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| DON PAGUSARA | TRANSLATED BY TIMOTHY R. MONTES |
| Talia Migrante |
| THE AUTHOR HOLDS THE COPYRIGHT TO THIS STORY. THIS IS POSTED WITH PERMISSION FROM THE AUTHOR. |
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| THIS IS PART OF THE LITERATURA READING SERIES | CLICK HERE TO GO BACK TO LITERATURA |
| I did not notice her when she came in because I was busy taking out the freshly baked bread from the oven. I had to arrange the monay, ensaymada, and pan de sal on the display rack of the store. So when I looked up she was already there in front of me. She was seating comfortably on a chair, leaning on the counter top. And by the saints in heaven! Can you imagine how the woman looked? I had to restrain myself from laughing out loud. But I could not help it, my giggles came out like rolling marbles. I mean, who wouldn’t laugh at the way she looked? Her hair was tied above her forehead like that of a horse. She was wearing lipstick but the colored line had somehow started from under her nostril, swerved down to her chin, and went back up her face! It looked like she had four fucking lips! Oh, holy Virgin, please forgive me when I say she was a walking circus clown. “Give me coffee and pan de sal!” Oy, and she ordered food like she had money! Oh, dear, I told myself, let her be. Sunday early in the morning and already I felt it was going to be an unlucky day for me. If I wasn’t a churchgoing Christian, I don’t know what I would have ended up saying to her--- I mean, it’s a sin to wish bad things to befall on someone, right? But at that time I really wished I could shoot her. Oh, well, she could be amusing all right, but who would be amused when--- just like that morning--- she could really be irritating. “Where’s my coffee? Aren’t you going to serve me?” Not only did she sound angry, she was also ugly! Was she a paying customer? I had to restrain myself from driving her out of the bakery. Ay, Ellen, I heard my conscience talking to me. “Just let her be. You don’t want her to turn violent, do you?” “Can’t you wait?” I answered back with clenched jaws. My words were teetering on the side of nastiness, and deep within I felt like shouting back at her. My head felt like it was about to explode even as I kept on repeating the word forbearance, forbearance. And just as I had plopped down the coffee and pan de sal in front of my ‘special customer,’ my five-year old Bembe came out of our room. “Psst, Bembe, go back to your room! Now!” But it was too late. The eyes of my special customer seemed to glitter with joy when she saw my boy. “Oh, what a really cute child!” she exclaimed as she tried to hold Bembe. Scared, the child ran to the other side of the bakery and hid behind my apron. “Hoy, Talia,” I shouted at her. “Don’t you dare touch my child!” And the crazy woman just laughed in my face. She suddenly looked down at her feet while mumbling, “Why do you look at me like that? Do you think I’m afraid of you?” And she even had the gumption to add, “I wouldn’t touch your child, no!” And suddenly she tried to entice Bembe with a syrupy voice. “Right, baby? We’re friends, child, aren’t we? You’re really such a cute kid!” I swooped down on Bembe and brought him back to our room. “Stay put here, all right?” I don’t know why I then resorted to a scare tactic to keep him there. “Beware of that woman Talia. She eats the lizards of little boys like you!” “What’s a lizard, Ma?” “That one,” I said pointing at the crotch of his shorts. “Your peewee. She will eat it if she gets hold of you!” “Oh, no… Talia must be crazy, Ma. Look at her face.” “She’s worse than a madwoman, so don’t go near her. Stay in the room, all right? Don’t go out.” When I went back to the store, I was relieved to see that other customers had arrived. They were smiling in amusement at Talia. And then my Kumareng Judith arrived wearing a blouse that exposed her belly button. “Hey, Ellen,” my kumare joked. “You seem to have a special customer today.” “Yeah, right. Just my luck to have her as my buena mano.” I looked at Talia from the corner of my eye. I wanted to see how she was reacting to my bantering with Mare Judith. But she had no reaction to our conversation; she continued licking the edge of her coffee cup. The eyes of Mare Judith were dancing in mirth as she secretly glanced at the madwoman beside her. Whenever our eyes would meet, we would smile meaningfully at the expense of Talia. After getting the ensaymada she ordered, my sexy kumare left. But on her way out Judith cast a mischievous look at Talia that reminded me of the story she once told me. Judith was the one who had told me the life story of my special customer. Here--- right