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L I T 2 0 1 I n t r o d u c t i o n t o P h i l i p p i n e L i t e r a t u r e a n d W o r l d L i t e r a t u r e Page 1

Footnote to Youth

by: Jose Garcia Villa

The sun was salmon and hazy in the west. Dodong thought to himself he would tell his father

about Teang when he got home, after he had unhitched the carabao from the plow, and led it to its shed

and fed it. He was hesitant about saying it, he wanted his father to know what he had to say was of

serious importance as it would mark a climacteric in his life. Dodong finally decided to tell it, but athought came to him that his father might refuse to consider it. His father was a silent hardworking

farmer, who chewed areca nut, which he had learned to do from his mother, Dodongs grandmother.

He wished as he looked at her that he had a sister who could help his mother in the housework.

I will tell him. I will tell it to him.

The ground was broken up into many fresh wounds and fragrant with a sweetish earthy smell.

Many slender soft worm emerged from the further rows and then burrowed again deeper into the soil. A

short colorless worm marched blindly to Dodongs foot and crawled clammilu over it. Dodong gottickled and jerked his foot, flinging the worm into the air. Dodong did not bother to look where into the

air, but thought of his age, seventeen, and he said to himself he was not young anymore.

Dodong unhitched the carabao leisurely and fave it a healthy tap on the hip. The beast turned its

head to look at him with dumb faithful eyes. Dodong gave it a slight push and the animal walkedalongside him to its shed. He placed bundles of grass before it and the carabao began to eat. Dodong

looked at it without interest.

Dodong started homeward thinking how he would break his news to his father. He wanted tomarry, Dodong did. He was seventeen, he had pimples on his face, then down on his upper lip was dark-

these meant he was no longer a boy. He was growing into a manhe was a man. Dodong felt insolent

and big at the thought of it, although he was by nature low in stature.Thinking himself mangrown, Dodong felt he could do anything.

He walked faster, prodded by the thought of his virility. A small angled stone bled his foot, but

he dismissed it cursorily. He lifted his leg and looked at the hurt toe and then went on walking. In the

cool sundown, he thought wild young dreams of himself and Teang, his girl. She had a small brown face

and small black eyes and straight glossy hair. How desirable she was to him. She made him want totouch her, to hold her. She made him dream even during the day.

Dodong tensed with desire and looked at the muscle of his arms. Dirty. This fieldwork washealthy invigorating, but it begrimed you, smudged you terribly. He turned back the way he had come,

then marched obliquely to a creek.

Must you marry, Dodong?

Dodong resented his fathers question; his father himself had married early.

Dodong stripped himself and laid his clothes, a gray under shirt and red kundiman shorts, on the grass.Then he went into the water, wet his body over and rubbed at it vigorously. He was not long in bathing,

then he marched homeward again. The bath made him feel cool.

It was dusk when he reached home. The petroleum lamp on the ceiling was already lighted and

the low unvarnished square table was set for supper. He and his parents sat down on the floor around thetable to eat. They had fried freshwater fish, and rice, but did not partake of the fruit. The bananas were

overripe and when one held the,, they felt more fluid than solid. Dodong broke off a piece of caked

sugar, dipped it in his glass of water and ate it. He got another piece and wanted some more, but hethought of leaving the remainder for his parent.

Dodongs mother removed the dishes when they were through, and went with slow careful steps

and Dodong wanted to help her carry the dishes out. But he was tired and now, feld lazy. He wished ashe looked at her that he had a sister who could help his mother in the housework. He pitied her, doing all

the housework alone.

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His father remained in the room, sucking a diseased tooth. It was paining him, again. Dodongknew, Dodong had told him often and again to let the town dentist pull it out, but he was afraid, his

father was. He did not tell that to Dodong, but Dodong guessed it. Afterward, Dodong himself thought

that if he had a decayed tooth, he would be afraid to go to the dentist; he would not be any bolder than

his father.Dodong said while his mother was out that he was going to marry Teang. There it was out, what

we had to say, and over which he head said it without any effort at all and without self-consciousness.

