When the Elephants Dance (55 page)

I
WAS DEEMED
an upstart, a subvert, a traitor to my country. My portraits were painted in the dead of night and raised in the light of God’s sun. Accompanied by a few men and the bag of paints tied to my back, I would leave Divina guarded in the safety of our group and return in the morning, exhausted and impassioned. There was a high price on all of my portraits; people paid for any of the originals I had previously painted. Rich Filipinos and Spaniards as well purchased them. The latter, I am sure, was done in perverseness, in anticipation of my execution.

T
HE REST
I will tell you quickly, lest I die from the pain. Divina and I were separated, for she was big with our child and I thought it best to keep her in hiding. She was ambushed. The men I sent to protect her were shot, only one escaped. He told me the men were ruthless. They held him down, though he fought. They shouted curses at the Filipinos. They claimed Divina was my downfall, calling her a witch. She had clouded my thinking. They took my beloved and dragged her to a cliff, thinking to frighten her. They promised to bargain with her. They offered her her life for my whereabouts. She surprised them by refusing and fought them with all her might, though she was big with
our child. The bandits were beyond reason. They asked her again to give my location to spare the life of our child, but she spat in their faces and with a curse they threw her over. She fell hundreds of feet and died with our unborn child. I searched for her body myself, without care for my safety. I found her at the bottom and thought I would go mad with grief. I carried her to a grave I had dug. I buried my heart with her that day. I went against my own preaching and burned down many of their churches. From then on, I cared not for myself. I lived only for the people, to be their voice of anger.

T
HE DAY OF
my birthday, Oscar requested to meet with me. I conceded. He arrived at my hideout with Manuel, my uncles, and many cousins. They waited outside the cave to give us privacy. It had been a long time since we had talked.

“Fredrico, this is madness. I can still plead for your safety. You can live in Italy or America, India or China, wherever you wish.”

“Do not throw your life away,” I said.

“Is that how you see it?” he asked.

“It is different now, brother.”

We were not talking long. My eyes had not even grown accustomed to his face when Manuel rushed in.

“There is a firing squad at the base of your camp.”

“Come, Fredrico.” Oscar brought forth a gun.

“Oscar, I am no longer the same brother you once knew.”

“That is your infatuation speaking.”

“These are people, they have families, they smile, laugh, just like us. Who decided that we should lord over them?”

Oscar grabbed me. “Brother, let us go. We shall fight side by side as before.”

“No, I cannot.” My words brought tears. I had never seen my brother cry.

“Fredrico, please,” he said. He implored me with his eyes. I could see him searching mine, as if he could find some ghost of the brother he once knew. Then slowly I could see the realization hit him. His face smoothed away. He let go of the pleading. He nodded.
“Vaya con Dios
, baby,” he said. Go with God.

He went back out, and I heard my uncles say, “Well?”

“He does not wish to come,” Oscar announced.

I heard Manuel say, “Perhaps all your
madre
has done to avoid this curse on your family is for naught. The curse will take him after all.”

“Shut your mouth!” Oscar shouted. “The curse shall not find him. I will not allow it. I will take his place. I swear it.”

My hideout was atop a great cliff overlooking a narrow entryway for any army. We were heavily fortressed, and though we were cornered, the chances were still great that we would escape.

As my group prepared to fight, the exchange of rifle fire could be heard. My brother and uncles had joined our fight. They fought like Jacinto-Basas, with the honor of generals and doctors, and artists and saints, flowing through their purple veins.

I lost them all. My brother, Oscar, my uncles and cousins, and my beautiful Divina. How my heart still aches for her. I can still hear her call my name, pick up the scent of her fragrance, smile at the thought of her laughter, even after all these years. I can still feel the gentle kicking of our child from those times I placed my hand on her belly. She was the only woman for me.

And Oscar. It was easy for me to turn my back on him, be angry with him, knowing he would always be around. I never expected he would be the one to die. I thought certainly it would be me. I will feel that loss eternally. I wish that I could have told him many things. Sometimes I feel as if he is still in a room with me. Particularly when there is laughter.

