When the Elephants Dance (15 page)

“What do you need to fish for? We have plenty of fish at our store.”

“Oh, I wasn’t thinking of myself. I thought maybe we could go have a look. Maybe send our fishermen there. We could go if you like, test the spot. We could sell whatever we trapped at our stores.”

My father laughed. “We could not catch enough to make a difference. That is what we have workers for. Really, Roman, sometimes the ideas you have. Very uneconomical. If you want fish, just tell your mother. She will have the workers bring some home on their next run.” We owned a market, and Father was not interested in anything that would cost instead of earn us money.

My father shook his head and went back to his paper. My mother had gotten up and was rearranging her hair in front of an oval mirror. My brother was bent over his book, and I marveled at how his spoon made it to his mouth each time without spilling onto his clothes. Yet I felt someone watching me and looked up to meet my grandfather’s eyes.

“I was at the market today, Roman. I spoke with Mang Saro. He told me you were asking about a fisherman.”

My grandfather was a keen observer of me, and I became so nervous that I bit into my spoon and yelled.

My mother rushed to my side and laughed. “I thought you had swallowed a bone.” She took her hand and squeezed my cheeks.

“No, just the spoon,” I explained, pushing her away in irritation.

She laughed and mussed my hair. “All right, a grown-up now, are you? No crying to Mommy?”

I snuck a glance at Grandfather; I could feel his eyes boring into me. “I wanted to know more about the fishing hole I mentioned to Father. I thought it might be a good place. Someone mentioned a fisherman who goes there often.”

“A fisherman, you say? I knew a fisherman once, by the name of Mang Minno.” My grandfather took a drink of his sangria; the slice of orange soaked red from the wine floated in the crystal goblet like a raft in a red ocean. He watched me closely as he said this. “He was a good friend of mine. In fact, you could say we were the very best of friends.”

My head snapped up at this new development. My mind raced like a water snake. I knew my grandfather guessed every question before they even formed in my head.

“When did you know him?” I asked, ladling more lugao into my bowl and pretending to concentrate on the amount of patis to add. My palms and the undersides of my arms had broken out in perspiration.

“When did you hear of him?” he countered.

“When I spoke to the other vendors at the market.”

“And what exactly did you hear? Tell me all of it.”

“Nothing,
Lolo
, just that he is a good fisherman.” I did not fear anyone, but if anyone could make me uncomfortable, it was my grandfather. I shifted in my seat and considered dropping my mother’s precious plate collection to distract him. I weighed the time that would be wasted to discipline me and thought better of it.

Grandfather’s eyes softened, but his voice remained gruff. “Leave it to me to teach you. Who do you think taught your father how to fish? Do not bother Mang Minno again, he has no patience for outsiders.”

“Yes,
Lolo
.” I nodded in disappointment. I promised Grandfather I would not search for Mang Minno, and at the time I felt it in my heart to be true, but that is the way it is for liars.

T
HE NEXT AFTERNOON
, I willed the clock in the suffocating heat of our classroom to reach one. Our teacher lectured on José Rizal, our national hero, and his battle in 1896 with the Spanish ruling class. What good did it do him to fight? I wondered if I could be so brave. To fight for something when it meant
sacrificing my own life. He was killed in the end. I imagined myself as him, the bullets hailing down upon my body. My family on their knees, sobbing and regretting my death.

A
S SOON AS
we were let out, I started walking to the forest. I hadn’t forgotten my promise to my grandfather, but neither could I forget my promise to Mang Minno. Nothing could sway me. Not Pepe Rosales’s invitation for a swim at his pool, not Paulo Cruz’s bag of makapuno, though the thought of the small white balls of powdered fruit rolled in sugar made my stomach speak. I walked with a vengeance. When I got to the edge of the forest, where the blanket of branches blocked out the sun, my feet remembered the previous day, and they slowed their pace. I hesitated just outside of the darkness. I could feel my heart in my throat. I turned to look over my shoulder at my classmates, who were walking in an unorganized body. A part of me longed to go with them.

