Sentimentalmode

Thought I have already gotten over you
And all the pain that I’ve been through
But when I went to bed last night
I could hardly close my teary eyes.

Said never will I be wasting time again
Reminiscing happy and sad moments
But lately each time I am alone
Can’t help but resort to recollection

And why do I feel that something’s wrong
Each time I hear our favorite song?
And why at times I catch myself hoping
That one day you’ll be mine again?

I have long pretended to be unaffected
Of these, and those, and all the stuff I learned to detest.
But try as I might; can’t seem to hide;
What goes around still cuts my pride.

Thoughts of you cost me inch-life each time,
Leaving me sad, frustrated, unsatisfied.
Can’t I just move on and live my life,
As though nothing on us transpired?

Abyss

Darkness, deafening silence, mockery
They are but superficial reasons to grieve
For nothing’s more tormenting than living a life like this
Regimented yet sinful, hell, miserable.


A bottle of this, a moment of that, and summed seconds of those thoughts
They gradually threw me to a boundless grave
Where death is impossible but felt excruciatingly
Souls’ wales, never-ending; Hades’s grin, cuts ceaselessly.

Who would have thought
I lurk in this imperceptible, immense realm of sinners?
A place I never thought I’d dwell unto
For being a kid I knew I would despise being here.


But grownups are bigger fools than tots
Young minds elude from what they know is perilous
While ripened brains willingly fall into earthly desires
And when got there and realized, still obstinately unyielding



Is this a domicile for fools, a lair for senseless eating minds?
No pricey tab to get here, no tough foe to fight
Flesh-satisfying deeds, soul incarcerating feats
These embraced me in this warren of misery.



So happened I preferred to flee
Even repentance didn’t let me so
I must have felt sorry beforehand
Before willingly submitting myself to this den of agony.

Medusa’s eyes were stronger than my will
Had let my soul explore her flesh
Ate the tempting fruit of discoveries
So now immured in this behemoth abyss.

Fugue

He’s breathing heavily but can’t stop. Other than his brows, his clothes are soaked with sweat that he can squeeze them for a bathe. His leg muscles cramping; his abdominal shaking; his world spinning. The temptation of stealing seconds of rest keeps nagging his mind and he’s sensing the incremental propensity of giving up. But no, he has to keep running. The dark figure is just meters away. It almost succeeded grabbing him there in the dark-as-ink-woods he braved through earlier and the thought of it still envelops him with shivers. Even the woods was freaking spooky--a nonfiction haunted place having an evil soul he thinks.   It’s where not a dree-dree-dree of a cicada is heard--the silence is deafening; where denizens are but darkness and the faceless trees seemingly embedded in the infertile soil of the underworld. He felt the barks and the leaves and these were as cold as the door knobs in his studio-type flat. He was not surprised. He felt terror instead. The place is the eeriest that he’d ever gone to. But the creature after him is a breathing nightmare and he can’t shrug off the monster figure in his brains—those red eyes; those claws; and the unspeakable figure that levitates and penetrates every solid object under the dark sky. He never would want to see those eyes again. More so to feel those claws slashing his every nerve and flesh. Never.

He continues running. This time he’s so tired that he fails to make bigger steps. What would he do? Give up from fleeing? Stop and wait for those sharp claws cut his life? He will have a few minutes to ask forgiveness for his sins anyway so is to say his prayers for his love ones. But as he thinks of these he keeps making paces but it worries him that he’s almost just walking. But he’s not giving up. He will not give way to his mind’s brays. He will run faster again. He won’t make a full stop otherwise he’s history. He always complains over troubles he thinks are tough solving but not this time. Not this time man! He convinces himself. 

He comes across a split road. He pauses to choose which way to take. On the left is a path amazingly teaming with barley and wheat.  On each side are vines of grapes with purple and green fruits that enticingly dangle. The white pebbles are crystal-like, the soil is covered with seemingly mowed grass. He sets a bare foot on the grass and feels the rush of relief over his every cell. Wonderful this place must be--gleams in the midst of darkness; boasts with fruits to quench a thirsty throat in the heart of a desert; a place seen only in fantasy films and exists only in the imaginative brains of fantasy novelists. He shakes his head and realizes that he has stopped quite a while enjoying the bewitching sight. He's puzzled that the creature isn’t anywhere to be seen. He understands what’s going on. He turns to his right and takes the opposite path. He hears a loud distinct roar and sees the creature taking its form again.  As he flees he sees the path turning into a pile of cinders. He hears wiles and moans of pain and of agony. Then tears start dropping from his weary eyes. Thank You, he mumbles.

