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auspiciousgal · 5 months

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Nang Mainlab ako kay G. Maclang

~Produkto ng parehong malikot na pag-iisip at totoong pangyayari~

Ako si Maria Evangelista at may sikreto ako. Noong hayskul ako, na-inlab ako sa aking guro. Siya si G. Francisco Maclang. Guro namin siya sa humanidades at agham panlipunan. Noong makilala ko siya, hindi ko maipaliwanag ang pagbabago sa aking pananaw sa mundo. Nabuksan ang aking isipan sa mga bagay na hindi ko napapansin noon. Tulad na lamang ng pag-ibig sa tinubuang lupa at pagkamakabayan. Gradweyt sa Unibersidad ng Pilipinas si G. Maclang sa kursong kasaysayan, Hindi maikakailang matalino siya dahil sa kanyang pinagtapusan. Katalinuhan ang una kong nagustuhan sa kanya. Syempre bilang isang kabataan na wala pang masyadong alam sa mundo, nahumaling ako sa dami ng alam niya. Magaling din siyang magturo. Talagang natututo ako. Sa tuwing may pangkatang gawain, sinisiguro ko na mapapansin niya ako. Hindi ko man siya mapamangha sa mga ideya ko, ang mahalaga tumatak ako sa kanya kahit pa sa katatawanan ‘yan. Hindi ko naman kasi maituturing ang sarili ko na pinakamatalino at pinakamagaling sa klase. Kadalasan nga ay naiinggit ako sa mga kaklase kong babae na kaya makipagsabayan sa kanya sa debate. Dumating din ako sa punto na gusto kong obserbahan at gayahin ang mga galaw at pag-iisip ng mga kaklase kong nakakasabay sa talino ni G. Maclang.

Isa na sa kanila ang bespren kong si Anita De Jesus. Mas matangkad sakin at di hamak na mas matalino sa akin. Mahusay rin siyang magsulat dahil nahasa na siya noong elementarya pa lamang siya. Kaya hindi na ako nagtaka noong tinanong siya sakin ni G. Maclang. Ganito ang senaryo. Uwian na at umuulan. Kaya naman, nagpapatila ako sa aming klasrum. Naiwan na ako ng mga kaibigan ko dahil may inasikaso pa ako sa iskul pagkatapos ng huling klase namin. May isang saglit na napadaan si G. Maclang nakitang may konting estudyante pa sa klasrum kasama na ako don. Wala siyang dala-dalang payong kaya nabasa ang kanyang uniporme. Kagalang-galang siya kapag nakasuot ng uniporme. Kaya sa loob-loob ko, ano kaya ang itsura niya kapag nakasuot lang siya ng ordinaryong t-shirt? Nasagot ang katanungan na ‘yon noong gabing ‘yon. Nabighani ako sa tangkad at pagiging simple niya kapag naka-puting t-shirt lang. Tinanggal lang niya ang uniporme niya at naiwan ang puting t-shirt na panloob niya.

May ilang segundo lang ay napansin niyang nakatingin ako sa kanya. Sana hindi niya nahalatang manghang-mangha ako sa tikas at basang istura niya. Noong tumama ang mga mata niya sa mga mata ko, parang may naalala siya bigla. Kaya umakma siyang lalapitan ako para tanungin ako tungkol sa bespren ko.

“Bb. Evangelista, hindi ba’t malapit mong kaibigan si Bb. De Jesus? Nabasa ko kasi ang mga sanaysay niya sa aking klase at gustung-gusto ko ang pagsusulat niya. Sa tingin mo ba papayag siya kung aanyayahan ko siyang magsulat ng papel ng pananaliksik?” – G. Maclang

Hindi ko alam bakit nagtatalong kilig at lungkot ang nararamdaman ko nang mga minutong ito. Kaya naman ang naisagot ko na lang ay “Itatanong ko po sa kanya, G. Maclang!”

Nagpasalamat siya habang tangan-tangan ang basa niyang uniporme. Saktong tumila ang ulan nang matitigan ko siya sa mga mata. Napansin niya ang paghinto ng ulan at dali-daling nagpaalam.

Habang umuuwi ako noong gabing ‘yon, hindi ko maialis sa isipan ko na nagkaroon ako ng malapitang interaksyon kasama si G. Maclang na sa harap ng klase ko lang noong napagmamasdan. Bago pa ako kiligin ng tuluyan, sumagi sa aking isipan na may ipinangako nga pala ako sa kanya. Tatanungin ko nga pala si Anita kung payag siyang magsulat ng papel na pagtutulungan nila ni G. Maclang. Bigla akong nalungkot sa inggit. Kasi naman ‘tong bespren ko, ginalingan masyado sa mga sanaysay niya sa klase ni G. Maclang.

Kilala si G. Maclang na nagbibigay talaga ng pagkakataon sa mga estudyante niya na maipamalas ang talino at talento nila sa pagsusulat, pamumuno, at pakikipagtalakayan. Siya ang tagapagtatag at tagapayo ng isang organisasyon na kinabibilangan ko rin sa aming eskwela. Pati ang mga dating estudyante niya sa dating kolehiyong tinuturuan niya ay sinasadya siya sa munting eskwelahan namin para humingi ng payo sa kaniya para sa kanilang tesis. Karamihan sa kanila ay estudyante ng sikolohiya. Mga nakaputing uniporme tulad ng sa mga nars.

Isa ang sikolohiya sa mga disiplina ng agham panlipunan, kaya itinuturo rin ni G. Maclang ang ibang mga teorya at konseptong nakapaloob dito. Mula kay Freud na kilalang-kilala sa larangan na ito dahil sa kanyang kontrobersiyal na teorya hanggang kay Maslow na may tatsulok na ilustrasyon ng pagkakasunud-sunod ng mga pangangailangan ng isang tao. Kawili-wili kapag inaaral lalo na kapag si G. Maclang ang nagtuturo.

Sa lahat ng disiplina ng agham panlipunan, kasaysayan ang pinakapaboritong ituro ni G. Maclang sa klase. Kaya mabalik tayo sa imbitasyon niya sa aking bespren na magsulat ng papel. Nalaman na nga ni Anita na gusto siyang magsulat ni G. Maclang patungkol sa kung paano itinuturo sa mga bata ang kasaysayan partikular na ang panahon ng Batas Militar.

