle piercing neatly
Esteban the flashlight. into the sparse flesh; he broke another ampule,
They crossed the road, to a cleft in the with deft precise movements , and emptied the
embankment that bordered the fields, Dr. Lazaro syringe, while the infant lay stiff as wood beneath
was sweating now in the dry heat; following the his hands. He wiped off the sweat running into his
swinging ball of the flashlight beam, sorrow eyes, then holding the rigid body with one hand,
wounded by the stifling night, he felt he was being he tried to draw air into the faltering lungs,

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pressing and releasing the chest; but even as he said. “And to you son, too. God go with you.” He
worked to rescue the child, the bluish color of its was a faceless voice withdrawing in the shadows,
face began to turn gray. a cipher in the shabby crowds that came to town
Dr. Lazaro rose from his crouch on the on market days.
floor, a cramped ache in his shoulders, his mouth “Let’s go, Ben” Dr. Lazaro said.
dry. The lamplight glistened on his pale hollow They took the path across the field;
face as he confronted the room again, the stale around them the moonlight had transformed the
heat, the poverty. Esteban met his gaze; all their landscape, revealing a gentle, more familiar
eyes were upon him, Ben at the door, the old dimension, a luminous haze upon the trees
man, the woman in the corner, and Esteban’s stirring with a growing wind; and the heat of the
wife, in the trembling shadows. night had passed, a coolness was falling from the
Esteban said: “Doctor..” deep sky. Unhurried, his pace no more than a
He shook his head, and replaced the casual stroll, Dr. Lazaro felt the oppression of the
syringe case in his bag, slowly and deliberately, night begin to life from him, an emotionless calm
and fastened the clasp. T Here was murmuring returned to his mind. The sparrow does not fall
him, a rustle across the bamboo floor, and when without the Father’s leave he mused at the sky,
he turned, Ben was kneeling beside the child. And but it falls just the same. But to what end are the
he watched, with a tired detached surprise, as the sufferings of a child? The crickets chirped
boy poured water from a coconut shell on the peacefully in the moon-pale darkness beneath the
infant’s brow. He caught the words half- trees.
whispered in the quietness: “.. in the name of the “You baptized the child, didn’t you, Ben?”
Father.. the Son… the Holy Ghost…” “Yes, Pa.” The boy kept in the step beside
The shadows flapped on the walls, the him.
heart of the lamp quivering before it settled into a He used to believe in it, too. The power of
slender flame. By the river dogs were barking. Dr. the Holy Spirit washing away original sin, the
Lazaro glanced at his watch; it was close to purified soul made heir of heaven. He could still
midnight. Ben stood over the child, the coconut remember fragments of his boy hood faith, as one
shell in his hands, as though wandering what next might remember an improbable and long-
to do with it, until he saw his father nod for them discarded dream.
to go. “Lay baptism, isn’t that the name for it?”
Doctor, tell us – “Esteban took a step “Yes,” Ben said. I asked the father. The
forward. baby hadn’t been baptized.” He added as they
“I did everything: Dr. Lazaro said. “It’s too came to the embankment that separated the field
late –“ from the road: “They were waiting for it to get
He gestured vaguely, with a dull well.”
resentment; by some implicit relationship, he was The station had closed, with only the
also responsible, for the misery in the room, the canopy light and the globed neon sign left
hopelessness. “There’s nothing more I can do, burning. A steady wind was blowing now across
Esteban, “ he said. He thought with a flick of the filed, the moonlit plains.
anger: Soon the child will be out of it, you ought He saw Ben stifle a yawn. I’ll drive,” Dr.
to be grateful. Esteban’s wife began to cry, a weak Lazaro said.
smothered gasping, and the old woman was His eyes were not what they used to be,
comforting her, it is the will of God, my daughter.” and he drove leaning forward, his hands tight on
In the yard, Esteban pressed carefully the wheel. He began to sweat again, and the
folded bills into the doctor’s hand; the limp, empty road and the lateness and the memory of
tattered feel of the money was sort of the futile Esteban and of the child dying before morning in
journey, “I know this is not enough, doctor,” the cramped lamplit room fused into tired
Esteban said. “as you can see we are very poor… I melancholy. He started to think of his other son,
shall bring you fruit, chickens, someday…” one he had lost.
A late moon had risen, edging over the He said, seeking conversation, If other
tops of the trees, and in the faint wash of its light, people carried on like you, Ben, the priests would
Esteban guided them back to the boat. A be run out of business.”
glimmering rippled on the surface of the water as The boy sat beside him, his face averted,
they paddled across,; the white moonlight spread not answering.
in the sky, and a sudden wind sprang rain-like and “Now, you’ll have an angel praying for you
was lost in the tress massed on the riverbank. in heaven,” Dr. Lazaro said, teasing, trying to
“I cannot thank you enough, doctor,” create an easy mood between the. “What if you
Esteban said. “You have been very kind to come hadn’t baptized the baby and it died? What would
this far, at this hour.” He trail is just over there, happen to it then?”
isn’t it?” He wanted to be rid of the man, to be It won’t see God,” Ben said.
away from the shy humble voice, the prolonged “But isn’t that unfair?” It was like riddle,
wretchedness. trivial, but diverting. “Just because..”
I shall be grateful always, doctor,” Esteban “Maybe God has another remedy,” Ben

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said. “I don’t know. But the church says.” him, or a child crying newly risen from the womb;
He could sense the boy groping for the and a sense of constant motions, of change, of the
tremendous answers. “The Church teaches, the days moving swiftly toward and immense
church says…. “ God: Christ: the communications revelation touched him once more, briefly, and
of saints: Dr. Lazaro found himself wondering still he could not find the words. He turned the
about the world of novenas and candles, where last corner, then steered the car down the
bread and wine became the flesh and blood of the graveled driveway to the garage, while Ben closed
Lord, and a woman bathed in light appeared the gate. Dr. Lazaro sat there a moment, in the
before children, and mortal men spoke of eternal stillness, resting his eyes, conscious of the
life; the visions of God, the body’s resurrection at measured beating of his heart, and breathing a
the tend of time. It was a country from which he scent of dust that lingered on his clothes, his skin.
was barred; no matter – the customs, the Slowly he merged from the car, locking it, and
geography didn’t appeal to him. But in the care went around the tower of the water-tank to the
suddenly, driving through the night, he was aware front yard where Ben Stood waiting.
of an obscure disappointment, a subtle pressure With unaccustomed tenderness he placed
around his heart, as though he had been deprived a hand on Ben’s shoulder was they turned toward
of a certain joy. the cement –walled house. They had gone on a
A bus roared around a hill toward, its trip; they had come home safely together. He felt
lights blinding him, and he pulled to the side of closer to the boy than he hade ever been in years.
the road, braking involuntarily as a billow of dust “Sorry for keeping you up this late,” Dr.
swept over the car. He had not closed the window Lazaro said.
on his side, and the flung dust poured in, the thick “It’s all right, Pa.”
brittle powder almost choking him, making him Some night, huh, Ben? What you did back
cough, his eyes smarting, before he could shield in that barrio” – there was just the slightest
his face with his hands. In the headlights, the dust patronage in this one –“ your mother will love to
sifted down and when the air was clear again, Dr. hear about it.”
Lazaro, swallowing a taste of earth, of darkness, He shook the boy beside him gently.
maneuvered the car back onto the road, his arms “Reverend Father Ben Lazaro.”
exhausted and numb. He drove the last half-mile The impulse of certain humor – it was part
to town in silence, his mind registering nothing of the comradeship. He chuckled drowsily: father
but the frit of dust in his mouth and the empty Lazaro, what must I do to gain eternal life?”
road unwinding swiftly before him. As he slid the door open on the vault of
They reached the sleeping town, the darkness, the familiar depth of the house, it came
desolate streets, the plaza empty in the to Dr. Lazaro faintly in the late night that for
moonlight, and the huddled shapes of houses, the certain things, like love there was only so much
old houses that Dr. Lazaro had always know. How time. But the glimmer was lost instantly, buried in
many nights had he driven home like this through the mist of indifference and sleep rising now in his
the quiet town, with a man’s life ended behind brain.