here in my small bakery--- she had told me about it. We were just killing time one afternoon. Kumare Judith was sitting on the chair now occupied by my special customer while I kept watch inside the store. Judith was my kumare for she was one of the godmothers during Bembe’s baptism. According to her, Talia, before she appeared along the shores of San Andres, had worked abroad. She was out there, according to stories, for two years. I didn’t know Talia then because she was not originally from San Andres. She was from Barangay Cansubay, and her mother was Nang Katal, a widow who sold charcoal. Her aunt in Tudela had supported her through high school. Talia was said to have a good brain inside that head for she graduated with honors. And there started the tragic history of this woman. When she was in her fourth year high school, she fell in love with someone from Tudela. He was quite handsome according to stories, but he spent the whole day doing nothing at the marketplace--- istambay. He did nothing but drink and roam around with his friends. Like Talia, the guy was just a teenager. And you know how teenagers are! Heedless and bent on doing what they want to do. Raging hormones, they say. And by the way, I forgot to tell you that Talia herself used to be attractive. She had chocolate-colored skin, and her body had the right curves in the right places. Dimples on her cheeks, too. If she hadn’t turned out mad like this, she would be quite a looker. Even now, not taking a bath for weeks and not caring how she looks, you can still see traces of her old beauty. But look at her now, so dirty and unkempt! Let’s go back to Mareng Judith’s story. That was it, she said. Talia fell in love with a good-for-nothing istambay when she was young. And the guy just fooled around with her. To make a long story short, she became pregnant. Lucky for her she was able to graduate from high school before getting knocked around. And so she had no choice but to go back to her mother, back to charcoal making and charcoal selling. Maybe it was the heavy work that made her lose her baby. She almost died, according to the midwife, for she lost a lot of blood that time. Thank God, my special customer has finally left the store! And not a word of gratitude for the coffee and pan de sal? No, I did you expect her to thank me for feeding her, but I always get uneasy whenever that woman comes by. You know crazy people. You don’t know what they’re capable of doing. What if they get a crazy idea and they do something terrible? Like this story I heard about what she did to my neighbor Jocelyn’s child, have you heard about it? The boy had gone swimming at the beach accompanied by the nanny and his young brothers and sisters. Talia happened to be there at that time. She was walking on the shoreline. I don’t really know what happened, maybe the nanny failed to keep watch over the boy--- and the crazy woman ran away with the child! His name’s Pipo, just as old as my Bembe. The nanny, when she realized what was happening, ran after Talia who was carrying the child in her arms. How the child wailed! It was like a hostage drama! Fortunately a man came by and blocked Talia’s way. And I don’t know what came into her head, but the madwoman just left the child on the shore and continued running on her own until she disappeared from sight. The people at the beach, watching the scene, were speechless and paralyzed. After the commotion, they heaved a collective sigh of relief. The nanny, they knew, was in deep trouble. And Jocelyn, when she learned what had happened to her child that afternoon, was also mad with anger and gave the nanny a dressing down. Let’s go back to Talia’s sob story. Talia got over that tragic incident when she was in high school. After her pregnancy, she regained her good looks. And like buzzing bees, a lot of men hovered around her in Barangay Cansubay. And this time our heroine could not be deceived anymore. And what did she do? She applied as domestic helper to Singapore! A year later, just when she had forgotten about her application, she received instructions about getting a passport and other overseas requirements. She’s one lucky girl, the neighbors thought when they heard the news. But while it’s true that luck comes to you when you don’t expect it, misfortune also descends on you when you’re looking the other way. Everyone was surprised when Talia suddenly appeared in Cantubay after two years in Singapore. Why, the neighbors asked, did she come home without finishing her contract? Had she been fired? Her friends came by to visit her the moment she arrived. And they were surprised to see that Talia could not even recognize them! She just stared into the distance. Didn’t