The God Stealer: Filipino Identity in Fiction The story God Stealer, like F.Sionil Jose's other novels concentrates on the debilitating effect of the colonial rule in the Filipino identity formation. The story begins with two officemates Philip Latak (an Ifugao from the Mountain Province now working in Manila) and Sam Cristie, an American on the bus to Baguio. Philip (Ip-pig) now lives in Manila against the wishes of his immediate family, particularly his grandfather who intended to bequeth to Philip his share of the famous rice terraces. They are on their way to Baguio for one purpose: Sam wants to buy a genuine Ifugao god as souvenir and Philip was to help him find an authentic one through his local connections. Philip is a Christian who no longer has any respect or affection for the Ifugao customs and religion. He considers himself a city boy and has no inclination to return to mountain life. Despite this attitude, his grandfather is pleased to see him and decides to throw a big party in his honor. On the day of the party, Sam and Philip discover that no Ifugao is willing to sell his god. And as a last resort, Philip offers to steal the god of his grandfather because he feels it would be his way of showing his gratitude to Sam for giving him a rise at work. The consequences of this act are severe. The next day, his grandfather died because he discovered that his god was stolen. He also informs Sam that Philip will no longer be going back to Manila. Curious, Sam looks for Philip and find him working in his grandfather's house. Philip poignantly explains his reasons for choosing to stay in the mountains: "I could forgive myself for having stolen it. But the old man- he had always been wise, Sam. He knew that it was I who did it from the very start. He wanted so much to believe that it wasn't I. But he couldn't pretend and neither can I. I killed him, Sam. I killed him because I wanted to be free from these. These cursed terraces. Because I wanted to be grateful. I killed him who loved me most.." a faltering and stifled sob. In the dark hut, Sam noticed that Philip is now attired in G-string, the traditional costume of the Ifugao. Furthermore, Philip is busy carving another idol, a new god to replace the old one which Sam will take to America as a souvenir. Philip's repudiation of his Ifugao heritage may be extrapolated to mean that Filipino's rejection of his own roots and its replacement with colonial values. Philip- Philippines Sam- American (Uncle Sam) It is significant that Philip steals the God for Sam out of gratitude. Thus is it the Filipino gave up his most precious symbol of his past traditions to the Americans as an expression of gratitude? And by giving this symbol away, the Filipino murders his own roots. Again, we see Jose's thesis: The colonial culture has been a negative force in the Philippine History and hence, the tru Filipino is the tribal Filipino, or the poor Filipino least touched by colonial culture. Jose presents the Filipino as confused, emotionally disturbed and helpless, plagued by the fact that he repudiated his past, or that he could not do anything to help the suffering. JSTOR: Symbolic of the foreigner's exploitation and imperialistic ambitions on the Filipino. The God Stealer: Filipino Identity in Fiction By F. Sionil Jose The story begins with two officemates Philip Latak (an Ifugao from the Mountain Province now working in Manila) and Sam Cristie, an American on the bus to Baguio. Philip (Ip-pig) now lives in Manila against the wishes of his immediate family, particularly his grandfather who intended to bequeth to Philip his share of the famous rice terraces. They are on their way to Baguio for one purpose: Sam wants to buy a genuine Ifugao god as souvenir and Philip was to help him find an authentic one through his local connections. Philip is a Christian who no longer has any respect or affection for the Ifugao customs and religion. He considers himself a city boy and has no inclination to return to mountain life. Despite this attitude, his grandfather is pleased to see him and decides to throw a big party in his honor. On the day of the party, Sam and Philip discover that no Ifugao is willing to sell his god. And as a last resort, Philip offers to steal the god of his grandfather because he feels it would be his way of showing his gratitude to Sam for giving him a rise at work. The consequences of this act are severe. The next day, his grandfather died because he discovered that his god was stolen. He also informs Sam that Philip will no longer be going back to Manila. Curious, Sam looks for Philip and found him working in his grandfather's house. Philip poignantly explains his reasons for choosing to stay in the mountains: "I could forgive myself for having stolen it. But the old man- he had always been wise, Sam. He knew that it was I who did it from the very start. He wanted so much to believe that it wasn't I. But he couldn't pretend - and neither can I. I killed him, Sam. I killed him because I wanted to be free from these. These cursed terraces. Because I wanted to be grateful. I killed him who loved me most...” a faltering and stifled sob. In the dark hut, Sam noticed that Philip is now attired in G-string, the traditional costume of the Ifugao. Furthermore, Philip is busy carving another idol, a new god to replace the old one which Sam will take to America as a souvenir. Philip's repudiation of his Ifugao heritage may be extrapolated to mean that Filipino's rejection of his own roots and its replacement with colonial values. Philip- Philippines Sam- American (Uncle Sam) It is significant that Philip steals the God for Sam out of gratitude. Thus is it the Filipino gave up his most precious symbol of his past traditions to the Americans as an expression of gratitude? And by giving this symbol away, the Filipino murders his own roots. Again, we see Jose's thesis: The colonial culture has been a negative force in the Philippine History and hence, the tru Filipino is the tribal Filipino, or the poor Filipino least touched by colonial culture. Jose presents the Filipino as confused, emotionally disturbed and helpless, plagued by the fact that he repudiated his past, or that he could not do anything to help the suffering. definite shapes. He turned to Sam and. Now. who took a swig. “Rice wine – I hope there’s still a jar around when we get to my grandfather’s. I sent home a clipping this week. They had arrived in the summer capital the previous day and the bracing air and the scent of pine had invigorated him. Philip Latak seemed listless. A student was going to Boston. Sam Christie was twenty – eight and his Filipino assistant. They had been in the station for over half an hour and still there was no bus. Do you know how much it costs nowadays? Twenty – four bucks. He zipped his old suede jacket up to his neck. “You don’t know how good it is to have that along. a Japanese sword. He needed the dollars. one of the many in the summer capital. “In winter. Phil raised it to his lips and made happy gurgling sounds. it’s not as potent as this. Sam could make out the shapes of the stone buildings huddled. entertain a sense of inferiority. Just make sure we have some left when we get Ifugao. Sam. “I’m glad you didn’t fall for those carvings in Manila.” “It’s cheaper at the commissary. but it can knock out a man.” Sam Christie said simply.” Sam and Christie said. He couldn’t be as seriously sick as my brother wrote. He wore a white. Sam Christie was on his way to Ifugao with his native assistant. As long as he has wine he will live. a Siamese mask – and now. with a hint of urgency – “One favour. Hell. A Grecian urn. He removed the tinfoil and handed the bottle to his companion.” Sam Christie was also told. “It’s like New England in the spring. on this December dawn. flexed his lean arms and inhaled. brought out a bottle of White Label – one of the four – in the bag which also contained bars of candy and cartons of cigarettes and matches for the natives. In the chill most of . it seemed. in the cold. Forty dollars – and the mask was worth more than that. so I told him he could get the money from my father. The Siamese mask. The east was starting to glow and more people had arrived with crates and battered rattan suitcases.” Now. Philip Latak. the gray buildings around them emerged from the dark with white. an Ifugao God.” He stopped.The God Stealer (Fransico Sionil Jose) They were the best of friends and that was possible because they worked in the same office and both were young and imbued with a freshness in outlook. And it was only 68! My old man will get a kick out of