N. Kerima Polotan Tuvera

 She was a renowned and highly respected fictionist, essayist and journalist.
 Her short story, ( The Virgin, won two first prizes: of the Philippines Free Press
Literary Awards and of the Palanca Awards.
Notable works:
“The Trap” (1956)
“The Giants” (1959)
“The Tourists” (1960)
“The Sounds of Sunday” (1961)
“A Various Season” (1966) 

THE VIRGIN
Characters:
Ms. Mijares – She is a virgin who spent most of her life caring for her mother. She like to
wear ruffled and pastel colored clothes. She wants to be loved and to get married.
The Carpenter – He applied in the agency where Ms. Mijares worked. He was the one who
fulfill Ms. Mijares desires.

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 West Visayas State University
EXTENSION CAMPUS AT HIMAMAYLAN CITY
Himamaylan City, Negros Occidental

DIVISION OF ENGLISH

Setting: border line to which belonged countless others

1950’s who you found, if they were not working at some
job, in the kitchen of some married sister's house
shushing a brood of devilish little nephews.
THE STORY And yet Miss Mijares did think of love.
Secret, short-lived thoughts flitted through her
mind in the jeepneys she took to work when a
  He went to where Miss Mijares sat, a tall, man pressed down beside her and through her
big man, walking with an economy of movement, dress she felt the curve of his thigh; when she
graceful and light, a man who knew his body and held a baby in her arms, a married friend's baby or
used it well. He sat in the low chair worn decrepit a relative's, holding in her hands the tiny, pulsing
by countless other interviewers and laid all ten body, what thoughts did she not think, her eyes
fingerprints carefully on the edge of her desk. She straying against her will to the bedroom door and
pushed a sheet towards him, rolling a pencil along then to her friend's laughing, talking face, to think:
with it. While he read the question and wrote how did it look now, spread upon a pillow,
down his answers, she glanced at her watch and unmasked of the little wayward coquetries, how
saw that it was ten. "I shall be coming back went the lines about the mouth and beneath the
quickly," she said, speaking distinctly in the dialect eyes: (did they close? did they open?) in the one
"you will wait for me." final, fatal coquetry of all? to finally, miserably
As she walked to the cafeteria, Miss bury her face in the baby's hair. And in the
Mijares thought how she could easily have said, movies, to sink into a seat as into an embrace, in
Please wait for me, or will you wait for me? But the darkness with a hundred shadowy figures
years of working for the placement section had about her and high on the screen, a man kissing a
dulled the edges of her instinct for courtesy. She woman's mouth while her own fingers stole
spoke now peremtorily, with an abruptness she unconsciously to her unbruised lips.
knew annoyed the people about her. When she was younger, there had been
When she talked with the jobless across other things to do--- college to finish, a niece to
her desk, asking them the damning questions that put through school, a mother to care for.
completed their humiliation, watching pale She had gone through all these with
tongues run over dry lips, dirt crusted singular patience, for it had seemed to her that
handkerchiefs flutter in trembling hands, she was love stood behind her, biding her time, a quiet
filled with an impatience she could not hand upon her shoulder (I wait. Do not despair) so
understand. Sign here, she had said thousands of that if she wished she had but to turn from her
times, pushing the familiar form across, her finger mother's bed to see the man and all her timid,
held to a line, feeling the impatience grow at sight pure dreams would burst into glory. But it had
of the man or woman tracing a wavering "X" or taken her parent many years to die. Towards the
laying the impress of a thumb. Invariably, Miss end, it had become a thankless chore, kneading
Mijares would turn away to touch the delicate her mother's loose flesh, hour after hour,
edge of the handkerchief she wore on her breast. struggling to awaken the cold, sluggish blood in
Where she sat alone at one of the her drying body. In the end, she had died --- her
cafeteria tables, Miss Mijares did not look 34. She toothless, thin-haired, flabby-fleshed mother ---
was slight, almost bony, but she had learned early and Miss Mijares had pushed against the bed in
how to dress herself to achieve an illusion of hips grief and also in gratitude. But neither love nor
and bosom. She liked poufs and shirrings and little glory stood behind her, only the empty shadows,
girlish pastel colors. On her bodice, astride or and nine years gone, nine years. In the room for
lengthwise, there sat an inevitable row of thick her unburied dead, she had held up her hands to
camouflaging ruffles that made her look almost as the light, noting the thick, durable fingers,
though she had a bosom, if she bent her shoulders thinking in a mixture of shame and bitterness and
slightly and inconspicuously drew her neckline guilt that they had never touched a man.
open to puff some air into her bodice. When she returned to the bleak
Her brow was smooth and clear and she replacement office, the man stood by a window,
was always pushing off it the hair she kept in tight his back to her, half-bending over something he
curls at night. She had thin cheeks, small and held in his hands. "Here," she said, approaching,
angular, falling down to what would have been a "have you signed this?"
nondescript, receding chin, but Nature's hand had "Yes," he replied, facing her.
erred and given her a jaw instead. When In his hands, he held her paperweight, an
displeased, she had a lippy, almost sensual pout, old gift from long ago, a heavy wooden block on
surprising on such a small face. which stood, as though poised for flight, an
So while not exactly an ugly woman, she undistinguished, badly done bird. It had come
was no beauty. She teetered precariously on the