“Hindi ko yata kaya, mga bes! Atsaka hindi ba pedeng iba na lang. Kilala niyo naman ako, mahiyain ako kapag mag-isa lang ako. Bakit di niyo na lang ako samahang dalawa?” – Anita

Ang dalawang tinutukoy niya ay kaming dalawa ni Jordan Laktaw, ang lalaking bespren namin ni Anita. Nang sabihin ni Anita ‘yon, sa loob-loob ko ay magandang ideya ‘yon dahil makakasama ako sa isang proyekto ni G. Maclang. Habang tumatanggi si Jordan sa suhestiyon ni Anita, kunwaring nag-iisip ako.

“Sige! Okay lang naman siguro kay G. Maclang kung may isasama ka pang iba sa pagsulat ng papel.”

Nanlaki ang mga mata ni Jordan na parang di makapaniwala. Hindi naman kasi ako ‘yong tipo ng estudyante na magboboluntaryo para sa isang proyekto. Hangga’t maaari ayaw ko ng dagdag na trabaho bukod sa mga takdang aralin namin.

Natuwa si Anita sa pagsangayon ko at dali-dali namin sinabi kay G. Maclang ang kundisyon ni Anita kahit hindi pa rin sang-ayon si Jordan dahil wala siyang magagawa. Panalo ang mayordad. Noong araw din na ‘yon pagkatapos ng aming mga klase ay nagsimula na kaming kausapin ni G. Maclang patungkol sa proyekto. Ayon sa kanya, tamang-tama raw ang naging suhestiyon ni Anita na isama kami ni Jordan sa proyekto. Bigla naman akong nabuhayan ng loob na hindi lang si Anita ang pinagkakatiwalaan niyang makasama niya sa pagsusulat ng papel.

Kahit na hindi ako magaling sa pagsusulat ng papel, ang naging kontribusyon ko sa proyekto ay ang kapal ng mukha at kakayahang mapapayag ang kahit na sinong pakiusapan namin na makapanayam namin. Ako rin ang namamahala sa interbyu at pagsasalin nito sa papel. Madalas na kasama namin si G. Maclang sa tuwing magpupunta kami sa mga eskwelahang napili naming maging parte ng pananaliksik namin. Kasama na ang eskwelahan ko noong elementarya pa lamang ako.

Sa bawat interbyu at pagsasalin na pinapagawa sa akin, ibinibigay ko ang isang daang porsyento ko para mapabilib si G. Maclang. Para sa kanya, estudyante niya lang ako na napapakinabangan niya para sa isang importanteng proyekto kaya mapagpasalamat siya. Gusto ko naman ‘yon na natutulungan ko siya sa isang bagay na importante sa kanya kahit hindi ako ang pangunahing kontribusyon. Dahil si Anita ‘yon at ang pagsusulat niya.

Habang nasa kalagitnaan ng proyekto, nagkaroon ng ibang prayoridad si G. Maclang kaya hindi namin natapos ang proyekto. Ang sabi niya lang sa amin ay hindi na namin maitutuloy sa ngayon ang nasimulang proyekto at huwag kaming mag-alala dahil hindi nasayang ang lahat dahil ang mga susunod na hakbang ay ipapagawa niya sa mga estudyante niya sa kolehiyo.

Noong ibinalita niya ‘yon sa amin, nalungkot ako dahil babalik na naman ako sa pagiging ordinaryong estudyante niya lang sa klasrum. Nagkamali ako dahil itinuring kaming mga kaibigan ni G. Maclang magmula noon. Madalas siyang sumasabay sa amin sa pagkain ng tanghalian sa canteen o sa loob ng klasrum. Natitiyempuhan din namin makasabay sa paglabas ng eskwelahan si G. Maclang at imbes na umuwi kaagad ay inaaya niya kaming magmiryenda sa labas kasama ang iba pa naming mga kaklase.

Isang tagpo habang kumakain kami sa loob ng klasrum ay ang pagtatangka niyang kumuha ng okra sa ulam kong sinigang. Dahil paborito ko rin ang okra, pinigil ko ang tinidor niya at nagkatinginan kami. Nagpumilit siya pero hindi ako nagpatinag dahil ayaw kong matapos ang tagpo. Pero sumuko siya at ako ang nagwagi. Pinakita ko pa sa kanya kung paano ko ubusin ang lamang okra ng sinigang ko.

Isang tanghali, habang nagkasabay kami kumain sa canteen, naikwento ni G. Maclang ang tambak ng mga libro sa kwarto niya sa bahay nila. Pangarap daw niyang ibahagi sa mga kabataan ang hilig niya sa pagbabasa ng libro. Kaya dumating siya sa ideya na hakutin paunti-unti ang mga libro niya sa bahay nila para dalhin sa aming eskwelahan. Mas nainlab ako sa bisyon niya bilang guro namin. Kahit ako na hindi mahilig magbasa ay nagawa niyang maimpluwensiyahang magbasa at magbahagi ng mga natutunan ko sa librong binasa ko.

Dahil suportado ko ang bisyon niya, nagboluntaryo akong ipahiram ang sasakyan ng tatay ko pati ang tatay ko bilang drayber para mahakot lahat ng mga libro niya sa bahay nila. Sa kagustuhan kong mapangiti siya, ginawa ko ‘yon at kasama ang ilang mga kaklase pinuntahan namin ang bahay nila at hinakot ang mga libro. Sa sobrang pagpapasalamat ni G. Maclang sa kabaitan ko sa kanya, noong araw rin na ‘yon ay tinext niya ako sa selpon ko para personal na magpasalamat.

Simula noon, naging malapit na magkaibigan na kami ng aking gurong si G. Maclang. Nang dahil sa paghanga ko sa kanya at pagsuporta ko sa mga plano niya, unti-unti napalapit ang loob niya sa akin. Nagsasabihan kami ng mga pakikibaka at pangarap namin sa pamamagitan ng pagtetext. Walang kahit na sinuman ang pinagsabihan namin ng aming sikreto.

