Post by ernesto thaddeus m. solmerano on Jun 15, 2007 21:17:24 GMT -5
Continuation of Footnote to Youth...
Dodong stood in the sweltering noon heat, sweating profusely, so that his camiseta was damp. He was still like a tree and his thoughts were confused. His mother had told him not to leave the house, but he had left. He had wanted to get out of it without clear reason at all. He was afraid, he felt. Afraid of the house. It had seemed to cage him, to compress his thoughts with severe tyranny. Afraid also of Teang. Teang was giving birth in the house; she gave screams that chilled his blood. He did not want her to scream like that, he seemed to be rebuking him. He began to wonder madly if the process of childbirth was really painful. Some women, when they gave birth, did not cry.
In a few moments he would be a father. “Father, father,” he whispered the word with awe, with strangeness. He was young, he realized now, contradicting himself of nine months ago. He felt queer, uncomfortable... “Your son,” people would soon be telling him. “Your son, Dodong.”
Dodong felt tired standing. He sat down on a sawhorse with his feet close together. He looked at his calloused toes. Suppose he had ten children... What made him think that? What was the matter with him? God!
He heard his mother’s voice from the house: “Come up, Dodong. It is over.”
Suddenly he felt terribly embarrassed as he looked at her. Somehow he was ashamed to his mother of his youthful paternity. It made him feel guilty, as if he had taken something not properly his. He dropped his eyes and pretended to dust dirt off his kundiman shorts.
“Dodong,” his mother called again. “Dodong.”
He turned to look again and this time saw his father beside his mother.
“It is a boy,” his father said. He beckoned Dodong to come up.
Dodong felt more embarrassed and did not move. What a moment for him. His parents’ eyes seemed to pierce him through and he felt limp. He wanted to hide from them, to run away.
“Dodong, you come up. You come up,” his mother said.
Dodong did not want to come up and he stayed in the sun.
“Dodong. Dodong.”
“I’ll... come up.”
Dodong traced tremulous steps on the dry parched yard. He ascended the bamboo steps slowly. His heart pounded mercilessly in him. Within, he avoided his parents’ eyes. He walked ahead of them so that they should not see his face. He felt guilty and untrue. He felt like crying. His eyes smarted and his chest wanted to burst. He wanted to turn back, to go back to the yard. He wanted somebody to punish him.
His father thrust his hand in his and gripped it gently.
“Son,” his father said.
And his mother: “Dodong...”
How kind were their voices. They flowed into him, making him strong.
“Teang?” Dodong said.
“She’s sleeping. But you go in...”
His father led him into the small sawali room. Dodong saw Teang, his girl wife, asleep on the papag with her black hair soft around her face. He did not want her to look that pale...
Dodong wanted to touch her, to push away that stray wisp of hair that touched her lips, but again that feeling of embarrassment came over him and before his parents he did not want to be demonstrative.
The hilot was wrapping the child. Dodong heard it cry. The thin voice pierced him queerly. He could not control the swelling of happiness in him.
“You give him to me. You give him to me,” Dodong said.
*****
Blas was not Dodong’s only child. Many more children came. For six successive years a new child came along. Dodong did not want any more children, but they came. It seemed the coming of children could not be helped. Dodong got angry with himself sometimes.
Teang did not complain, but the bearing of children told on her. She was shapeless and thin now, even if she was young. There was interminable work to be done. Cooking. Laundering. The house. The children. She cried sometimes, wishing she had not married. She did not tell Dodong this, not wishing him to dislike her. Yet she wished she had not married. Not even Dodong, whom she loved. There had been another suitor, Lucio, older than Dodong by nine years, and that was why she had chosen Dodong. Young Dodong. Seventeen. Lucio had married another after her marriage to Dodong, but he was childless until now. She wondered if she had married Lucio, would she have borne him children. Maybe not either. That was a better lot. But she loved Dodong...
Dodong whom Life had made ugly.
One night, as he lay beside his wife, he rose and went out of the house. He stood in the moonlight, tired and querulous. He wanted to ask questions and somebody to answer him. He wanted to be wise about many things.
One of them was why Life did not fulfill all of Youth’s 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. Youth must be dreamfully sweet. Dreamfully sweet. Dodong returned to the house humiliated by himself. He had wanted to know a little wisdom but was denied it.
*****
When Blas was eighteen he came home one night very flustered and happy. It was late at night and Teang and the other children were asleep. Dodong heard Blas’s steps, for he could not sleep well of nights. He watched Blas 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. Blas said he could not sleep.
“You better go to sleep. It is late,” Dodong said.
Blas raised himself on his elbow and muttered something in a low fluttering voice.
Dodong did not answer and tried to sleep.
“Itay ...,” Blas called softly.
Dodong stirred and asked him what was it.
“I am going to marry Tona. She accepted me tonight.”
Dodong lay on the red pillow without moving.
“Itay, you think it over.”
Dodong lay silent.
“I love 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. He did not want Blas to marry yet. Blas was very young. The life that would follow marriage would be hard...
“Yes.”
“Must you marry?”
Blas’s voice stilled with resentment. “I will marry Tona.”
Dodong kept silent, hurt.
“You have objections, Itay?” Blas asked acridly.
“Son... n-none...” (But truly, God, I don’t want Blas to marry yet... not yet. I don’t want Blas to marry yet....)
