When the Elephants Dance (41 page)

“Domingo, do you hear what I am saying to you?” Mang Pedro insists.

“I hear your words. You remind me of how much I value this family. I would rather die than lose them. But I have other obligations. There is more at stake here than just my simple life and those that I love. More will die if I remain. But perhaps there may be a way to save us all.”

My words have softened the faces of the others. Isabelle leans under the crook of her mother’s arms, her other hand entwined with that of Mica, who also sits embraced by Mrs. Yoshi.

“Yes, we must be thankful that we are all together. And we must believe that there is a reason we are still alive,” Aling Louisa says. “Family is important above all else.” The others agree with her. I am torn. I feel like a criminal for having others to worry about, others who are not my family but have become just as close to me.

We wait another hour in silence as more people are brought in. Our bodies grow used to the shaking and rumbling outside. At times it feels as if the battle grows cold, but then a loud explosion reminds us that we are in the midst of it all.

Mang Pedro chooses this moment to say again what he feels deeply.

“Domingo, your family needs you. Let me explain why I feel strongly that you must stay with them. I had a family once too that loved me. But I made a mistake. I was lured away by other things. When I realized they were what mattered, it was already too late.”

W
HEN
I
WAS A YOUNG MAN
, our family was not considered the lowest rung on the ladder. We were the dirt, below the lowest step. But within our village my family was well respected because of my special gifts. I was born under a red harvest moon, with the birthing sack still covering me. If the sack is buried immediately under a chosen place, revealed to the mother in her dreams, the
infant will inherit certain gifts. I had the gift of sight, of seeing those beings that others cannot. I could see the twilight people.

We lived in the Visayans, in a village in northwest Samar. The houses were all the same, made of palm leaves and bamboo. All were raised on six-foot stilts to allow the ocean to rush under without washing away the houses. They were known as
bahay kubos
, “straw houses.” I called them feather houses, because they were so fragile that they threatened constantly to blow away with the wind.

In between each dwelling, coconut trees sprouted, inhabited by lime green parrots, chattering mynah birds, and the red-hornbilled bee eaters. The large branches cast shadows on my face at noon. Our farthest neighbors were a few feet away; the nearest ones, an arm’s length. The houses were so flimsy that during the tempestuous monsoons, our father ran around with palm leaves, patching the holes carved in by the strong gales. The winds were so forceful that the purple salamanders crawling upside down on the ceiling lost their footing and fell kamikaze onto our beds at night.

Every evening, during high tide, the water came through our floorboards and floated our slippers away. I woke shivering and barefoot in the mornings, searching for my thong
tsinelas
. I found them at the end of our short hallway, holding congregation with the other slippers.

M
Y LIFE WAS
seeking every conceivable type of employment. The most perilous was collecting bird’s eggs in limestone caves where
salangana
bird’s nests were perched sixty feet high, above crystal clear waters and coral reefs, with nothing but crevices to cling to. The eggs were a delicacy, and the saliva from the young was considered a cure for certain illnesses.
Salanganas
are the chief ingredient in bird’s nest soup and were considered an aphrodisiac by our Chinese residents. The work paid handsomely. My father and I were very talented at finding such caves, but I tried my best to keep him from this; he was growing too old for such climbing. I worked as many jobs as I could to help my parents put rice on the table for my sister, Addie, and me.

Adeline, my sister, was only a year younger than me, twenty-four. She had developed a rare type of cataract in her left eye. We did not have the money to take her to a real doctor, so my father allowed the people at the nearby clinic to operate on her for free, to further their studies. They told him that they could take the nerve from her good eye and attach it to the bad in order to regenerate it. The result was that she became completely blind.

But let me tell you about my visions. I could see the spirits and other beings, just as I see you before me now. I could see the old man who used to
live across from our house. He had been dead for weeks, but I saw him follow the same ritual each morning, as if he were still alive. He opened his door, walked to the end of the path, and looked out into the gray ocean, with his fishing spear over his shoulder. He still did this after his death, but I was the only one who could see him.