Magkaibigan kami nang patago at masaya kami kahit sa maikling panahon dahil pagkatapos ng saya nandyang may lungkot. Hulog na hulog na ang loob ko sa kanya. May mga pagkakataon na gustong-gusto ko nang aminin sa kanya ang aking lihim na pagtingin. Palagi akong pinipigilan ng ideya na baka matuldukan ang masaya naming pagkakaibigan kapag umamin ako. Kaya ilang buwan din ako nakikibaka sa mga nagtatalong emosyon.

May mga pagkakataon na kailangan kong dumistansya at hindi ako sumasagot kaagad sa mga mensahe niya. Pagkatapos ng ilang araw ay babalik kami sa marubdob na pagpapalitan ng mga kwento at biro sa text.

Kung dati mas marami ang matataas na emosyon tulad ng kilig at saya, unti-unting dumadami ang mabababang emosyon tulad ng lungkot at pagkabigo habang tumatagal na hindi ko nasasabi ang tunay kong nararamdaman sa kanya. ...ipagpapatuloy pa...

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wendellcapili · 7 months

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Dinner hosted by recently retired BDO Senior Vice President Gerry Diaz & Jimmy Estopace for two accomplished Binibinis--Miss International 2018 1st runner-up & Bb. Pilipinas 2018 Ahtisa Manalo and Bb. Pilipinas 2022 Nicole Borromeo. Ahtisa, born and raised in Candelaria, Quezon, is the Chief Financial Officer of Koomi, the beverage drink with a first-in-market advantage in the country.

Ahtisa and her business partners intend Filipinos to experience the #GuiltlessGoodness of Koomi "one cup at a time,” as Koomi uses natural sweetener, fruit honey, with fresh yogurt and fruits in every drink daily.

Meanwhile, Nicole will leave for Tokyo next week as the Philippine representative to the 61st Miss International (MI) pageant at the Yoyogi National Gymnasium in Shibuya on 26 October. She is an interior design major from the University of San Carlos in Cebu.

I have been very fortunate to have taught Ahtisa and Nicole some lessons in Nihongo and Japanese culture and society before their MI journeys. They are not just beautiful. Both are strong-willed and determined to make a difference wherever they go 🙏

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ricisidro · 1 year

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View this post on Instagram

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Hail the new queens of #BinibiningPilipinas2023. They are:

Bb. Pilipinas International - Angelica Lopez

Bb. Pilipinas Globe - Anna Valencia Lakrini

1st Runner Up - Katrina Anne Johnson

2nd Runner Up - Atasha Reign Parani

#Philippines #BbPilipinas2023 #Instagram

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renesf · 1 year

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Public Warned Against Bringing Candles To Tonight’s Bb. Pilipinas National Costume Competition!

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conandaily2022 · 1 month

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Complete list of Bb. Pilipinas 2024 candidates

The Binibining Pilipinas 2024 coronation night will be held at the Smart Araneta Coliseum in Quezon City, Metro Manila, Philippines. It is the 60th edition of the national beauty pageant that selects the Philippines’ Miss International and The Miss Globe candidates. Currently, the Philippines has 35 Miss International placements, which include six crowns. The Asian country won the international…

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#Bb. Pilipinas

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topsportsasia · 2 years

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Bb. Pilipinas 2022 results: 4 queens crowned in Quezon City, Philippines

beauty pageant: Binibining Pilipinas (Bb. Pilipinas)edition: 58thinternational memberships: Miss International, Miss Grand International, Miss Intercontinental, Miss Globedate: July 31, 2022venue: Smart Araneta Coliseum, Quezon City, Metro Manila, Philippinesbroadcasters: ABS-CBN, ZOE TV, TV5hosts: Catriona Gray, Nicole Cordoves, Samantha Bernardo, Edward Barber performers: SB-19, Maymay Entrata…

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#Bb. Pilipinas 2022

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thepensociety · 1 year

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“Binibining Pilipinas 2023”

BY: MELANIE REAL

There have been several significant events happening in the Philippines in 2023. Here are some of them: ● Araneta City showcases sustainable fashion show with Binibining Pilipinas Beauties In conjunction with Women's Month and Earth Hour celebrations, Araneta City will host the Women Reinventing sustainable fashion show on March 24, 2023 at 1 pm in the afternoon at Farmers Square. The premiere city hired Binibining Pilipinas International 2021 Hannah Arnold and the Binibining Pilipinas 2023 candidates to showcase the exquisite work of Filipino designers crafted from eco-friendly materials. The Binibinis present an amazing collection of 12 local artisans who specialize in unique sustainable designs, as well as jewelry by Tina Campos and accessories by Christopher Munar, handbags by Ma. Delza's Native Product, and Aishe’s stylish shoes. All of them have made their mark on the local fashion scene with their creative sustainable products, made by women for women. Here are some of the top designers with the Binibini of the event; PNay (Binibini 1, Juvel Cyrene Bea Binibini 2, Elaiza Dee Alzona, Binibini 3, Lyra Punsalan, Binibini 4, Paulina Labayo, Binibini 5, Gianna Llanes, Binibini 6, Angelica Lopez, Binibini 7, Allhia Estores, Binibini 8, Mirjan Hipolito, Binibini 9, Babyerna Liong, Binibini 10, Rasha Cortez Al Enzi). Russ Cuevas ( Binibini 11, Kiaragiel Gregorio, Binibini 12, Xena Ramos, Binibini 13, Samantha Dana Bug-os, Binibini 14, Jeanne Isabelle Bilasano, Binibini 15, Jessilen Salvador). Adam Balasa (Binibini 16, Atasha Reign Parani, Binibini 17, Tracy Lois Bedua, Binibini 18, Andrea Marie Sulangi, Binibini 19, Julia Mae Mendoza,Binibini 20, Julianne Rose Reyes). James O'Briant (Binibini 21, Paola Allison Araño, Binibini 22,