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apart recently. The screws beneath the block had How much was he going to get? Miss
loosened so that lately it had stood upon her desk Mijares asked Ato on Wednesday. "Three," the old
with one wing tilted unevenly, a miniature eagle man said, chewing away on a cud. She looked at
or swallow? felled by time before it could spread the list in her hands, quickly running a pencil
its wings. She had laughed and laughed that day it down. "But he's filling a four-peso vacancy," she
had fallen on her desk, plop! "What happened? said. "Come now," surprised that she should
What happened?" they had asked her, beginning wheedle so, "give him the extra peso." "Only a
to laugh, and she had said, caught between half," the stubborn foreman shook his head,
amusement and sharp despair, "Some one shot "three-fifty."
it," and she had laughed and laughed till faces "Ato says I have you to thank," he said,
turned and eyebrows rose and she told herself, stopping Miss Mijares along a pathway in the
“whoa, get a hold, a hold, a hold!” compound.
He had turned it and with a penknife It was noon, that unhappy hour of the day
tightened the screws and dusted it. In this man's when she was oldest, tiredest, when it seemed
hands, cupped like that, it looked suddenly like a the sun put forth cruel fingers to search out the
dove. signs of age on her thin, pinched face. The crow's
She took it away from him and put it feet showed unmistakably beneath her eyes and
down on her table. Then she picked up his paper she smiled widely to cover them up and aquinting
and read it. a little, said, "Only a half-peso --- Ato would have
He was a high school graduate. He was given it to you eventually."
also a carpenter. "Yes, but you spoke for me," he said, his
He was not starved, like the rest. His big body heaving before her. "Thank you, though I
clothes, though old, were pressed and she could don't need it as badly as the rest, for to look at
see the cuffs of his shirt buttoned and wrapped me, you would knew I have no wife --- yet."
about big, strong wrists. She looked at him sharply, feeling the
"I heard about this place," he said, "from a malice in his voice. "I'd do it for any one," she said
friend you got a job at the pier." Seated, he and turned away, angry and also ashamed, as
towered over her, "I'm not starving yet," he said though he had found out suddenly that the ruffles
with a quick smile. "I still got some money from on her dress rested on a flat chest.
that last job, but my team broke up after that and The following week, something happened
you got too many jobs if you're working alone. to her: she lost her way home.
You know carpentering," he continued, "you can't Miss Mijares was quite sure she had
finish a job quickly enough if you got to do the boarded the right jeepneys but the driver, hoping
planing and sawing and nailing all by your lone to beat traffic, had detoured down a side alley,
self. You got to be on a team." and then seeing he was low on gas, he took still
Perhaps he was not meaning to be another shortcut to a filling station. After that, he
impolite? But for a jobseeker, Miss Mijares rode through alien country.
thought, he talked too much and without call. He The houses were low and dark, the people
was bursting all over with an obtruding insolence shadowy, and even the driver, who earlier had
that at once disarmed and annoyed her. been an amiable, talkative fellow, now loomed
So then she drew a slip and wrote his like a sinister stranger over the wheel. Through it
name on it. "Since you are not starving yet," she all, she sat tightly, feeling oddly that she had
said, speaking in English now, wanting to put him dreamed of this, that some night not very long
in his place, "you will not mind working in our ago, she had taken a ride in her sleep and lost her
woodcraft section, three times a week at two-fifty way. Again and again, in that dream, she had
to four a day, depending on your skill and the changed direction, losing her way each time, for
foreman's discretion, for two or three months something huge and bewildering stood blocking
after which there might be a call from outside we the old, familiar road home.
may hold for you." But that evening, she was lost only for a
"Thank you," he said. while. The driver stopped at a corner that looked
He came on the odd days, Tuesday, like a little known part of the boulevard she
Thursday, Sunday. passed each day and she alighted and stood on a
She was often down at the shanty that street island, the passing headlights playing on
housed their bureau's woodcraft, talking with Ato, her, a tired, shaken woman, the ruffles on her
his foreman, going over with him the list of old skirt crumpled, the hemline of her skirt awry.
hands due for release. They hired their men on a The new hand was absent for a week.
rotation basis and three months was the longest Miss Mijares waited on that Tuesday he first failed
one could stay. to report for some word from him sent to Ato and
"The new one there, hey," Ato said once. then to her. That was regulation. Briefly though
"We're breaking him in proper." And he looked they were held, the bureau jobs were not ones to
across several shirted backs to where he stopped, take chances with. When a man was absent and
planing what was to become the side of a he sent no word, it upset the system. In the
bookcase. absence of a definite notice, someone else who

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needed a job badly was kept away from it. The cold tight fear of the old dream was
"I went to the province, ma'am," he said, upon her. Before she had time to think, the driver
on his return. had swerved his vehicle and swung into a side
"You could have sent someone to tell us," street. Perhaps it was a different alley this time.
she said. But it wound itself in the same tortuous manner
"It was an emergency, ma'am," he said. as before, now by the banks of overflowing
"My son died." esteros, again behind faintly familiar buildings.
"How so?" She bent her tiny, distraught face, conjuring in her
A slow bitter anger began to form inside heart the lonely safety of the street island she had
her. "But you said you were not married!" stood on for an hour that night of her confusion.
"No, ma'am," he said gesturing. "Only this far, folks," the driver spoke,
"Are you married?" she asked loudly. stopping his vehicle. "Main street's a block
"No, ma'am." straight ahead."
"But you have -- you had a son!" she said. "But it's raining," someone protested.
"I am not married to his mother," he said, "Sorry. But if I got into a traffic, I won't
grinning stupidly, and for the first time she come out of it in a year. Sorry."
noticed his two front teeth were set widely apart. One by one the passengers got off,
A flush had climbed to his face, suffusing it, and walking swiftly, disappearing in the night.
two large throbbing veins crawled along his Miss Mijares stepped down to a sidewalk
temples. in front of a boarded store. The wind had begun
She looked away, sick all at once. again and she could hear it whipping in the eaves
"You should told us everything," she said above her head. "Ma'am," the man's voice
and she put forth hands to restrain her anger but sounded at her shoulders, "I am sorry if you
it slipped away she stood shaking despite herself. thought I lied."
"I did not think," he said. She gestured, bestowing pardon.
"Your lives are our business here," she Up and down the empty, rain-beaten
shouted. street she looked. It was as though all at once
It rained that afternoon in one of the city's everyone else had died and they were alone in the
fierce, unexpected thunder-storms. Without world, in the dark.
warning, it seemed to shine outside Miss Mijares' In her secret heart, Miss Mijares' young
window a gray, unhappy look. dreams fluttered faintly to life, seeming
It was past six when Miss Mijares, monstrous in the rain, near this man --- seeming
ventured outside the office. Night had come monstrous but sweet overwhelming. I must get
swiftly and from the dark sky the thick, black, away, she thought wildly, but he had moved and
rainy curtain continued to fall. She stood on the brushed against her, and where his touch had
curb, telling herself she must not lose her way fallen, her flesh leaped, and she recalled how his
tonight. When she flagged a jeepney and got in, hands had looked that first day, lain tenderly on
somebody jumped in after her. She looked up into the edge of her desk and about the wooden bird
the carpenter's faintly smiling eyes. She nodded (that had looked like a moving, shining dove) and
her head once in recognition and then turned she turned to him with her ruffles wet and wilted,
away. in the dark she turned to him.

O. Arturo B. Rotor
 a Filipino medical doctor, civil servant, musician, and writer.
 He is widely considered among the best Filipino short story writers of the twentieth
century. 
Notable works:
The Wound and the Scar (1937) 
Confidentially, Doctor (1965)
The Men Who Play God (1983)
"Dahong Palay" (1928)
"Zita" (1930).

ZITA
Characters:
Zita- Student from the province that shares the name of someone she used to love. She
ends up falling for Mr. Reteche, her teacher.
Mr. Reteche-Mysterious guy with a mysterious past that became the teacher of Zita.

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 West Visayas State University
EXTENSION CAMPUS AT HIMAMAYLAN CITY
Himamaylan City, Negros Occidental