The road on the right is much opposite of the left. The soil is unfriendly--covered with thorny vines, sharp pebbles, and sharp bladed grasses that cut his untidy skin and the soles of his feet. But he's oblivious of the pain. He only knows something unknown tells him to keep going; to keep venturing this path until he reaches the dead end. He can’t explain but something makes him believe he’s better off taking this path. He sees a firefly-like light in the distance. He rubs his eyes to check if he's awake and he's glad that he is. An urge of hope suddenly pinches his heart; a thin crack of smile breaks between his dry lips. He inhales deeply and looks back as he exhales. He sees the creature still following but seems to be fading. He stumbles into a puddle but gets up like nothing happened. As he continues running, he feels his skin shrinking. Must be the mud he thinks. A wider smile he wears as he sees the tiny light getting bigger.

--bigger than his fist…

...than his head…

...than himself…

...than his hometown home.

Until he sees nothing but light.

Then he collapses.

Sanselmo

Had something unexpected not happened it could be a beautiful day in the corn fields.

“I couldn’t believe my eyes! I swear I saw it!” Manang Elvie repeated. It was the fourth time she had said it and she still looked surprised. Guess she was over reacting over an incident that happened a couple of weeks passed. She even said she couldn’t help thinking of it and that she couldn’t sleep as much as she wanted. Was she for real? 

“So did I, and all I could do was run as fast as I could. I told Linda what I saw but I think she was more convinced I was getting insane” Bakit Pasing seemingly complemented Manang Elvie’s testimony. She could have said it clearer without the stout roll of tabako in her mouth. She had been sucking the stuff first thing in the morning so it had become an inch short.

“I wish I’d see that thing too so I could ask for numbers. Haha! Then I don’t have to work under the sun!” exclaimed Manong Ignas, the infamous gambler. A juetengero, tong-itero, sabungero he was known of. One early morning he was in our kitchen asking Mother to loan him a kilo of rice. He said his kawitan got killed in a cock fight so he’d better cook some porridge with its meat. 

“Aysus! If you saw the sanselmo, try to catch it. It was a sanselmo I’ll bet my cow on that, fair enough Ignas?” There was sarcasm in Manong Roger’s voice.  He went on talking but already to Bakit Pasing and Manang Elvie. 

“It was brilliant of you both not to follow it. They said it would lead you to a ravine and you’ll end up screaming for your life.” Manong Roger is popular in the barrio for being philosophical. But not the one who is qualified to teach in a university. His words are not the ones can be pondered upon but the ones that create hilarious laughter.  People thus, call him kuasit. 

“Roger, there are no ravines in our barrio and so are sanselmos,” says Manang Cion to her husband. “And don’t give me one of your not-so-brilliant ideas again,” she added with her usual sharp look. Manang Cion, like her husband is known in the barrio. She was given a name by some mongers when she once had words with them. Beauty was the other name and I couldn’t understand why. Was she beautiful? Hmmmm…

“I haven’t said a word but you talk as if I just committed a serious crime. Why do you always do that? And you don’t even care what other people would think of me, do you? They might be thinking now that I am a henpecked.” He was then furious.

“And what did I say that implies you’re a henpecked ha?” blurted the unyielding wife.

“You just insulted me don’t you realize that?!  My ideas are not, not-so-brilliant? I make people happy when I share thoughts, but you…” guessed he wanted to say more. 

“They are not happy Roger, they just find you funny. And being funny doesn’t mean being entertaining, brilliant, or any word that’s in favor of you! You don’t get what I mean do you?!” 

They were already yelling at each other.

There was yelling, yelling, and more yelling.

“Will you just stop arguing and keep planting your seeds!” It was Manang Helen, the owner of the field. She must have been fed up. 

“Helen! You may be the owner of this field but it doesn’t mean you have the right to meddle to whatever we’re going through.” Manang Cion yelled at Manang Helen. 

“Hala! I don’t think she’s meddling Cion. She’s just…” Bakit Pasing sounded very gentle but was halted from talking.

“You old lipspittle better shut up if you don’t wish being involved!” Manang Cion hollered. 

“I have already paid you for today’s work Cion!” Manang Helen fired back.

Then there was a shouting club. Others tried to stop the quarrel but failed. Corn seeds were strewn everywhere; so were fertilizers.  It was a total mess with a superficial reason—sanselmo.

Our barrio is beautiful I must say. There are towering trees of different kinds and the vast corn fields transform from a color to another—rich green during planting season and golden yellow during harvest season. There’s a creek to cross when going to the fields. The water is so clear that the fishes, the crabs, and all that inhabits the creek could be seen by the naked eyes. Even a wriggling leech would look nice when seen doing some acrobats. At night children can play hide and seek till dawn if they wished to. Why not? It’s the safest place to live in. No hit and runs, no burglars, no kidnappers. The only problem, Mother kept saying, was the rumor mongers. And like a rumor spread the consequence of a prank Uncle Onel and I made. 