Anje Mae Manipol, Binibini 23, Zoe Bernardo Santiago, Binibini 24, Anna Valencia Lakrini, Binibini 25, Yesley Cabanos). Peñaflorida Atelier (Binibini 26, Rheema Adarkkoden, Binibini 27, Zeah Nestle Pala, Binibini 28, Katrina Mae Sese, Binibini 29, Trisha Martinez, Binibini 30, Charismae Almarez). Christine Lam (Binibini 31, April Angelu Barro, Binibini 32, Sharmaine Magdasoc, Binibini 33, Katrina Anne Johnson, Binibini 34, Joy Dacoron, Binibini 35, Sofia Lopez Galve). Kutur ni Jean (Binibini 36, Mary Chiles Balana, Binibini 37, Pia Isabel Duloguin, Binibini 38, Lea Macapagal, Binibini 39, Loraine Jara, Binibini 40, Candy Marilyn Vollinger). and lastly Justine Aliman (Binibining Pilipinas International 2021 Hannah Arnold). Araneta City’s “Women Reinventing” sustainable fashion show kicks off the 2023 Binibining Pilipinas series of public events and events in the City of Firsts ahead of coronation night in May 2023. The event also marks the City of Araneta's participation in the global Earth Hour, which will take place on March 25, 2023. The Firsts city will join the hour-long energy saving event with lights-out event. Ali mall also has a POP QC Ecological Market and charging station for bicycle mobile phones. and a Trade-A-Bag promo in Farmers Plaza.

● Binibining Pilipinas 2023 talent show celebrates Women Supremacy On March 29 2023,The Binibining Pilipinas 2023 candidates showcased their quirky pasarela and talents in a one of a kind presentation at the New Frontier Theater in Araneta City. Hosted by Bb Pilipinas Intercontinental 2022 Gabrielle Basiano, Bb Pilipinas Globe 2022 Chelsea Fernandez, Bb Pilipinas Grand International 2022 Roberta Tamondong, and Bb Pilipinas 2022 2nd runner-up Stacey Gabriel, the show highlights Filipino talents, colorful culture, and the supremacy of Filipina beauty. The quartet P-Pop girl group G22 kicked off the show with a fiery performance. Then the beauties rocked the stage in a JAG fashion show segment. Considered one of the major events for Binibining Pilipinas, the talent show proves the versatility of the

contestants. A total of 28 contestants conquered the audience and judges with their singing, dancing, and artistic talents. The Binibining Pilipinas 2023 Best in Talent will be announced on the Grand Coronation Night at the Smart Araneta Coliseum.

● Binibining Pilipinas 2023 set a date for Coronation Night

Manila, Philippines, 2023 the official ceremony for the 2023 Coronation night for Binibining Pilipinas will take place on Sunday , May 28, 2023 at the Araneta Coliseum in Quezon City, Cubao. Show starts at 9:30pm. The pageant organizers Binibining Pilipinas charities INC (BPCI) announced the news on social media on Saturday, April 15, 2023. According to the announcement, the show will also be streamed live on A2Z, Kapamilya Live Online and Metro channels, as well as on the official YouTube channels of iWantTFC Binibining Pilipinas. This year's pageant featured 40 women representing the country in two International pageant —Miss International and Miss Globe International. The winners will be over from the current title holders 2022 Binibining Pilipinas International Champion Nicole Borromeo and 2022 Binibining Pilipinas Globe Champion Chelsee Fernandez. Gabrelle Camille Basiano and Roberta Tamondong have won the 2022 Philippine International Championship and the 2022 Philippine Grand International Championship respectively, but their titles will not be passed on. The Miss International franchise is taken over by Mutya ng Pilipinas while BPCI pulls out the Miss Grand International.

● Binibining Pilipinas withdraws from Miss Grand International franchise

The Manila Philippines, Binibining Pilipinas Charities, Inc (BPCI) announced on Monday, November 7th that they are no longer renewing their franchise with the Miss Globe InternationaL (MGI) beauty pageant. BPCI did not provide any details on why it withdrew , but thanked the Miss Grand International organizers and wished them “the best in their future endeavors.” No Philippine Beauty queen has won the Globe crown since Miss Globe International opened in 2013.

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anonanaman · 1 year

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The Oracle of the One-Eyed Coconut

'The Oracle of the One-Eyed Coconut"

At twenty-eight minutes past seven on that Wednesday morning Estrellita's one-eyed coconut blinked and she knew it had finally happened. In that same exact instant the whole world made

one quick spin it felt like it had gone completely still and its dark corners shook out lines of light that stretched themselves like souls just coming awake. The only other time her coconut had shut its one eye and therefore gone completely blind was at the birth of Pedro Soler the First, son of Fray Duertas, whose liaison with the datu's daughter had been para mejorar la raza. In that same exact instant the whole world had gone completely still and taken the hard mass of ivory and been covered in great throbbing swatches of shadow from which spurted the salty, sticky smell of blood. That was when the one-eyed coconut was still in the hands of her Lola Estrella, and the municipality of Kabakawan was only a fishing village nestled in the mangrove trees, after which it had been named.

At 7:28 that morning Mayor Pedro Soler the Fourth was cut down by three bullets from an assassin's gun as he ran from the carinderia to the plaza. The bullet had hit him in the butt first as he ran across the street, and then a second bullet had hit him on the leg as he limped across the grass toward a park bench, and finally the third bullet had pierced his back and plowed through his heart when he was trying to leap over the bench toward the giant-sized cement likeness of the mangrove tree standing in the middle of the rotonda.

Afterwards, at the wake, the Mayor's widow confessed to the Padre that she had had a premonition of her husband's death even of the exact way he was going to die. That morning Mrs. Soler had been awakened from her sleep with the dream that his pants had fallen down to his feet. Three times they fell: once, when he was trying to catch the jeepney; the second when he already had afoot on the estribo and was hopping on the other foot as the jeep began to roll forward; and the third when he was trying to leap off the jeep after he realized that he was on the wrong jeep.

Mrs. Soler was now burdened by guilt that she hadn't acted on her premonition and stopped him from venturing out of the house that morning. The Padrehad listened to her with sympathy and understanding in his eyes and had assured her that she couldn't possibly have prevented her husband's death because, if it was a premonition, then it would have been fulfilled inevitably, no matter what she did.

