FEBRUARY

SPEECH
OF29,
PRESIDENT
1944
LAUREL ADDRESSED TO THE FILIPINO YOUTH,
Speech of His Excellency, Jose P. Laurel, President of the Republic of
the Philippines, delivered over Station PIAM Manila, on February 29,
1944, addressed to the Filipino youth.
YOUTH OF MY BELOVED LAND:
In this critical period of our history, we need the heart, the soul and the vigor
of the youth of our land to help us build our country on the most enduring
basis of brotherhood and solidarity of all Filipinos. I am, therefore, happy to
know of the integration of the Filipino youth and that the Filipino youth is now
on the march. The question is: Where is it going? Is it marching with
irresistible will and determination toward progress and civilization, peace and
order, and the prosperity and happiness of the Fatherland? If it is, I, as the
chosen head of our nation and our people, heartily welcome it and bid it
Godspeed.
It is trite saying that the future belongs to youth, especially to those
dynamic, aggressive and self-confident young men and women who have
foresight. Thus they have the bounden duty to ensure it. So much faith the
greatest Filipino patriot and hero, Rizal, had in the youth of the land that
while he was still in his teens, he dedicated to it his prize winning poem
entitled To the Filipino Youth, and he called the Filipino youth not without
reason and justification Fair hope of my Fatherland.
Several years later, when Rizal was in Madrid, he thought again of the
Filipino youth. On the occasion of the signal honor and distinction conferred
upon the famous Filipino painter Juan Luna when one of his paintings was
awarded the highest prize in the artistic world, Rizal offered a touching toast.
He expressed the fervent hope that the worthy and commendable examples
of Juan Luna, and Resurrection, another famed Filipino painter, will be
imitated or emulated by the Filipino youth. In the course of a few years that
youth had become to him more than the fair hope of my fatherland; it had
become the sacred hope of my Fatherland.
Rizals fair and sacred hope is represented by the young men and women of
today, by you, the Filipino youth on the march, you who will be either the
leaders and masters of your country and your countrys fate tomorrow or the
hewers of wood and drawers of water for other people more ambitious and
far-seeing than you, men with vision, with courage, and with an indomitable
will to succeed whatever be the obstacles.
Inspired by the same noble sentiment, the late Dr. Rafael Palma, builder of
the University of the Philippines, dedicated to the same youth, to the same
fair and sacred hope of the Fatherland, his last work and masterpiece, his

life-size biography of Rizal. In his dedicatory remarks he gave voice to his

abiding faith and confidence in the ability of the Filipino young men and
women to make good.
Have they made good or are they making good? Were Rizal living today
would he be proud of them? Would he say, if he could see them from beyond
the tomb, that he did not die in vain, that his countrys sacred and beautiful
hope has not disappointed him and those who like him had given their full
measure of sacrifice for the glory of their Fatherland?
How fare the youth of the land? Are they planting the seeds that will make
their country great? Do they realize the serious problems that now confront
the Republic of the Philippines, which is their Republic, and are they
contributing to the fullest extent to the solution of such problems? Are they
putting their strong and broad shoulders on the wheel of progress and
prosperity? Are they helping actively in the complete restoration of peace
and order in their country and in the gigantic reconstruction work which both
the people and the government must undertake? Are they doing their duty
as citizens of the Republic, working for the common happiness and welfare of
their respective communities?
As ye sow, so shall ye reap. Are the Filipino young men and women of today
sowing the seeds of peace and prosperity so that they will reap the fruits of
progress and tranquility? Man is the archetype of society. Both society and
the nation grow as the individuals grow. Unless our youth prepare for the
future, there will be no future for them.
I want to let those who deny us every feeling of patriotism, wrote Rizal,
that we know how to die for our duty and for our convictions. What matters
death if one dies for what one loves, for ones country, and for those one
adores?
In one of his parting letters he wrote My future, my life, my joys, all I have
sacrificed for my love for herreferring to the Philippines. Whatever be my
fate, I will die blessing her and wishing her the dawn of her redemption.
That, you will agree, is a wonderful sentiment. Does the Filipino youth of
today feel and cherish it?
Isagani, one of the youthful characters that stand out in bold relief in Rizals
Noli, once called on one of the leading lawyers in Manila for an advice. The
lawyer advised Isagani to follow the line of least resistance. Why fight, why
think, he argued, when somebody else will do the fighting and thinking for
you? Prosperity, happiness, and peace of mind, the legal adviser pointed
out, lie in the direction of the current. Believe me, he concluded, you will
remember me and think me right when you have gray heirs like mine.

