Datos y análisis

"OYE, TIlEPASYSTEMis not working, puiieta, I told those peasants to double check the danin thing but what do I get?Just a lot of static. Puneta, if this government's going to fall it will fall by the sheer weight of its employees' stupidity,Hay, gaga,don't place that mike there, you want the First Lady to sing behind that acacia? Puneta, does anybody have a brain around here?

Hoy, Hidalgo, give the envelopes to that foreman there, the one who looks smart enough to count money, I can't believe we're paying these imbeciles real money to do nothing, Nada, puiieta."

Max Plata was bmy overseeing the final touches to the platform in front of Quezon City Hall. Trucks and buses we had earlier dispatched to HoGOs,Isabela and Cagayar. werenow arriving and converging around Quezon Memorial Circle, disgorging families dazed from the twelve-hour trip. Ma-trons from the Ministry of Education distributed sandwiches and coke.

• "Makes you feel like a typhoon relief team,di ba?"Jun remarked as we handed out wads of money to government employees who came by the busload. "Fiesta time, folks. Gather round."

Jun deposited the dole-outs to an already overwhelmed researcher and pulled me back to his car. Max Plata left later to check out the camera at Channel Four, which meant we could skip the rally after all. Atleast that was whatJun had been suggesting all morning, Somehow he never seemed to be interested in these elections, and I of course knew why:"Mora mora tang ito, Al Boy," he told me, "We're going to win it, hands down. No contest, as Muhammad A1isaid way back in pre-A1iMall Cubao."

Wewaited for the President to arrive before making a fastbreak to the nearest bar, preferably the Hobbit House, SJ1~.~.~_~~~re,?.l couple of _ weeks ago to b~§JQ~making~rcomeba€kirl_{~- ..•} the Ermita folKfiousecircuit,••.•~,•• <" ••••., .•• ,~.,'~,

and there was muchJRg~ulation about where he'd hold his gig. Reports said .~

-

^{- .~}

that Teodoro Valencia had finally allowed him a chance to make amends:

'Sa!

wo"llliijOm me PreSident in camp"dgn sarlies arollna [he archipelag()~-Esmera~a PURinand Ahma9 §!ylista, thefunz..~nd Q4£~!l<illltlQ~l.Wla~.,.' ,I

wou1dbether~ tQ.Qpenthe,show,

SQY.JQ.yJd §2fl~U}.'!.rri^~),Sl!A!~£!~.(~U~l~lli.i!lUlo....~., ) who would

~!~aJllUi"lY.o~:.»,jQ,Et~y,

There W,L~much discus·

</,,1:.), sion :loOUfWliOShouldcome next~Myra Hernandez, the film and television.

-superstar" ~r Sal,X. ~~ra Hernandez won by default: a day b~XQ£~theraI!y~~~

Q"uezon Me~W •..S&X wasnowhereto be found. Pat Chiu called ea~ry·il1aT~ornin&~i

tbJ>.r2r~~i~~~~: ~~

^t'M~lX·PElta

yeITediIiunfi'c'TiTWiie:'-"Get Tha:tF~ckingDo eheadto the

RaTi

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£_m'"""'4'I1tPresiai~ITr~ed''Y~~ .•~~~··;JoM~~ H~;~ndez hit the Iast note. Borne aloft a hand-carved chair from 1I0cos,hISfigure tottered above the crowd where supporters were waving tricolor paper nags and nashing the victory sign. The First Lady followed close behind, surrounded by a cordon of bodyguards. It was difficult to hide the fact that the President was not exactly in top shape: earlier that morning palace doctors had advised against going to the rally, but the President was adamant. He wobbled over the crowd with syringes hidden under his sleeve, and as soon as he reached the platform, a streamer was unfurled before him, declaring in bold red letters:

The triple exclamation marks were Max's addenda, indicative per-haps of his growing hysteria. Max himself told us the afternoon before the rally that the President may not be strong enough for today's campaign; in which case the First Lady was to go on with It, and we were to edit a speech written by Esther Plata, his sister, for her, There were platitudes of love and beauty and peace and prosperity which Jun deleted and Max put back.

Aswe drove away from Quezon Memorial to Hobbit House, we could hear the First Lady recite the speech we had polished for her.Jun repeated the lines and wagged his head in time. When we turned towards Manila down Quezon Avenue he said, "You heard the news this morning?"