DIVISION OF ENGLISH

Don Eleodoro- Father of Zita nearness of the sea that he desired as its silence
and he wants her daughter to be a so that he might tell it secrets he could not tell
fine lady and he anyone else.
ask for Mr. Reteche to be his
daughter’s tutor. They thought of nobody but him; they
talked about him in the barber shop, in the
Turong- Owner of the house where
cockpit, in the sari-sari store, the way he walked,
Mr. Reteche stay in Anayat. The ones the way he looked at you, his unruly hair. They
who delivers letter to Mr. Reteche. dressed him in purple and linen, in myth and
mystery, put him astride a black stallion, at the
Setting: wheel of a blue automobile. Mr. Reteche? Mr.
Anayat- a remote island Reteche! The name suggested the fantasy and the
glitter of a place and people they never would see;
he was the scion of a powerful family, a poet and
artist, a prince.
THE STORY
That night, Don Eliodoro had the story
from his daughter of his first day in the classroom;
she perched wide-eyed, low-voiced, short of
URONG brought him from Pauambang in
breath on the arm of his chair.
his small sailboat, for the coastwise steamer did
not stop at any little island of broken cliffs and
coconut palms. It was almost midday; they had “He strode into the room, very tall and
been standing in that white glare where the serious and polite, stood in front of us and looked
tiniest pebble and fluted conch had become at us all over and yet did not seem to see us.
points of light, piercing-bright–the municipal
president, the parish priest, Don Eliodoro who ” ‘Good morning, teacher,’ we said
owned almost all the coconuts, the herb doctor, timidly.
the village character. Their mild surprise over
when he spoke in their native dialect, they looked “He bowed as if we were his equals. He
at him more closely and his easy manner did not asked for the fist of our names and as he read off
deceive them. His head was uncovered and he each one we looked at him long. When he came
had a way of bringing the back of his hand to his to my name, Father, the most surprising thing
brow or mouth; they read behind that too, it was happened. He started pronouncing it and then he
not a gesture of protection. “An exile has come to stopped as if he had forgotten something and just
Anayat… and he is so young, so young.” So young stared and stared at the paper in his hand. I heard
and lonely and sufficient unto himself. There was my name repeated three times through his half-
no mistaking the stamp of a strong decision on closed lips, ‘Zita. Zita. Zita.’
that brow, the brow of those who have to be cold
and haughty, those shoulders stooped slightly, ” ‘Yes sir, I am Zita.’
less from the burden that they bore than from a
carefully cultivated air of unconcern; no common “He looked at me uncomprehendingly,
school-teacher could dress so carelessly and not inarticulate, and it seemed to me, Father, it
appear shoddy. actually seemed that he was begging me to tell
him that that was not my name, that I was
They had prepared a room for him in Don deceiving him. He looked so miserable and sick I
Eliodoro’s house so that he would not have to felt like sinking down or running away.
walk far to school every morning, but he gave
nothing more than a glance at the big stone ” ‘Zita is not your name; it is just a pet name, no?’
building with its Spanish azotea, its arched
doorways, its flagged courtyard. He chose instead
” ‘My father has always called me that,
Turong’s home, a shaky hut near the sea. Was the
sir.’
sea rough and dangerous at times? He did not
mind it. Was the place far from the church and the
schoolhouse? The walk would do him good. ” ‘It can’t be; maybe it is Pacita or Luisa
Would he not feel lonely with nobody but an or–‘
illiterate fisherman for a companion? He was used
to living alone. And they let him do as he wanted, “His voice was scarcely above a whisper,
for the old men knew that it was not so much the Father, and all the while he looked at me begging,
begging. I shook my head determinedly. My

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answer must have angered him. He must have wings are burned.”
thought I was very hard-headed, for he said, ‘A
thousand miles, Mother of Mercy… it is not It was incomprehensible, no beginning, no
possible.’ He kept on looking at me; he was hurt end. It did not have unity, coherence, emphasis.
perhaps that he should have such a stubborn Why did he choose that one? What did he see in
pupil. But I am not really so, Father?” it? And she had worked so hard, she had wanted
to please, she had written about the flowers that
“Yes, you are, my dear. But you must try she loved most. Who could have written what he
to please him, he is a gentleman; he comes from had read aloud? She did not know that any of her
the city. I was thinking… Private lessons, perhaps, classmates could write so, use such words,
if he won’t ask too much.” Don Eliodoro had his sentences, use a blue paper to write her lessons
dreams and she was his only daughter. on.

Turong had his own story to tell in the But then there was little in Mr. Reteche
barber shop that night, a story as vividly etched as that the young people there could understand.
the lone coconut palm in front of the shop that Even his words were so difficult, just like those
shot up straight into the darkness of the night, as dark and dismaying things that they came across
vaguely disturbing as the secrets that the sea in their readers, which took them hour after hour
whispered into the night. in the dictionary. She had learned like a good
student to pick out the words she did not
“He did not sleep a wink, I am sure of it. recognize, writing them down as she heard them,
When I came from the market the stars were but it was a thankless task. She had a whole
already out and I saw that he had not touched the notebook filled now, two columns to each page:
food I had prepared. I asked him to eat and he
said he was not hungry. He sat by the window that “Esurient greedy. Amaranth a flower that
faces the sea and just looked out hour after hour. I never fades. peacock a large bird with lovely gold
woke up three times during the night and saw and green feathers. Mirash”
that he had not so much as changed his position. I
thought once that he was asleep and came near, The last word was not in the dictionary.
but he motioned me away. When I awoke at dawn
to prepare the nets, he was still there.” And what did such things as original sin,
selfishness, insatiable, actress of a thousand faces
“Maybe he wants to go home already.” mean, and who were Sirse, Lorelay, other names
They looked up with concern. she could not find anywhere? She meant to ask
him someday, someday when his eyes were
“He is sick. You remember Father kinder.
Fernando? He had a way of looking like that, into
space, seeing nobody, just before he died.” He never went to church, but then, that
always went with learning and education, did it
Every month there was a letter that came not? One night Bue saw him coming out of the
for him, sometimes two or three; large, blue dim doorway. He watched again and the following
envelopes with a gold design in the upper left night he saw him again. They would not believe it,
hand comer, and addressed in broad, angular, they must see it with their own eyes and so they
sweeping handwriting. One time Turong brought came. He did not go in every night, but he could
one of them to him in the classroom. The students be seen at the most unusual hours, sometimes at
were busy writing a composition on a subject that dusk, sometimes at dawn, once when it was
he had given them, “The Things That I Love Most.” storming and the lightning etched ragged paths
Carelessly he had opened the letter, carelessly from heaven to earth. Sometimes he stayed for a
read it, and carelessly tossed it aside. Zita was all few minutes, sometimes he came twice or thrice
aflutter when the students handed in their work in one evening. They reported it to Father Cesareo
for he had promised that he would read aloud the but it seemed that he already knew. “Let a
best. He went over the pile two times, and once peaceful man alone in his prayers.” The answer
again, absently, a deep frown on his brow, as if he had surprised them.
were displeased with their work. Then he stopped
and picked up one. Her heart sank when she saw The sky hangs over Anayat, in the middle
that it was not hers, she hardly heard him reading: of the Anayat Sea, like an inverted wineglass, a
glass whose wine had been spilled, a purple wine
“I did not know any better. Moths are not of which Anayat was the last precious drop. For
supposed to know; they only come to the light. that is Anayat in the crepuscule, purple and
And the light looked so inviting, there was no mellow, sparkling and warm and effulgent when
resisting it. Moths are not supposed to know, one there is a moon, cool and heady and sensuous
does not even know one is a moth until one’s when there is no moon.