What was Isaganis retort? When I have gray hairs like yours, he answered,
and I look back upon my past and see that I had worked only for myself,
without having done what I could well have done and should have done for
the country which has given me everything, then, every gray hair of mine
will be for me a thorn and instead of being proud of my gray hairs, I shall be
ashamed of them.
Do the Filipino youth of today talk and feel that way? Are they fully aware of
the tremendous responsibility placed upon them by Rizal when he called
them fair and sacred hope of the Fatherland? Are they willing to die for
their convictions, to fight hunger and poverty and all the other evils that hard
times bring in their train so that their country, their people, their Republic,
might live in peace and in abundance?
Contrasting his age and that of his son, the father of Ibarra, Rizals hero in
the NOLI, said: The future opens itself for you; for me it is closing. Your
affections are being born; mine are dying. Fire burns in your blood; frost is
congealing in mine; and yet you cry and do not know how to sacrifice the
present for the future, a future which will be useful to you and your country.
You do not know how to sacrifice the present for a useful, fruitful future.
Surely, the youth of today cannot and will not accept that serious charge.
They cannot and will not disappoint their greatest hero, martyr and model.
They are ready and willing, I take it, to do their part, to work with their duly
constituted leaders for the salvation of their country especially during these
days of supreme ordeal when the fate of the Philippines is at stake as a result
of the scarcity of food and the continued pernicious and disloyal activities of
some of our citizens.
I am taking the liberty, therefore, on this occasion to invite and call upon all
the youth of the land to join hands with the forces of the government to
stimulate food production, to restore complete peace and order throughout
the length and breadth of the Philippines, and to work actively and
persistently for the welfare, progress and prosperity of the Republic. The
Republic is not of this generation to keep, but it is particularly for the young
generation and future generations to preserve and to enjoy.
I thank you for this opportunity of addressing the youth of the land on this
memorable occasion. I shall be happy to say a few words to you later in
connection with the integration movement of the Filipino youth not only in
the public and private schools but of all Filipino young men and women all
over the islands so that the youth of the land may be not only a strong factor
in supporting this government and in making this Republic an enduring
nation but also so that with the help and cooperation and loyalty of the
Filipino youth, we may be in a position to transmit as a heritage to future