Of course, she couldn't tell the Padre that her guilt stemmed from the fact that she had, in fact, misread the omen. She had turned to her husband, still snoring beside her and pummeled him on the arms and chest, accusing him of cheating on her--yet again!three times this week. Allweek, she had watched him eyeing their new housemaid, whom she had carefully chosen for her masculine features. Some men never touch the housemaid, no matter how pretty, because their tastes run to starlets and Bb. Pilipinas has-beens. Other men, like her husband,were atsay killers. So, who could possibly blame her for this perfectly logical but egregious mistake?

She had lambasted him with a string of expletives that she had learned from him whenever he came home after a losing streak at the cockpit- and kept at it as he stumbled groggily to the bathroom and back to their room to change from his nightclothes and down to the kitchen for coffee to make his tuba hangover go away. But she had taken his gun, which he always kept under his pillow before he retired for the night, and followed him down to the kitchen and pointed it at him; and this was what had finally driven him from the house.

That was why Mayor Soler was out there at the carinderia that morning, nursing his tuba hangover, in full view fo everyone. Because, when his wife was in a murderous mood, not even his bodyguards could protect him.

The assassin had been waiting for seven years for God to open just

this very window of opportunity. And so, without a moment's hesitation--for hesitation was a fatal flaw in his line of work-he flew

off their guard. And so the assassin easily-leisurely even-shot each of them cleanly between the eyes as they sat around the Mayor,waving the summer flies off his cup of coffee. (At the wake later that night, Tia Puring, the carinderia owner, told the Padre that summer flies in November were surely a bad omen, no mistake about that.)

The Mayor, who knew the extent of his vulnerability, had always been ready for just this eventuality. He had always carried his gun with him wherever he went and slept with it even in the security of his own home. Except today. Today it was his very gun that had driven him out of the house and it was in his wife's possession at the one and only moment in his life when he actually needed it .And so the assassin, having got rid of the bodyguards, took his time shooting, first, the Mayor's butt, then a leg and, finally,straight through the back and into the heart.

That night at the wake the mahjong players caressed the tiles with their thumbs and, like druids reading the runes on stones, agreed that there was surely a predetermined design to this play of seemingly random events. Mrs. Gaspar, the hacienda manager's wife, drew the tile of 6 Wan, gave a snort of disappointment and threw it into the lake of discarded tiles. The 6-Wan's Warning of impending doom was lost in the blinding light of the 1-Circle's Evil Eye that gleamed like a pearl from

the bottom of this lake.

Capt. Delfin "Baby" Baltazar,commander of the LongRange Patrol, had advised Mrs. Soler to stay away from the wake until he had discovered

the motive for the crime and secured the place, but she had insisted, in her remorse, that it was her fault it was her fault she was just as culpable as if she had pulled the trigger herself. He made a note of her confession for further reference.

THREE-YEAR-OLDPEEJAY, WHICH WAS what everyone called Pedro Soler the Fifth, was not allowed at the wake that first night. There was too much confusion; people did not yet know the extent of the danger to the whole family.

"Do your people really eat your own children?" Peejay was asking his yaya Estrellita, as she sang him to sleep with the lullaby that she had herself learned from her mother. Oh no, she said, that was why this composo was called "Si Basilionga Aswang," because only a witch would eat children, let alone its own. Ay Nanay, she had often exclaimed herself when she was a little girl and her own mother had tried to sing her to sleep so she would not feel her hunger pangs, I could eat a witch!

"But you're a witch yourself, aren't you?" Peejay mumbled, his eyes already shut. When he had a stomachache, all she had to do was mumble an oracion and blow into his big toe and the ache would go away. When he was hot with fever and he vomited all the medicine that his mommy would spoon into his mouth, she would wait until everyone was gone and she would take from her magic bag of leaves and roots just the right thing to douse the fire in his body.

She laughed. "No, I'm not switch. I Just Kill the wind in the person's body that makes him sick or bad."

She had given the same reply to the Padre when he had slid the little

door open ni the confessional box, gazed at her with worry, and asked her if the witchery for which she was famous was giving her enough protection over at the Mayor's house. That was three years ago, when she had moved to the Balay D a k uto work there.

Estrellita's grandmother had passed on to her the one-eyed coconut, which contained all the knowledge of the use that herbs and roots could be put, and the oraciones to go with these, so that she could protect herself and her loved ones from danger. Anddanger there certainly lurked for her in this house, in the person of her amo, the Mayor. So everyday since she arrivedat the Balay Dakuthree years ago, Estrellita hadmixed the dried leaves of the anonang tree into theamo's coffee grounds and mumbled the oracion that would weaken the amo's libido: E tsene ipso factum est titi luhod lumbricidae est.

Estrellita did not keep any of this a secret from the Padre, especially in the confessional box. He had merely laughed in relief and said, "You

are a witch, aren't you?" And, because he was bound by the seal of confession, he did not correct anyone who thought that the Mayor's recent good behavior had been brought on by the latest known incident, in whichMrs. Soler had come upon him pinning the maid to the kitchen sink and she had taken the meat chopper and brandished it around his

What Estrellita would not bother to confess to the Padre now was that she was sure that her oracion had also weakened the Mayor's reflexes, so that he had not been able to defend himself from the assassin. It was no burden on her soul.

06X9

AT THE WAKE, CAPTAIN Baby Baltazar wondered aloud to the Mayor's hacienda manager, Amado Gaspar, why the carillon bells had not been blaring that Wednesday morning. He eyed the Padre, whose head was bent intimately toward the widow's face. "Silence," he said, "always means a thousand words."

In fact, it was because of the Padre's craving for silence that he had

inadvertently shaken the fair-skinned populace of Kabakawan out of their torpor of a hundred and twenty-two years. That morning the Padre had firmly instructed the sacristan not to play the phonograph record of the carillon bells because it was no longer necessary. He had devoted all of his work toward just this goal, which was to be able to go through all seven days of each week in the tranquility of normal sounds in this municipality that was also his parish.

Six years ago he had alighted from the bus at well past midnight with a suitcase in either hand and had been met only by the mute statue of Fray Duertas, standing on a pedestal outside the convent door. The friar's lips seemed to twitch into a slight smile, its outstretched arms a welcoming gesture into the confraternity of solitariness. The Padre had wondered then if this was to be his life from here on: the click of the latch key, the sound of no one's footsteps but his, the yawn of a pet dog that he was resolved to get for companionship, and the echo of each of these, as if to taunt him that even sounds came in pairs.