As I stood there contemplating, a cloud drifted over, blocking the sun and shading me. I remembered Mang Minno’s words when I asked him how I would find him.
Begin at the edge of the forest where the rays of the sun do not touch the ground
. I looked up at the dark cloud in a panic, then back down to my feet, covered in darkness. Before I knew it, I was standing in the perimeter of the forest, where the sun did not tread. I saw my classmates off in the distance, fading from sight, then the entire area became enclosed by trees. All became eerily silent as the previous day. It was as if the entire forest were listening. I became so afraid that I called out, “Mang Minno.”

There was a great sound of gushing water all around me. I felt as if a tidal wave were towering just behind, ready to swallow me.

“Sino ang tumatawag sa akin?”
Who is calling me? He asked this even as I stood there before him, easily recognizable. His bare feet were set solidly apart, with the water lapping at his strong calves and rising slowly. His eyes, dark and opaque, squinted menacingly.

“Ako lang, Mang Minno. Si Roman Flores,”
I called out. It is just me, Mang Minno. Roman Flores.

“Roman, so you have returned.” His eyes blinked slowly shut, then open. It seemed a trick of the dark, but the lids of his eyes seemed to converge together the way a lizard’s do. He turned quickly as if he floated on the water. “Come, I will show you how I call the fish.”

“Call?” I stuttered, splashing and hurrying to catch up with him. He glided forward effortlessly. Feeling the need to speak, lest I lose myself to shaking, I looked sideways at him. “Are you as they say?”

“And what do they say?” His voice had the texture of the liquid mercury we had studied in chemistry class. It was elusive yet stationary, hovering just over my head, but I could not grasp it.

“Are you truly the Jonah in the Bible, who was caught inside the whale? The man God sent to preach to the city of Nineveh?”

He jerked his body sideways and looked at me then, an expression of great horror on his face. The fishes in the water grew thick in number and swam violently. Mang Minno shouted a laugh like a rushing waterfall. “No, I am not Jonah. But I know of him. I am not allowed to walk his waters.”

The bitterness of his voice touched me like the fingers of the dead. I shivered. He took me through the waters to a part of the forest I had not known existed. I lost my footing, and for a moment I was submerged. I opened my mouth at the sight. All around were big fishes, giant even to a boy my size. Fishes the size of the caribous, the large water buffalos that pulled Father’s carts in the fields. Small fishes as small as the little bothersome lice I detested. I gulped the water, clenching my eyes shut, expecting the flavor of mud and seaweed. But it tasted sweet, like the rice wine Father favored.

We walked up a steep rock that emerged from the water to a jagged point. I marveled at how quickly my clothes dried from the absence of wind. We stood at the precipice of the cliff, and Mang Minno slowly placed his hand on a thin rope tied around his neck, which he pulled up from beneath his shirt. I strained and pretended to look forward, but all the while my eyes were glued to the corners, watching his every move. Finally a bulk appeared at the neck of his shirt. I braced myself, waiting for the blazing amulet that it was rumored he carried. You cannot imagine my face. I blinked several times to clear my vision when I finally saw what it was he had tied to the end of that necklace.

It was a fishbone, as big as my hand. It was caked in dirt and something resembling phlegm. The bone itself was thick and smooth, the texture of ivory. The backbone had six pieces radiating from the center, three on each side. The end of it appeared to have been broken off from a longer piece. He took the bone and placed it whole into his mouth. I shuddered at the sight. He pressed his lips together and puffed his cheeks out, in much the same way a person whistles. A deep haunting sound with no bottom came forth. It pierced my ears and shattered the air into movement. Immediately great gusts of wind began to blow. His eyes moved from side to side, though he looked straight ahead. He took a breath and blew one more time. This time the sound reminded me of a trumpet. He pointed out to the ocean. “There, look, Roman.”

In the water were thousands of ink shadows taking form beneath the surface. I blinked and they became fishes. There were the great
lapulapo
fish, the
orange-and-white
dalagang bukid
, the ghost white
sapsáp
, and thousands of tiny silver-and-gold
dilis
, to name just a few. My legs wobbled at the absurdity of it all. I was scared. I hadn’t felt fear until that moment, for it was then I realized he had in his possession a great power.

The fish had voices. They sang and called out in a million different tunes. They faced us, rows of them, listening, waiting for his instructions. The tribunal hovered around Mang Minno like guardians, their purple fins glinting in the sun.