“Plak!” I slapped my right cheek. It was unconsciously done. Bet it happens often to people who got bitten by a mosquito. 

“Shhhh…there she is, she’s coming. Be still.” Uncle Onel sounded very excited.

We’ve been waiting for Bakit Pasing for hours. She’s an elder in the barrio who’s known for working in the fields up to twilight. It’s but normal to see her sluggishly walking home at very late nights. But it’s unexpected this time that she retired from work even later. I almost gave up. Only, Uncle Onel persuaded me not to. 

“She’s almost close. Do you see her tabako?” Uncle Onel asked.

“I do. But Uncle, I feel like I have to sneeze.” 

“Not until we’re done.”

“But how will I hinder it? I really feel like I want to sneeze now.”

“No, no, no. Not now please. Bite your tongue.”

I did bit my tongue.

“Haching!” Biting the tongue wasn’t wise doing at all. 

“Gladly she’s not as close yet. Thanks goodness!” I could say he was relieved.

When Bakit Pasing was some yards closer, we pulled the string and there, the black candle was already floating. Not in the air but on top of Uncle Onel’s tortoise. Uncle Onel said the tortoise was even older than I was. He must be kidding.   

“Hesus maryosep! Have mercy on me Apo!” Bakit Pasing was like doing the chicken dance. When I pulled the string again she fled like a hen. 

“Ayna!!! Ayna apo!!!”  She was hysterical.

Out from the bush we’re hiding from, Uncle and I laughed at the top of our lungs. And there, where Bakit Pasing chicken danced, was her stout tabako still with cinder. 

“Apir! Time to go home Uncle” and off we did. 

When I got home Bakit Pasing was in the kitchen still quivering while telling mother her fresh story. 

“Could it be a sanselmo?” Mother asked, but Bakit Pasing strongly argued that it was not. 

“Hmmm…even mother believed there were sanselmos?” That was a voluntary query in my mind.

Mother walked Bakit Pasing home that night. And when they left, I ate with great gusto.

The next evening, Uncle Onel and I were again waiting for Bakit Pasing. But something that time gave the game an unexpected twist.

“What if she won’t take this road again?” I asked Uncle Onel but I was actually convincing him to give up after waiting for hours. 

“This is the shortest way she has to take so I’m sure she would.” He firmly replied.

Ten minutes has passed and there wasn’t any sign of Bakit Pasing yet. I was getting bored. Really bored that I stood up and about to leave but Uncle pulled my arm so I ducked again.

“Okay, if she won’t appear in ten minutes then we’re done for tonight.” He said as if promising. 

“Okay then” I knew I sounded impatient.

Two minutes…five minutes…eight minutes. I was counting in my head. 

Mosquito bite, mosquito bite, more mosquito bite, then ten! 

It’s been a night, maybe next time. But someone was coming from the distant. Could it be Bakit Pasing? 

“That’s her! That’s her!” Uncle was very thrilled I thought.

“Now go to the other side then light the candle when she’s close enough.” 

I had to do it. He did it last night. 

I patiently waited. She stopped. What’s she doing? It doesn’t look like her. But I still waited. And the time had come. I struck the match stick and there goes the floating flame. Haha! It looked wonderful. It really looked wonderful. 

“Inang! Inang!” That was a boy’s cry. Only then we realized that it wasn’t Tandang Pasing. It was Manang Elvie with her six-year old son Owel. Uncle Onel paused from pulling the string and the mother and child also paused from panicking. They tried to stone the candle but missed it. When Uncle pulled the string again they both ran fast—veeeery fast.

And it was another adventurous night.

Early morning Father woke me up to buy him a stick of cigarette. At Bakit Ninay’s store were some people talking about Bakit Pasing and Manang Elvie having seen the supposed sanselmo. 

“The two women were just making up stories.”

“But Owel also saw it” A women said. 

“Well kids these days are good story makers.” Replied another woman.

 

 “Maybe it was real.” It was a man.

“Huh! Sanselmos don’t exist.” Bakit Ninay interrupted.

“It could be an al-alya. “ Was that a boy in a group of oldies?

And the gossipers continued feasting on the subject.