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One may drink of it and forget what lies They remembered the time when his
beyond a thousand miles, beyond a thousand walks by the seashore became less solitary, for
years; one may sip it at the top of a jagged cliff, now of afternoons, he would draw the whole
nearer peace, nearer God, where one can see the crowd of village boys from their game of leapfrog
ocean dashing against the rocks in eternal or patintero and bring them with him. And they
frustration, more moving, more terrible than would go home hours after sunset with the
man’s; or touch it to his lips in the lush shadows of wonderful things that Mr. Reteche had told them,
the dama de noche, its blossoms iridescent like a why the sea is green, the sky blue, what one who
thousand fireflies, its bouquet the fragrance of is strong and fearless might find at that exact
flowers that know no fading. place where the sky meets the sea. They would be
flushed and happy and bright-eyed, for he could
Zita sat by her open window, half asleep, stand on his head longer than any of them, catch
half dreaming. Francisco B. Reteche; what a more crabs, send a pebble skimming over the
name! What could his nickname be. Paking, Frank, breast of Anayat Bay farthest.
Pa… The night lay silent and expectant, a fairy
princess waiting for the whispered words of a Turong still remembered those ominous,
lover. She was not a bit sleepy; already she had terrifying nights when he had got up cold and
counted three stars that had fallen to earth, one trembling to listen to the aching groan of the
almost directly into that bush of dama de noche at bamboo floor, as somebody in the other room
their garden gate, where it had lighted the lamps restlessly paced to and fro. And his pupils still
of a thousand fireflies. He was not so forbidding remember those mornings he received their
now, he spoke less frequently to himself, more flowers, the camia which had fainted away at her
frequently to her; his eyes were still unseeing, but own fragrance, the kampupot, with the night dew
now they rested on her. She loved to remember still trembling in its heart; receive them with a
those moments she had caught him looking when smile and forget the lessons of the day and tell
he thought she did not know. The knowledge them all about those princesses and fairies who
came keenly, bitingly, like the sea breeze at dawn, dwelt in flowers; why the dama de noche must
like the prick of the rose’s thorn, or–yes, like the have the darkness of the night to bring out its
purple liquid that her father gave the visitors fragrance; how the petals of the ylang-ylang,
during pintakasi which made them red and noisy. crushed and soaked in some liquid, would one day
She had stolen a few drops one day, because she touch the lips of some wondrous creature in some
wanted to know, to taste, and that little sip had faraway land whose eyes were blue and hair
made her head whirl. golden.

Suddenly she stiffened; a shadow had Those were days of surprises for Zita. Box
emerged from the shrubs and had been lost in the after box came in Turong’s sailboat and each time
other shadows. Her pulses raced, she strained they contained things that took the words from
forward. Was she dreaming? Who was it? A lost her lips. Silk as sheer and perishable as gossamer,
soul, an unvoiced thought, the shadow of a or heavy and shiny and tinted like the sunset sky;
shadow, the prince from his tryst with the fairy slippers with bright stones which twinkled with
princess? What were the words that he whispered the least movement of her feet; a necklace of
to her? green, flat, polished stone, whose feel against her
throat sent a curious choking sensation there;
They who have been young once say that perfume that she must touch her lips with. If only
only youth can make youth forget itself; that life is there would always be such things in Turong’s
a river bed; the water passes over it, sometimes it sailboat, and none of those horrid blue envelopes
encounters obstacles and cannot go on, that he always brought. And yet–the Virgin have
sometimes it flows unencumbered with a song in pity on her selfish soul–suppose one day Turong
every bubble and ripple, but always it goes brought not only those letters but the writer as
forward. When its way is obstructed it burrows well? She shuddered, not because she feared it
deeply or swerves aside and leaves its impression, but because she knew it would be.
and whether the impress will be shallow and
transient, or deep and searing, only God “Why are these dresses so tight fitting?”
determines. The people remembered the day Her father wanted to know.
when he went up Don Eliodoro’s house, the light
of a great decision in his eyes, and finally accepted “In society, women use clothes to reveal,
the father’s request that he teach his daughter “to not to hide.” Was that a sneer or a smile in his
be a lady.” eyes? The gown showed her arms and shoulders
and she had never known how round and fair they
“We are going to the city soon, after the were, how they could express so many things.
next harvest perhaps; I want her not to feel like a
‘provinciana’ when we get there.” “Why do these dresses have such bright

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colors?” could not tell so easily which was the dream and
which the memory.
“Because the peacock has bright
feathers.” If only those letters would not bother him
now, he might be happy and at peace. True he
“They paint their lips…” never answered them, but every time Turong
brought him one, he would still become
“So that they can smile when they do not thoughtful and distracted. Like that time he was
want to.” teaching her a dance, a Spanish dance, he said,
and had told her to dress accordingly. Her heavy
hair hung in a big, carelessly tied knot that always
“And their eyelashes are long.”
threatened to come loose but never did; its dark,
deep shadows showing off in startling vividness
“To hide deception.” how red a rose can be, how like velvet its petals.
Her earrings–two circlets of precious stones, red
He was not pleased like her father; she like the pigeon’s blood–almost touched her
saw it, he had turned his face toward the window. shoulders. The heavy Spanish shawl gave her the
And as she came nearer, swaying like a lily atop its most trouble–she had nothing to help her but
stalk she heard the harsh, muttered words: some pictures and magazines–she could not put it
on just as she wanted. Like this, it revealed her
“One would think she’d feel shy or shoulder too much; that way, it hampered the
uncomfortable, but no… oh no… not a bit… all free movement of the legs. But she had done her
alike… comes naturally.” best; for hours she had stood before her mirror
and for hours it had told her that she was
There were books to read; pictures, beautiful, that red lips and tragic eyes were
names to learn; lessons in everything; how to becoming to her.
polish the nails, how to use a fan, even how to
walk. How did these days come, how did they go? She’d never forget that look on his face
What does one do when one is so happy, so when she came out. It was not surprise, joy,
breathless? Sometimes they were a memory, admiration. It was as if he saw somebody there
sometimes a dream. whom he was expecting, for whom he had waited,
prayed.
“Look, Zita, a society girl does not smile so
openly; her eyes don’t seek one’s so–that reveals “Zita!” It was a cry of recognition.
your true feelings.”
She blushed even under her rouge when
“But if I am glad and happy and I want to he took her in his arms and taught her to step this
show it?” way, glide so, turn about; she looked half
questioningly at her father for disapproval, but
“Don’t. If you must show it by smiling, let she saw that there was nothing there but
your eyes be mocking; if you would invite with admiration too. Mr. Reteche seemed so serious
your eyes, repulse with your lips.” and so intent that she should learn quickly; but he
did not deceive her, for once she happened to
That was a memory. lean close and she felt how wildly his heart was
beating. It frightened her and she drew away, but
She was in a great drawing room whose when she saw how unconcerned he seemed, as if
floor was so polished it reflected the myriad red he did not even know that she was in his arms,
and green and blue fights above, the arches of she smiled knowingly and drew close again.
flowers and ribbons and streamers. All the great Dreamily she closed her eyes and dimly wondered
names of the capital were there, stately ladies in if his were shut too, whether he was thinking the
wonderful gowns who walked so, waved their fans same thoughts, breathing the same prayer.
so, who said one thing with their eyes and
another with their lips. And she was among them Turong came up and after his respectful
and every young and good-looking man wanted to “Good evening” he handed an envelope to the
dance with her. They were all so clever and school teacher. It was large and blue and had a
charming but she answered: “Please, I am tired.” gold design in one comer; the handwriting was
For beyond them she had seen him alone, he broad, angular, sweeping.
whose eyes were dark and brooding and
disapproving and she was waiting for him to take “Thank you, Turong.” His voice was
her. drawling, heavy, the voice of one who has just
awakened. With one movement he tore the
That was a dream. Sometimes though, she unopened envelope slowly, unconsciously, it

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seemed to her, to pieces. sitting down heavily.

“I thought I had forgotten,” he murmured “I never realized what she meant to me

dully. until I began trying to seek from others what she
would not give me.”
That changed the whole evening. His eyes
lost their sparkle, his gaze wandered from time to She knew what was coming now, knew it
time. Something powerful and dark had come before the stranger asked the question:
between them, something which shut out the
light, brought in a chill. The tears came to her eyes “Tomorrow?”
for she felt utterly powerless. When her sight
cleared she saw that he was sitting down and She fled; she could not wait for the
trying to piece the letter together. answer.