that. you are welcome to it. the cold of the pine – clad mountains seemed to bother him. too.” Sam Christie kidded his companion about the weather. like the Ilocanos. something in the Manila papers about it being chilly. He talks about it the first chance he gets.” “You will find. Not Philip.” “But it’s really cold!” Philip Latak said ruefully. He threw his chest out.” Now. The bus station was actually a narrow sidestreet which sloped down to a deserted plaza. Let me take a swig. no matter how urbanized they already are. when it really gets cold. It was last month in the Philippines and in a matter of days he would return to Boston for that leave which he had not had in years. He handed the bottle back to Sam Christie. was twenty – six and was – just as Sam had been at the Agency before he assumed his post – intelligent and industrious. “Sure. dacron shirt with the sleeves rolled up.” Phil said after a while.” the official whom Sam replaced explained “because Philip is Ifugao and you don’t know patience until you have seen the rice terraces his ancestors built. He is proud of his being Ifugao. I can still go around quite naked by your standards. “that the Igorots.” he said.” Sam spoke in a monotone. “it was really a bargain. their narrow windows shuttered and the frames advertising Coca – Cola above their doorways indistinct in the dark. too. “That is to be expected. It had been four years that he had lived in Manila and during all these years he had never gone home. ” Sam Christie said.” Sam Christie realized there were many things he did not know about Phil. was quiet. across the ravines and the gray socks. was shimmery sky and endless ranges also draped with this mist that swirled. you know. shaking his head. The pine trees were bigger.them were quiet. After the bus had started. and most were wreathing with hoary moss. in it the mementoes of his years with the Agency. Someone in the bus recognized Philip and he called out in the native tongue. after college. He dozed. with woven rattan seats and side entrances that admitted not only people. the gongs and stamping. loftier than those in Baguio.” “Hell.” “It must be have been quite a night. but he had always wanted to travel and. twice or thrice to allow them to take coffee. fowl. thinking of it. a career with the Agency offered him the best chance of seeing the world. “Ip – pig!” the name did not jell at once and the man shouted again. I had to go to the Mission Hospital – and that evening he came and right there in the ward he danced to drive away the evil spirit that had gotten hold of me. not even when his own son – my father – lay dying. to that basement study his father had tidied up. The bus swung around the curves and it paused. “There isn’t much worth knowing about him. their happy anticipation as the steaming cups were pushed before them.” his voice became soft and a smile lingered in his thick – lidded eyes.” Philip said. “Much later. still laughing. was given the seat of honour. but cargo. danced. golden light Sam Christie could see the heavy. and pigs. Philip turned to the man and acknowledged the greeting and to Sam he explained: “That’s my name up here – and that’s why I was baptized Philip. The bus hugged the thin line of a road that was carved on the mountainside. And Sam Christie. in the midst of all this whiteness and life.” Philip said.” “He must be a character. Sunflowers burst on the slopes.” he said. It was an old bus. for the bats filled up quickly with government clerks going to their posts and hefty Igorots. “And the village doctor. “They withstood it. I was never so embarrassed in my life.” “And the doctor?” “He was broad – minded. It was past noon when they reached the feral fringes of the Ifugao country.” Philip said. for there . “Tell me more about your grandfather. Soon it was light. Sam had not actually intended to serve in the Agency. The sun rode over the mountains and the rocks shone – and over everything the mist. The trip had not been exhausting. in their bare feet or with canvas shoes who sat in the rear. peasant faces. Sam Christie felt sleepy. talking and smelling of earth and strong tobacco. his head knocking intermittently against the hard edge of his seat and in that limbo between wakefulness and sleep he hurtled briefly to his home in Boston. “Mumbo – jumbo stuff. to their very faces. A coffee shop opened along the street with a great deal of clatter and in its warm.” Philip Latak said. “I realized that the old man never did that thing again for anyone. bright yellow against the grass. The bus finally came and Sam Christie. next to the driver. “How old is he?” “Eighty or more. because he was a foreigner. They did not wait long. perhaps. Pine trees studded both sides of the road and beyond their green. I was taken ill when I was young – something I ate. pervasive and alive. for the first time during their stay in Baguio.” Now they were in the heart of the highlands. as fine as powder. if I can live here. A lone house roofed with tin stood at one end of the village. brought them along. after a plentiful lunch of fried highland rice and venison. without warning upon the water – filled rice terraces stretched out in the sun and laid out tier upon shining tier to the very summit of the mountains. was a hill. “but there is no plumbing there. “Yeah. The bus shuddered into first gear as it dipped down the gravel road and in a while they were in the town. And in the face of that achievement. The two travellers got down from the bus and walked to one of the bigger houses. “Shall I bring the candies out now?” Sam asked. which overlooked the creek and the mountain terraced to the very summit. gazing down at the ravines. along its main street lined with wooden frame houses.” Philip Latak said. together with the usual merchandise of country shops: canned sardines and squid. at turn of a hill. a shapeless wooden building with rusting tin proof and cheap. It conformed with the usual small – town arrangement and was properly palisaded with stores. Sam Christie did not speak. He mused on whether or not these terraces were necessary. Mountain people are always self – reliant. The women wore the native gay blouses and skirts. soap. remembered the Alpine roads of Europe and those of his own New England – and about these he talked effusively. which were no different from the other Ifugao homes. the terraces are colossal. was replaced by a sense of wastefulness.” And he wished he had expressed his admiration better. “We could stay in my brother’s place. “Hell. together with matches and cheap cigarettes.” Sadek. was home. and residence.” Past noon. since he knew that beyond these hand – carved genealogical monuments were plains that could be had for the asking. The village was no more than ten houses in a valley. white with froth among the rocks. And in the stores were crowds of people.” Then. the hospital. “That’s where I first learned about Jesus Christ and scotch. when it had cleared. Sam Christie. “They marked me for success. milk. assigned them a bare room. too. Philip’s brother. would I go to Manila?” Their destination was no more than a cluster of houses beyond the gleaming tiers.” Sam Christie said. heavy – jowled Ifugaos in G – string and tattered Western coats that must have reached them in relief packages from the United States. they headed for the footpath that broke from the street and disappeared behind a turn of hillside.” Another peal of laughter. The landlady. kerosene. beyond the town. He had. on top of which stood the Mission – four red – roofed buildings – the chapel. and across the creek. a few bolts and twine. “You have decided to visit us after all” he greeted Philip in English and .was much to see. the school. A creek ran through the town. The walk to Philip Latak’s village itself was not far from the town and wherever they turned the terraces were sheets of mirror that dogged them. After a while he nudged Philip. The people.” Philip said. “See how vegetation changes. whose fronts were plastered with impieties of soft – drink and patent – medicine signs. for he had sounded so empty and trite.” Philip Latak reiterated apologetically as they brought their things up. “And you say that these terraces do not produce enough food for the people?” Philip Latak turned quizzically to him. they came. at the geometric patterns of the sweet – potato patches there and the crystal waters that cascaded down the mountainsides and the streams below. for his “private assistance program. printed curtains. matches. “My brother’s. an acquaintance of Philip Latak. at Phil’s suggestion. The first view of the terraces left in Sam’s