In my mind I was humming “It was a sanselmo…a sanselmo…a sanselmo…”

Then I left with a big smile.

manong or manag -- same with ate or kuya but not limited to family members

al-alya -- an Ilocano term for ghost 

bakit -- old woman 

tong-itero -- a man hooked with card games

sabungero -- a man hooked with cock-fight

juetengero -- a man addicted with betting on jueteng, a form of betting game

kuasit -- someone who has a lot of odd, funny ideas over serious subjects

The Boy Who Asked Himself

“Shooooooo!” he warded off the creature so it flew farther again. I had to run faster to keep close track of it. 

 ”Why does he always pick on me? He‘s some piece of crap!” My mind said. I knew I couldn’t speak it out. If I did, it could be without Mother around. Otherwise I was dead meat. “Why do mothers get mad when kids say what they are thinking?” The thousandth and more time I asked myself of that perhaps.

Dagul’s three years older than me and I thought three times darker too. I heard people say Mother was fond of eating dark-colored foods when she was carrying Dagul. They could be right, couldn’t they? 

“Lumboy! Dinar-daraan! Uging!” I used to tease him every time he pissed me off. And I always felt victorious when he displayed madness. We were never in good terms. That’s what I knew and felt. Did he ever know?

One day we made paper planes. Why did he have to use my new school papers while I preferred the spoiled ones? “You’re such a spendthrift!” I yelled at him. But again, it was only in my mind.

“Vrrrroooom …vrrrroooom…” I watched my paper plane fly. I loved flying paper planes and I thought they sound like cars do. There, it landed on our rattan tablet. I picked it up and fixed its wings. “Mine flies better than Dagul’s” I mused. It reminded me of the military helicopter that landed near the school.

It was lunch break so I ran with the other kids to see the flying object. How huge it was! How could this thing fly with such weight? Could I touch it? I stepped hesitantly toward it but a soldier stood before me. He was talking with a bigger guy. But why, he was so towering tall but someone could be even taller? Those guys looked scary I thought.  Not because they had guns but because they were huge. I gave up getting nearer the helicopter. I just had to be satisfied feeding my eyes with the beauty of it. It looked like the dragonfly I failed to catch weeks ago…

“I think it can fly higher with its tail cut-off” I heard Dagul saying. It was too late when I realized that he was already cutting my paper plane’s tail. 

“Why did you have to?!” I yelled at him. It was a real yell not imaginary. But he just paid a grin. Why? Like nothing went wrong? I wished I had pliers to pull his teeth. He ruined it because it flew better than his'. He’s envious and selfish! But aha! Where did he get those scissors? 

“I had warned you not to touch any of my sewing stuff!” Dagul was dead scary that he couldn’t help but cry. In my heart I was at cloud number nine. I felt like I just won a spider fight. But what happened to Lelang? I didn’t expect her to be that furious. And how could she holler so many words with her mouth filled with mama? And couldn’t she notice her teeth getting redder and redder when she looked at the mirror? I giggled in my mind but I wasn’t aware I was smiling too. 

“And why are you grinning there like a cat?!” Dagul grunted. But the thought of Lelang having maroon teeth tickled me even more so I erupted into laughter. Dagul was so furious that he picked up the tablet mat and threw it on my face. It didn’t hurt though but I thought I exhaled some dust so I kept sneezing for hours. Never did I feel better. Was something wrong with me? 

“No, you’re just very happy” myself replied.

“Here, have some for yourself. They are good for your teeth. They will get stronger.” I heard Lelang talking to Mother. She was offering Mother some of her mama. Was what Lelang saying true? But why were two or three of her incisors missing? I got curious of how mama tasted. But how could I taste it? They said it was only for adults. Why could adults drink some kind of liquid and kids could not? Why could adults eat mama and kids could not? I didn’t need answers. I already had them in my brains.

“Uncle Berto where’s Saldy?” The man in his early forties, but looked more of a man in his fifties was busy weaving his fishing net. He was not a biological relative. Kids in our barrio just call every older soul uncle or auntie and those not-so-old, manong or manang. And I didn’t bother ask Mother or Father why because I thought it was but normal. 

“Upstairs” He didn’t remove his cigar when he talked. I almost couldn’t understand what he said. Why did he smoke his cigar upside down? Couldn’t his tongue get hurt or burned? How could smoke come out from his nose? Odd, but I might try that someday I thought.

“Saldy I will share you a secret. But promise me you won’t ever pass a word” I said as if I was going to tell him I had super powers. He always believed super powers were real. And so did I—at least somehow.

“Promise” he said but his eyes looked more sleepy than excited. Saldy was lazy. I never saw him did any household chore in his own volition. A chisel they say he was. And he never got up earlier even on weekdays so he was always late for school. Wasn’t he lucky that his parents didn’t scold him for always getting up late? He wasn’t.  The next school year he’ll be grade one again.