generations a country, a people, compact and united in the bonds of a

common affection.
I thank you.
Source: Office of the Solicitor General Library

I Am A Filipino by Carlos P. Romulo

I am a Filipino inheritor of a glorious past, hostage to the uncertain future. As such I
must prove equal to a two-fold task- the task of meeting my responsibility to the past,
and the task of performing my obligation to the future. I sprung from a hardy race - child
of many generations removed of ancient Malayan pioneers. Across the centuries, the
memory comes rushing back to me: of brown-skinned men putting out to sea in ships
that were as frail as their hearts were stout. Over the sea I see them come, borne upon
the billowing wave and the whistling wind, carried upon the mighty swell of hope- hope
in the free abundance of new land that was to be their home and their children's forever.
This is the land they sought and found. Every inch of shore that their eyes first set upon,
every hill and mountain that beckoned to them with a green and purple invitation, every
mile of rolling plain that their view encompassed, every river and lake that promise a
plentiful living and the fruitfulness of commerce, is a hollowed spot to me.
By the strength of their hearts and hands, by every right of law, human and divine, this
land and all the appurtenances thereof - the black and fertile soil, the seas and lakes
and rivers teeming with fish, the forests with their inexhaustible wealth in wild life and
timber, the mountains with their bowels swollen with minerals - the whole of this rich and
happy land has been, for centuries without number, the land of my fathers. This land I
received in trust from them and in trust will pass it to my children, and so on until the
world no more.
I am a Filipino. In my blood runs the immortal seed of heroes - seed that flowered down
the centuries in deeds of courage and defiance. In my veins yet pulses the same hot
blood that sent Lapulapu to battle against the alien foe that drove Diego Silang and
Dagohoy into rebellion against the foreign oppressor.
That seed is immortal. It is the self-same seed that flowered in the heart of Jose Rizal
that morning in Bagumbayan when a volley of shots put an end to all that was mortal of
him and made his spirit deathless forever; the same that flowered in the hearts of
Bonifacio in Balintawak, of Gergorio del Pilar at Tirad Pass, of Antonio Luna at Calumpit;
that bloomed in flowers of frustration in the sad heart of Emilio Aguinaldo at Palanan,

and yet burst forth royally again in the proud heart of Manuel L. Quezon when he stood
at last on the threshold of ancient Malacaang Palace, in the symbolic act of possession
and racial vindication.
The seed I bear within me is an immortal seed. It is the mark of my manhood, the
symbol of dignity as a human being. Like the seeds that were once buried in the tomb of
Tutankhamen many thousand years ago, it shall grow and flower and bear fruit again. It
is the insigne of my race, and my generation is but a stage in the unending search of my
people for freedom and happiness.
I am a Filipino, child of the marriage of the East and the West. The East, with its languor
and mysticism, its passivity and endurance, was my mother, and my sire was the West
that came thundering across the seas with the Cross and Sword and the Machine. I am
of the East, an eager participant in its struggles for liberation from the imperialist yoke.
But I also know that the East must awake from its centuried sleep, shape of the lethargy
that has bound his limbs, and start moving where destiny awaits.
For, I, too, am of the West, and the vigorous peoples of the West have destroyed
forever the peace and quiet that once was ours. I can no longer live, being apart from
those world now trembles to the roar of bomb and cannon shot. For no man and no
nation is an island, but a part of the main, there is no longer any East and West - only
individuals and nations making those momentous choices that are hinges upon which
history resolves.
At the vanguard of progress in this part of the world I stand - a forlorn figure in the eyes
of some, but not one defeated and lost. For through the thick, interlacing branches of
habit and custom above me I have seen the light of the sun, and I know that it is good. I
have seen the light of justice and equality and freedom and my heart has been lifted by
the vision of democracy, and I shall not rest until my land and my people shall have
been blessed by these, beyond the power of any man or nation to subvert or destroy.
I am a Filipino, and this is my inheritance. What pledge shall I give that I may prove
worthy of my inheritance? I shall give the pledge that has come ringing down the
corridors of the centuries, and it shall be compounded of the joyous cries of my Malayan
forebears when they first saw the contours of this land loom before their eyes, of the
battle cries that have resounded in every field of combat from Mactan to Tirad pass, of
the voices of my people when they sing:
Land of the Morning, Child of the sun returningNe'er shall invaders Trample thy
sacred shore.

Out of the lush green of these seven thousand isles, out of the heartstrings of sixteen
million people all vibrating to one song, I shall weave the mighty fabric of my pledge.
Out of the songs of the farmers at sunrise when they go to labor in the fields; out of the
sweat of the hard-bitten pioneers in Mal-ig and Koronadal; out of the silent endurance of
stevedores at the piers and the ominous grumbling of peasants Pampanga; out of the
first cries of babies newly born and the lullabies that mothers sing; out of the crashing of
gears and the whine of turbines in the factories; out of the crunch of ploughs upturning
the earth; out of the limitless patience of teachers in the classrooms and doctors in the
clinics; out of the tramp of soldiers marching, I shall make the pattern of my pledge:
"I am a Filipino born of freedom and I shall not rest until freedom shall have been added
unto my inheritance - for myself and my children's children - forever.