mind a kind of stupefaction which. They stood on stilts and all their four posts were crowned with circular rat guards. It was a boarding house and a small curio store was on the ground floor. “breed independence. The mountains. . They think that by living in Manila for a few years I have forgotten what is to be an Ifugao. for his bringing you to this poor house.” he said. I didn’t want to bother you. in his sunburned and stolid face. Sam. Maybe. five of them with grime on their faces. washed it down his throat politely. Turning to Sam. “Hell.” “We work in the same office. Sam strode to the oldest. Philip Latak watched them. they like you better. he feels that I shouldn’t have left this place. “You see now . My grandfather – do you know that on the day I left he followed me to the town. their bellies shiny and disproportionately rounded and big.” “There’s nothing to forgive. They hedged closer to one another. and above the happy sounds.” Sadek said. dumpy legs. wide – eyed. to Philip’s namesake.” Philip Latak said. but that did not help either. In another moment it was all noise. Ip – Pig. “You see.” Sadek said. sir. sir. Ip – pig. He knelt. Sadek pointed out as Philip’s namesake. my brother. everyone knows the terraces are good for the eye. matted hair. their feet caked with mud. that he belonged here. who was an Ifugao like him. that I should rot here. Sam. They stood. He is no longer angry with you for leaving. Sam Christie accepted the drink. Sadek said.” His open palm brimming with the tinsel – wrapped sweets.” Sam said warily. of that simple spark that would tell him. excruciatingly. The tallest and the oldest. for my brother. he will drink again.” Then the children started stealing in. their brows. “but if he wants to he can show his forgiveness by opening his wine jar. came out and served them Coca – Cola. with high cheekbones and firm. They did not move. they will never understand. Sadek said. He was a farmer and the weariness of working the terraces showed in his massive arms. aren’t you?” he asked. a boy of thirteen or twelve. He spoke in the native tongue. Like my grandfather.” Then. but they can’t produce enough for the stomach. “I must apologize. Is he drinking still?” “He has abandoned the jar for some time now. “But it’s true. for it was the first time that he took warm Coke and it curdled his tongue.. pinched the cheeks of the dirty child next to the oldest and placed a candy in his small hand. and tousled the youngster’s black. the children scrambling over the young American and about the floor. turning to Sam. “I know. He was older and spoke with authority. “Grandfather had a high fever and we all thought the end was near. All of them here dislike me. “but now that you are here. The children held their scrawny hands behind them and stepped back until their backs were pressed against the wall.” Philip Latak said with a nervous laugh. “I thought the city had won you so completely that you have forgotten this humble place and its humble people.” “That’s not a nice thing to say. His deed embarrasses us. Philip bent down and thrust a fistful of candy at his nephews and nieces. pleading with me and at the same time scolding me? He said I’d get all his terraces. But I like it down there.with a tinge of sarcasm. Sadek said. the squeals of children. “my brother dislikes me. Philip Latak held his brother by the shoulder. Sam. feeling uneasy at hearing the speech. Hell.” he threw his chest and yawned. I like it down there. His wife.. their simple faces empty of recognition. where the candy had spilled. Unmindful of his younger brother’s ribbing Sadek dragged in some battered chairs from within the house and set them in the living room.” Sam said simply.. but the old man said you should come. “Give it to them. I can’t help it. not wanting to be drawn into a family quarrel. near the sagging wall. He has forgiven you. to the bus. you are all my relatives. Hell. “My brother dislikes me. which was greasy although steps had been gouged out on it for easier climbing. Hell. he hurried down the hill. Then silence. a foolish. old voice. Ip – pig. and on his lap this wooden idol which he now sought. and one consolation of his assignment was its meagre similarity to San Francisco. the American behind him. Come. “It will be a bore and a ghastly sight. tell me.” he said with nostalgia. without another word.” But Sam Christie’s interest had been piqued and even when he realized that Philip Latak really did not want him to come he decided that this was one party he would not miss. “when the mist drifts in and starts to wrap the terraces and the hills. Sam.” Sam heard the old man raise his voice. he will recognize and I won’t be a stranger to him. and carabaos which the old man had butchered in past feats. He never liked strangers. However. Before going up the slender rungs of the old house Philip Latak called his grandfather twice.” Philip Latak turned to his friend. Now new skulls would be added to this collection. “In the afternoons. He was quite pleased to have a fellow American as guest. the luggage in the back seat. optimistic grin on his face. Sam. his father and his mother at the Back Bay station. They visited the Mission the following day after having hiked to the villages. “Well. dogs.” Philip said. who managed the Mission. me. My bienvenida of course.” “See what I mean. And after this initial amenity. “let us see the old man. have I spoiled your first day here?” Sam objected vehemently. on his face a numbed.” Sam said. Philip speaking in his native tongue and there was also a crackled. And when I told him it was for an American friend he got mad. the visions he conjured were dispelled. this time in anger and not in pleasure. He couldn’t see what transpired inside and there was no invitation for him to come up. The effusion within the hut had subsided into some sort of spirited talking and Philip was saying “Americano – Americano. listening to the pleasant sounds of the homecoming. had known.that even your relatives do not know you. invited them for lunch. He had the most number of skulls in the village to show his social position. And.” “You will be a damned fool if you don’t go. You speak our tongue. To all of them Sam Christie was impeccably polite and charitable with his matches and his candies. you can’t do anything to an old man. I’m reminded of the ocean fog which steals over the white hills of San Francisco – and then I feel like I’m home. too. They struggled up terraces and were met by howling dogs and barebottomed children and old Ifugaos. some could hear. It stood on four stilts like all the rest and below its roof were the bleached skulls of goats. As Philip Latak had warned. and he thought how the next vacation would be. “The old man wants a feast tomorrow night. Beyond the betel – nut plams in the yard. We shouldn’t have bothered with him at all. But after a while. Philip would start talking and always sullen silence would answer him. And. high pitched with excitement and pleasure. Sam Christie waited under the grass marquee that extended above the doorway. up a sharp incline. You shouldn’t come. “I’m thinking about you. He was a San Fransiscan. pigs. He said they took everything away from him – tranquillity. who offered them sweet potatoes and rice wine. the door stirring and Philip easing himself down the ladder. crestfallen look. Philip Latak explained later on the way back to the town: “I had asked him where we could get a god and he said he didn’t know. Sam?” Philip Latak said. he. He strode to the door.” . was his grandfather’s house. you have our blood – but you are a stranger nevertheless. Now. their search was fruitless. a rustling within the house. he smiled and called to mind the homecomings.” They toiled up the hill. and he would turn to Sam. Reverend Doone. Sam’s knowledge of San Francisco was limited to a drizzly afternoon at the airport..” In the comfort of their little room back in the town. It belonged to a soldier who had fought in the South Pacific and had managed somehow to save the thing when he was made prisoner. “At least the hike did me good. “I wish I could answer that. “It takes cataclysm. Japan.” Reverend Doone smiled wanly.. “Besides. “You have seen examples. too – fear of hell and final judgment. the pleasures of senses and the flesh. and the samurai sword.. It’s not just some souvenir. But there is less greed here and pettiness here. “and if you understand it. It will remind me of you. the urn. “Well. she was majoring English and she didn’t have tuition money.” “What happens when a man loses his soul?” Sam asked. laid his cup of coffee on the well – worn