Manoy Tomas did not dare wake the girl up even though the pigs were complaining
and squealing in hunger. He was glad for his daughter. He was worried for his
daughter. Senorito Diego had asked to come and spend an afternoon in Bansa and
nobody had to spell out what his intentions were. Well, he ponders to himself,
he comes from a good and rich family. Our lives will definitely change for the
better. He started counting and imagining the dowry, for in Butuan, it is the
groom who is obligated to offer a dowry to the family of the bride. He will
give half to the church and that would make Padre Itsi happy. Padre Itsi will
be happy, Don Arnulfo will be happy, Diego will be happy, I will be happy. A
simple man engaging in a simple thought process. But what about Maria Elena?
That ardent young man last night, Arturo, son of the registrar from Buenavista,
even the chickens succumbed to his voice, the thought brought a smile to his
face. He sounded so sincere. But what has he to offer my daughter? Nothing.
Nothing compared to Diego. In his own way, that young gentleman was sincere,
too. With Arturo, his grandchildren will not enjoy the privileges of the white
people. Padre Itsi refrained from making a comment about him, and that was a
comment in itself. he rationalized.
The door from the other room finally creaked open, Maria Elena still dreamy
eyed, he had never seen his daughter this radiantly beautiful before. My baby,
he thought, my baby is in love. He remembered his wife and felt lonely. She
will marry and she, too, shall leave me. He could not control his sadness as
he kissed his daughter on the temple. Maria Elena searched her father's eyes
and understood. Her gain was his loss. She loved her father so.
Manoy Tomas started tidying up his simple house, fidgeting with every little
detail, even admonishing the pigs and the chickens to please behave when their
honored guest would arrive, as if it mattered to them.
Soon enough, that day was here. Diego, in gold and blue, boots reflecting
light, got to the riverbanks where the acacia trees were, and left his horse, a
beautiful Arabian steed brought in from Mexico on a galleon , to an indio. He
got on a large wooden boat with bamboo rafters, large enough that he could sit
on a short chair so he would not have to squat and flatten the sharp creases of
his pants. His interpreter interpreted. Four muscular manobo rowers pushed the
boat into the river with Diego sitting in magnificent splendor. The manobos got
into the boat and started paddling. As they got to the middle of the river, the
current suddenly got stronger, a sudden chill hit the air. The manobos, eyes
wide with evident apprehension, started mumbling something about balete and
engkanto, looking at each other with furtive glances. This did not escape
Diego's attention as he inquired from the interpreter who in turn told him
about the natives' stupid superstitions, as if he were not a native himself.
Unmindful of this information, he told the paddlers to row harder. The
natives were breaking out in a cold sweat as they struggled against the
increasingly strong current. They got close to the other side just before a
five foot wave hit the boat and dashed it to the shore by the tower."
Somariosip" yelled the Christianized natives almost simultaneously as they
made the sign of the cross five times, pallor evident on their faces in spite
of their brown complexion Two of the natives jumped out of the boat into the
nose deep water to keep the boat steady. It got stuck on the roots of a
mangrove tree, a fortunate thing or they would have turned over as the
rafters had been broken. "Hijo de puta !" A five foot wave in the river? Now I
have seen everything.
The manobos helped him off the boat but refused to go up the landing. They
refused to look at him in the face as they kept their heads bowed as was
expected of them, looking guilty as if they were responsible for the mishap,
as at that time, the servants were to blame for anything that could go wrong.
Diego muttered to himself, What have we done to these people? He left the
interpreter with them. Stepping on stones to avoid soiling his shoes, his
attire wet and crumpled, he pushed back his blondish hair as he walked to the
path that led toward the tall tower which was barely visible as a result of
some kind of parasitic viney vegetation growing around it. He touched the tower
through the balete vines and concluded that the tower was made of compacted sea
shells or coral of some kind, like the ones he had seen in Cartagena in
Venezuela. Curios, he walked around and saw a small gaping hole on the ground
a foot away from what was the northern base of the tower, partly covered by a
decaying wooden plank that was moist with moss. He pulled the plank away and
felt a disagreeably dank air rise to his face. I wonder how deep this thing is?