Mang Minno laughed at me. “Well, what are you standing there for? Do you expect them to jump into your basket? They will, you know, if I tell them to.”

I had forgotten the basket I carried in my hand. Our cook, Octavia, had given it to me that morning. I opened the basket and looked inside stupidly. Mang Minno shook his head and pointed a leathered finger downward.

“Open the basket, and throw it into the water.”

I did as he told me to; my hands were shaking terribly. The basket sank into the clear water, and to my excitement and horror, the fishes moved into the bag, forming a polite line as if getting onto a bus. Mang Minno laughed at my expression of shock. He clapped my back and I nearly fell forward into the ocean of fish.

“Go home, Roman. Go home and tell your family they will soon be rich.”

I was not sure if I even bade him good night. By the time I thought of it, I was walking in the sunlight with two bags full of undulating fish.

O
CTAVIA GREETED ME
at the door, her apron smeared purple from preparing the salty bagoóng spread and chopped tomatoes. My brother, Roger, loved to heap the mixture over his rice. Octavia’s face registered shock. She looked at me, then down to my basket, then back at my face. No one in our household had ever seen me lift a finger in work. It was not necessary. Father would grow angry if he saw my brother or me even attempting to help a servant. “That is not what we pay them for; we have other servants to do that,” he would say.

That was why when Octavia beheld my clothes reeking of fish, and my hair plastered against my face with sweat, she almost screamed.

“Who has told you to do this?” She looked around at the empty room accusingly. “Your father will have our heads. We will be out on the streets come evening. Who has allowed this? Oh, my goodness. I have five children to feed.” She wrung her hands, her voice rising shrilly.

“No one told me to do anything,” I barked at her hysterics. Then, more
gently, I said, “Give these to Rolando and Ariel to bring to our store.” They were our houseboys and did a number of odd chores. They were also my age. My father detested the idea of my socializing with them, so I did, at every opportunity. She shouted for the two of them, and within seconds you could hear the muffled padding of bare feet on our hardwood floors. My mother did not allow them to wear shoes inside our house. She was afraid they would scar the floors.

Rolando appeared first and grinned from the hallway. He nodded at me and I grinned back. Next came loud thumping sounds that would have made my mother faint if she had witnessed their origin. Ariel stomped into the kitchen, each foot tied to half a coconut shell, so that he was at least five inches taller. He had them strapped on in much the same way one walks on circus stilts or the American roller skates. The hollow half of each shell faced the ground. The fibers were perfect for glossing the hardwood floors. Rolando and I burst into laughter at the sight of Ariel. This was not an uncommon way to wax the boards, yet you had to know Ariel to appreciate the sight. He was the biggest clown and always in trouble within our household.

“Hoy”
—Ariel nodded—
“maraming isdâ. Ang galíng mo namán
.” Hey, look at all that fish. You’re good. He smiled appreciatively. His two front teeth were missing from our rock-climbing incident several weeks back, giving his words a lisping quality.

“The two of you, stop standing there and take these to the market,” Octavia said with a frown, but I could tell she was hard-pressed not to laugh at Ariel’s outlandish appearance.

“Okay, okay.” Ariel wiped his hands and dropped to untie his coconuts. He looked up at me and nodded once with a jerk of his head.
“Sama ka?”
he asked. Come along? Only two words, but they promised a great deal of mischief and wrong routes before we got to the market.

“Okay,” I answered, but just at that moment the front door opened and we could hear my parents enter the house along with my brother. Ariel and Rolando did not even stop to look at me, they walked straight out the back door to wait for Octavia to split the fish into four baskets.

My parents walked into the kitchen, and Octavia brandished the fish in her hand to distract them from my appearance. I watched their expressions. My mother was surprised. “Such healthy specimens. Where did you find these? It is as if someone has hand-fed them every day. Look at how their scales shine.” She held up a squirming blue fish with bright gold stripes. “We shall bring some to Aling Lumina’s party tonight.” My mother laughed.

My father was so impressed. “Was this the fishing hole you spoke of? This catch is exceptional. You must show me where you caught these.” He was so
thrilled, he stopped my brother as he walked by. “Look, Roger,
talo ka palá ni Roman. Tingnán mo ang na huli niya’
.” Your brother bested you. Look at what he has caught.