table and spoke sternly. It’s more than just a souvenir.” “How can one who loses his soul regain it?” Sam came back with sudden life. A bad one means they are angered. It’s a religion based on fear. the small green country. “All I can say is that a man without a soul is nothing. to make him realize his loss. “His god – he believes in them. something tragic to knock a man back to his wits. Reverend Doone reiterated what Philip had said. Then it was Sam’s turn and he rambled about the places he had seen – Greece ans the marble ruins glinting in the sun. Then you’ll know why the Ifugaos are so attached to it. A generation of soulless men is growing up and dictating the future. A good harvest means the gods are pleased. how they offered us wine and sweet potatoes. and he kept quiet while Reverend Doone reminisced.. You are in the Agency and you should know the significance of this distinction.” .” Reverend Doone became thoughtful again.” he said. The missionary was a short man with a bulbous nose and heavy brows and homesickness written all over his pallid face. “Christianity is based on love. of this place. clammy and gripping.” “They are all human beings.” Reverend Doone drew back. That’s the difference.” “Can a man lose his soul?” Sam insisted. All that walking and all these people – how nice they were. “Christianity is based on the belief that man has a soul and that soul is eternal.” “It’s not different from Christianity then. Every calamity or every luck which happens to them is based on this relief. “In the city – people are corrupted by easy living. But his daughter – it’s a sad story – she had to go to college. an Ifugao God. It is poor – let there be no doubt about it. And now. But look what is in this mountain – locked country. “Phil. A pig in the sty that lives only for food. There are no land – grabbers. retribution. “You must understand their religion. the mass corruption that is seeping into the government and everything. Sam brought out his liquor. then you’ll know why it’s difficult to get this god. he said with finality.” he said. Sam decided to bare his mind to Philip who was below him.” he said as he poured a glass for Philip.. no scandals.. sipping coffee. They don’t make enough to eat. mind you. while Philip Latak was in the kitchen. I must not leave Ifugao without that god. Without a soul. where he had gone to joke with old friends. teetering on the sleepy trail.” Reverend Doone said humbly.” Sam said.” “Does the Ifugao believe in a soul?” Reverend Doone smiled gravely. “Christianity is based on fear.They had finished lunch and were in the living room of the Mission. an iron – cold rain and a nasty wind that crept under the top coat.” Going down the hill. The samurai sword – you should have seen the place where I got it and the people I had to deal with to get it. And what will happen to you or to the man whose god you will steal?” “Lots – if you believe all that trash. he asks the question Sam loathed most: “Why are you with the Agency. same with the owner.” Sam emptied his glass.” Sam said. in balancing himself on the strips of slippery earth that formed the terrace embankment. in the light of the stove fire that lived and died at one end of the one . were about a dozen squealing pigs. a faded flannel coat and old denim pants. It’s the least I can do for you. Come up. the stars shone. Sam.” The hike to the village was not difficult as it had been the previous day. too.” “I’m glad you are in the Agency. just as you have to be somewhere. and goats. A pause. Philip Latak acknowledged the greetings. I tried it when I was young. You’ll have your god. When they reached the village many people had already gathered and on the crest of the hill. It’s not so difficult to carve a new one.” Sam said. then breaking away from the tenuous groups. After a while Philip Latak spoke again: “We will be luckier tomorrow. They did not have supper at the boarding house because in a while Sadek arrived to fetch them. He wore an old straw hat. Sometimes. “Let’s not be bull – headed about this. “How many people in Manila would feel honoured to attend the parties you go to?” “They are a bore. Fireflies ignited the grove of pine on the ledge below the house and farther. But he can always make another. but I have to be there. It’s that simple. all ready for the sacrificial knife. could discern the unsmiling faces of men carrying spears. Sam. “That’s not fair. dashed up the ladder.” “You cannot steal a god. it makes me sick. Do you know that I have been with the Agency for four years and I never got a raise until you came?” “You had it coming.” And Sam.” Philip Latak said. then the wooden door opened and Philip peeped out.” he said with great solemnity. “It’s okay. near the slope.” Sam stood up and waved his lean hands.“You get a lot better in cocktail parties. In the orange light Sam. “The butchers are ready and the guests are waiting and Grandfather has opened his wine jar. Waiting outside. a huge fire bloomed and the flames crackled and threw quivering shadows upon the betel palms. It’s that simple. the women and the children. Dust had gathered outside.” Philip said lightly “I’ll be afflicted with pain. I have to be there to spread sweetness and light. Sam had become an expert in scaling the dikes. Sam. You made this vacation possible and that raise. not even for me. and sank into his cot. dogs. “You can’t do that. Toying with his empty glass. and beyond the scattered groups. “And I have to be there – that’s the difference.” Phil was silent. The old man really looked ancient and. He emptied the glass and raised his muddy shoes to the woollen sheet on his cot. across the creek. I know. inside a bamboo corral. before I went to the Mission. There’s a way.” Philip Latak said gravely. he went to his grandfather’s hut. Philip laughed. Sam heard the same words of endearment.” “You’ll have your god. above the brooding terraces. “Because I have to be somewhere. We need people like you. pleased with the prospect of being inside an Ifugao house for the first time. Sam?” He did not hesitate. I can steal one for you. on which the old man’s house stood. in jumping across the conduits of spring water that continuously gushed from springs higher up in the mountain to the terraces. as he lay on his cot. who had now risen. savoured the gentle tang and acridness of it. fish traps and a small wooden trunk. the wooden god. Sam finally broke away from the party and headed for the town with Sadek behind him.” Outside. brought out his black and ghastly – looking god.” and staggering forward. the hollow cheeks. but the steps and the tune did not have any variation and soon he was bored – completely so. Sam let the ray play on Phil’s face. their guttural voices rising as one. Someone called at the door and thrust to them a wooden bowl of blood. filled the air. The whole house smelled of filth. piously. but his loin cloth had a belt with circular bone embellishments and around his neck dangled a necklace of bronze. standing. he returned to its niche. He lifted the mosquito net and beamed the light at the dark from which had paused at the door. and dank earth. dirty and black and drenched with blood. the cicadas whirring in the grass. but Sam Christie ignored these smells and attended only to the old man. the horn hands and the big – boned knees. the pigs were already being butchered and someone had started beating the gongs and their deep. The old man picked up the idol again and. he mused. To Sam the old man extended a bowl of rice wine and Sam took it and lifted it to his lips. The night was cool. he thought he smelled. gray pillow. the rhythm of the gongs quickened and fierce chanting started. Beyond the open door. who was kneeling. stoic and unsmiling.” Philip said. but it must have been past midnight. . on the thing. Sam Christie watched the dancers and the singers. He then sat down on the mud – splattered floor. his bony frame shaking. “I told you I’d steal a god. He saw again the dancers. Philip turned to his American friend and. as all nights in the Ifugao country are and that evening. In his ears the din of gongs still rang. he shoved his grandfather’s idol at his friend. of chicken droppings. that he would like to return to the boarding house. without risking. bloody mass. sonorous whang rang sharp and clear above the grunts of the dying animals. But Sadek would not let him go alone and. crept under the very skin and into the subconscious. Philip Latak picked it up and gave it to the old man. He knew the way.