Dodong felt relived and looked at his father expectantly. A decresent moon outside shed its feebled lightinto the window, graying the still black temples of his father. His father look old now.

I am going to marry Teang, Dodong said.

His father looked at him silently and stopped sucking the broken tooth, The silenece becameintense and cruel, and Dodong was uncomfortable and then became very angry because his father kept

looking at him without uttering anything.

I will marry Teang, Dodong repeated. I will marry Teang.

His father kept gazing at him in flexible silence and Dodong fidgeted on his seat.

I asked her last night to marry me and she said Yes. I want your permission I want

it There was an impatient clamor in his voice, an exacting protest at his coldness, this indifference.Dodong looked at his father sourly. He cracked his knuckles one by one, and the little sound it made

broke dully the night stillness.

Must you marry, Dodong?Dodong resented his fathers question; his father himself had married early. Dodong made a

quick impassioned essay in his mind about selfishness, but later, he got confused.

You are very young, Dodong.Im seventeen.

Thats very young to get married at.

I I want to marry Teangs a good girl

Tell your mother, his father said.

You tell her, Tatay.Dodong, you tell yourInay.

You tell her.All right, Dodong.

All right, Dodong.

You will let me marry Teang?Son, if that is your wish of course There was a strange helpless light in his fathers eyes.

Dodong did not read it. Too absorbed was he in himself.

Dodong was immensely glad he has asserted himself. He lost his resentment for his father, for a

while, he even felt sorry for him about the pain I his tooth. Then he confined his mind dreaming ofTeang and himself. Sweet young dreams

***Dodong stood in the sweltering noon heat, sweating profusely so that his camisetawas damp. He

was still like a tree and his thoughts were confused. His mother had told him not to leave the house, buthe had left. He wanted to get out of it without clear reason at all. He was afraid, he felt afraid of the

house. It had seemingly caged him, to compress his thoughts with severe tyranny. He was also afraid of

Teang who was giving birth in the house; she face screams that chilled his blood. He did not want her toscream like that. He began to wonder madly if the process of childbirth was really painful. Some

women, when they gave birth, did not cry.

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wondered, would she have born him children? Maybe not, either. That was a better lot. But she lovedDodong in the moonlight, tired and querulous. He wanted to ask questions and somebody to answer

him. He wanted to be wise about many thins.

Life did not fulfill all of Youths dreams.

Why must be so? Why one was forsaken after love?

One of them was why life did not fulfill all of the youth dreams. Why it must be so. Why one

was forsaken after love.

Dodong could not find the answer. Maybe the question was not to be answered. It must be so to

make youth. Youth must be dreamfully sweet. Dreamfully sweet.Dodong returned to the house, humiliated by himself. He had wanted to know little wisdom but

was denied it.

When Blas was eighteen, he came home one night, very flustered and happy. Dodong heardBlas steps for he could not sleep well at night. He watched Blass undress in the dark and lie down

softly. Blas was restless on his mat and could not sleep. Dodong called his name and asked why he did

not sleep.

You better go to sleep. It is late, Dodong said.Life did not fulfill all of youths dreams. Why it must be so? Why one was forsaken after love?

Itay.. Blas called softly.

Dodong stirred and asked him what it was.

Im going to marry Tona. She accepted me tonight.Itay, you think its over.

Dodong lay silent.

I loved Tona and I want her.Dodong rose from his mat and told Blas to follow him. They descended to the yard where

everything was still and quiet.

The moonlight was cold and white.

You want to marry Tona, Dodong said, although he did not want Blas tomarry yet. Blas wasvery young. The life that would follow marriage would be hard

Yes.

Must you marry?Blas voice was steeled with resentment. I will mary Tona.

You have objection, Itay? Blas asked acridly.

Son non But for Dodong, he do anything. Youth must triumph now. Afterward Itwill be life.