speak. Her mother Nang Katal didn’t know what was wrong with her daughter. She was puffy-eyed from crying. Talia must have gone through a lot to have been reduced to such a pitiful state. And of course there emerged all kinds of stories. Different versions of her story for different kinds of gossipmongers, for neighbors and strangers. One version had it that her Singaporean master caught her spanking the child in her care. Maybe that one was true, and that explains why she was sent home. Another story had it that the mistress caught Talia in bed with the master, and that’s why she was fired. I don’t believe that story. If that’s true, she would have languished in jail or maybe even executed! You know how it is in Singapore. Another version had it that Talia was raped by her master. And to cover up for his crime, the master claimed that Talia had physically abused his child so she could be deported. So many versions, and we don’t know which one is true. That’s why Talia’s coming home is something of a mystery for all of us here. She’s not the same Talia anymore. She just stares at nothing. Doesn’t even bother to comb her hair. Since she came home to Cantubay, she wouldn’t talk about it to anyone. Not even to Nang Katal. And when she would talk, she would veer away to other topics, becomes incoherent--- out of her senses. Her poor mother just follows her wherever she goes and can’t stop her from roaming around. Talia goes berserk when she tries to stop her from going around. But you know how dangerous it is for a woman to be walking around like that. I heard someone say that her mother ties her to a kapok tree whenever she runs out of patience. Rumors! I don’t believe that for there’s no kapok tree near their house. And what kind of mother would do that to her own child? And of course the children here make fun of her. They taunt her, Talia Migrante, doesn’t wash her panty! I don’t know how those children invented that rhyme. Maybe some crazy istambay, crazier than Talia, had taught those words to the children. Because ‘migrante’ is not Talia’s family name, it’s what they call people who go abroad… Later on, in her aimless walks, she found herself on the shores of our town. The beach of San Andres is her favorite haunt. Sometimes, at dawn she’s already there playing in the sand. And always she swims in the sea. Those who have seen her say she’s quite a swimmer. Sometimes she walks by this store still dripping wet from the beach. I have given up praying that she wouldn’t pass by here anymore, for she always drops by my store! As I said, I always get nervous with her around because I don’t know what she’s capable of doing. And then sometimes delicate parts of her body get exposed, and even in her condition she still has the curves, you know. Maybe her mother just got tired following her around for she now roams around by her lone self. Or maybe Nang Katal just gave up on her, I don’t know. But I’m afraid some crazy istambay might take advantage of her. You know, force her to do things. Well, she’s not my relative so I shouldn’t be worrying about her, but as a woman I can’t help thinking about that. In these times, men can be crazier than her. Have you heard that there are now drug addicts in our town? But what I’m really worried about is this. God forbid that she will go crazy and do something to my child! And if she does that, I don’t know what I’m capable of doing to her. That’s why I am uneasy whenever she loiters around my store. I really get nervous. Here comes my Kumare Judith again. Look how the sexy matron grins! Even from afar you can see how her lips taunt me again: Mare Ellen, where’s your special customer? And I have to tell her, “She’s gone. Your beautiful friend went to the beach again.” “Mare, I really can’t help laughing at your favorite customer. God wants us to be happy, that’s why He sends her here every morning. And do you know what the latest news is, Mare? Listen to this, Mare Ellen. Last Friday, early in the morning, people saw our heroine holding gumamela flowers in her hands while dancing naked! Yes, buck naked! As in!” “Shhh, not too loud, Mare. Do you mean to say she’s really that crazy now?” “Well, you don’t have to believe me, but that’s what I’ve heard.” My naughty kumare and I once more traded gossip. I lost track of the time as we went on talking. I laughed at my friend’s jokes, especially when she prattled on about the sins of other people. But she heaped her criticism on Talia, for according to her she smelled worse than a goat…one could plant onions on her dirty neck…her teeth were yellow like unwashed toilet tiles… lice were playing basketball on her head… my kumare really had a way of making fun of