– room house. where rice was cooking. and finally. in the blaze of the bonfire. It was Philip Latak. sweating bodies whirling before the fire. Sam Christie went to sleep with the wind soughing the pines. pushed the idol away and it fell with a thud on the floor. They made their way to the iron cauldrons. to its very feet and as he poured the blood. and to the butcher’s table where big chunks of pork and dog meat were being distributed to the guests. that peculiar odour of blood and the dirt of many years that had gathered in the old man’s house. The light in the hut became alive again and showed the artefacts within: an old. he did not need any guide. he recited a prayer. with usual levity said: “My grandfather is thanking his god that I’m here. and from a compartment in the roof. dirty with use. in his crackled voice. and set it before the fire before his grandson. “I told you I’d get it. Sam took in everything. He had no idea what time it was. scraggly hair. their brown. the white. He says he can die now because he has seen me again. Sam could see the careworn face. the hut. after more senseless palaver. frothy blood on the idol’s head and the blood washed down the ugly head to its arms and legs. too. For some time. Sam Christie. “You shouldn’t have done it!” was all he could say. The patriarch was half – naked like the other Ifugaos. at the splotch on his breast – the sacrificial blood – and finally. The hiking that had preoccupied them during the day began to weigh on his spirits and he told Philip Latak who was with the old man before newly opened wine jar. swaying and holding on to a black. a few rusty – tipped spears. And recalling all this in vivid sharpness. he groped for the flashlight under his pillow. “Let’s go down.” Philip Latak said with drunken triumph. No. unsmiling face of the Ifugao. Slowly. too surprised to speak. no taller than two feet. The clatter woke him up and. the old man poured the living. having gone through the route thrice. in his mind’s eye loomed the shrunken. Sam bolted up.” Phil said. Go to bed now and we will talk in the morning.” “Take it back?” Phil turned to him with a mocking leer. “I have to leave you here. heard his slow.” he crowed.” Sam said sullenly. And it was these thoughts that were rankling his mind when he heard Philip Latak snore.” he said. lying down. where Philip was talking with a boy.. because it was real. turning momentarily to him.” Philip said. “He was wrong in being so attached to me who no longer believes in these idols. “Do you think he would be happy to know that his god had been fondled by a stranger?” “It’s no time for jokes. He wished he knew more about him. It’s different. “I won’t. I’ll look bad. rice wine. that’s good of you. like a light. “No. Then there will be another feast to celebrate the new god – and another god to steal.” Sam said almost inaudibly. He is going to give me everything. the eyes narrow and gleaming with wisdom. He cannot say that aloud. And not because he has the money to build a different house. dirtied with the mud of the terraces.” Phil whacked his stomach.” “Don’t frighten me. “My nephew. was the old man’s wrinkled face. porcine face.” Philip Latak stood up and started prancing. “I’m sorry I woke you up. “Take it back.” “Yes.. Sadek – you have seen his house. No one saw me.” Philip said resolutely.Philip Latak stumbled.” Sam said. “Now. then sat up and walked to the door. He fumbled with the stub of candle on the table and in a while the room was bright. you don’t have to worry. I did it when all were busy dancing and drinking. I’m just stating a fact.” And in his mind’s resolute eye. too. for to know him would be to discover this miserly land and the hardiness (or was it foolhardiness?) which it nourished. Sam picked up the taper and quashed its flame. At the same time Sam Christie woke up it was already daylight and the sun lay pure and dazzling on the rough pine sidings of the room.” “You are lucky to have someone who loves you so much.” His voice was no longer drunken.” he repeated.” Sam said. It was Philip Latak who had stirred him. “He will be surprised – and when he does he will perhaps get drunk and make a new one. with hate. And you did him wrong. the flashlight beam still on his shiny. too.” “Hell.” “It’s a miserable thing to do. pleasant breathing and with his hand. I danced a little. Sam blinked. there crowded again one irrefrangible darkness and in it. That would be the death of my grandfather. “It’s grandfather.” a pause. Hell. and held him by the shoulder. We danced and my legs – they are not rusty at all. The air around him was heavy with the smell of sweat. “He did himself wrong. and earth. because it had significance and meaning and was no cheap tourist bait.” But there was no conviction in him. “He will kill you. “He will be surprised.. He sat on the edge of his cot and looked down at the dirty thing that lay his feet. after my trouble.” .” Sam said. his terraces.” Philip Latak sank back on his cot. “What a night. such as those that were displayed in the hotel lobbies in Manila. “Take it back tomorrow. “Not while he lives with a hundred ignorant natives. his spears. It’s because he doesn’t believe in the old things any more.. his voice shrill and grating.” “I’ll take it back if you won’t. “If I do. “That isn’t funny at all. because in the back of his mind he was grateful that Philip Latak had brought him this dirty god. his wine jars. “You’ll be waking up everyone up. heaving himself in his cot. you know – with the old man. “There was nothing we could do.. Philip’s brother did not waste words. The arms were too long and the legs were mere stumps. its finality. but don’t wait.” Sam did not press. “Come. Sam. so that his passing would seal. In the back of his mind. but it was at this moment that Sadek arrived. let’s have a drink. that the jacket which Sadek wore was Philip’s old suede. that should be no riddle. The dancing and the drinking.” When Sam found words again. Sam returned to the room and picked up the idol. And wrapping it up in an old newspaper.” he said. “Why. He did not find it.” “He is dead?” Sadek nodded.. “How is he?” Sam asked.” Philip said... but Sadek squirmed free from his grasp. It was not very different.. so Sam quickly deduced that it must be made of good hardwood. It must have been too much for his heart. It was crudely shaped and its proportions were almost grotesque. he pushed it under his cot near his mud – caked shoes. a small man with a pinched. “When is Phil coming back?” he asked. from the creations of sculptors who called themselves modernists.” “I’ll be back as soon as I can. He was extremely hospitable and had volunteered to guide him to wherever he wanted to hike. “My grandfather is dying.” “I’m sorry.. He did not wait for an answer.” “Hell. he declaimed. which should be reserved only for important people. too.“Anything the matter?” Philip had already packed his things and the boy held them.. all he could ask was. had started to crawl again down into town. In the light he saw that the blood had dried and had lost its colour. The idol was heavy. Sam took the news calmly. The feet. white as starch in the sum. The Chief of Police had been very helpful almost to the point of obsequiousness and Sam asked him to come up for a drink.” After the two had gone. Sadek took the jacket off and held it behind him. He collapsed – an attack.” He held the Ifugao by the arm. “It’s about my brother. Sam concluded lightly. “It’s the best in the world.. I am honoured to taste this most wonderful hospitality.. . for then he bared a set of buckteeth reddened from chewing betel – nut. how. were huge. After the Chief had savoured every drop in his glass. They had tried the villages farther up the mountains..” Sadek said humbly. “The feast last night. he even found himself thinking that. It was early afternoon when they returned and the mist. “I still have a half bottle of scotch. He looked down self – consciously at his shoes – they were a trifle big and Sam saw immediately that the pair was not Sadek’s but Philip’s.” Sam said brightly. “Indeed. whatever your plans are. He saw. it was best that the old man had died. “Nothing but the best for Americans.” The party could have gone further. but he did not move. on other hand.” Sadek said. The next day. And as if Sam’s unspoken scrutiny bothered him. the canvas bag and the old suede jacket. He did not face the young American and a faraway gaze was in his eyes. And at his age. depressing and he was surprised even that the death of someone who was dear to a friend had not affected him at all. perhaps.. “Our grandfather. anonymous face that gained character only when he smiled. Sam Christie idled in the town and developed the acquaintance of the Chief