As long ago, Youth and Love did triumph for Dodong and then life.

Dodong looked wistfully at his young son in the moonlight. He felt extremely sad and sorry for

him.

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ep his eyes away from her.

"Maria---" my brother Leon said.

He did not say Maring. He did not say Mayang. I knew then that he had always called herMaria and that to us all she would be Maria; and in my mind I said 'Maria' and it was a

beautiful name.

"Yes, Noel."

Now where did she get that name? I pondered the matter quietly to myself, thinking Fathermight not like it. But it was only the name of my brother Leon said backward and it soundedmuch better that way.

"There is Nagrebcan, Maria," my brother Leon said, gesturing widely toward the west.

She moved close to him and slipped her arm through his. And after a while she said quietly.

"You love Nagrebcan, don't you, Noel?"

Ca Celin drove away hi-yi-ing to his horse loudly. At the bend of the camino real where thebig duhat tree grew, he rattled the handle of his braided rattan whip against the spokes of thewheel.

We stood alone on the roadside.

The sun was in our eyes, for it was dipping into the bright sea. The sky was wide and deepand very blue above us: but along the saw-tooth rim of the Katayaghan hills to the southwestflamed huge masses of clouds. Before us the fields swam in a golden haze through whichfloated big purple and red and yellow bubbles when I looked at the sinking sun. Labang'swhite coat, which I had wshed and brushed that morning with coconut husk, glistened likebeaten cotton under the lamplight and his horns appeared tipped with fire.

He faced the sun and from his mouth came a call so loud and vibrant that the earth seemed totremble underfoot. And far away in the middle of the field a cow lowed softly in answer.

"Hitch him to the cart, Baldo," my brother Leon said, laughing, and she laughed with him a biguncertainly, and I saw that he had put his arm around her shoulders.

"Why does he make that sound?" she asked. "I have never heard the like of it."

"There is not another like it," my brother Leon said. "I have yet to hear another bull call likeLabang. In all the world there is no other bull like him."

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She was smiling at him, and I stopped in the act of tying the sinta across Labang's neck to theopposite end of the yoke, because her teeth were very white, her eyes were so full of laughter,and there was the small dimple high up on her right cheek.

"If you continue to talk about him like that, either I shall fall in love with him or becomegreatly jealous."

My brother Leon laughed and she laughed and they looked at each other and it seemed to methere was a world of laughter between them and in them.

I climbed into the cart over the wheel and Labang would have bolted, for he was always likethat, but I kept a firm hold on his rope. He was restless and would not stand still, so that mybrother Leon had to say "Labang" several times. When he was quiet again, my brother Leonlifted the trunks into the cart, placing the smaller on top.

She looked down once at her high-heeled shoes, then she gave her left hand to my brother

Leon, placed a foot on the hub of the wheel, and in one breath she had swung up into the cart.Oh, the fragrance of her. But Labang was fairly dancing with impatience and it was all I coulddo to keep him from running away.

"Give me the rope, Baldo," my brother Leon said. "Maria, sit down on the hay and hold on toanything." Then he put a foot on the left shaft and that instand labang leaped forward. Mybrother Leon laughed as he drew himself up to the top of the side of the cart and made theslack of the rope hiss above the back of labang. The wind whistled against my cheeks and therattling of the wheels on the pebbly road echoed in my ears.

She sat up straight on the bottom of the cart, legs bent togther to one side, her skirts spreadover them so that only the toes and heels of her shoes were visible. her eyes were on mybrother Leon's back; I saw the wind on her hair. When Labang slowed down, my brother Leonhanded to me the rope. I knelt on the straw inside the cart and pulled on the rope until Labangwas merely shuffling along, then I made him turn around.

"What is it you have forgotten now, Baldo?" my brother Leon said.

I did not say anything but tickled with my fingers the rump of Labang; and away we went---back to where I had unhitched and waited for them. The sun had sunk and down from thewooded sides of the Katayaghan hills shadows were stealing into the fields. High up overhead

the sky burned with many slow fires.