"What news?"

"Everybody gets a raise after the elections. Well, not everybody,But

"My heart runneth over," I said,

"I knew you'd be overwhelmed." Wedrove on in silence, because at this point our facetiousness had taken on some degree of acrimony. It was obvious that as soon as we finished the book we would have to follow ourown fork in the road. The week before, we found out that Jun was going on a public relations consultancy for an agency owned, ironically enough, by Plata.

"Ithought you hated his guts," I told him when he read the memo to me.

"Jungle warriors used to say the only way to strike your enemy is to stalk him. Besides,pay's not bad. I've asked Susan if she wants to quit her job at the Historical Institute and join me. That job of hers will turn anyone into an old maid." He paused a while and said, "You can join us if you want to."

"Thanks,Jun," Isincerely replied.

"You know we're supposed to put the book out in time for his inau-guration, don't you?"

"The printer says they're working twenty-five hours a day," Itold him, "I'm leaving as soon as the book comes out. I'm joining TV."

"News?"

"Idon't know yet. Most likely."

"Good," he said.

• We drove down Espana through Quiapo. The church looked like a giant heirloom, around which the faithful, the soothsayers and herbalists swarmed. What a stupefying, persistent city this was, I found myself thinking.

So overwhelmingly populous, so deeply dangerous, teeming with hundreds whose greatest skill was to survive. I realized how it was impossible to imag-ine a God, for the simple reason that no one could possibly be strong enough to know and bear the intricacies of all these lives. Quiapo would stun the hardiest of deities. Driving up the soot-smudged lanes of Quiapo Bridge, over the amok-riddled alleys of the Moslem market, past the basalt-colored waters of the Pasig and down to the gaudy trinket that was the Metropolitan Theater, I wondered if it was possible for anyone to be possessed of mercy and compas-sion of such magnitude. Manila is a city for doubters.

Wepassed Rizal Park where supporters of CoryAquino were setting up a stage of their own. There were yellow buntings, silk-screened portraits of

Aquino, and ice-drop and bananacue vendors already pushing their carL~to strategic positions.

"They look like they're expecting a big crowd," [said,

"Crowds will come all right," Jun said, "But iI's not going to gel them anywhere," We looked at the construction (L~we waited for the light to turn green, Someone was testing thePAsystem, and his voice sputtered across the park like a coughing train, An old man was throwing pieces of bread at the pigeons which pecked at them and strutted about with the bjL~stuck to their beaks, The old m.an looked up, Just as the light turned green he saw us staring at him. Then he did a strange thing: he waved his hands about him and scared the birds away, Aswe sped down the boulevard the pigeons flew past the windshield like a brief and sudden storm,

THESEAINM\' BONES,Love and the sea howling in my bones.~J~l,;i..~c~rf:"

hissing over the car radio as Me and Pat Chiu rov

.lb~oughharreo.w.e.lds

_-an VI l.'!&essout of Akeldama, She had flown in from NewYorkto coverthe

_",~"''''~"''~--~''-- --••••~- .. _'. _. " .." --Liiliii--",'~~'~-:'~,"",'0'-~~

elections called ~y~reslaen t Marcos,'

Trit,

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a car at the Akeldamaai rport. EspeciaIlY~2~;~.~£1~ ..l9,,1Jj,Uj.",

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Sal-

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,yq_ ....·.~;.f~f.c-·"'·.... ," " .." -, ""-','-;-,'-'. ""'-',""--

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Meg had never seen this part of Akeldama before. Farther down the town, past the bars and dance halls, the road became gradually stripped of ornament and pretense, and the gaudy colors of the clubs gave way to the parched tones of untended paddies, shanties and cogon grass. There were dark cloud) hovering over the horizon, slashing the sky to pewter and ash, She could hear the sea even from here, It was always like that: in this town one could hear and feel and taste the sea without ever seeing it. Sal's lyrics howled through the speakers, Pat Chiu groped with one hand to tu rn the volume down. Then he said, "You skipping work to find Sal? Many things happen in Manila,"

"I just want to find him and beat some sense into him," she said, but not without a note of desperation in her voice, "Are you sure he's out there in that jungle?"

"Not jungle," Pat said. "Avillage of what you call? Verypoor souls."