“You know I heard Lelang this morning talking to Mother. She said if Mother ate mama her teeth would become stronger. Doesn’t one of your molars get hurt every time you go to bed?”

“I don’t know which one but it does. Why?”

“Don’t you get it? We can eat mama as well so our teeth will get stronger! Then you don’t have to cry every night because of toothache. What do you say?” He just looked amazed but not convinced.

“But why do they say mama is just for the old ones?”

“If it can be good for kids also, right?” I answered him with another question. I learned that from the elders visiting Lelang. A kind of trick I thought.  

“So what do you suggest we do?”

“Listen. Auntie Leoning is out in the river doing your laundry. I suggest, we borrow some of her bua and gawid and a little of her apog then let’s make ourselves some mama!”  

“What if she won’t lend us some?”

“Of course she would. Don’t tell her just yet. We will study hard, get a job someday, and pay her. What do you say?”

Without words Saldy walked towards the kitchen where I usually see Auntie Leoning get her bag of mama. But nay, he just got a bamboo glass, fetched some water from their burnay and gargled. No wonder there was an awful smell earlier. 

“Glug, glug, glug!” There he’s done.

“Just gargle in the morning? Aren’t you brushing your teeth?” It was a habitual question. 

He signaled “Wait for me at the back of the kamarin, under the mango tree” but did not answer the question again. I descended the bamboo stairs smiling, admiring my convincing power. 

 “Saldy! Saldy! Hurry! Help me get rid of these abuos on my back!” How could little creatures like army ants hurt bigger creatures like me? I didn’t do them any harm, so why they had to bite? Even the most private part?

“Hala! What happened to you? I just told you to wait here and now you are being attacked by some troops of abuos ha?” He looked more amused than worried.

“Just help me now could you?” 

He at least did.

“Here, have some.” I handed him some of the mango fruits I braved to climbed despite knowing army ants inhabit the tree. 

“Thanks. Now you don’t have to answer why you got those little enemies. And here’s Inang’s mama kit.”

“Why, you got them all? I said just some of what we need.”

“I don’t know how much we need so I decided to get the bag.” 

“Well I guess we have to do it fast.”

 From the bag we took out a bunch of gawid, a canister of apog and some bua. 

“How many bua do we need to make ourselves some mama?” 

We both didn’t know but we knew we had to crush it. We peeled two beetle nuts and crushed them. We both realized it was hard to peel the nut more so to crush it. But it looked easy when I saw Lelang doing it. She could really have strong teeth despite some missing. I was getting more excited.

“Now how many leaves do we need?”

We both didn’t know but we knew we had to wrap the bua with it. We took six leaves—three for him and three for myself. We wrapped our own crushed bua. 

“And how much apog do we have to pour into it?”

We didn’t know either but we unwrapped our own bua, poured some apog into it, and then wrapped it again with the gawid leaves. 

“Do you think the apog is enough?” 

We didn’t know both so we decided to pour some more…and more. 

“Tadan! We now have our own mama. At count one, it should have been in our mouth. At count three, we should have started chewing it.”

“But why does it smell odd?” Saldy asked with a frown.

“Don’t mind the smell, it looks tasty doesn’t it?” I wasn’t even sure of what I said because it actually didn’t look special.

“Okay. One” and our mamas were in our mouth.

“Two…” we both excitedly chewed it. 

“Inaaaaaang!!! Inang koooo!!!”  Out of the blue we spat our mama and hot-footed to find some water. 

I was still sobbing when I got home. Mother was talking to me but I couldn’t understand what she was saying. Dagul was also there laughing out loud but I just didn’t care. I gulped water, ate sugar, gulped more water, and ate more sugar. “How can the elderly stand it?!” I wondered, but I was sure of two things—mama is truly an elderly stuff and Dagul was out there celebrating.

At lunch time Dagul was still wearing his annoying grin but I didn’t care. I had other things in my mind. How could Uncle Berto smoke his cigar upside down? Doesn’t cinder harm the tongue? And how could he spew smoke from his nose? 

I didn’t need answers. I had them in my brains.

Gawid (the leaf), betel nut (bua), and apog (lime powder) make up the mama.

mama – a traditional vice among people of Northern Philippines especially those in the Cordilleras who are believed to have introduced   the vice in the region.

apog – lime powder

gawid – a vine that grows in forests but planted as ornament by the Ilocanos.

bua – betel nut

uging – charcoal

dinar-daraan – blood stew or blood pudding usually out of pork and pig’s blood

lumboy – a dark purple to black colored fruit tree found mostly wild throughout the Philippines

burnay – an earthenware used for storing food or water

lelang – an endearment to elderly women tantamount to grandmother

inang – mother