The curse took them, but it gave me something as well. My eyes were opened for good. I saw so clearly how no people should rule over another. This is something worth fighting for. Divina and her brother believed the same. And with such beliefs there can be no compromise. My deepest regret is that I could not protect them from danger. I would have given my life for either one of them. If I could have hidden Divina away, even if it meant not seeing her for many months. But these are scenes I have enacted again and again in my head. And they are gone. I will see them again someday. I believe this. God will see to it. My soul will find theirs.

~
W
HEN
T
AY
F
REDRICO FINISHES HIS STORY
, it is daylight. We have stayed awake through the night. I see the old Spaniard in a different light. His love for this woman was thick in his voice. His affection for her brought her to life. I could feel her spirit nearby. He conjured her presence just at the mention of her name, Divina. At times I was almost ashamed to gaze at his face. It seemed too private a matter to be told.

His passion for our people matches my own. My respect for him has grown twofold. He is the only one who truly understands my plight. He alone knows the conflict and the pain of being unselfish. To have a conscience can be a horrible thing. God blessed him with the gift of leading his people. To have to
choose to use that gift or care only for yourself, your family, is a terrible choice. My biggest fear has been the thought of regret. I am encouraged by his unwavering belief that he did the right thing. There is no regret that he made the wrong choice, only regret for those he has lost. He has brought a new resolve to me. I see clearly now what I must do. The men now behold him with gentle faces. The women dab at their eyes.

Mang Selso is the only one unmoved by his father’s story. He seems hurt by it.

“So you are proud that you left your family behind? That you deserted the very brother who would have died for you? This is what you teach this man?” Mang Selso asks.

Tay Fredrico is incredulous. “My son, have you heard nothing that I have said? Each of us has a responsibility to the whole, the greater good. In order for all to continue. Danger or not, curse or not. That is what this man fights for. You are instructing him to stay, and be selfish, to think only of his family, of himself. I say bravo to you, Domingo. Continue to fight for all of us, you must.

“Take my example. What was the use in trying to fit myself into an old life? I would have been miserable. Had I married Zoila, she would have been miserable. We would have lived a lie. Do not try to force yourself back into this old life. It is like trying to fit into a pair of old trousers once you have grown taller. It no longer suits you. It never will again. It is best to admit this, lest you force the fit and look ridiculous. Better for the pants, better for you, better for all who would see you wear them.

“But I warn you …” Tay Fredrico holds up his finger. His hair is thin and very white against the dark skin. “This you must remember. Choose quickly, and do not look back. If you decide to stay, then leave the jungle life behind you. If you decide to go, do not return to this place. Remember this, stick to your decision. It will be very bad for all concerned if you try to keep both lives. Do not be greedy. I was greedy. I chose a life with Divina and left my brother. But after Divina died I was lonely and I let the old life back in. I agreed to a visit from Oscar. If I had kept my back turned to him, if I had stayed firm that we were no longer connected, perhaps my brother would still be alive today. Remember the woman at Sodom and Gomorrah whose husband told her not to look back, as the angel of God had instructed? And what did she do? She looked back one last time, and turned to a pillar of salt.

“When you start to say to yourself, Just one look back, just one glance, the danger will have begun for you. When you begin to think of returning to your old life, flee, flee to the opposite direction. Or it will be very bad for all concerned. For then you will be divided, and then you will be of no use to anyone.”

“Yes, yes.” Mang Pedro points his crooked finger at me. The joints are swollen from arthritis. “On this we are in agreement. You must choose one or the other and not look back. Decide, and do not waver in your decision. Choose to stay with your family or to lead your troops.” He studies me for a moment with sadness. “But it cannot work. Not that life that you choose. Yes, I know which one you choose. I see it in your hands, the way they tap restlessly as we wait. They long to reach the door and turn the handle to the outside, and in your eyes, ever shifting, searching, longing for danger. Much murder and darkness in that life. Better to stay on the side of God, to live with the family He married you to.”