A pause, and then he said, "Not sure, Not sure anymore where Sal is. Alway,s

mgxi.n~

arou~dloHke lolling,stone,"

This much she knew from the cards she had received from Sal: he had gone back to Akeldama and founded a community of pimps, crooks and assorted derelicts plucked from the halls of the red light district and all prop-erly contrite and avowed to a new life of chastity, piousness and grace. The hell they were, News around Akeldama, when they swooped in from the air-port, was that Sal's latest escapade used this band of ~hieves to prey on the clubs, Not so, the other girls along the strip protested-not thieves but beg-gars scrounging for meals, like Buddhist monks. And still there were others who said they walked around dispensing miracles to the sick and the poor.1:1 any case nobody saw Sal, even as everybody invoked his name. They believed he was Out There, and whatever kalokohan his thieves or beggars did he • certainty found out eventually, and reprimanded them accordingly. There were those he had banished from this rumored community, and now they went around spreadin g lies about Sal X.So the gossip simmered and tongues wagged. Sal would have liked that, thought Meg: talk of the town, eh bab ^? They knew they had reached the community when they saw make-shift signs along the.ro.a.d.::entand=~~on1and another quoted, ..

Abandon~~ .

ib~ roe~

^{ha n}

^Lb;¥[~CD!

.sPice:·Th~re was a cluster of shanties along the road. Meg parked the car, Theypeeked into the huts: there were cots and cooking implements, and embers still smoked on a stone stove. She looked around and found a pipe, a child's shoe and an old cat crouching under the cot and dismembering a sardine it had snipped from the stove. Then she heard Pat whinnying out-side: "No, not hurt me, I do no harm!" She rushed out to find him cringing before a ragged, unshaven hulk who was brandishing a rusty bolo under Pat's nose,

"You are Meg Thrner?" the hulk asked her.

"Yes," she said.

268 Empire of Memory

The hulk slowly brought the knife down, tllcked it tinder his hell and spread out his fat, greasy arms: "Welcorne to Nirvana."

They walked for about another kilometer to a cluster of less dilapi-dated huts, the hulk cutting sharp cogan gr;l~s with his bolo. There were shanties huddled in a clearing, lean-to's the color of dried weed with rods of recycled corrugated steel. As soon as they reached the clearing children swarmed about them-ragged, mud-streaked urchins in soot-grey shirl~

handed down from several kith and kin. Their raucuous greetings were punc-tuated by the crowing of gamecocks and the barking of mangy mongrels that were now skittering beside them and sniffing at their shoes. The day's

laun-?ry had been hung out on wires, and they were flapring like buntings

hail-109them. Ametalsmith was pounding away somewher<:.They finally reached a hut that was no different from the rest except for one thing: it was sur-rounded by a band of guards armed with knives and Armalite rifles. The hulk ushered them in, solicitously sweeping his hand toward the door, a smile puffing his ruddy cheeks.

Meg and Pat inched their way in. The hut had been completely

~oar~ed up, and an oppressive, suffocating darkness pervaded its cramped lOtenor: a cot, a wooden table, a few benches, a guitar, books lined against one wall, knick kna.cks and trinkets brought in by t!1echildren. In a corner, sitting on a stool in a shirt and jeans, sat Sal himself.

"Friends have come at last," he said, his voice edged with a rasp. He hobbled to Meg and kissed her, To Pat he said, "You'll pardon me if I spare you the kiss." .

But already Pat had his arm around his shoulder, like an overconcerned father, "Sal, what happen to you? We look all around."

"Hibernation," Sal said. "Retreat. The mountain rises but remains beneath the sky. You know your I Ching, eh Pat Chiuli? The superior man withdraws although he would rather not."

"Who are these people, Sal?" Pat asked him.

"Nobody," he said. "Shadows. We're aJl here because we believe in one thing. The world ends soon, really soon, and we're all going together."

"He's delirious," Meg said,

"Always been, love," said Sa!. And to Pat: "Be a good sport, Pater Noster, and leave us kids alone awhile. We haven't hanky-pankied in ages,"

"YOLlcome to Manila with us," Pal insisted. "I say right now. You have plenty work. You perform at President's inauguration.jQ,u_h~ve elec-tion."

"( certainly do, so go away," Sal said,

"Your last chance, Sal," Pat said. "People not happy with your games. Your last chance, You not want to stay here."