My Father Goes To Court by Carlos Bulosan

When I was four, I lived with my mother and brothers and sisters in a small
town on the island of Luzon. Fathers farm had been destroyed in 1918 by
one of our sudden Philippine floods, so for several years afterward we all
lived in the town, though he preffered living in the country. We had a nextdoor neighbor, a very rich man, whose sons and daughters seldom came out
of the house. While we boys and girls played and sand in the sun, his
children stayed inside and kept the windows closed. His house was so tall
that his children could look in the windows of our house and watch us as we
played, or slept, or ate, when there was any food in the house to eat.
Now, this rich mans servants were always frying and cooking something
good, and the aroma of the food was wafted down to us from the windows of
the big house. We hung about and took all the wonderful smell of the food
into our beings. Sometimes, in the morning, our whole family stood outside
the windows of the rich mans house and listened to the musical sizzling of
thick strips of bacon or ham. I can remember one afternoon when our
neighbors servants roasted three chickens. The chickens were young and
tender and the fat that dripped into the burning coals gave off an enchanting
odor. We watched the servants turn the beautiful birds and inhaled the
heavenly spirit that drifted out to us.
Some days the rich man appeared at a window and glowered down at us. He
looked at us one by one, as though he were condemning us. We were all
healthy because we went out in the sun every day and bathed in the cool
water of the river that flowed from the mountains into the sea. Sometimes
we wrestled with one another in the house before we went out to play.
We were always in the best of spirits and our laughter was contagious. Other
neighbors who passed by our house often stopped in our yard and joined us
in our laughter.
Laughter was our only wealth. Father was a laughing man. He would go in to

the living room and stand in front of the tall mirror, stretching his mouth into
grotesque shapes with his fingers and making faces at himself, and then he
would rush into the kitchen, roaring with laughter.
There was plenty to make us laugh. There was, for instance, the day one of
my brothers came home and brought a small bundle under his arm,
pretending that he brought something to eat, maybe a leg of lamb or
something as extravagant as that to make our mouths water. He rushed to
mother and through the bundle into her lap. We all stood around, watching
mother undo the complicated strings. Suddenly a black cat leaped out of the
bundle and ran wildly around the house. Mother chased my brother and beat
him with her little fists, while the rest of us bent double, choking with
laughter.
Another time one of my sisters suddenly started screaming in the middle of
the night. Mother reached her first and tried to calm her. My sister criedand
groaned. When father lifted the lamp, my sister stared at us with shame in
her eyes.
What is it? <other asked.
Im pregnant! she cried.
Dont be a fool! Father shouted.
Youre only a child, Mother said.
Im pregnant, I tell you! she cried.
Father knelt by my sister. He put his hand on her belly and rubbed it gently.
How do you know you are pregnant? he asked.
Feel it! she cried.
We put our hands on her belly. There was something moving inside. Father
was frightened. Mother was shocked. Whos the man? she asked.
Theres no man, my sister said.
What is it then? Father asked.

