Encanto

 

An pagkaaki sarong lumang agihan pakadto sa may dating molinohan kun sain ka nagtago para dai mahiling ni Ruping, si kakawat mo kaidto. Dai ka niya nakua pagka-kamang mo sa may baliti kun sain, sabi ni Lolo Kanor mo, nag-iistar an engkantong si Primitibo.

 Dai ka na nagtunga kaya huminabo na sana  an kakawat mo. Pag-sinarom, nakua ka ni Manoy mo harani sa kamalig. Pagal-pagal ka, haros dai naghahangos, mu’singon. Dai ka naggigirong,  bara’ba an kalson.

 Mayo nin naghapot kun nagparasain ka. Mayo nin naghapot kun napa’no ka. Pagkabanggi, hinanap mo sainda si Lolo mo—pag-abot niya, mga sanggatos na beses kang huminadok saiya. Sabi kan kabuhan mo, na-ingkanto ka daa.

 Tapos na an taraguan nindo, pero poon kadto bisan sain ka magduman, gusto mo na lang magparatago, garong pirming takot kang may makahiling o makakua saimo—sa libod kansa may baylihan; eskwelahan pag-urulian;

 Sa laog kan mapa’raton na sinehan sa siyudad; minsan nahiling nagrarabay-rabay sa Naga—hali sa Calle Ojeda asta sa Abella. Sabi ninda, hinahanap mo daa si Primitibo,    an tawong lipod na nagkaraw saimo.

    

Enchanted in Iligan

I do not really like nature trips very much.

I always feel that elementals roam the hills and mountains and going there in droves—like we Iligan fellows did on our last day of workshop—always surprises them. And If I am exhausted in a trip going to a destination, it is enough reason for me not to rave about it.

Then, I saw Tinago falls.

I did not express much enjoyment upon seeing the white waters falling off a very high cliff. I respected the sight more than I was awed by it. So I uttered “Tabi, Apo” a number of times as if to seek permission for us to pass through from the unnamed encanto and elementals dwelling there.

Later, I could not get enough of the view of the falls, so I swam.

But I swam alone, using a lifesaving jacket. I wanted to breathe away from the company of the fellows. I sought the part where the water did not overwhelm much. In the side of the major falls, I enjoyed the water falling down on me inasmuch as I enjoyed myself frolicking for a while with some of the local children.

I swam and explored the water myself. I wanted to unwind and relax after days of overloaded critiques and evaluations of our talent or the lack of it, as in the words of panelist German Gervacio, our own senses of angas and duda.

In the water, I seemed to have forgotten the fact that I swam. I nearly dozed off floating. And when I sort of woke up, I just realized it was time to go.

ON OUR WAY to Mimbalot Falls, the next stop for us, two local boys saw our car and ran after us. The boys did not stop until they caught with the car and perched themselves at the back of it. Upon seeing them, some fellows said, “Uy, Brokeback!”perhaps thinking they were Ennis del Mar and Jack Twist in Ang Lee's gay epic, Brokeback Mountain. I thought writers really have a peculiar way of making up and recreating realities for or about themselves.

But I also began to be curious of the children—they just looked too sad to be going there with us for a swimming, I thought. No one talked with the boys. They were just quietly perched in the rear of the car until we reached the falls.

I did not swim with the group. I was exhausted rising from the deep elevations of Tinago.

They now frolicked more openly in the shallow, more accessible falls. Instead I took their pictures. I hardly took pictures of the trees or woods without any human subject. I took pictures of people who posed before the falls, rocks and bridges. I just did not want to discomfort other beings in the place.

I felt too empty being in such a solitary place. I saw that there were very few people there. The place looked more sacred than entertaining—quaint rather than relaxing. I could hardly hear the frolicking swimmers as they did in Tinago; here, their voices were muffled by the falling waters, and even insulated by the rocks that covered them.

So I went back to the car. Hearing the duliduli from a distance, I hardly had the words to say. It was like my turn to listen to Nature and not to disturb it even with my presence. So I slowed down.

Then I saw the two boys again. They sat on the rocks near the area where washing clothes was permitted. They were munching pieces of fruit or something which they must have found in the woods near the river. They looked hungry.

I approached them and started to talk to them. I spoke to them in Filipino, hoping they would understand me. They did. I came to know that they were brothers. One was a year older than the other, but both of them are in grade one, they told me. They just looked too old to be in grade one. Their eyes were lonely, but when I talked with them, it is as if there is not too much energy in them. They really looked hungry.

We were already leaving when the two boys perched up again at the back of our car. In the car, the snacks were shared among the fellows. After every fellow was given their share, some of us shared the carrot with the two boys. Instantly, they took the bread, while balancing themselves at the tail of the car. Both of them smiled, now prancing like two little happy things at the back of our car.

Approaching the city, I seemed to have lost my interest to relax and unwind. I felt utterly empty. And lonely. And I sensed things were just beginning to happen to me as soon as we left Mimbalut. In the car, the carrot cake looked very much like a Goldilocks bread to me; but it didn't taste very good at all.

Iloilo City, June 2008