He had, instead, learned to live with the ritual wailing of women over another dead infant, or the collision of 144 mahjong tiles being shuffled intermittently throughout the day and night. Lately he had had to get used to sounds: the popping of dry tinder cane when a defiant hand had set a plantation on fire or the distant sound of gunshots, like

hundred decibels, because the phonograph was wired to four loudspeakers atop the church roof.

The record's scratchiness, combined with the loudspeakers' static, sounded to the Padre like the sky had been ripped to metallic shreds and turned into raindrops with the weight of mercury and were bouncing off his head made of corrugated iron. Twice a week, every Wednesday and Sunday, the sacristan had put the record on, making a total of 37,440 minutes of routine cacophony for the Padre.

Truthfully, ever since he had arrived in this town, it was his urgent need to shut off those bells that had goaded him to embark on all his church projects.There had to be away to make the people come down to the poblacion church on their own without those damned bells having to call them to Sunday Mass and t h eWednesday novena. But in every barangay that the Padre visited, whether in the hills or in the haciendas, the story was the same. None of them had the spirit nor the means nor the energy to make the trek to the poblacion church.They came only when they were carrying a little wooden coffin and asking him to bless their baby so it could go straight up to heaven without passing through limbo. The people did not have enough to eat and the babies were the first to die from malnutrition. He baptized them when they were born only to bury them a few months later.

"Worms," he said one day to the Mayor as he turned his jigger of whiskey thoughtfully around his hand. The two had become fast friends since the night he had arrived, when the Mayor had jumped down from his jeep, a bottle of whiskey in hand, and welcomed him on behalf of the people of Kabakawan.

"Yeah," theMayorsaid. "That'swhatwe allare-nothingbut worms. Or is itdust? Yeah, we turn to dust and the worms eat us up." He summed up this bit of existential symbiosis with obvious relish.

"No, I mean a worm ranch. Vermiculture." The parish was on the mailing list of every government agency involved in community development, and the Padre had been reading their brochures. "If you have worms defecating all over the soil, that'll fatten it up." He was getting more and more excited as he warmed to the idea. Fertilizer at no

farmed, he could then put up a chapel in every barangay. "I could go there to say mass at least once a week-never mind if it's not on a Sunday-and we wouldn't have to call them to church here," the Padre concluded.

The Mayor downed his last shot of whiskey and chose his words with care so that the Padre would apprehend his seriousness without misunderstanding his good intentions. "I'm talking to you as a friend,

Amigo; you're in way over your head. Stick to your via crucis and santacruzan and daygon. Leave the people's welfare up to me. Leave up to Caesar what is Caesar's."

The Padre had always appreciated these weekly drinking sessions with the Mayor,whose jocularity helped ease the loneliness that assailed him when the last visitor of the day walked out of the rectory and into the embrace of their own family. So he was surprised at the sudden gravity in the Mayor's tone, which, because of its novelty, sounded to him more threatening than friendly. On those nights when alcohol loosened their tongues, the Mayor had pulled him out of the bog of morose ramblings about childhood traumas and adolescent grievances with jokes that leaned so far toward soft porn that they toppled over into the sea of selective amnesia that both men discreetly succumbed to the following morning. Not being given to premonitory stirrings, neither of them had any notion at all that they actually knew less about each other than when they had exchanged their first shot of whisky on the Padre's first night in Kabakawan. But the Mayor was astute enough to know that every action that the Padre was planning to embark on now would change the landscape in ways more frightening than either could imagine.

Soon enough, the Padre's worm ranch was followed by a piggery, a poultry, a fishpond, and a marketing cooperative. Fray Duertas' great great great great grandchildren, who had always occupied the church's front pews at Sunday mass, began to complain that his homilies were sounding less and less pious and more and more communist.Theyshuffled their tiles with outraged vigor and stacked them to form the four ramparts of a fort. What was Primo Peding doing about this? I twas that friendship of his with the Padre that was making him such a weakling.

embodied and turning Aglipay, Evangelical, Iglesia, Baptist, Jehovah's, Adventist, and Four-Square. But as the fair-skinned Legion of Mary disintegrated, women and men who were darker of skin and muscles of body came to offer their help to keep his projects going. Mrs. Soler, who had been the head Legionnaire, was too bewildered to offer her skills, if she had any, to this new twist in churchwork, but she stayed on and marked the missal with the right-colored ribbons and made sure the Padre's Worms knew their place and kept out of the church's rose garden, despite the Padre's assurances that earthworms did not have the voracious destructiveness of caterpillars.

The Padre began to mark the days when he could finally break the news gently to his sacristan that the carillon bells had outlived their use. So it was on that Wednesday morning, six years since the carillon bells had first banged against his eardrums, that the Padre Decided that the sudden silence would proclaim the collective triumph of his congregation--which was now of an entirely different composition from the one that he had originally served. But it was also the sudden silence of that morning that had kept the Mayor's bodyguards in their soporific state, coupled with their tuba hangover. And that was why the assassin had so easily gunned them down.

Capt. Baby had been trained to be alert to the significance of all synchronous events, which only the naïvecall coincidence and gamblers call a lucky break. Military intelligence, however, calls it suspicious circumstances.

For the first time since he arrived in Kabakawan, the Padre sat in his rectory staring at the whiskey bottle before him and was surprised that he had no urge to take his nightly jigger of it. Tonight he knew he would sleep soundly without any help from alcohol.

ON THEIR WAY HOME from the Mayor's wake, Angela Gaspar and her two college friends stood gazing up at the statue of Fray Duertas, which stood like a sentinel just outside the convento door. She had taken a week's leave from school in Manila because her father had called her

to come home right away. Tito Peding's death had obviously been politically motivated, he said, mouthing the Filipino catch phrase for

violence of any scale or nature.The whole hacienda system, including its employees r o m the administrators down to the lowliest sacada-and their families must make a show of force and solidarity at the funeral.

