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| RAISSA CLAIRE RIVERA |
| The Dancers of Malumbay |
| 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 |
| Malumbay was the town where Thalia grew up. It was a beautiful lakeside town surrounded by mountains, a town that was always quiet and peaceful. It was also a town where no one danced. At least, not for as long as most people in the town remembered. There was even a law against dancing. No one knew why. But why question the law, which had been there for as long as the people remembered? Why question the Mayor for upholding such a law when he was doing such a good job? Their town was prosperous, and everyone lived peacefully. Why complain about a silly rule about dancing? What use was dancing anyway? “It won’t help us plow or harvest,” the farmers said. “It won’t help us catch more fish,” the fishermen said. “It won’t help us sew faster,” the seamstresses said. “It won’t help us sell our wares,” the market vendors said. “It won’t help you get your chores done,” Thalia’s mother said to her daughter. Thalia was born in this town where no one danced. On the day of her birth, despite her pain, Thalia’s mother was relieved. She had already had six children, but none of them had been as hard to carry as Thalia. From the time she was big enough to be felt, she wriggled, squirmed, turned over, and kicked inside her mother’s womb so much that her mother begged her to stop. When she finally came into the world, it was night and the sky was filled with shooting stars. Her great-grandmother said that meant the baby would be special, different from everyone else. “I don’t want her to be different or special,” her weary mother said. “I just want her to be good and quiet.” She was so tired by then that she let her six older children decide what to name the baby. They named her Thalia after themselves: T for Teresa, H for Hernando, A for Alicia, L for Luis, I for Ida, and A for Alfonso. All these children were good and quiet. Teresa, the eldest, did very well in school and went to nursing school. Hernando, the second, was a great help to their father on the farm. Alicia was a wonderful cook and so pretty she always had many suitors. Luis was good at fixing things and wanted to be an engineer. Ida kept the house in perfect order. Alfonso loved to take care of animals. As they were growing up, they all developed their talents. And for the first nine years of her life, they watched their youngest sister to see what her talents were. She didn’t seem to have any. In fact, it seemed she could do nothing right. It wasn’t that she was clumsy. Why, she could walk along the tops of walls and scramble up and down trees nimbly, without getting hurt. She was popular among other children, who all wanted her on their side for patintero because she was so quick. She was very tiny, but she jumped higher than anyone in luksong tinik. But she was not useful to the family. First she tried to help in the cleaning. But when she swept the floor, somehow she would start to twirl with the broom, until the dust was flying all over the house. Her family said, “You might as well not have swept.” She tried to help in the kitchen. But with all her flitting about as she sprinkled seasonings, stirred sauces, and checked on cooking food, she made a mess. Besides, her constant movement distracted her mother and Alicia. So they sent her outdoors to help in the garden instead. That was even worse. When she was outdoors, there was no containing her. Instead of just working, she swayed with every breeze and tapped out the rhythm of the birds’ whistles with her foot. So they made her do sewing instead. She was impatient when it came to doing the mending. Her feet swung as she sat in the chair. She was forever jumping up to pick up something or to ask her mother a question. She didn’t need to get up for those things, but it seemed her feet just had to move. Her hands moved swiftly, though. Perhaps too swiftly, for her stitches were so big that the rips she darned wouldn’t stay closed. When relatives came to visit, she was asked to serve them. She balanced plates and glasses on her arms and legs and even her head and skipped about the room to hand the drinks and rice cakes around. She moved so quickly her grandmother and aunts complained she made them dizzy. But she never spilled a thing. “That girl could be a dancer,” her great-grandmother said. “A dancer!” cried Thalia’s grandmother and aunts, sitting down so quickly their drinks sloshed. “A dancer!” Thalia’s brother’s and sisters exclaimed, dropping their forks with a clatter. “A dancer!” Thalia’s parents gasped, shaking their heads from side to side. “No, no, she couldn’t be. You know that’s not allowed.” Thalia, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, had mixed feelings. First she felt glad to know that there was something she could be good at. But she was very sad to know it had to be something she was not allowed to do. She wanted to be a good, obedient daughter, so she knew she would have to keep herself from dancing. When she came back into the room to pour the guests more juice, she held herself stiffly. When she sat down, she tucked her legs under her so she wouldn’t be tempted to swing them or to tap her feet. She stayed indoors as much as she could after that. She looked out enviously at the trees swaying with the breeze, the neighborhood dogs running in circles, and the chickens pecking and walking rhythmically. She was even envious of the moths fluttering against the lamp. But she made herself sit still and do the mending. Only once did she forget herself. One rainy evening, when the frogs croaked in a chorus, she could no longer bear it. She ran out. She danced to the pitter-patter of the rain, the whooshing of the wind and the song of the frogs. Then she came in