Bical - A Filipino-American Family Saga

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Book excerpt

Chapter One

            The teenager squeezed the sponge slowly, letting the warm water spill down his arm over his chest as he relaxed in the bathtub that morning. He was loving every minute of it, allowing this day to become indelibly impressed in his mind. He gave himself plenty of time to dress for his interview, a grand occasion that would change his life. He was certain that it would change the lives of his family as well. It was a lifetime opportunity that he had no intention of squandering.

            His father, Captain Adonis Dizon, had lived in the barangay (*district) of San Pedro for the past twenty years. He had been stationed there as an officer in the Spanish Army and enjoyed a life of comparative luxury in contrast to his family’s Spartan existence in their native Barcelona. Only the military defeat in the Spanish-American War left Adonis with a choice he had second-guessed over the last couple of decades. He chose to remain in Iriga City rather than return to Spain, and his fall from grace as a displaced person left him bitter and frustrated.

His wife Cytherea raised his five sons as best she could as Adonis worked as a carpenter to make ends meet. He was known throughout the village for his artistry, but it quenched his spirit to be working for men instead of commanding them. He ruled his sons with an iron hand, but it was hard to prevent his soft-hearted wife from indulging her boys when he was out of the house. As a result, they inherited the high spirits that their Dad once displayed, and Teodulfo was the most high-spirited of them all.

The most grievous blow came a year ago when cholera swept through the village, killing the youngest of the Dizon boys. Grigorio, age two, and Ariston, age one, fell victim to the disease. It was news of his brothers’ deaths that gave Teodulfo the will and resolve to remain among the living. He heard his mother crying to the visiting physician that she did not want to bury another son in the family plot. Teodulfo began calling from his room, insisting he was not going anywhere.

“You know I don’t like being around dead people,” he said flatly.                                                 

It was the rallying cry that galvanized the household, a story his mother told time and again in the years ahead. Her older boys, Eugenio and Anselmo, had been working in the sugar cane fields and bringing home more than their father on good days. They began skipping school as a result, and the thought of it all made Adonis sick. It made him more angry and taciturn than ever, and Teodulfo would strenuously avoid mentioning his plans for this day as he sat at the breakfast table.

“Well, look who’s up bright and early on a Saturday,” Eugenio smirked as his mother set an extra plate at the table. “I suppose the kitchen maids’ll be making room on the floor for another pair of hands.”

“These hands aren’t made for scrubbing, much less chopping sugar cane,” Teodulfo blew on his nails and buffed them on his lapel.

“If you ever did a hard day’s work you’d be in bed for a week,” Anselmo grunted.

“Call it what you will, but I call it a smarter way of making money,” Teodulfo shrugged.

“Outsmarting is most of what you do, leading those two friends of yours around by the nose,” Eugenio shot back. “I can imagine what goes on at that military compound on weekends. They do all the work and you collect all the money.”                                                                       

“I know what goes on up there,” Anselmo bit into a piece of buttered toast. “This fellow cheats all of the rest of the galley slaves for their hard-earned wages. You have no idea how many hidings I’ve gotten him out of. Not for his sake, but for our dear mother’s.”                                            

“I’m thinking about Mom all the time,” Teodulfo scooped his egg in between his pieces of toast. “I want Mom to know her youngest son’s not going to be breaking his back for the rest of his life. She’s going to see that I’m never going to end up on that hill with my little brothers.” 

“What did you say?”                                                                                                              

The response came as a chorus, and he knew he had put his foot in it again. They were very old-fashioned, and he realized how much so every time he came back from the military sector. It was almost as if they were living in another world here in the neighborhood. It was a bleak, humorless existence in which one worked from dusk to dawn with the sole purpose of putting food on the table and getting through another day. Dreams were for those who slept, and those who slept peacefully were those who were buried in the village graveyard. He had come very close to ending up there, and he would fight to his last breath before he came that close again.

“I didn’t mean any disrespect. I just meant I want to see the world, like Dad. I’d like to visit Barcelona one day, you know, get to know my relatives.”

“Will you listen to this little clown!” Anselmo scoffed, reaching over to tousle his hair.

“Hey, watch the hair,” Teodulfo pulled away from him.

“Watch the hair?” Anselmo exclaimed. “After you used half of Mom’s cooking grease to build it up like that? Don’t get fresh with me, or I’ll stick your head in the toilet and wash it all out for you.”

“This is pomade, paddy boy,” Teodulfo jeered. “Or can’t you smell anything but fertilizer anymore?” 

“That’s enough,” Adonis ordered. “You show respect for your older brother. And you quit picking on your little brother.”

“Now, come on, Opong, you finish that at the table. You aren’t going out and eat in the streets like a moro,” Cytherea insisted. Teodulfo responded by wadding up his taco and cramming the whole thing into his mouth, forcing it down like a python.

“Truly you insult the moros, Mother,” Eugenio shook his head.

“And to think you would bring such manners to my father’s table,” Adonis grunted.                     

“No, sir, I would arrive at my grandfather’s house as a prince among royalty,” Teodulfo said proudly.

“This boy’s words hurt my ears at this time of the morning,” Anselmo winced as he covered them.

“A prince is a man of respect,” his father, who favored none with his gaze at his table, fleetingly glanced at Teodulfo. “Broken pride leads to humility, and humility breeds respect. You have not learned the most basic lesson yet.”                                                                                                      

“Perhaps if you took him to the woodshed once in a while he would learn some humility,” Eugenio folded his arms as he leaned on the table, gazing at Teodulfo. “I’d be glad to take him out there for you if you’re ever too busy, Father.”                                                                                   

“Hah! You and what army?”