When I sent Labang down the deep cut that would take us to the dry bed of the Waig whichcould be used as a path to our place during the dry season, my brother Leon laid a hand on myshoulder and said sternly:

"Who told you to drive through the fields tonight?"

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His hand was heavy on my shoulder, but I did not look at him or utter a word until we wereon the rocky bottom of the Waig.

"Baldo, you fool, answer me before I lay the rope of Labang on you. Why do you follow theWait instead of the camino real?"

His fingers bit into my shoulder.

"Father, he told me to follow the Waig tonight, Manong."

Swiftly, his hand fell away from my shoulder and he reached for the rope of Labang. Then mybrother Leon laughed, and he sat back, and laughing still, he said:

"And I suppose Father also told you to hitch Labang to the cart and meet us with him insteadof with Castano and the calesa."

Without waiting for me to answer, he turned to her and said, "Maria, why do you think Fathershould do that, now?" He laughed and added, "Have you ever seen so many stars before?"

I looked back and they were sitting side by side, leaning against the trunks, hands claspedacross knees. Seemingly, but a man's height above the tops of the steep banks of the Wait,hung the stars. But in the deep gorge the shadows had fallen heavily, and even the white ofLabang's coat was merely a dim, grayish blur. Crickets chirped from their homes in the cracksin the banks. The thick, unpleasant smell of dangla bushes and cooling sun-heated earthmingled with the clean, sharp scent of arrais roots exposed to the night air and of the hayinside the cart.

"Look, Noel, yonder is our star!" Deep surprise and gladness were in her voice. Very low in thewest, almost touching the ragged edge of the bank, was the star, the biggest and brightest inthe sky.

"I have been looking at it," my brother Leon said. "Do you remember how I would tell you thatwhen you want to see stars you must come to Nagrebcan?"

"Yes, Noel," she said. "Look at it," she murmured, half to herself. "It is so many times biggerand brighter than it was at Ermita beach."

"The air here is clean, free of dust and smoke."

"So it is, Noel," she said, drawing a long breath.

"Making fun of me, Maria?"

She laughed then and they laughed together and she took my brother Leon's hand and put itagainst her face.

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I stopped Labang, climbed down, and lighted the lantern that hung from the cart between thewheels.

"Good boy, Baldo," my brother Leon said as I climbed back into the cart, and my heart sant.

Now the shadows took fright and did not crowd so near. Clumps of andadasi and arraisflashed into view and quickly disappeared as we passed by. Ahead, the elongated shadow ofLabang bobbled up and down and swayed drunkenly from side to side, for the lantern rockedjerkily with the cart.

"Have we far to go yet, Noel?" she asked.

"Ask Baldo," my brother Leon said, "we have been neglecting him."

"I am asking you, Baldo," she said.

Without looking back, I answered, picking my words slowly:

"Soon we will get out of the Wait and pass into the fields. After the fields is home---Manong."

"So near already."

I did not say anything more because I did not know what to make of the tone of her voice asshe said her last words. All the laughter seemed to have gone out of her. I waited for mybrother Leon to say something, but he was not saying anything. Suddenly he broke out intosong and the song was 'Sky Sown with Stars'---the same that he and Father sang when we cuthay in the fields at night before he went away to study. He must have taught her the songbecause she joined him, and her voice flowed into his like a gentle stream meeting a strongerone. And each time the wheels encountered a big rock, her voice would catch in her throat, butmy brother Leon would sing on, until, laughing softly, she would join him again.

Then we were climbing out into the fields, and through the spokes of the wheels the light ofthe lantern mocked the shadows. Labang quickened his steps. The jolting became morefrequent and painful as we crossed the low dikes.

"But it is so very wide here," she said. The light of the stars broke and scattered the darkness so

that one could see far on every side, though indistinctly.

"You miss the houses, and the cars, and the people and the noise, don't you?" My brother Leonstopped singing.