“Why do you tear up a letter if you must He did not sleep that night, she knew he
put it together again?” rebelliously. did not, she told herself fiercely. And it was not
only his preparations that kept him awake, she
He looked at her kindly. “Someday, Zita, knew it, she knew it. With the first flicker of light
you will do it too, and then you will understand.” she ran to her mirror. She must not show her
feeling, it was not in good form, she must manage
One day Turong came from Pauambang somehow. If her lips quivered, her eyes must
and this time he brought a stranger. They knew at smile, if in her eyes there were tears… She heard
once that he came from where the teacher came– her father go out, but she did not go; although she
his clothes, his features, his politeness–and that knew his purpose, she had more important things
he had come for the teacher. This one did not to do. Little boys came up to the house and she
speak their dialect, and as he was led through the wiped away their tears and told them that he was
dusty, crooked streets, he kept forever wiping his coming back, coming back, soon, soon.
face, gazing at the wobbly, thatched huts and
muttering short, vehement phrases to himself. The minutes flew, she was almost done
Zita heard his knock before Mr. Reteche did and now; her lips were red and her eyebrows
she knew what he had come for. She must have penciled; the crimson shawl thrown over her
been as pale as her teacher, as shaken, as shoulders just right. Everything must be like that
rebellious. And yet the stranger was so cordial; day he had first seen her in a Spanish dress. Still
there was nothing but gladness in his greeting, he did not come, he must be bidding farewell now
gladness at meeting an old friend. How strong he to Father Cesareo; now he was in Doña Ramona’s
was; even at that moment he did not forget house; now he was shaking the barber’s hand. He
himself, but turned to his class and dismissed would soon be through and come to her house.
them for the day. She glanced at the mirror and decided that her
lips were not red enough; she put on more color.
The door was thick and she did not dare The rose in her hair had too long a stem; she tried
lean against the jamb too much, so sometimes to trim it with her fingers and a thorn dug deeply
their voices floated away before they reached her. into her flesh.

“…like children… making yourselves… so Who knows? Perhaps they would soon
unhappy.” meet again in the city; she wondered if she could
not wheedle her father into going earlier. But she
“…happiness? Her idea of happiness…” must know now what were the words he had
wanted to whisper that night under the dama de
Mr. Reteche’s voice was more low- noche, what he had wanted to say that day he
pitched, hoarse, so that it didn’t carry at all. She held her in his arms; other things, questions
shuddered as he laughed, it was that way when he whose answers she knew. She smiled. How well
first came. she knew them!

“She’s been… did not mean… The big house was silent as death; the
understand.” little village seemed deserted, everybody had
gone to the seashore. Again she looked at the
mirror. She was too pale, she must put on more
“…learning to forget…”
rouge. She tried to keep from counting the
minutes, the seconds, from getting up and pacing.
There were periods when they both But she was getting chilly and she must do it to
became excited and talked fast and hard; she keep warm.
heard somebody’s restless pacing, somebody

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The steps creaked. She bit her lips to stifle he first came, and now he was gone. The tears
a wild cry there. The door opened. came freely now. What matter, what matter?
There was nobody to see and criticize her
“Turong!” breeding. They came down unchecked and when
she tried to brush them off with her hand, the
“Mr. Reteche bade me give you this. He color came away too from her cheeks, leaving
said you would understand.” them bloodless, cold. Sometimes they got into her
mouth and they tasted bitter.
In one bound she had reached the open
window. But dimly, for the sun was too bright, or Her hands worked convulsively; there was
was her sight failing?–she saw a blur of white a sound of tearing paper, once, twice. She became
moving out to sea, then disappearing behind a suddenly aware of what she had done when she
point of land so that she could no longer follow it; looked at the pieces, wet and brightly stained with
and then, clearly against a horizon suddenly uneven streaks of red. Slowly, painfully, she tried
drawn out of perspective, “Mr. Reteche,” tall, to put the pieces together and as she did so a sob
lean, brooding, looking at her with eyes that told escaped deep from her breast–a great
her somebody had hurt him. It was like that when understanding had come to her.

P. Carlos Bulosan
 an English language Filipino 
novelist and poet.
 During his youth that he and his family were economically impoverished by the rich
and political elite, which would become one of the main themes of his writing.
Notable works:
 The Laughter of My Father
 My Father's Tragedy
 The Romance of Magno Rubio
 My Father goes to Court

MY FATHER GOES TO COURT

Characters:
The Narrator- he is one of the children of the farmer/farm owner.
The Father/Farmer/Farm Owner- the father of the narrator.
Mother- the wife of the Farmer/Farm Owner.
The Children of the Farmer-  the siblings of the narrator. They were referred to as strong,
robust, and cheerful.
The Rich Man- the neighbor of the narrator when they moved to town. It is implied in the
story that he is also stupid.
The Judge - the one who is in charge of the case filed by the rich man. He was described as
someone who is old-looking.
The Rich Man's Children- described as thin, anemic, and pale.
Servants of the Rich Man- the ones who are preparing food for the rich man's family.
 
Setting:
     The story was set several years after 1918, in a town. The events occurred in their neighborhood,
and the trial was held in a court in their locality. I believe that the story occurred in a period
wherein the influence of Spain is still seen, because of the use of a Spanish word which refers to
their local government, yet the story was already set during the American colonization.

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EXTENSION CAMPUS AT HIMAMAYLAN CITY
Himamaylan City, Negros Occidental

DIVISION OF ENGLISH

   something delicious to eat.

THE STORY One day the rich man appeared at a window and
stood there a long time. He looked at my sisters,
who had grown fat in laughing, then at my
When I was four, I lived with my mother and brothers, whose arms and legs were like the
brothers and sisters in a small town on the island molave, which is the sturdiest tree in the
of Luzon. Father’s farm had been destroyed in Philippines. He banged down the window and ran
1918 by one of our sudden Philippine floods, so through his house, shutting all the windows.
several years afterwards, we all lived in the town
‘though he preferred living in the country. We had From that day on, the windows of our neighbour’s
as a next door neighbour a very rich man, whose house were always closed. The children did not
sons and daughters seldom came out of the come out anymore. We could still hear the
house. While we boys and girls played and sang in servants cooking in the kitchen, and no matter
the sun, his children stayed inside and kept the how tight the windows were shut, the aroma of
windows closed. His house was so tall that his the food came to us in the wind and drifted
children could look in the window of our house gratuitously into our house.
and watched us play, or sleep, or eat, when there
was any food in the house to eat. One morning a policeman from the presidencia
came to our house with a sealed paper. The rich
Now, this rich man’s servants were always frying man had filed a complaint against us. Father took
and cooking something good, and the aroma of me with him when he went to the town clerk and
the food was wafted down to us form the asked him what it was about. He told Father the
windows of the big house. We hung about and man claimed that for years we had been stealing
took all the wonderful smells of the food into our the spirit of his wealth and food.
beings. Sometimes, in the morning, our whole
family stood outside the windows of the rich When the day came for us to appear in court,
man’s house and listened to the musical sizzling of father brushed his old Army uniform and
thick strips of bacon or ham. I can remember one borrowed a pair of shoes from one of my
afternoon when our neighbour’s servants roasted brothers. We were the first to arrive. Father sat
three chickens. The chickens were young and on a chair in the centre of the courtroom. Mother
tender and the fat that dripped into the burning occupied a chair by the door. We children sat on a
coals gave off an enchanting odour. We watched long bench by the wall. Father kept jumping up
the servants turn the beautiful birds and inhaled from his chair and stabbing the air with his arms,
the heavenly spirit that drifted out to us. as though we were defending himself before an
imaginary jury.
Some days the rich man appeared at a window
and glowered down at us. He looked at us one by The rich man arrived. He had grown old and
one, as though he were condemning us. We were feeble; his face was scarred with deep lines. With
all healthy because we went out in the sun and him was his young lawyer. Spectators came in and
bathed in the cool water of the river that flowed almost filled the chairs. The judge entered the
from the mountains into the sea. Sometimes we room and sat on a high chair. We stood in a hurry
wrestled with one another in the house before we and then sat down again.
went to play. We were always in the best of spirits
and our laughter was contagious. Other After the courtroom preliminaries, the judge
neighbours who passed by our house often looked at the Father. “Do you have a lawyer?” he
stopped in our yard and joined us in laughter. asked.