I could walk into a house and see the anger that hovered in the air from a fight, in the form of a sneering woman with a pale face. I was gifted, the old people said. But I thought otherwise. I did not want to see these things. It was troublesome to sit in a room full of people and not shout when a spirit came to stand in front of me or ran its fingers through my hair. A neighbor once took me to a gambling establishment in hopes that my talent extended to reading cards, but it did not.

There is more. In the forest behind our house I could see little people, no taller than my ankles. They never said a word, but they watched me with their eyes. I walked through the forest and whispered, “Excuse me, pardon me,” so as not to disturb them. They were called
duendes
, elves. It was in that same forest that I became friends with Diagos, a powerful creature known as a
tikbalang
. But of him, I shall save for last.

The forest was not as it is now, sheared in some places to allow for telephone poles. Back then it was a magical place; even the texture of the air was different, like inhaling nectar, and when someone called your name, you could not be sure it was someone with two arms and two legs. No, you could not be certain at all.

I
WAS TWENTY-FIVE
, already an old man. Most of my schoolmates had married at eighteen. People asked what I was waiting for. I told them that I was waiting for the right time. But truthfully, I could not bring myself to be so selfish. Who would watch over my parents and Addie? They could not survive without my contributions.

Because of my gift of sight, our house was always busy. People came to our house for all spiritual questions. It was no different the morning of Todos los Santos, All Souls’ Day.

I opened one eye to see my mother standing over me with our neighbor Mang Cristobal as I lay on my
baníg
shivering. The floor mat sucked in the cold from the outside, and it was difficult to stay warm.

“Anák, anák …”
She still called me “child.” “Are you awake now?”

“What is it, Ma?” I asked, pulling my blanket out from under Mang Cristobal’s slipper, where his big toe with its yellow nail gawked at me.

“It is Aling Sally. She is having trouble breathing.”

“Then she should go to the clinic.” I threw an arm over my eyes in irritation.

“No, Ped, it is Abner, he is torturing her. You must ask him to leave.”

Abner was Aling Sally’s son-in-law, whom she had nagged constantly until his death a week before in a boating accident. His little
bangkâ
turned over in rough waters, and he was pinned beneath and drowned.

“How does she know it is Abner?” I asked, getting up. There would be no sleep for me. My mind was already awake, and my mother did not have the heart to send people away.

“The house smells like his cigarettes,” Mang Cristobal explained in a whisper.

I sighed and put on my shirt. Abner had always told me he would pester the old woman if he died first. She had never forgiven him when his wife, her daughter, had died in childbirth.

W
HEN WE ARRIVED
at their house, there was a large gathering of neighbors.

Mang Cristobal sniffed the air. “Not yet, not yet. Soon you will smell the smoke. Wait, just wait.” He held up his hand, motioning for me to be still.

I did not need to wait. I could smell the smoke the minute I entered. The moment the door opened it rolled out like fog, but I was the only one who could see it. I followed the scent to Aling Sally’s room, where she lay on the bed, gasping for breath.

It took all my strength not to laugh, for there was Abner’s spirit smoking a large cigar, but that was not all. He was sitting cross-legged on top of Aling Sally’s chest.

“Is he here? Do you see him?” Mang Cristobal held out a shaking crucifix before him.

“Leave us,” I said. The spirits did not talk with too many people in the room. It disturbed their energy. It did not take much to encourage Mang Cristobal. He and my mother hurried out.

“Pedro, help me. I feel he is strangling me,” Aling Sally pleaded.

“No, he is not strangling you,” I assured her. “Abner, what are you doing?”

His spirit sighed and gave me a smirk. “I am going to take her with me.”

“Ay, he is here,” Aling Sally began to moan. “I can smell his cigarettes now.”

That was how it was when a spirit spoke; their presence gave out a familiar scent.

“Shut up, old hag.” Abner took a deep breath and blew into her face.

Aling Sally coughed hysterically.

“Hoy
, Abner.” I shook my head.

Aling Sally’s eyes grew large. “What is he saying? Does he wish to kill me?”