Tay Fredrico dismisses him with a wave of his hand. “Pah,” he says. “God sanctions any life that is true in nature, in here.” The old Spaniard beats his chest twice with the palm of his hand, as if swearing allegiance. “God would not have a man live a lie.” He shakes his head and smiles wistfully. “Ah, to accompany you.
Pero estoy cansado
. I am tired. And as for my son, Selso …” He holds out a hand to Mang Selso. “I must stay with him. I have not been a good father. I learn still, even at this age. I must value what I have. He is a good man.”

Mang Selso is stunned by his father’s words. He expected anger, I think, not understanding.

A Japanese soldier approaches, the one who helped Yukino and her daughter. He motions for me to stand.

“Sir …” Mang Carlito stands on shaking legs to address the soldier. “Is there nothing that can be done? Perhaps we could pay you. At home, I have some money. Not much, but we could repay you. Please, he has fought like you, like a soldier.”

“Mang Carlito, do not bring trouble upon yourself. You have been through enough,” I say. Then in Tagalog I say to him, “Have faith in me.”

He nods with concern at my words and sits down. “I shall watch over the others,” he says. “Do not worry for us. Domingo, do what you must do.”

“Thank you, Mang Carlito. I feel better knowing you are here with them.

“Mang Ped, I will keep my family close to my heart. I shall not forget the lesson you must live with every day. But there are many more to think of.”

“Vaya con Dios,”
Tay Fredrico tells me. Go with God. “It is not an easy decision.”

“Thank you, Tay Fredrico. I value your words. It is not an easy thing to do, risking your family for a cause.” I clasp his hand. “I am inspired by your story. Do not give up hope. I may find a way out for us yet.”

He frowns. “No. Stay to one course, my son. Do not let yourself be divided.” He holds my hand strongly, then lets go.

“I will return,” I assure him. He shakes his head with concern, but I am urged ahead by the Japanese soldier before he can speak further.

“Domingo,” Lorna moans from across the room. I must not bring further attention to them. The others watch silently, in terror. Lorna will not stop calling my name.

“Think of your children,” Aling Louisa chides her.

Lorna is beyond reason. She is screaming for me, and her crying causes the children to cry. I look straight ahead. The room is mesmerized by her outburst.

“Domingo!” She falls on the ground, shouting my name. “No!” She struggles as the women try to keep her still. “Let me go.
No!”

The Japanese turns his head to study her. My heart thunders in my chest. “Your family?” he asks.

“A whore that will not let me be.” I study my wife and children one last time, then force my eyes away from them and look into the crowd. Yet their images are imprinted in my mind. My son with his head against Lorna’s lap, our baby in her arms. She has been nothing but the truest wife. I feel as if I have grown a forked soul. It hurts me deeply to make her look the fool, even though I know it will save her life. She has been good to me, and I disappoint her again and again. I keep my eyes averted, and when I see a familiar face in the crowd, I look away quickly.

“It is the same in every country.” The soldier studies Lorna, then chuckles and leads me out of the room. Our footsteps volley down a darkly lit hallway. The rancid smells stir as we walk. We go through a door and into another corridor, and then into a room. We are in the latrine. The walls are covered in feces. He lights a cigarette, and I wish for him to keep the match lit to burn the smell. He lights another and offers one to me. His bayonet is fixed and he holds it firmly.

I take the cigarette. “Is this to be my last, then?”

He nods. “The general shall wish to question you, and then afterward it will be time.”

I inhale the smoke and study him. “Your English is very good.”

“Yes, very good,” he agrees. He studies me. “You do not wish to give the location of your group to save your life? I would set ten people of your choosing free.”

My breath catches, but I shake my head.

He nods. “They will torture you.”

“I am prepared,” I say.

“That is good.”

“The Amerikanos have come as we foretold.” I watch his countenance.

“Yes, it was only a matter of time.”

“Who do you suppose will win?”

“Who do you suppose?” He cants his head.