As time went on, the rich man’s children became “I don’t need any lawyer, Judge,” he said.
thin and anaemic, while we grew even more
robust and full of life. Our faces were bright and “Proceed,” said the judge.
rosy, but theirs were pale and sad. The rich man
started to cough at night; then he coughed day The rich man’s lawyer jumped up and pointed his
and night. His wife began coughing, too. Then the finger at Father. “Do you or you do not agree that
children started to cough, one after the other. At you have been stealing the spirit of the
night, their coughing sounded like the barking of a complaint’s wealth and food?”
herd of seals. We hung outside their windows and
listened to them. We wondered what happened. “I do not!” Father said.
We knew that they were not sick from the lack of
nourishment because they were still always frying

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“Do you or do you not agree that while the threw in their small change.
complaint’s servants cooked and fried fat legs of
lamb or young chicken breast you and your family “May I walk to the room across the hall and stay
hung outside his windows and inhaled the there for a few minutes, Judge?” Father said.
heavenly spirit of the food?”
“As you wish.”
“I agree.” Father said.
“Thank you,” father said. He strode into the other
“Do you or do you not agree that while the room with the hat in his hands. It was almost full
complaint and his children grew sickly and of coins. The doors of both rooms were wide
tubercular you and your family became strong of open.
limb and fair in complexion?”
“Are you ready?” Father called.
“I agree.” Father said.
“Proceed.” The judge said.
“How do you account for that?”
The sweet tinkle of the coins carried beautifully in
Father got up and paced around, scratching his the courtroom. The spectators turned their faces
head thoughtfully. Then he said, “I would like to toward the sound with wonder. Father came back
see the children of complainant, Judge.” and stood before the complaint.

“Bring in the children of the complainant.” “Did you hear it?” he asked.

They came in shyly. The spectators covered their “Hear what?” the man asked.
mouths with their hands; they were so amazed to
see the children so thin and pale. The children “The spirit of the money when I shook this hat?”
walked silently to a bench and sat down without he asked.
looking up. They stared at the floor and moved
their hands uneasily. “Yes.”

Father could not say anything at first. He just “Then you are paid,” Father said.
stood by his chair and looked at them. Finally he
said, “I should like to cross – examine the The rich man opened his mouth to speak and fell
complaint.” to the floor without a sound. The lawyer rushed to
his aid. The judge pounded his gravel.
“Proceed.”
“Case dismissed.” He said.
“Do you claim that we stole the spirit of your
wealth and became a laughing family while yours Father strutted around the courtroom the judge
became morose and sad?” Father said. even came down from his high chair to shake
hands with him. “By the way,” he whispered, “I
“Yes.” had an uncle who died laughing.”

“Do you claim that we stole the spirit of your food “You like to hear my family laugh, Judge?” Father
by hanging outside your windows when your asked?
servants cooked it?” Father said.
“Why not?”
“Yes.”
“Did you hear that children?” father said.
“Then we are going to pay you right now,” Father
said. He walked over to where we children were My sisters started it. The rest of us followed them
sitting on the bench and took my straw hat off my soon the spectators were laughing with us,
lap and began filling it up with centavo pieces that holding their bellies and bending over the chairs.
he took out of his pockets. He went to Mother, And the laughter of the judge was the loudest of
who added a fistful of silver coins. My brothers all.

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Q. Stevan Javellana
 a Filipino novelist and short-story writer in the English language.
 He is also known as Esteban Javellana.
Notable works:
 Without Seeing the Dawn 
 Day and Night

WITHOUT SEEING THE DAWN

Characters:
• Ricardo Suerte(Carding)- husband of Lucia. He was once a farmer who later on
joins military service.
• Lucia Suerte(Lucing)- wife of Ricardo who had once betrayed him.
• Luis- Son of Don Diego.
• Juan Suerte- Father of Ricardo
• Crisostomo- Child of Ricardo and Lucing
• Don Diego- The owner of the lad tilled by Ricardo.

Setting:
 Mahanyang, Sta. Barbara, Iloilo
 Iloilo City
 Mindanao

THE STORY

Set in a small farming village called one’s house in May will bring misfortune to its
Manhayang, Sta. Barbara, somewhere in Ilo-Ilo. inhabitants.
Like most rural baranggays, the hardworking and
closely-knit village folk there had simple needs, It came to pass that after the grand
simple wants, and simple dreams. They were wedding and the feast that followed which was
living their own simple lives when the violence of even attended by their representate, the
war reached their place and brought death to newlyweds lived happily on the land entrusted to
their village, their homes and their hearts. Tatay Juan by Don Diego, but not for long.
Misfortune struck early when their first child was
Here revolves the story of Ricardo stillborn. A more difficult trial came when Lucing
"Carding" Suerte, son of Juan Suerte. An disgraced herself, her family and her husband by
industrious, strong and sometimes quick- having an affair with Luis, the son of their
tempered young man. He aspired to marry Lucia, landlord. Caught naked, he was beaten up by the
the daughter of the teniente del barrio. Though strong, angry husband whose honor and pride
his father thought he was not yet prepared and were hurt. The couple patched things up but the
had wished to send him to school, he gave his land that Carding and Juan Suerte had been tilling
blessing to the decision of his son. He consented for a very long time was given to another tenant.
to asking Lucia’s hand from her parents in the
traditional pamamanhikan accompanied by the With no land to till, the pair tried their
village’s best orator and the godmother of the luck in the city. There, in Iloilo, Carding met Rosing
lass. After agreeing to the conditions of the village and Nestong. The latter was his fellow stevedore
chief, the marriage was set. Tatay Juan gathered and union member, and the former, a prostitute
up almost all of his hard-earned savings for the besotted with him and also the reason why his
dowry and expenses for the wedding feast. In the wife left him and returned to their barrio. Soon,
meantime, Carding excitedly built their house Carding followed Lucing with news that the
despite the advice of the elderly that building representante entrusted them with land to till in

|| LIT 202 (Ma’am Jonalyn)

 West Visayas State University 2020

Badlan. Lucing too had news for her husband: she

was again pregnant.

They moved to Badlan and worked harder

than ever. They were blessed not only by a
promise of a bountiful harvest, but also with a
healthy son they named Crisostomo. Sadly, their
landlord sold the land, and they were given time
to harvest what they sowed. Misfortune was like a
shadow though. A great flood destroyed
everything that they had- harvest and carabao as
well. Wanting to own their own piece of land,
they were convinced to move to Mindanao, but
Carding was drafted for military service. When he
returned, he found his wife heavy with another
child. At first, the truth was kept from him. What
he knew was that his father and his son died of
some illness. But later it was revealed that the
Japanese soldiers who attacked their village killed
his father and son and raped his wife. He was
enraged when he learned the truth. As his
neighbors, relatives and friends in barrio
Manhayang were tortured, raped and massacred
by the Japanese soldiers, Carding too became an
executioner to his enemies, and not even his
friend nor the brother of his mother-in-law were
spared. He also almost killed the child that his
wife had just delivered if it was not born dead. For
that, Lucing was so enraged that she sent him
away.