of Police.. that his hands were unsoiled.” Sam said. softly. In a time of grief I should at least be able to express my. But my brother. the family’s concern with the idol’s dubious grace. “Mr.” he said. A man his age shouldn’t have indulged in drinking like he did. Mr. sir!” “I must see him.” Sam Christie was now troubled. “We buried him there. “My brother. the Ifugao walked out in the street. Christie. “My grandfather always love Ip – pig – Philip – more than anyone of us. rifled by the unexpected show of rudeness. He died in Ip – pig’s arms. Sadek. Sadek glanced at the stranger keeping step behind him.” and. “Tell me more. Walking slowly. sir.. He wanted to see Ip – pig before he died.. It couldn’t be as simple as that.” “It was not the god. He had a lot of wine. “And why not?” Sadek did not speak.. supplicatingly. Two feasts in so short a time. “It was the loss of the god.. smiling again that meaningless grin of peasants.” Sadek faced the American squarely now. of sadness. you cannot do anything now.” At the edge of the hilltop the open pits which had served as stoves still smoked and the dried blood of the butchered animals stained the earth. “Does his decision have something to do with burial customs and all that sort of thing?” “It’s not matter of custom. “It happened in the morning after the feast.. my condolence.” “Of course.” he pointed to a new digging on the side of the hill. touched him.” Sadek paused again.forever. the other a farewell to him who gave us blood in us. as far as Philip Latak was concerned.” And wheeling round. sir. The liquor. Will that be good to him. “He isn’t going back to Manila. “I cannot leave like this. “and we held another feast this morning. but he will no longer have the pleasures that he knew. Christie?” He did not wait for an answer and he droned. the exertion – these did it. “How did the old man die?” That was the question he wanted to ask and when he did it seemed as if the words were strangled from his throat. “And Phil?” Sam asked.” Sam said aloud and the words were not for Sadek alone.. shaking his head as if a great weight had .” he said sharply. You must go back to Manila.” “You have already done that. One was a welcome to a youth gone astray.. We are not learned like him and we have never been to Manila.” Sadek said emphatically. Sadek faced Sam.” Sam insisted. I’m sorry about what happened to your grandfather. And a pang of regret. but for himself that he was not involved. “Please. Then. “All right then.. “Do come. Sam followed him. please don’t think we are being unreasonable – and don’t make me responsible for what will happen.” then softly. the dancing.” Near the hill on which stood the old man’s house Sadek paused again. “It wasn’t the god.” “But it wasn’t the drink that did it. “No. “As long as he works. “I saw him gulp it like water. of course.” Sadek did not answer.. but he is no longer a farmer of course.” Sadek said simply. It was stolen. They went down the incline and at the base of the terraces the path was wide and level again.. he will not starve here. ” the voice quieted down. “Phil. a mestiza thrown in. among these primitive monuments.” Sam said... this house that was also granary and altar. this flimsy thing of straw hat had survived all of time’s ravages. these terraces. because I wanted to be grateful. I killed him because I wanted to be free from these. “I’m not going back. which had retained its shape through hungry years and was. “That’s it! You’ll always find a way because you have all the money. as it stood on this patch of earth. We will still shop. “I heard you. Sadek left the young American. bit deep. do you hear? You can bring the whole mountain with you if you care. his voice starting to quiver. if you have to stay here for more weeks after the burial –“ The words exploded from the hut with a viciousness that jolted Sam: “Damn it. let’s talk this over. Phil. “I thought you would forget.. “I didn’t want you to steal the idol.” a faltering and a stifled sob. We are friends. “because you are always curious and determined.” Sam choked on the words. my grandfather’s god – isn’t it enough payment for your kindness?” The words. Sam Christie saw Philip Latak squatting before the same earthen stove aglow with embers. but a well – built Ifugao attired in the simple costume of the highlands. Remember. I killed him who loved me most.. raising his voice. but the old man – he had always been wise. But if it’s against the custom – that is. I’ve already packed and I was waiting.. And that woven stuff and the utensils – do you know if we can get them before we leave tomorrow?” “You can’t mean what you say. Sam. You didn’t even send word. Phil. enjoying his liquor and his books and. too. toiling up the ladder and at the top rung. The god. I could have gone on searching until I found one I could buy. “Phil?” Sam Christie stood in the sun. “Don’t blame me Phil. everything that endured. I could forgive myself for having stolen it. you wouldn’t have come here searching for gods to buy.” he repeated. “You are not a friend. I’m not coming!” It was no longer voice. tomorrow morning. “Phil.fallen on his shoulders. amid the poverty and the soot of many years. Sam Christie found himself asking why he was here. In the semi – darkness. are you there?” No answer. anguished voice.” he said in a low. when he could very well be in his apartment in Manila. And as he approached it. I even wanted to return it? Besides. his . “I didn’t want to steal it. we are leaving.” “We are friends. “Come on. Remember.” Philip Latak’s reply from within the hut was abrupt and gruff. Phil. their keenness. he pushed aside the flimsy bamboo door. we still have many things to do. You can buy everything. Sam Christie moved towards the ladder. “If you are. “Phil.. It was something elemental and distressing.” “You would have gotten it anyway. even gods. maybe.” Sam said. their meaning.” His face burning with bewilderment and shame. crinkling his brow and wondering if he had spoken a bit too harshly or too loudly to disturb the silence within. Now there was nothing to do but go up the Ifugao hut.” Sam insisted.” the voice within the grass hut had become a wail.” “That’s it!” the voice within the hut had become a shriek. “Let us be reasonable. And in this glow Sam Christie saw his friend – not the Philip Latak with a suede jacket. ” The sound of the gangsas beat through the walls of the dark house. If you really don’t hate me for this separation. because what he said was really not the right thing to say and because the woman did not talk or stir. He knew then that Philip Latak really had work to do and it would take some time before he could finish a new god to replace the old one. After some moments during which he seemed to wait. The sudden rush of the rich sounds when the door was opened was like a gush of fire in her. “You know it.” Philip Latak said softly. You know that. Sam. But neither of us can help it.” “I don’t want any man. he lifted himself with one bound that carried him across to the narrow door. savagely.” He felt relieved that at least she talked: “You know very well that I don’t want any other woman. you will be luckier than you were with me. With his fingers he stirred the covered smouldering embers. Clinging to the log. He crawled on all fours to the middle of the room. and around his waist was the black – and – red breech cloth with yellow tassels. “Why don’t you go out. She was partly sullen. “I’m sorry this had to be done. he will marry you. He seemed completely absorbed in his work and. The Wedding Dance (Amador T. he stepped down and let the door slide quietly back into place. don’t you? Lumnay. Lumnay. don’t you?” She did not answer him.” she said sharply. I know. and blew into them. “Yes. But Awiyao knew that she had heard him and his heart pitied her. The room brightened.broad flanks uncovered. he talked to the listening darkness. “I don’t want any other man. like muffled roars of falling waters. Philip Latak did not. go out and dance. you know it. don’t you?” he repeated.” He looked at the woman huddled in a corner of the room. The stove fire played with strange moving shadows and lights upon her face. he started scraping again the block of wood which he held tightly between his knees. the stolen idol which he was bringing home to America to take its place among his souvenirs of benighted and faraway places. then full round logs as big as his arms.” . he will like your dancing. “Leave me alone. She gave no sign that she heard Awiyao.” Sam Christie’s ever – observant eyes lingered on the face. stepped inside. “You should join the dancers. “Go out – go out