"Yes, but in a different way. I am glad they are not here."

With difficulty I turned Labang to the left, for he wanted to go straight on. He was breathing

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hard, but I knew he was more thirsty than tired. In a little while we drope up the grassy sideonto the camino real.

"---you see," my brother Leon was explaining, "the camino real curves around the foot of theKatayaghan hills and passes by our house. We drove through the fields because---but I'll beasking Father as soon as we get home."

"Noel," she said.

"Yes, Maria."

"I am afraid. He may not like me."

"Does that worry you still, Maria?" my brother Leon said. "From the way you talk, he might bean ogre, for all the world. Except when his leg that was wounded in the Revolution istroubling him, Father is the mildest-tempered, gentlest man I know."

We came to the house of Lacay Julian and I spoke to Labang loudly, but Moning did not cometo the window, so I surmised she must be eating with the rest of her family. And I thought ofthe food being made ready at home and my mouth watered. We met the twins, Urong andCelin, and I said "Hoy!" calling them by name. And they shouted back and asked if my brotherLeon and his wife were with me. And my brother Leon shouted to them and then told me tomake Labang run; their answers were lost in the noise of the wheels.

I stopped labang on the road before our house and would have gotten down but my brotherLeon took the rope and told me to stay in the cart. He turned Labang into the open gate andwe dashed into our yard. I thought we would crash into the camachile tree, but my brotherLeon reined in Labang in time. There was light downstairs in the kitchen, and Mother stood inthe doorway, and I could see her smiling shyly. My brother Leon was helping Maria over thewheel. The first words that fell from his lips after he had kissed Mother's hand were:

"Father... where is he?"

"He is in his room upstairs," Mother said, her face becoming serious. "His leg is bothering himagain."

I did not hear anything more because I had to go back to the cart to unhitch Labang. But I

hardly tied him under the barn when I heard Father calling me. I met my brother Leon goingto bring up the trunks. As I passed through the kitchen, there were Mother and my sisterAurelia and Maria and it seemed to me they were crying, all of them.

There was no light in Father's room. There was no movement. He sat in the big armchair bythe western window, and a star shone directly through it. He was smoking, but he removedthe roll of tobacco from his mouth when he saw me. He laid it carefully on the windowsillbefore speaking.

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"Did you meet anybody on the way?" he asked.

"No, Father," I said. "Nobody passes through the Waig at night."

He reached for his roll of tobacco and hithced himself up in the chair.

"She is very beautiful, Father."

"Was she afraid of Labang?" My father had not raised his voice, but the room seemed toresound with it. And again I saw her eyes on the long curving horns and the arm of mybrother Leon around her shoulders.

"No, Father, she was not afraid."

"On the way---"

"She looked at the stars, Father. And Manong Leon sang."

"What did he sing?"

"---Sky Sown with Stars... She sang with him."

He was silent again. I could hear the low voices of Mother and my sister Aurelia downstairs.There was also the voice of my brother Leon, and I thought that Father's voice must have beenlike it when Father was young. He had laid the roll of tobacco on the windowsill once more. Iwatched the smoke waver faintly upward from the lighted end and vanish slowly into thenight outside.

The door opened and my brother Leon and Maria came in.

"Have you watered Labang?" Father spoke to me.

I told him that Labang was resting yet under the barn.

"It is time you watered him, my son," my father said.

I looked at Maria and she was lovely. She was tall. Beside my brother Leon, she was tall andvery still. Then I went out, and in the darkened hall the fragrance of her was like a morningwhen papayas are in bloom.

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WE FILIPINOS ARE MILD DRINKERS

WE Filipinos are mild drinkers. We drink for only three good reasons. We drink when we are very

happy. We drink when we are very sad. And we drink for any other reason.

When the Americans recaptured the Philippines, they built an air base a few miles from our barrio.

Yankee soldiers became a very common sight. I met a lot of GIs and made many friends. I could not

pronounce their names. I could not tell them apart. All Americans looked alike to me. They all lookedwhite.