"Maybe I do," Sal said. "Simple folk, simple lives, No intrigues, no chismis, no dog-eat-dog world here. Of course some of them eat their dogs, but you know that. If you have a heart, take the dogs with you and leave me alone."

Meg pulled back. "This is it, Sa!. You come with us or it's all over.

You want to throw your life away, that's fine, But I'm not staying for the show."

"Gee Meg," Sal said. "I'm beginning to think you really love me.

But I can't just up and go, The boys have a plan, and I can't just abandon it."

. "What plan?" asked Pat.

Sal took a swig from a bottle of local rum. "Crazy plan," he said,

"that just might work. You know what the boys here say,don't you? They say the whole damn country's going under, and all of us with it. So here's the plan. I go up on stage with .the President, and then I have this, ah, gadget taped around me, and then I blow the stage up. Myselfwith it. Brilliant plan, . but how do I tape all those batteries around me?" ...t

"No time for little boys' games," Pat said. "You grow up."

"That's the trouble, Pater Noster," said Sa!. "I grew up way before my time. People have trouble catching up. You know we call this place Nirvana, don't you? These pirates don't even know what Nirvana is. They think it's a brand of refrigerator. They think Alan Watts invented the fucking light bulb."

"You talk to him," Pat told Meg. "Big star never listen to me."

After he walked out Meg sat beside Sa!. "You're not walking out, too?" Sal asked her.

She shook her head. "I've traveled so far to find you," she said. "All through the ride I kept thinking of things to say to you, and now that I'm

here I don't know what to say.Just shape up, Sal.^J love you, I don'[ want [0

see you waste away."

"I'm not wasting away," he said, "Great thoughts corne to me her"

I'v~ got new songs buzzing in my head. Trouble is I can '[ find goddamn new strmgs."

Hestoo.dup,an? grabbed his guitar. Afewstrings had been snapped, He plucked a stnng: ItVIbrated dully. "I'm so scared, Meg," he said, "Never been so scared in my life."

~he .kis~ed~im Iig~tJy on the Iip~; •••••.

"1

" I dldn t thmk you d come back, he said. "I wanted to die, Meg. I ~ was sItting here one day, I didn't know if it was day or night, and then I j' though~, by God, I didn't want any of that asshole shit in Manila, I just wanted

f

to be with you. I wanted to sit here and shut out the light and die. No one would find me. And then I thought, this is it, this must be Nirvana all noth-ingness an~ letting go and all that. But Nirvana sure felt like hell." Heplucked

~nother string: a rusty twang, "People here say I'm a prophet," he said, Prophets have no friends. They don't have anybody, You get maudlin tha way, living here on your own." He touched her face. "I thought you'd gon away for good. Couldn't blame you. I've been a real asshole."

"That you've been, my love," she said, "Shut up and kiss me." They kissed. '!he world isn~~~aid. "It goes on forever."

Heslung the guitar over his shoulderand said, "Let's"go,Meg.These people can do without me for a while," They walked out. The derelicl~ of the community who had been milling around the hut swarmed about them as they stepped out. They followed him as he walked down the clearinp, to say g?odb.ye. Th~~ crept out of their houses, women and children who tugged at hIS shirt, wailIng and begging him to stay.

"He'll be all right," Meg assured Fat. "He'll get through the cam-paign, and then we'll go off somewhere,"

"Yes,you go off," Pat said,

Sal was waving to the residents. They followed him up to the car, and he opened the door and turned to them and raised his arms, "[ shall return," he said, He turned to Pat and said, "I mean that, Mistah, Just going to do my duty to God and country, and then I'm coming back."

"We talk about that later," Pat said, absently, Getting Sal out of thi hallucinatory community was easy, he thought. But on the plane back Manila, with Sal asleep on Meg's shoulder, all Pat could think of was how t get Sal out of the campaign. He'll probably make a mess ofit and blow hi entire career. Give him time to rest. The boy's gone out of his mind, Just sl years ago he was his brightest star in the clubs, a world so far away fro them as they flew back to Manila, Now the star had collapsed, and enti worlds burned with

it.--"SIRENA!SIRENA!"Wading by the shore, Lalita looked like a pale apparition

it.--"SIRENA!SIRENA!"Wading by the shore, Lalita looked like a pale apparition

In document La identificación europea en tiempos de crisis (página 170-173)