But he was helpless. He could not do anything. Youth must triumph...now. Love must triumph... now. Afterwards... it will 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.
Dodong stood in the sweltering noon heat, sweating profusely, so that his camiseta was damp. He was still like a tree and his thoughts were confused. His mother had told him not to leave the house, but he had left. He had wanted to get out of it without clear reason at all. He was afraid, he felt. Afraid of the house. It had seemed to cage him, to compress his thoughts with severe tyranny. Afraid also of Teang. Teang was giving birth in the house; she gave screams that chilled his blood. He did not want her to scream like that, he seemed to be rebuking him. He began to wonder madly if the process of childbirth was really painful. Some women, when they gave birth, did not cry.
In a few moments he would be a father. “Father, father,” he whispered the word with awe, with strangeness. He was young, he realized now, contradicting himself of nine months ago. He felt queer, uncomfortable... “Your son,” people would soon be telling him. “Your son, Dodong.”
Dodong felt tired standing. He sat down on a sawhorse with his feet close together. He looked at his calloused toes. Suppose he had ten children... What made him think that? What was the matter with him? God!
He heard his mother’s voice from the house: “Come up, Dodong. It is over.”
Suddenly he felt terribly embarrassed as he looked at her. Somehow he was ashamed to his mother of his youthful paternity. It made him feel guilty, as if he had taken something not properly his. He dropped his eyes and pretended to dust dirt off his kundiman shorts.
“Dodong,” his mother called again. “Dodong.”
He turned to look again and this time saw his father beside his mother.
“It is a boy,” his father said. He beckoned Dodong to come up.
Dodong felt more embarrassed and did not move. What a moment for him. His parents’ eyes seemed to pierce him through and he felt limp. He wanted to hide from them, to run away.
“Dodong, you come up. You come up,” his mother said.
Dodong did not want to come up and he stayed in the sun.
“Dodong. Dodong.”
“I’ll... come up.”
Dodong traced tremulous steps on the dry parched yard. He ascended the bamboo steps slowly. His heart pounded mercilessly in him. Within, he avoided his parents’ eyes. He walked ahead of them so that they should not see his face. He felt guilty and untrue. He felt like crying. His eyes smarted and his chest wanted to burst. He wanted to turn back, to go back to the yard. He wanted somebody to punish him.
His father thrust his hand in his and gripped it gently.
“Son,” his father said.
And his mother: “Dodong...”
How kind were their voices. They flowed into him, making him strong.
“Teang?” Dodong said.
“She’s sleeping. But you go in...”
His father led him into the small sawali room. Dodong saw Teang, his girl wife, asleep on the papag with her black hair soft around her face. He did not want her to look that pale...
Dodong wanted to touch her, to push away that stray wisp of hair that touched her lips, but again that feeling of embarrassment came over him and before his parents he did not want to be demonstrative.
The hilot was wrapping the child. Dodong heard it cry. The thin voice pierced him queerly. He could not control the swelling of happiness in him.
“You give him to me. You give him to me,” Dodong said.
*****
Blas was not Dodong’s only child. Many more children came. For six successive years a new child came along. Dodong did not want any more children, but they came. It seemed the coming of children could not be helped. Dodong got angry with himself sometimes.
Teang did not complain, but the bearing of children told on her. She was shapeless and thin now, even if she was young. There was interminable work to be done. Cooking. Laundering. The house. The children. She cried sometimes, wishing she had not married. She did not tell Dodong this, not wishing him to dislike her. Yet she wished she had not married. Not even Dodong, whom she loved. There had been another suitor, Lucio, older than Dodong by nine years, and that was why she had chosen Dodong. Young Dodong. Seventeen. Lucio had married another after her marriage to Dodong, but he was childless until now. She wondered if she had married Lucio, would she have borne him children. Maybe not either. That was a better lot. But she loved Dodong...
Dodong whom Life had made ugly.
One night, as he lay beside his wife, he rose and went out of the house. He stood in the moonlight, tired and querulous. He wanted to ask questions and somebody to answer him. He wanted to be wise about many things.
One of them was why Life did not fulfill all of Youth’s 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. Youth must be dreamfully sweet. Dreamfully sweet. Dodong returned to the house humiliated by himself. He had wanted to know a little wisdom but was denied it.
*****
When Blas was eighteen he came home one night very flustered and happy. It was late at night and Teang and the other children were asleep. Dodong heard Blas’s steps, for he could not sleep well of nights. He watched Blas 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. Blas said he could not sleep.
“You better go to sleep. It is late,” Dodong said.
Blas raised himself on his elbow and muttered something in a low fluttering voice.
Dodong did not answer and tried to sleep.
“Itay ...,” Blas called softly.
Dodong stirred and asked him what was it.
“I am going to marry Tona. She accepted me tonight.”
Dodong lay on the red pillow without moving.
“Itay, you think it over.”
Dodong lay silent.
“I love 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. He did not want Blas to marry yet. Blas was very young. The life that would follow marriage would be hard...
“Yes.”
“Must you marry?”
Blas’s voice stilled with resentment. “I will marry Tona.”
Dodong kept silent, hurt.
“You have objections, Itay?” Blas asked acridly.
“Son... n-none...” (But truly, God, I don’t want Blas to marry yet... not yet. I don’t want Blas to marry yet....)
But he was helpless. He could not do anything. Youth must triumph...now. Love must triumph... now. Afterwards... it will 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.