and dance.” he said. with him. as if all grief had been squeezed from him. Daguio) Awiyao reached for the upper horizontal log which served as the edge of the head – high threshold. but continued to sit unmoving in the darkness. Who knows but that. The woman who had moved with a start when the sliding door opened had been hearing the gangsas for she did not know how long. Where he had seen it before? Was it Greece – or in Japan – or in Siam? The recognition came swiftly. leaning against the wall. with waterly legs and trembling hands. but her sullenness was not because of anger or hate. then pushed the cover back in place. even face Sam. he knew exactly where the stove was. I am really sorry. When the coals began to glow.” he said “as if – as if nothing has happened. Awiyao put pieces of pine wood on them. “I have to finish this and it will take time. From his neck dangled the bronze necklace of an Ifugao warrior. “and join the dancing women?” He felt a pang inside him. with the sharp blade in his hands. either. One of the men will see you dance well. He slid back the cover. ” “Yes.” he said. The spark rose through the crackles of the flames. But what could I do?” “Kabunyan does not see fit for us to have a child. “because I did not find you among the dancers.” “That has not done me any good. She looked at him lovingly.” she said.” she said. The smoke and soot went up to the ceiling.“It’s not my fault. “I built it for you. Make it your own. Seven harvests is just too long to wait. He stirred the fire. He held her face between his hands. Each time she did this. and looked longingly at her beauty. He looked at her. “You know that I have done my best. The next day she would not be his any more. in the pounding of the rice. Awiyao took a coconut cup and dipped it in the top jar and drank. “I’ll go to my own house. “You cannot blame me.” This time the woman stirred.” he said. because like you. She is not as strong in planting beans. if you don’t want to join my wedding ceremony. before it is too late for both of us.” he said. “You know I did it for you.” ‘Neither can you blame me. although I am marrying her. “I have prayed to Kabunyan much. You are one of the best wives in the whole village.” she said. My parents are old. Awiyao went to the corner where Lumnay sat. She would go back to her parents. paused before her. Of course.” “I will give you the field that I dug out of the mountains during the first year of our marriage.” He set some of the burning wood in the place. I have been a good husband to you. has it?” She said.” he said. I have sacrificed many chickens in my prayers. “This house is yours. You helped me to make it for the two of us. I have nothing to say against you. You have been a good wife. you have been very good to me. I know. She seemed about to cry.” he said. and she bent to the floor again and looked at her fingers as they tugged softly at the split bamboo floor. live in it as long as you wish. then turned away.” “I have no need for a house. Yes. I came to tell you that Madulimay.” “I have no use for any field. He let go of her face. and became silent. I will build another house for Madulimay. stretched her right leg out and bent her left leg in. the split bamboo went up and came down with a slight rattle. The gongs of the dancers clamorously called in her ears through the walls.” she said slowly. we have waited long. then turned to where the jars of water stood piled one over the other.” “You remember how angry you were once when you came home from your work in the terrace because I butchered one of our pigs without your permission? I did it to appease Kabunyan. I wanted to have a child. Lumnay looked down and unconsciously started to pull at the rattan that kept the split bamboo flooring in place. looked at her bronzed and sturdy face. We should have another chance. She almost seemed to smile. Lumnay had filled the jars from the mountain creek early that evening. She wound the blanket more snugly around herself. not as fast in cleaning jars. feeling relieved. “I came home. “You. They will need help in the planting of the beans. He put the coconut cup aside on the floor and came closer to her. I am not forcing you to come. can never become as good as you are. not as good in keeping a house clean. “It’s only that a man must have a child. They were silent for a long time. . Never again would he hold her face. She tugged at the rattan flooring. But her eyes looked away. ” he said. Then it was full of promise.” she cried. The gangsas are playing. She took the blanket that covered her.” he said. his arms and legs flowed down in fluent muscles – he was strong and for that she had lost him. You know that. He had a sense of lightness in his way of saying things. and sobbed. if I did this it is because of my need for a child. and Madulimay will not feel good. his wide and supple torso heaved as if a slab of shining lumber were heaving.” she said.” she said finally. it could climb the mountains fast. on the other side of the mountain. she clung now to his neck. the waters rolled and growled. the day he took her away from her parents across the roaring river. nobody will come after me. “I will pray that Kabunyan will bless you and Madulimay. The waters violently smashed down from somewhere on the tops of the other ranges and they had looked carefully at the buttresses of rocks they had to step on – a slip would have meant death. She looked at his face with the fire playing upon his features – hard and strong.” “I’ll go back to my father. and dance – for the last time. “Look at me. “I did everything to have a child. I’ll die. They have mocked me behind my back.” she cried. Awiyao. “It is not right for you to be here. then shook her head wildly. her hair flowed down in cascades of gleaming darkness.” “I would feel better if you could come. It could dance. They both drank of the water. “If you die it means you hate me. i am useless. But.” . gathering her in arms. She flung herself upon his knees and clung to them. my husband. You do not want me to have a child. resounded in thunderous echoes through the walls of the steep cliffs. it could work fast in the fields. “Awiyao. the steep canyon which they had to cross – the waters boiled in her mind in foams of white and jade and roaring silver. bronze and compact in their hold upon his skull – how frank his bright eyes were. Awiyao. The muscles where taut and firm.” he explained. “it means I’ll die. “If I do not try a second time.” “It will not be right to die.” she said.” She bit her lips now. “I don’t care about the fields. Kabunyan never blessed me. the high hopes they had in the beginning of their new life. I’ll never have another man. She thought of the seven harvests that had passed.” She was silent. Awiyao. You do not want my name to live on in our tribe.” “You know that I cannot. they were far away now but loud still and receding.” he said tenderly.” “Then you’ll always be fruitless. How proud she had been of his humour. They will wonder where you are. Her whole warm naked breast quivered against his own. Even now it is firm. Kabunyan is cruel to me. “I don’t care about the house. I don’t care for anything but you. Go back to the dance.“Go back to the dance. Nobody will get the fields I have carved out of the mountains. “Look at my body. and kind. I must die.” she said passionately in a hoarse whisper. Awiyao. then rested on the other bank before they made the final climb to the other side of the mountain.” “I know it. full. and her hand lay upon his right shoulder. You know that life is not worth living without a child. She looked at this body that carved out of the mountain five fields for her. “Lumnay.” “Lumnay. the trip up the trail which they had to climb.” “Then you hate me. which often made her and the village people laugh. in the work in the field.