Angela's friends had come with her because their student org adviser had urged them to take advantage of this opportunity to see, in the flesh, specimens of the cross-section of Philippine society--the backward and reactionary oppressive and exploitative landlord class; the comprador, national, and petty bourgeoisie (to which their fathers belonged; the rich, middle, and poor peasantry; and the full, semi, and lumpen proletariat, not to speak of the special groups like the fishermen, settlers, and the indigenous people. Now theywere reading the inscription on Fray Duertas' pedestal, which proclaimed the great debt that the whole island of Negros owed him, because of his "unflagging energy in bringing unity in brotherhood to the inhabitants of the island of Negros, for the glory of both governed and governing." The people ofKabakawan were proud to call him their forefather.

The three youths inspected the size and make of Fray Duertas' statue and discussed in whispers how many explosive charges it would take to blow him up. Their comrades in Iloilo across the sea had already done it to the statue of that Father of the Philippine Sugar Industry, Nicholas Loney, standing on the waterfront. Wouldn't It be great if all the regional chapters of their youth org blew up every monument to fascism, feudalism, bureaucrat-capitalism, colonialism, and imperialism? They would continue what their Iloilo chapter had started; after all, it was tradition that whatever Iloilo did, her daughter Negros followedsuit.

Angela had taken to student activism through the circuitous, but not entirely illogical, route of the beauty pageant. At her high school graduation the Solers had thrown a party for her, and the Padre, who sat beside her at the dining table, had asked her the commonplace question. "So, in a few months you'll be off to college, Angela," he said to her. "And what are you taking up there?"

"I'm going to be a beauty queen, like Dawn Pijuanillo," she replied promptly. Ever since she was a child, Angela had been told stories about how that hacienda manager's daughter had been no more than a gangly tomboy at the Catholic girls' school in Bacolod. But she had single mindedly pursued that international crown and ended up keeping court to a retinue of hacienda heiresses who had been her classmates.

And so Angela stuck to a diet of lettuce and bananas and was careful to avoid places and activities that would leave scars on her legs.

"Well," said the Padre,"if you're going to be a beauty queen,at least aim to belikeNelia Sancho or Maita Gomez." When Angela only looked at him quizzically, he added, "Beauty and brains."

Angela obviously worshiped the Padre, and her parents were glad that he was careful to steer this feeling in the proper direction. They had mapped out the life of their eldest son, starting with what they thought was college in Manila, and learned only too late that he preferred the waywardness of billiard balls.Then they had placed their hopes on their favorite child, Angela, for she, they were sure, was destined from birth to fix her place among the stars.

The Gaspars did not discover the significance of the Padre's advice until their daughter came home on vacation with stories about the heroic feats of the two beauty queens that he had encouraged her to emulate. There was a far nobler word for them now, said Angela dreamily h e media was calling them "amazons."

Mrs.Gaspar, her heart breaking, read in this a sure sign that Angela's

ambition had not so much changed as shifted in color, the way the pink layer of the rainbow moved imperceptibly tired. The Padre had totally destroyed her mind when they thought they were entrusting her to his wise counsel. Mr. Gaspar knew enough about the management of people to know that I remerely be got ire, especially with one's offspring, and so he bided his time and watched for the Padre to make the wrong move.

THE DAY BEFORE THE Mayor's assassination, nine weeping mothers had come to the Padre to ask him to plead with the Mayor to produce their missing sons. Their boys had merely been walking home from a barrio fiesta one night and that was the last anyone ever saw of them. They were sure their boys had been mistaken for the nine barangay leaders who had engaged the Mayor and the provincial commander in dialogat the munisipyo.

The Padre drove his red motorbike to the Mayor's Balay Daku but was stopped at the gate by three shotgun guards. None of them could look him in the eye as they tried to explain that security had been

tightened since the situation had become more uncertain recently. But the guards had not been given specific instructions as to whether the Padrewas stillFriend or already Foe. The Padre sat quietly and allowed them to ponder their dilemma so that they would arrive at the inevitable decision of their own will. But their wives were committee heads of the parish Kristiano Katilingban,which had replaced the Legion of Mary; and the gun-wielding menof this community had long ago proven to be more afraid of their women than of their Mayor. The guards let him through with a scratching of the head and a sheepish grin.

The Padre knocked and knocked and did not stop knocking on the door of the Mayor's house until he finally emerged on the balcony of the upper floor. "You know what I'm here for, Ed," said the Padre, looking up at the Mayor. "Please ask whoever's responsible just top r o d u c ethos nine innocent boys."

"It's those mothers who are mistaken, 'migo," said the Mayor. "Three of those barangay leaders were women, so how could those nine boys have been mistaken for six men and three women? Please go back to your crones and tell them to be reasonable."

For the first time in the six years that he had lived in Kabakawan, the Padre could feel his carefully reined in temper beginning to slip. Anything that was reducible to simple arithmetic was, to the Mayor, a just equation. The Padre continued to look up at him, his fistsclenching and unclenching, speechless with incredulity. The Mayor stretched out his hands, palms upward, shrugged and added, "You've turned my people against me and now even they will no longer listen to me. How do you think all this trouble in my town started in the first place? It was you who started this chain of events. It's beyond either of us now."

It was this, the Padre thought, this kind of conundrum-making that contained the seed of the people's rebellion. If there was rule or reason to the violence in this town, it had been established long before he arrived here. He shook his fist at his former friend and declared, "You'll be sorry.” Mr. Gaspar was in the hacienda office at the ground floor of the Balay Daku and looked out the window to witness the scene. Only the Padre was in full view and within hearing distance. Mr. Gaspar committed every detail of it to memory, keeping it like a knife up his sleeve. At the wake the next day, he gave a full and thorough report of it to Capt. Baby,

adding with emphasis that the Padre's threat had been completely unprovoked.

"And that," saidMr. Gaspar, "is why the Padre stopped the carillon bells from playing this morning.