He looked for a pebble, found one the size of a small guava, and dropped it
into the hole, expecting to hear a splash. Nothing. He turned away, then turned
back to cover the hole with the plank. He was about twenty feet away, on the
path that led to Maria Elena's house when he heard a splash. This was followed
by a low cavernous sound that sent shivers to the back of his neck.. This is
ridiculous. Now I'm beginning to hear things ! he thought. He forced a smile
but his smile was not too convincing.
Maria Elena was a gracious host. The usual introductory pleasantries. A
delicious cup of thick hot native chocolate made from a tableya, the sweetest
mango this side of the Pacific and palagsing. These are so delicious, but not
as delicious as this goddess before me, he thought. I am a getting to be a
poet, am I not? he mused. Diego loosened up, less stiff, smiles coming more
easily now. This woman is doing wonders for me.
They were sitting under a nipa hut with bamboo benches, shaded by the santol
tree. The place was cool and so desirably peaceful. The pigs and the chickens
were quiet. No Name was patiently watching them from the window sill.
Everything seemed perfect except for dark clouds gathering on the western side
of the river over Mount Mayapay. They talked about so many things, mostly Diego
asking the girl, and getting evasive answers. He thought that being artfully
coy here is like playing coy in Spain, a universal thing among women. He told
her about their ranch, and the leather factory, and his trips to Switzerland
and other distant places. She was such a great host, listening intently to what
he was telling her, asking the right questions now and then.
Then he told her about the incident in the river and the tower. Loudly, as if
to convince himself, I don't believe in these childish foolish fairy tales. He
saw her eyes suddenly turn from a light purple to a dark green or blue, he
could not tell for sure. She was not fast enough as she tried to stop him from
completing the sentence. Don't say that, in a whisper, as she reach across to
put her index and middle finger to his lips. She was too late. He had said it.
Lightening cracked in the distance and the thunder came ten seconds later, from
a low grumble to a loud ear piercing sound. It lasted only for a few seconds
but the nipa hut shook and all the little piglets screamed in unison.
Don't. Don't say that. There are things that, maybe, you don't understand. He
was about to say something else but she interrupted him. Let's talk about other
things, the concern evident in her voice.
Senorita, I shall not beat around the bush, he declared with a certain urgency.
You know why I am here. I am planning to stay in this place for the rest of my
life. If I can share this life with you. You don't know me yet but I swear as a
Spaniard and as a gentleman that from this day until forever, I shall be yours
to command. With these arms, I shall fight for you, and if that day should ever
come, I shall die for you. Had Maria Elena not been looking at his face, she
would have giggled at this classic extravagant latin hyperbole. But the
intensity by which these claims were made cast no doubt that these words were
all spoken in earnest..
I have talked to my father. He is a man of wisdom and he told me it is a
decision only I can make. I have made that decision because I want you to be my
wife and I want you to be the mother of my children, and I want for us to grow
old together. I know I am not alone. I know there are others. I may not be the
most worthy of your suitors but I swear I am the most sincere. He paused for
any form of reassurance. He did not get any.
Oh, Diego, my poor Diego! she answered in her mind. Lightning struck a coconut
tree a hundred yards away, dark smoke rising from the burnt leaves. No Name
arched his back, his whiskers bristling, his fangs flashing. Startled, Diego
almost jumped off his seat, visibly shaken, but refusing to be intimidated,
did not look at the coconut tree even as the smell of burning leaves reached
him. You do not have to answer now. I know it is a major decision for you as it
was for me. My decision was not made in a whim, either. Let me give you some
more time to think about it.
Very well, but go in haste before the rain falls. Cross the river from that
side, as she pointed in a direction away from the tower. My father will provide
guidance to your men.
He left, tasting rejection, something he had never been subjected to. His face
a picture of disappointment. Why did she not just say no so I can die with
dignity? He did not look back. He marched directly to where Maria Elena
pointed. By the time he got back to the other side of the river the sky had
cleared and the rain never fell.
That night, father and daughter had a long talk. They decided that she would
consult with Padre Itsi. He always knew what was best.
Previous Chapter - Chapter 5
Next Chapter - Chapter 7
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