This excerpt is from the novel "Banana Heart Summer" by Filipino-Australian author Merlinda Bobis. It tells the story of a father who loses his job and his capacity for speech. He claims "the devil ate my words" and no longer feels able to disagree with his wife or make promises to her. The devil represents his former employer, a wealthy Spanish man, who fired him to hire cheaper labor. The story explores how unemployment affected the father and family, as well as the father's loss of power and identity.
This excerpt is from the novel "Banana Heart Summer" by Filipino-Australian author Merlinda Bobis. It tells the story of a father who loses his job and his capacity for speech. He claims "the devil ate my words" and no longer feels able to disagree with his wife or make promises to her. The devil represents his former employer, a wealthy Spanish man, who fired him to hire cheaper labor. The story explores how unemployment affected the father and family, as well as the father's loss of power and identity.
This excerpt is from the novel "Banana Heart Summer" by Filipino-Australian author Merlinda Bobis. It tells the story of a father who loses his job and his capacity for speech. He claims "the devil ate my words" and no longer feels able to disagree with his wife or make promises to her. The devil represents his former employer, a wealthy Spanish man, who fired him to hire cheaper labor. The story explores how unemployment affected the father and family, as well as the father's loss of power and identity.
This excerpt is from the novel "Banana Heart Summer" by Filipino-Australian author Merlinda Bobis. It tells the story of a father who loses his job and his capacity for speech. He claims "the devil ate my words" and no longer feels able to disagree with his wife or make promises to her. The devil represents his former employer, a wealthy Spanish man, who fired him to hire cheaper labor. The story explores how unemployment affected the father and family, as well as the father's loss of power and identity.
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Lengua Para Diablo
(The Devil Ate My
Words) [Excerpt from Banana Heart Summer] by Merlinda Bobis
Presented by: Nagum, Jean Caryl
Pagcaliwagan, Chrizel Quenery, Erica Lengua Para Diablo is an excerpt from the book “Banana Heart Summer” Banana Heart Summer is written by Merlinda Bobis, Merlinda Bobis is an acclaimed Filipino-Australian writer and performer who has publish in three languanges. Her novel, short story, and poetry collection, and play have receive various awards. Lengua Para Diablo Means “ The Devil Ate My Words” “Lengua” is a Spanish words meaning “tongue” which is the story symbolizes the words eaten by the devil. Lengua (Beef tongue) is also a dish made of cow’s tongue. Lengua is often seasoned with onion and other spices, and then placed in a pot to boil. Vocabulary Words
Epicure Scrupulously Affluence
A person Extremely State of who takes a attentive to having a particular details great deal pleasure in Cajole Luxuriate of money Appeasement fine food and Persuade Take self- Receive or satisfy drink someone to indulgent (a demand or do something delight feeling) by sustained coaxing or flattery This story concern a father and how he no longer feel like he has a power over his family and society. It show how unemployment can affect people and their family members. Lengua Para Diablo (The Devil Ate My Words) [Excerpt from Banana Heart Summer] by Merlinda Bobis I suspected that my father sold his tongue to the devil. He had little to say in our house. Whenever he felt like disagreeing with my mother, he murmured. ‘The devil ate my words’. This meant he forgot what he was about to say and Mother was often appeased. There was more need for appeasement after he lost his job. The devil ate his words, the devil ate his capacity for words. The devil ate his tongue. But perhaps only after prior negotiation with its owner what with Mother always complaining, I’m already taking a peek at hell!’ when it got too hot and stuffy in our tiny house. She seemed to sweat more that summer, and miserably. She made it sound like Father’s fault, so he cajoled her with kisses and promises of an electric far; bigger windows, a bigger house, but she pushed him away, saying, ‘Get off me, I’m hot, at this hellish life!’ Again he was ready to pledge relief, but something in my mother’s eyes made him mutter only the usual excuse, ‘The devil ate my words,’ before he shut his mouth. Then he ran to the tap to get more water. Lengua para diablo: tongue for the devil. Surely he sold his tongue in exchange for those promises to my mother: comfort, a full stomach life without our wretched want…But the devil never delivered his side of the bargain. The devil was alien to want. He lived in a Spanish house and owned several stores in the city. This Spanish mestizo was my father’s employer, but only for a very short while. He sacked him and our neighbor Tiyo Anding, also a mason after he found a cheaper hand for the extension of his house. We never knew the devil’s name. Father was incapable of speaking it, more so after he came home and sat in the darkest corner of the house, and stared at his hands. It took him two days of silent staring before he told my mother about his fate. I wondered how the devil ate my father’s tongue. Perhaps he cooked it in mushroom sauce, in that special Spanish way that they do ox tongue. First, it was scrupulously cleaned, rubbed with salt and vinegar, blanched in boiling water, then scraped of his white coating – now imagine words scraped off the tongue, and even taste, our capacity for pleasure. In all those two days of silent staring, Father hardly ate. He said he had lost his taste for food, he was not hungry. Junior and Nilo were more than happy to demolish his share of gruel with fish sauce. Now, after the thorough clean, the tongue was pricked with a fork to allow the flavors of all the spices and condiments to penetrate the flesh. Then it was browned in olive oil. How I wished we could prick my father’s tongue back to speech and even hunger, but of course we couldn’t, because it had disappeared. It had been served on the devil’s platter with garlic onion tomatoes, bay leaf, clove, peppercorns, soy sauce, even sherry, butter, and grated Edam cheese, with that aroma of something rich and foreign. His silent tongue was already luxuriating in a multitude of essences, pampered into piquant delight. Perhaps, next he should sell his esophagus, then his stomach. I would if I had the chance to be that pampered. To know for once what I would never taste. I would be soaked, steamed, sautéed, basted, baked, boiled, fried and feted with only the perfect seasonings. I would become an epicure. On a rich man’s plate, I would be initiated to flavors of only the finest quality. In his stomach, I would be inducted to secrets’ I would be the ‘inside girl,’ and I could tell you the true nature of sated affluence. The End