The Japanese ordered everyone to enter a

collective barrio or else be considered guerrilla
supporters and be shot. However, the villagers of
Manhayang also refused to be considered
enemies of their own sons and so they decided to
evacuate in barrios farther away except for Lucing
who was hesitant to go. She was waiting to see
her husband despite knowing that he will be
leading the suicide attack to the Japanese
garrison. When they did see each other, Carding
asked for her forgiveness and left her what cash
he had as he bade her farewell. In the end, Lucing
refused to flee for she knew that she was still his
wife, duty-bound to receive the corpse of her
beloved husband.

|| LIT 202 (Ma’am Jonalyn)

 West Visayas State University
EXTENSION CAMPUS AT HIMAMAYLAN CITY
Himamaylan City, Negros Occidental

DIVISION OF ENGLISH

Apply your Knowledge

Task 1.

Directions: Analyze the short story “Footnote to Youth” by filling out each item. Relate
the theme in real-life situation.

Title:

Author:

Characters:

Setting:

Event 1 Event 2 Event 3

Theme:

|| LIT 202 (Ma’am Jonalyn)

 West Visayas State University 2020

Task 2. STORY BOARD

Directions: Illustrate the story “Dead Stars” by creating a storyboard. A storyboard is a graphic
organizer that plans a narrative. It is a powerful way to visually present information. Use the
chart below for your illustration.

1 2 3

4 5 6

7 8 9

Task 3.

Directions: Read the story “My Father Goes to Court”. Write your answers on the
following:

Summary:

Reflection:

Lesson (relate to real-life situations)

|| LIT 202 (Ma’am Jonalyn)

 West Visayas State University 2020

Task 4. Character Sketch

Directions: Write a character sketch of your favorite main character from the different
fiction stories you have read in this unit. Use the format below.

Describe at least two traits of the character:

What does the character looks like?

What the character does?

What the character thinks/feels?

What others say about the character?

|| LIT 202 (Ma’am Jonalyn)

 West Visayas State University 2020

Assess your Knowledge

Directions: Based on all the fiction stories you have read in this unit, fill in the
information below.

TITLE OF THE STORY ABOUT THE AUTHOR THEME (relate to real-life

(Main points only, 3 situations)
sentences)

Footnote to Youth

Dead Stars

Harvest

Scent of Apples

How my Brother Leon

brought Home a Wife

We or They

The Chieftest Mourner

May Day Eve

|| LIT 202 (Ma’am Jonalyn)

 West Visayas State University 2020

Children of the Ash

Covered Loam

Visitation of the Gods

The Dog Eaters

Faith, Love, Time and Dr.

Lazaro

The Virgin

Zita

My Father Goes to Court

Without Seeing the Dawn

|| LIT 202 (Ma’am Jonalyn)

 West Visayas State University 2020

References:

Ang, Jaime G. (2009). Kritika: Selected readings in Philippine Literature from Pre-Colonial to Post-EDSA .
Intramuros, Manila: Mindshapers Co. Inc.

Croghan, R.(1978) The development of Philippine literature in English ( since 1900). Quezon City: Phoenix Publishing
House.

Dones, M G. (2009). Philippine Literature. A Student Guide. Intramuros, Manila: Mindshapers co. Inc.

Kahayon, A. and Zulueta.,C (2000). Philippine literature through the years. Mandaluyong City: National Book
Store

Tan, A.B. (1991) Introduction to Literature. Metro Manila: National Bookstore, Inc.

Vinuya, R. & Geron, C. (2011). Philippine literature: A statement of ourselves. Pateros, Metro Manila:
Grandbooks Publishing, Inc..

https://www.upjs.sk/files/7cc1d204dc718cca966d5215c19b33da.pdf

https://theculturetrip.com/asia/philippines/articles/the-10-best-books-in-philippine-literature/

https://www.academia.edu/people/search?utf8=%E2%9C%93&q=fiction

https://aboutphilippines.org/files/philippineliterature-091020093804-phpapp01.pdf

file:///D:/Report/2nd%20Year/Survey%20in%20Philippine%20Literature%20in%20English/
PHILIPPINE_LITERATURE_INTRODUCTION.pdf

https://www.lexico.com/en/definition/fiction

https://study.com/academy/lesson/what-is-fiction-definition-types.html

https://iowareadingresearch.org/blog/types-of-fiction

https://www.novel-writing-help.com/genre-fiction.html

https://study.com/academy/lesson/what-is-fiction-definition-types.html

https://www.thoughtco.com/defining-terms-myth-folklore-legend-735039

https://lhsblogs.typepad.com/files/folk-lore-unit-notes.pdf

https://philippinelit.wordpress.com

https://www.answers.com/summary

rizal.lib.admu.edu.ph/aliww/pmb_aida_revira_ford

https://easylead.com/summary

https://studymoose.com/my-father-goes-to-court-by-carlos-bulosan-essay

|| LIT 202 (Ma’am Jonalyn)

 West Visayas State University 2020

http://www.biography-center.com/biographies/18017-Rotor_Arturo_Belleza.html

https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&source=web&rct=j&url=https://laymark.home.blog/2019/01/14/student-
love-an-analysis-of-zita-by-arturo-b-rotor-2/amp/
&ved=2ahUKEwiIkPrftfrjAhVXQd4KHdgdAF0QFjABegQIDRAJ&usg=AOvVaw1ga1DJlIoqfjMG8w5tt-
AP&ampcf=1&cshid=1565516744762

https://images.app.goo.gl/MLaQiQapYySTEShJA

https://images.app.goo.gl/6DAG2KWAa1hAQCXN7

www.enotes.com/topics/n-v-m-gonzalez

https://prezi.com/m/9ae9ugk2maje/children-of-the-ash-covered-loam/

https://philippinelit.wordpress.com/2013/03/26/the-chieftest-mourner-by-aida-rivera-ford/#more-30

https://dokumen.tips/documents/children-of-the-ash-covered-loam.html

http://www.seasite.niu.edu/Tagalog/Literature/Short%20Stories/May%20Day%20Eve.htm

http://compilationofphilippineliterature.blogspot.com/2011/04/dog-eaters-leoncio-p-deriada.html

https://idoc.pub/download/the-visitation-of-the-gods-1d47q3o20dn2

http://allaboutphilippineliterature.blogspot.com/2012/10/faith-love-time-and-dr-lazaro.html

https://docs.google.com/document/preview?hgd=1&id=1kfGtMdTxhq3P2vOJeYZ9l8vHuTw1m_-oT7lQ1CAgb6s#

https://www.sushidog.com/bpss/stories/zita.htm

http://ice-wherethegreengrassgrow.blogspot.com/2010/09/summary-of-stevan-javellanas-without.html

Criteria for Grading the Output

Fiction Story Rubric

Characters- 10%
Setting-10%
Events-30%
Word Choice-25%
Convemtions-25%

Story Board Rubric

Illustrations-40%
Understanding-15%
Interpretation-20%
Attractiveness-25%

Short Answer Assessment/Short Essay Rubric

Content- 35%
Organization of Ideas-30%
Grammar, Usage and Mechanics-20%
Details-15%
Character Sketch/Analysis Rubric

Knowledge and Understanding- 35%

|| LIT 202 (Ma’am Jonalyn)

 West Visayas State University 2020

Creativity-30%
Grammar, Usage and Mechanics-20%
Details-15%

|| LIT 202 (Ma’am Jonalyn)