One afternoon I was plowing our rice field with our carabao named Datu. I was barefooted and stripped

to the waist. My pants that were made from abaca fibers and woven on homemade looms were rolled upto my knees. My bolo was at my side.

An American soldier was walking on the highway. When he saw me, he headed toward me. I stopped

plowing and waited for him. I noticed he was carrying a half-pint bottle of whiskey. Whiskey bottlesseemed part of the American uniform.

Hello, my little brown brother, he said, patting me on the head.

Hello, Joe, I answered.

All Americans are called Joe in the Philippines.

I am sorry, Jose, I replied. There are no bars in this barrio.

Oh, hell! You know where I could buy more whiskey?

Here, have a swig. You have been working hard, he said, offering me his half-filled bottle.

No, thank you, Joe, I said. We Filipinos are mild drinkers.

Well, dont you drink at all?

Yes, Joe, I drink, but not whiskey.

What the hell do you drink?

I drink lambanog.

Jungle juice, eh?

I guess that is what the GIs call it.

You know where I could buy some?

I have some you can have, but I do not think you will like it.

Ill like it all right. Dont worry about that. I have drunk everythingwhiskey, rum, brandy, tequila,

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gin, champagne, sake, vodka. . . . He mentioned many more that I cannot spell.

I not only drink a lot, but I drink anything. I drank Chanel Number 5 when I wasin France. In New

Guinea I got soused on Williams Shaving Lotion. When I was laid up in a hospital I pie-eyed with

medical alcohol. On my way here on a transport I got stoned on torpedo juice. You aint kidding whenyou say I drink a lot. So lets have some of that jungle juice, eh?

All right, I said. I will just take this carabao to the mud hole then we can go home and drink.

You sure love that animal, dont you?

I should, I replied. It does half of my work.

Why dont you get two of them?

I didnt answer.

I unhitched Datu from the plow and led him to the mud hole. Joe was following me. Datu lay in the mud

and was going: Whooooosh! Whooooosh!Flies and other insects flew from his back and hovered in the air. A strange warm odor rose out of the

muddle. A carabao does not have any sweat glands except on the nose. It has to wallow in the mud or

bathe in a river every three hours. Otherwise it runs amok.

Datu shook his head and his widespread horns scooped the muddy water on his back. He rolled over and

was soon covered with slimy mud. An expression of perfect contentment came into his eyes. Then heswished his tail and Joe and I had to move back from the mud hole to keep from getting splashed. I left

Datu in the mud hole. Then turning to Joe, I said.

Let us go.

And we proceeded toward my house. Jose was cautiously looking around.

This place is full of coconut trees, he said.

Dont you have any coconut trees in America? I asked.

No, he replied. Back home we have the pine tree.

What is it like?

Oh, it is tall and stately. It goes straight up to the sky like a skyscraper. It symbolizes America.

Well, I said, the coconut tree symbolizes the Philippines. It starts up to the sky, but then its leavessway down the earth, as if remembering the land that gave it birth. It does not forget the soil that gave it

life.

In a short while, we arrived in my nipa house. I took the bamboo ladder and leaned it against a tree.

Then I climbed the ladder and picked some calamansi.

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Whats that? Joe asked.Philippine lemon, I answered. We will need this for our drinks.

Oh, chasers.

That is right, Joe. That is what the soldiers call it.

I filled my pockets and then went down. I went to the garden well and washed the mud from my legs.Then we went up a bamboo ladder to my hut. It was getting dark, so I filled a coconut shell, dipped a

wick in the oil and lighted the wick. It produced a flickering light. I unstrapped my bolo and hung it on

the wall.

Please sit down, Joe, I said.

Where? he asked, looking around.

Right there, I said, pointing to the floor.

Joe sat down on the floor. I sliced the calamansi in halves, took some rough salt and laid it on the foothigh table. I went to the kitchen and took the bamboo tube where I kept my lambanog.