“If you fail – if you fail this second time –“ she said thoughtfully. Both of us will vanish from the life of our tribe. her grip loosened. “I’ll come back after to you.” The gangsas thundered through the walls of their house. He went to her. Lumnay. “Awiyao. It pained him to leave. She suddenly clung to him. “I do this for the sake of the tribe. The moonlight struck her face.” “If I fail.” “I’ll keep them because they stand for the love you have for me. “I love you. “Awiyao!” He stopped as if suddenly hit by a spear. I love you and have nothing to give.” she half – whispered. He went to the door. “Awiyao. Then her voice was a shudder. . from the slant – eyed people across the sea. “You will keep the beads. and her eyes seemed to smile in the light. it is hard!” She gasped.” She took herself away from him. anyway.” she said. The call for him from the outside repeated. the moonlight spilled itself upon the whole village. Lumnay sat for some time in the darkness. My grandmother said they came from way up North. They came from far – off times. let me keep my beads. for a voice was calling out to him from outside. clung to his neck. What was it in life. and he hurried out into the night. In pain he turned to her.” she said. She had been wonderful to him. Her face was agony. that a man. Then she went to the door and opened it. must have a child to come after him? And if he was fruitless – but he loved Lumnay. “Awiyao! Awiyao. You had better go.” “The elders will scold you.” he said. “I’ll keep my beads. lifted her head. to be a man. “Awiyao! Awiyao! O Awiyao! They are looking for you at the dance!” “I am not in a hurry. They are worth twenty fields. “No – no. “I know. You keep them.” “It is all right with me.” he said. The white and jade and deep orange obsidians shone in the firelight. “The beads!” He turned back and walked to the farthest corner of their room. in the silence of night. and tied them in place. and she closed her eyes and buried her face in his neck. I don’t want you to fail. It was like taking away half of his life to leave her like this. in the planting and harvest. to the trunk where they kept their worldly possessions – his battle – axe and his spear points.” she said. put the beads on.” He clasped her hands. sonorous and far away.” she said. as if she would never let him go. in the communing of husband and speech of a child? Suppose he changed his mind? Why did the unwritten law demand. Then both of us will die together. He dug out from the darkness the beads which had been given to him by his grandmother to give to Lumnay on the day of his marriage. her betelnut box and her beads.” “Not until you tell me that it is all right with you. alone among all women. When Lumnay reached the clearing. There was a flaming glow over the whole pace. Lumnay looked for a big rock on which to sit down. She felt the pull of their clamour. She suddenly found courage. nobody could take him away from her. a great bonfire was burning. strange heat in her blood welled up. Her heart warmed to the flaming call of the dance. following their men. She would go to the chief of the village. and she was in the moonlight shadows among the trees and shrubs. And yet was she not the best dancer of the village? Did she not have the most lightness and grace? Could she not. Awiyao was hers. She was near at last. beautifully timed to the beat of the gangsas? Did not the men praise her supple body. away from the village. soft in the texture. The sound did not mock her. The blaze reached out to her like a spreading radiance. that the whole tribe was at the dance. were dancing now in honour of another whose only claim was that perhaps she could give her husband a child. Her heartbeat began to sound to her like many gangsas. The wind began to sough and stir the leaves of the bean plants. Did anybody see her approach? She stopped. She had met him one day as she was on her way to fill her clay jars with water. The mountain clearing was cold in the freezing moonlight. She knew that all the houses were empty. Was not their love as strong as the river? She made for the other side of the village where the dancing was. But the flaming brightness of the bonfire commanded her to stop. He had stopped at the spring to drink and rest. to denounce the unwritten rule that a man may take another woman. still rich in their sorousness. all the women who counted. dance like a bird tripping for grains on the ground. silken almost. Lumnay walked away from the dancing ground. She could see the dancers clearly now. The gangsas clamoured more loudly now. and she had made him drink the cool mountain water from her coconut shell. After that it did not take long for him to decide to throw is spear on the stairs of her father’s house in token of his desire to marry her. Nobody held her hands. The men leaped lithely with their gangsas as they circled the dancing women decked in feast garments and beads. Only she was absent.” she said. What if somebody had seen her coming? The flames of the bonfire leaped in countless sparks. . they seemed to call far to her. to tell them it was not right. She thought of the new clearing of beans which Awiyao and she had started only to make four moons before. She would tell Awiyao to come back to her. When she came to the mountain stream she crossed it carefully. who once danced in her honour. and she was lost among them. Lumnay thought of Awiyao as the Awiyao had known long ago – a strong. She would go to the dance. It is not right!” she cried. silver to look at. which spread and rose like yellow points and died out in the night. she could see from where she stood the blazing bonfire at the edge of the village. Let her be the first woman to complain. She could hear the far – off clamour of the gongs. muscular boy carrying his heavy loads of fuel logs down the mountains to his home. to the elders. “It is not right. She could break the dancing of the men and women. The trail went up again. a few more months. but moist where the dew got into them.She could hear the throbbing of the gangsas coming to her through the caverns of the other houses. echoing from mountain to mountain. almost the feeling that they were telling her their gratitude for her sacrifice. She did not have the courage to break into the wedding feast. speak to her in the language of unspeaking love. and she started to run. tripping on the ground like graceful birds. Slowly she climbed the mountain. and the stream water was very cold. “How does she know? How can anybody know? It is not right. A few more weeks. The bean plants now surrounded her. and the women envy the way she stretched her hands like the wings of the mountain eagle now and then as she danced? How long ago did she dance at her own wedding? Tonight. He surely would relent. a few more harvests – what did it matter? She would be holding the bean flowers. She followed the trail above the village. and it seemed they were calling to her. where the wedding was. The climax was reached with Awiyao running. finding it hard to let go of one another. But if he was the one with fertility problems. in Lumnay's second marriage. what of the culture now? .silver on the light blue. Rising Action: When they realized that they cannot have any child Climax: When they society norms dictates their future that her must marry another girl to have a child Falling Action: The Wedding Day: She's alone in the house contemplating Ending: When she's in the field touching the grains. And although the first wife may remarry. f the past. their culture permits man to leave his wife and take another woman hoping the second wife would bear him children but no such provision for women exists. Awiyao slipped away from the celebration to convince Lumnay to join the dancing women. would Lumnay's love be enough to take him back?On the second point . The stretching of the bean pods full length from the hearts of the wilting petals would go on. no matter how he loved his wife. when the morning comes. And what if. in the story presented a clash against a basic human emotion and culture and thus established two important points: that culture transcends love and the bitter truth about the inequality of the sexes. she would bear children. while gangsas beat and women dance to celebrate the union. Book Review They have been married for seven harvest periods yet Awiyao and Lumnay weren't able to produce children and Awiyao badly need one to affirm his virility and to establish his place among his tribesmen so he decided to leave Lumnay and marry Madulimay. Initial Incident: When she remembers how her husband courted her in the past. Lumnay’s fingers moved a long. long time among the growing bean pods.The story is set in one of the mountainous provinces in the northern Philippines on the eve of Awiyao's wedding to Madulimay. But suddenly she stopped and turned back. Instead. blooming whiteness. their conv ersation turned to a passionate goodbye. He did not establish though that Lumnay was sterile. blood surging. Awiyao could have been the one with fertility problems. it would only be after her husband left her. resolved to stop the dance and complain against the tribe's culture that permits a man to marry another woman if the first wife couldn't bear him children.Daguio. defeated. who knows? Awiyao's pride forced him to leave Lumnay. their speeches filled with recollection of precious memories. each expressing love for the other.