“No, he would not wish that.”

“Yes, I wish that.” Abner nodded. “Truly I wish to kill her.”

“That will only get you a ticket to the wrong side, my friend.” I tried to hide my laughter. I knew Abner too well. He was a good man, and the guilt of his wife’s death had weighed heavily on him when he was alive, for he had loved her very much. Aling Sally’s accusations had only added to the pain.

“I knew they would send for you, Ped. My God, you should have seen the fish I had before I drowned.
Dios ko
, it was tremendous,” Abner said, and whistled.

I smiled at him.

“Why are you smiling?” Aling Sally gasped. “He has possessed you.”

“Shut up. Smoke some more, witch, choke some more.” Abner blew another cloud at her.

“Ab,” I said, “come now. This is really too much.”

“You see what I had to live with? I cannot believe that my sweet Carmella came from that.” He looked down at his mother-in-law with great disgust. He was quiet; he looked a little embarrassed. “What do you do now, Ped? Remember how many times I begged to come along with you? And now here I am, the spirit you wish to chase out.”

“I remember, my friend. There is nothing to this, really. I simply ask that you leave this dwelling place.”

“And then? There are no prayers?”

“None,” I told him. “But your soul has heard the request. It will know what to do.”

“My God, I feel it, Ped. This is a frightful thing. I feel I am being sucked out of the room. Where do I go now?”

“Go with God,” I told him. “There will be guides. Rest now. You are riding on a current.” He sighed, and I felt his presence leave the room.

W
HEN
I
OPENED
the door, my mother and Mang Cristobal looked ready to flee.

“Well?” she asked.

“It is done. He will trouble her no more.”

My mother lifted her chin proudly. “You see? What did I tell you about my son?”

Mang Cristobal peered into the room and was reassured by his wife. “I feel like walking now,” Aling Sally announced.

We left with a sack of rice, our payment.

A
FTER
A
LING
S
ALLY’S
, I fetched my lantern and went straight to the caves, where I risked my neck for a fifty-foot nest buried deep in a crevice. Afterward I went to the market to sell my find.

Our neighbor, Pidring Bonifacio, hurried to my stand, leading Addie by the hand. “Pedro, when will you be done here? Do not forget tonight is Todos los Santos. Have you forgotten our plans? People are already at the cemetery.”

“Eight more to sell and we can go.”

“But Addie has been waiting all day,” Pidring complained. He liked to use my sister as leverage.

“Not that long,
kuya
.” She smiled in my direction. I would do anything to make her smile. It pained me to think of her sitting by herself at home, in the dark. She was never more than two steps away from me.

Pidring lived in the house beside ours. He was my best friend, as good as a brother.

“All day, ha?” I studied Addie. Her face was rosy from running with Pidring. I had had a good day. I had sold twice my usual and still had eight eggs to sell.

“How much for four? I give you one peso.” A customer waved several coins under my nose.

I looked at Addie, bent over and adjusting the broken strap on her sandal. She had tied it into a knot. “Four pesos and you can have all eight,” I announced.

The man felt the uneven stubbles on his chin. They sprouted unbecomingly, like weak trees planted on bad soil. My offer was more than generous.

“Three,” the man bargained. He could sense my anxiousness to leave.

I snorted and looked at Pidring.

“Let him have it, Pedro. I will give you the other peso,” Pidring said in frustration.

“Done.” I scowled and spread out a newspaper to wrap the eggs in. Addie clapped her hands in excitement.

We watched as the man left. “Where is the other peso?” I asked Pidring knowingly.

He shrugged sheepishly. “Pedro, you know better than to listen to me. Where would I get an extra peso?”

I nudged him in the head and took my sister’s hand. We hurried to catch a
kalesa
ride to San Isidro.

We arrived in San Isidro just as the sun was setting. The sky around the sun was a halo of purple and pink, lavender and blue. Perfect clouds freckled the horizon like a stream of pebbles. Once we reached the hillside overlooking the cemetery, Pidring and I exclaimed at the sight below our feet. The graveyard was full of the living.