98X9

THE DAY BEFORE THE Mayor's funeral, the son of Tiyo Ipe, the tuba gatherer, came to the Mayor's house to fetch Estrellita, begging her to hurry because his father had fallen from the coconut tree and he had broken several bones. A squad of soldiers had made him climb the tree to gather tuba, but their taunting and goading had so unnerved him that his foot had missed the notch on the tree trunk. The Padre, too, arrived at Tiyo Ipe's house with his own bag of anointing oil and holy water. Together he and Estrellita stood over TiyoIpe's mangled body, and while Estrellita rubbed him with her healing oil to pull him back from the otherworld, the Padre anointed him to prepare him for his journey toward it. Tiyo Ipe's soul hovered in confusion in the kamalig that marked the boundary between the cornfield of the living and those of his ancestors at the foot of Mt. Kanlaon. Already ahead of him in the kamalig were the spirits of nine teen-age boys who were arguing among themselves as to whether they had already been salvaged or were just desaparecido.

On her way back to the Mayor's house, Estrellita walked from one sugarcane field to the next,carrying her one-eyed coconut of oraciones, and her bag of herbs, roots, and healing oil. She was trudging along the ninth furrow of afield, one hundred fifty meters from the camonsil tree that Fray Duertashad planted more than a hundred years ago, when her coconut slipped through her fingers and landed at her feet with a thud so loud it shook the earth.The cockroaches in all the houses of Kabakawan flew in the air and trafficked with the lizards on the ceiling. The clay pots of the Padre's worm ranch on the church grounds fell from their wooden stands and broke. The worms fanned out toward the neighboring mansions and crept through cracks and crevices of their walls, windows and doors, soiling everything in their wake. Everywhere they crept they left a trail of black earth and their droppings: the barrels of hunting guns, the eye sockets of antique santos, the crocheted bedspreads, the piano strings, the shoe closets, the underwear drawers, the gold candelabras,

the toilet drains, the Ming jars. Those that crept over the mahjong sets grew bloated with visions of duplicity and rapaciousness already taking place or about to take place and of the means of overcoming these and of the eventual outcome of such means already being applied. A squad of worms that stayed on the church grounds crept toward Fray Duertas' statue, and people coming in for the angelus mass caught them nibbling away at his cassock of brown linen and exposing him to everyone.

O u ton the sugarcane field,the soil around Estrellita lurched upward

and began to roll like the ocean surf as earthworms crawled to converge at her feet. One earthworm crawls into the eye of Estrella's Omniscient coconut and in an instant it had absorbed the power of a python, swallowing the energy of the sun and the vision of clear water. Tando

tando it became, the worm that people of the soil keep their faith in to point them in the right direction. It poked its head out through the coconut eye and bent its head, tando tando, straight down toward the ground. Estrellita's gaze followed it and she saw the roots of the camonsil tree that had transplanted itself before her from one hundred fifty meters away. More earthworms, thousands of them, were climbing from its crown, down along its trunk and branches, and into the soil, in the wake of the coconut spinning on its one eye, that was burrowing into the ground until it stopped two meters down. The unbearable stench of nine rotting corpses shot up through the hole and Estrellita would have fainted had she not taken recourse to her great store of oraciones and pulled out that which was protection from the greatest evil of all. There was a deep stillness, as if the world felt compelled to listen as Estrellita said the words that would keep her safe from the inexorable flow of history: Curpos criste anema mea santaminalic esebutangeles esperat gunit malo empactum domenum ave maria y gratia plena domines tecom j.m.j. el encunatura de espiritusanto est maria vergenes quidsicut deus egusum oligochaeta setae.

ON THE EVE OF the Mayor's funeral the seven pastors of the seven other churches in the town drew lots to choose who would lead the services the next morning. Mrs. Soler insisted that her husband was

Catholic and had never renounced his faith. "Peding always remained the Padre's friend till the very end," she said.

The Mayor's kin dismissed her protestations and left all the arrangements to the seven pastors. They would graciously tolerate the Padre's presence only out of Christian charity and the spirit of ecumenism. The widow and her in-laws were still arguing in this vein when a sudden loud explosion rocked the town. The Mayor's coffin fell off its stand from the force of the blast and he landed face down on the floor. The people screamed and dived for cover as the Dragon tiles flew above their heads and collided with the Four Nobles and splintered into the phoenix constellation. The 2-Wan tile of the double-edged sword and the Guardian tile of the hardworking farmer landed side by side at the head of the Mayor's coffin. Someone ran in and shouted that someone had lobbed a grenade directly at the convent door.

Capt. Baby stood on the convent grounds and swept his eyes over the scene of the crime. Thisdeliberateattack on the Padre put a different complexion to the murder case. Obviously the Mayor and the Padre were twin victims of apolitically motivated conspiracy.

He made a note of the extent of damage wrought on each part of the building and its contents. The portals, of course, were completely shattered, shards of stained glass windows lay around the convent building like a moat, rose petals were still somersaulting in slow circles in the air, and the Padre's pet dog was missing its tail. He had enough imagination to realize that the worms were lucky (and the people even luckier) that these had been dispersed by this morning's earthquake.

That Fray Duertas's statue was now a heap of gray rubble was not included in his inventory.

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Text

ORIGINAL VERSION: The Oracle of the One-Eyed Coconut

'The Oracle of the One-Eyed Coconut

At twenty-eight minutes past seven on that Wednesday morning Estrellita's one-eyed coconut blinked and she knew it had finally happened. In that same exact instant the whole world made

The Oracle of the One-EyedCoconut & 51

hopping on the other foot as the jeep began to roll forward; and the third when he was trying to leap off the jeep after he realized that he was on the wrong jeep.

The assassin had been waiting for seven years for God to open just

this very window of opportunity. And so, without a moment's hesitation--for hesitation was a fatal flaw in his line of work-he flew

the bottom of this lake.

Capt. Delfin "Baby" Baltazar,commander of the LongRange Patrol, had advised Mrs. Soler to stay away from the wake until he had discovered

She laughed. "No, I'm not switch. I Just Kill the wind in the person's body that makes him sick or bad."

She had given the same reply to the Padre when he had slid the little

Estrellita did not keep any of this a secret from the Padre, especially in the confessional box. He had merely laughed in relief and said, "You

06X9

AT THE WAKE, CAPTAINBaby Baltazar wondered aloud to the Mayor's hacienda manager, Amado Gaspar, why the carillon bells had not been blaring that Wednesday morning. He eyed the Padre, whose head was bent intimately toward the widow's face. "Silence," he said, "always means a thousand words."