“That’s enough, Opong!” his mother again called him by his pet name, which rankled his brothers no end. Opong was in the archipelagos, and she thought of him as their remote little island. “If you’re in such a hurry to join your friends, then just go!” They clucked their tongues and shook their heads as she walked him to the front porch.                                                                              

“What was my father’s father like, Mama?”

“He was a hard man, just like your father,” she gazed out at the dusty streets and the thatched roofs of the cottages lining the road. “I barely knew him. Your father was deployed here shortly after we were married. We had no idea we would spend the rest of our lives here. At first it was like a dream. We were given a villa to live in, and our leaders were confident we would crush the American forces. Our government was overrun by traitors and cowards, and before we knew it, the war was over. We decided to stay here and retire, but we never expected them to move us out of our villa. We never thought we’d end up here.”

“I’m sorry, mama.”

“For what?” she put her hand on her son’s shoulder. “God works in mysterious ways. We started our family here, and one day you will leave here and start a new chapter in our family’s history. I have had dreams of you leaving, and they have been more regular lately. You listen to your heart, Opong. If you are to leave the Philippines, then leave with confidence and never look back.”

“I’d never leave without saying goodbye, Mama.”                                                                           

“Do as you will, my son,” she kissed his cheek before going back inside. “Do as you must.”

Teodulfo walked briskly up the street where he planned to meet his friends for the hike across town to the military sector. Iriga City had a proud military history and was where his father was stationed before it fell to the 45th Infantry alongside Tagalog rebels in 1900, ending 300 years of Spanish rule. He thought it ironic that he was experiencing his greatest personal victories in the city where his father had suffered his greatest defeats in life.

“Hey, slowpoke. We thought you were going to catch the streetcar.”                                               

Teodulfo’s closest friends, Isidro and Hercules, were waiting for him up the corner from his home. Isidro was a slender, studious young man, while Hercules was a powerfully-built street-wise kid. They were all the same age, fifteen-year-olds attending high school together. Teodulfo was acknowledged as the ringleader, though he often got second opinions from Isidro. Whenever Teodulfo’s schemes got them in over their heads, Hercules was usually able to bail them out on the street.

“Not a chance. A penny saved is a penny earned.”                                                                

“Don’t forget we have to find out what the deal is with the Whitehouses,” Isidro reminded him. “If anything goes wrong, we are out of business.”                                                                      

“You’ll never be out of business,” Teodulfo scoffed. “There’ll always be something for you to worry about.”                                                                                                                                    

“You need to start finding yourself some more money games and less sneak thieves,” Hercules offered Teodulfo a sip of his flask of wine as Teodulfo held up a hand. “I can’t keep fencing all that junk you’re turning over. The cops’re gonna think I’m swiping it.”                                             

“There’s a big money game coming up,” Teodulfo assured him, producing a deck of cards from his pocket. They all wore guayabera shirts, dark trousers and polished shoes, dressed in the height of fashion. Teodulfo kept them entertained with card tricks, continually fascinating him with his sleight of hand. They could never figure them out and he never revealed his secrets.                    

Teodulfo was known as one of the best card players in San Pedro as well as one of the best card magicians. Only he never crossed the two pastimes and never would. He believed in his ability as a poker player and would rarely if ever bluff his opponents, much less cheat in a game. The temptation was never there because it was anathema to his personal code. He hated liars, cheats and thieves and would never be mistaken for one.                                                                                   

They set out on their way after Teodulfo did a couple of tricks before Hercules finished the dregs of his flask. They began the three-mile hike across town to the military sector, which normally took them less than a half hour when they made good time. It was important for them to set out with time to spare, as much to avoid the hot sun as to arrive at the same time as the other workers. They wanted to avoid getting sweated up in order to stand out from the rank and file reporting for duty.                                                                                                                                 

Teodulfo had worked for the Whitehouse family for six months shortly after the three friends took the trip across town to the military sector last year looking for employment. There was a never-ending stream of Filipinos arriving at Iriga City each week, and the three friends only wondered why they had not taken the trip across town to apply sooner. The monkeyheads could barely read or write, and arrived at the sector dressed in used clothing. Teodulfo and Isidro stood front and center in comparison, and once they were in Hercules was as good as in as well.             

Once again Teodulfo was in a daze as they made their way along the dusty streets. Isidro and Hercules engaged in banter, talking about their upcoming fishing trip, or hanging out at the beach, or gossiping about the neighbors or the other kids at school. They were also fantasizing about visiting Manila and picking up some of the latest clothing fashions from Hong Kong. Teodulfo half-listened, his mind wandering as he surveyed the bleak landscape.                     

Teodulfo stared into a vacant, weed-strewn lot where four little kids were roasting what looked like a dead baby on a spit. He looked harder and saw it was a monkey. He looked up the street and saw a dead horse lying at the curb, bloated to almost twice its size in the jungle heat. A wagon full of half-rotten fruit came flying around the corner, its back wheel ripping the carcass open. A cloud of horseflies rose from the carcass and engulfed the rotten fruit, descending as a swarm of locusts. They crossed the street and Teodulfo saw four giant rats feasting greedily on a dead cat. As they crossed a small bridge that led them to the main thoroughfare to the military sector, Teodulfo saw a man on crutches hobbling in the opposite direction. He wore a hat and sportcoat, only he was naked from the waist down with bloody diarrhea running down both legs.             

“Come on, quit daydreaming,” Hercules insisted. “We’re going to be running late, and you know that fool at the security gate will give us a hard time if we come in behind the crowd.”            

The threesome double-timed it to the picket fence between the two storage depots leading to the residential sector where the American military community in Iriga City resided. They were close to the downtown market square as well as nearby river ports that made it a prime area for travel and commerce. The rifleman at the gate watched moodily as the Filipinos made their way into the complex, breaking into a smile when he spotted Teodulfo.