late for supper, thoroughly soaked. Her parents scolded her and she hung her head. The joy of the dance was lost. But otherwise every day was the same for Thalia. She woke up, ate her meals, did her chores, and went to bed. Nothing more. But one morning something unusual happened. She heard a whistle. At first she thought it was a bird, but when she heard the notes going up and down in a pattern, she knew someone was playing the flute. There was no law against playing music in the town of Malumbay, but very few people bothered with it. They did not find it useful, any more than they found dancing useful. She just had to see where the sound was coming from. She ran out. An old man was walking down the street, blowing into a bamboo flute. When he saw her, he put the flute down and smiled. “Good morning,” he said. “Can you tell me where to find the Mayor’s house?” “I’ll take you there,” she said. Thalia was actually afraid of the Mayor. He always looked so stern and stood so straight and stiff. His father and grandfather were the mayors before him, and he did everything exactly the way they had. And everyone thought that made him a good Mayor. The Mayor was just leaving his house when they got there. He frowned a little when he saw them. But the old man stepped forward. “Don’t you remember me?” he asked. “I’m your big brother.” “The one who ran away from home when I was very small?” “Yes. And now I’m old and have no other place to go. Will let me live with you for a while?” The Mayor nodded. He still did not smile, but he reached out and shook his brother’s hand. He noticed the flute the man was holding. “I remember how you used to play the flute, ” he said to his brother. “Yes, and you would—” The Mayor frowned. “Don’t say it,” he said. Thalia went home wondering what it was that the old man was not supposed to say. She hoped she would see him again so she could talk to him properly. But then she remembered how her feet had itched to move to the music of the flute. And she knew that she must not see him. She stayed at home until the day of the town fiesta. In Malumbay, fiestas were celebrated simply, with a special Mass, speeches, and banquets. But this year the Mayor announced that he had a special surprise. When they all gathered in front of his house to listen to his speech, the town would see it. There was a big crowd in front of the Mayor’s house. Thalia’s father and her brothers, who were big boys of twenty, eighteen, and fourteen took turns lifting her up so she could see. But for a long time there was nothing to see. Finally, Alfonso put her down. “I’ll carry you only when something starts happening,” he said. Thalia heard something happening before she saw it. She heard the Mayor make his long droning speech. She didn’t care to see him, so she didn’t ask to be carried. She got bored and wandered away from her family. Then the Mayor said, “And now my brother will play some music for you.” She looked around excitedly for Hernando, Luis and Alfonso, but she couldn’t find them. But even if she couldn’t see the old man, she could hear his music. It was light and happy and thrilling. How beautiful it was! And, suddenly, she began to dance as she never had before. She skipped and she twirled, she swayed and she whirled. Her feet made patterns on the ground. She made wild leaps and tossed her head about. She even waved her handkerchief in the air. After a while, she was aware that everyone was staring at her. She could see in their eyes that they thought she was crazy. She looked at the shocked faces of her family and she blushed. She stopped and stood still. She was already right in front of the Mayor’s house, and she was standing near the Mayor. Oh, what would he do to her for disobeying the rule on dancing? The music stopped. The Mayor walked towards her. His strides were long and purposeful. Thalia trembled. Now he was right in front of her. He looked straight at her and asked, “What is your name?” “Thalia,” she whispered. “Well, Thalia, shall we dance?” Like everyone else, Thalia stared at the Mayor. “When I was young, I wanted to be a dancer. When my brother played his flute, I loved to dance to the music. But my parents and grandparents didn’t think I should be a dancer. They thought boys should not be dancers. They thought that my brother should be Mayor when he grew up and I should be Vice-mayor. My brother wanted to be a musician instead. That was why he ran away. And to make sure I wouldn’t keep wanting to be a dancer, they made a law against dancing in the town. But now I am the Mayor. And I want to dance. So let us forget that law and dance!” And suddenly everyone was cheering. The music started up again, and soon everyone was dancing in the streets. The Mayor held Thalia in his arms and whirled her around. He really was a very good dancer. The old man playing the flute caught Thalia’s eye and winked at her. She smiled back. The town of Malumbay danced for the rest of that day and through the night as well. But they were not tired the next day. Instead they went about their work skipping and whistling, running and laughing and, yes, dancing. Thalia was allowed to water the vegetables that day. She darted among the tomato plants, sprinkling the water. That was where the Mayor and his brother found her. She was no longer afraid of the Mayor. She smiled and greeted him warmly. The Mayor smiled back. “Would you like to study dancing?” the Mayor asked. “My brother knows a good teacher in the city.” Of course Thalia wanted to. She went to the city to learn to dance and she became very good at it. But though she was very successful and danced all over the world, she always returned to the town of Malumbay for their fiesta. And, with the Mayor, she would lead the dancing. This story won Second Prize for Children's Story in the 2005 Palanca Awards |