people! Sometimes I would bend over in laughter over her descriptions. When we parted, it was almost lunchtime. I had forgotten to make Bembe drink lagundi broth for his asthma. When Mare Judith left the store, right away I went looking for Bembe inside the house. He was there on the sofa sitting beside my husband in front of the TV. They looked good enough for a candid photo, a boy and his father in front of the TV, legs open and almost exposing their testicles. Oh, dear, I told myself. You really can’t trust men to care for their children. My husband had forgotten to feed Bembe…to make him drink his medication…and he was supposed to put him to sleep after eating. Tsk, tsk, useless husband to me. But what could I do--- look for another useless one? Two weeks after my chismis with Mare Judith, it so happened that Bembe did not feel like going to school. And so I allowed him to stay at home. You know how kids are. When they don’t feel like going to school, they won’t go even if you beat them. I did not force him to go because he was still in kindergarten. After lunch, I slept beside him on the bed for our noontime siesta. I had told my husband, “Hey, mister, watch over the store while Bembe and I go to sleep.” I don’t know how long I had slept but when I woke up Bembe was gone. I wondered where he was. Maybe he did not sleep at all. Maybe he just waited for me to fall asleep, and when I did he ran away. Anxious, I got up from bed and went to the store. Only my husband was there. “Where’s Bembe?” “Ha? Weren’t you supposed to be sleeping beside him?” “Don’t be a smartass. He’s missing.” I went around the yard calling for my boy as my eyes scoured every nook and cranny of our small house. No shadow of Bembe. My heart started to beat faster. And then, just as suddenly, I heard the shrill voice of a child shouting, “Nang Ellen! Bembe is at the beach! He’s with Talia Migrante!” “Ha? Good God…!” In my panic, I jumped over the fence. “Talia, I’m going after you, you bitch!” From my mouth came a string of curses. In my imagination I could see my son crying to high heavens as the madwoman was running away with him. What could Talia be up to? What was she going to do with him? My heart was galloping in my chest. I ran like my feet had sprouted wings. I could have beaten a kangaroo as I leaped and ran. When I reached the beach, I saw Bembe from afar… Talia was holding him by the wrist. They were walking in my direction and around them were other children of varied ages. The rest were following them. I ran faster to meet them. I’m going to kill you Talia if you harmed Bembe! I’m really going to kill you! When I reached the throng, Talia let go of Bembe. Both of them were dripping wet and it was clear that they just came from the sea. My child ran to me, his face pale with fear. My own ears tingled as I screamed, “What did you do to my child?” I clinched my fists, ready to pounce and the crowd of children stopped in surprise. Some children stepped back for they saw from my face that I was on the warpath. My eyes must have been bulging and my nostrils were flaring as I trembled there in anger and indignation. I asked Bembe, “What did she do to you?” But my child was struck dumb. He merely shook his head then cast an imploring look at Talia. And this crazy Talia just stood there smiling in front of me! The more that I became angry. Her wet clothes stuck to her skin, showing off his breasts and body contours. And then I heard her say, slowly, “He could have drowned. I saw him bobbing up and down in the deep water… And I swam to him.” The children around us chorused, “That’s true, Nang Ellen. She saved him!” My anger gave way to shame. I did not know how I looked at that time, but I felt my blood draining away from my face. I was melting in my own sense of disgrace. I felt like sinking into the sand on which I was standing. I could not look at Talia in the eye. And the children--- the ones who used to chant Talia Migrante, doesn’t wash her panty!--- were now staring at me, waiting for my reaction. I don’t remember how long I stood there. I held Bembe by the arm then picked him up and carried him away. I walked along the shoreline back to our house, not minding the weight of the child that I carried in my arms. I just wanted to reach home right away. If I had sprouted wings on my feet a while ago, now I felt my head suffused with—what? Confusion? Shame? That night I found it hard to sleep. I just watched Bembe in his sleep. And while looking at my child, the tears just sprang in my eyes. In my mind, I also saw the beautiful young Talia, smiling for me, dimples and all. The original of this story won Second Prize for the Short Story in Cebuano in the 2004 Palanca Awards |