Lambanog is a drink extracted from the coconut tree with pulverized mangrove bark thrown in toprevent spontaneous combustion. It has many uses. We use it as a remedy for snake bites, as

counteractive for malaria chills, as an insecticide and for tanning carabao hide.

I poured some lambanog on two polished coconut shells and gave one of the shells to Joe. I diluted my

drink with some of Joes whiskey. It became milky. We were both seated on the floor. I poured some of

my drink on the bamboo floor; it went through the slits to the ground below.

Hey, what are you doing, said Joe, throwing good liquor away?

No, Joe, I said. It is the custom here always to give back to the earth a little of what we have takenfrom the earth.

Well, he said, raising his shell. Heres to the end of the war!

Here is to the end of the war! I said, also lifting my shell. I gulped my drink down. I followed it with a

slice of calamansi dipped in rough salt. Joe took his drink but reacted in a peculiar way.

His eyes popped out like a frogs and his hand clutched his throat. He looked as if he had swallowed acentipede.

Quick, a chaser! he said.

I gave him a slice of calamansi dipped in unrefined salt. He squirted it in his mouth. But it was too late.

Nothing could chase her. The calamansi did not help him. I dont think even a coconut would have

helped him.

What is wrong, Joe? I asked.

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Nothing, he said. The first drink always affects me this way.

He was panting hard and tears were rolling down his cheeks.

Well, the first drink always acts like a minesweeper, I said, but this second one will be smooth.

I filled his shell for the second time. Again I diluted my drink with Joes whiskey. I gave his shell. I

noticed that he was beaded with perspiration. He had unbuttoned his collar and loosened his tie. Joe tookhis shell but he did not seem very anxious. I lifted my shell and said: Here is to America!

I was trying to be a good host.

Heres to America! Joe said.

We both killed our drinks. Joe again reacted in afunny

way. His neck stretched out like a turtles. And now he was panting like a carabao gone berserk. He was

panting like a carabao gone amok. He was grasping his tie with one hand.

Then he looked down on his tie, threw it to one side, and said: Oh, Christ, for a while I thought it wasmy tongue.

After this he started to tinker with his teeth.

What is wrong, Joe? I asked, still trying to be a perfect host.

Plenty, this damneddrink has loosened my bridgework.

As Joe exhaled, a moth flying around the flickering flame fell dead. He stared at the dead moth and said:

And they talk of DDT.

Well, how about another drink? I asked. It is what we came here for.

No, thanks, he said. Im through.

OK. Just one more.

I poured the juice in the shells and again diluted mine with whiskey. I handed Joe his drink.

Heres to the Philippines, he said.

Heres to the Philippines, I said.

Joe took some of his drink. I could not see very clearly in the flickering light, but I could have sworn I

saw smoke coming out of his ears.

This stuff must be radioactive, he said.

He threw the remains of his drink on the nipa wall and yelled: Blaze, goddam you, blaze!

Just as I was getting in the mood to drink, Joe passed out. He lay on the floor flat as a starfish. He was in

a class all by himself.

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I knew that the soldiers had to be back in their barracks at a certain time. So I decided to take Joe back. Itried to lift him. It was like lifting a carabao. I had to call four of my neighbors to help me carry Joe. We

slung him on top of my carabao. I took my bolo from the house and strapped it on my waist. Then I

proceeded to take him back. The whole barrio was wondering what had happened to the big Amerikano.

After two hours I arrived at the airfield. I found out which barracks he belonged to and took him there.

His friends helped me to take him to his cot. They were glad to see him back. Everybody thanked me for

taking him home. As I was leaving the barracks to go home, one of his buddies called me and said:

Hey, you! How about a can of beer before you go?

No, thanks, I said. We Filipinos are mild drinkers.

About the author: National Artist for Literature Alejandro R. Roces wrote this prize-winning story as an

undergraduate in the University of Arizona after World War II. His mtier lies in writing humor andcockfighting stories.

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LIT 201