Suddenly my sister opened her blouse and a bullfrog jumped out. Mother
fainted, father dropped the lamp, the oil spilled on the floor, and my sisters
blanket caught fire. One of my brothers laughed so hard he rolled on the
floor.
When the fire was extinguished and Mother was revived, we turned to bed
and tried to sleep, but Father kept on laughing so loud we could not sleep
any more. Mother got up again and lighted the oil lamp; we rolled up the
mats on the floor and began dancing about and laughing with all our might.
We made so much noise that all our neighbors except the rich family came
into the yard and joined us in loud, genuine laughter.
It was like that for years.
As time went on, the rich mans children became thin and anemic, while we
grew even more robust and full of fire. Our faces were bright and rosy, but
theirs were pale and sad. The rich man started to cough at night; then he
coughed day and night. His wife began coughing too. Then the children
started to cough one after the other. At night their coughing sounded like
barking of a herd of seals. We hung outside their windows and listened to
them. We wondered what had happened to them. We knew that they were
not sick from lack of nourishing food because they were still always frying
something delicious to eat.
One day the rich man appeared at a window and stood there a long time. He
looked at my sisters, who had grown fat with laughing, then at my brothers,
whose arms and legs were like the molave, which is the sturdiest tree in the
Philippines. He banged down the window and ran through the house,
shutting all the windows.
From that day on, the windows of our neighbors house were closed. The
children did not come outdoors anymore. We could still hear the servants
cooking in the kitchen, and no matter how tight the windows were shut, the
aroma of the food came to us in the wind and drifted gratuitously into our
house.
One morning a policeman from the presidencia came to our house with a
sealed paper. The rich man had filed a complaint against us. Father took me
with him when he went to the town clerk and asked him what it was all

about. He told Father the man claimed that for years we had been stealing
the spirit of his wealth and food.
When the day came for us to appear in court, Father brushed his old army
uniform and borrowed a pair of shoes from one of my brothers. We were the
first to arrive. Father sat on a chair in the center of the courtroom. Mother
occupied a chair by the door. We children sat on a long bench by the wall.
Father kept jumping up his chair and stabbing the air with his arms, as
though he were defending himself before an imaginary jury.
The rich man arrived. He had grown old and feeble; his face was scarred with
deep lines. With him was his young lawyer. Spectators came in and almost
filled the chairs. The judge entered the room and sat on a high chair. We
stood up in a hurry and sat down again.
After the courtroom preliminaries, the judge took at father. Do you have a
lawyer? he asked.
I dont need a lawyer judge. He said.
Proceed, said the judge.
The rich mans lawyer jumped and pointed his finger at Father, Do you or do
you not agree that you have been stealing the spirit of the complainants
wealth and food?
I do not! Father said.
Do you or do you not agree that while the complainants servants cooked
and fried fat legs of lambs and young chicken breasts, you and your family
hung outside your windows and inhaled the heavenly spirit of the food?
I agree, Father said.
How do you account for that?
Father got up and paced around, scratching his head thoughtfully. Then he
said, I would like to see the children of the complainant, Judge.
Bring the children of the complainant.

They came shyly. The spectators covered their mouths with their hands. They
were so amazed to see the children so thin and pale. The children walked
silently to a bench and sat down without looking up. They stared at the floor
and moved their hands uneasily.
Father could not say anything at first. He just stood by his chair and looked at
them. Finally he said, I should like to cross-examine the complainant.
Proceed.
Do you claim that we stole the spirit of your wealth and became a laughing
family while yours became morose and sad? Father asked.
Yes.
Then we are going to pay you right now, Father said. He walked over to
where we children were sitting on the bench and took my straw hat off my
lap and began filling it up with centavo pieces that he took out his pockets.
He went to Mother, who added a fistful of silver coins. My brothers threw in
their small change.
May I walk to the room across the hall and stay there for a minutes, Judge?
Father asked.
As you wish.
Thank you, Father said. He strode into the other room with the hat in his
hands. It was almost full of coins. The doors of both rooms were wide open.
Are you ready? Father called.
Proceed. The judge said.
The sweet tinkle of coins carried beautifully into the room. The spectators
turned their faces toward the sound with wonder. Father came back and
stood before the complainant.
Did you hear it? he asked.

Hear what? the man asked.

The spirit of the money when I shook this hat? he asked.
Yes.
Then you are paid. Father said.
The rich man opened his mouth to speak and fell to the floor without a
sound. The lawyer rushed to his aid. The judge pounded his gravel.
Case dismissed, he said.
Father strutted around the courtroom. The judge even came down to his high
chair to shake hands with him. By the way, he whispered, I had an uncle
who died laughing.
You like to hear my family laugh, judge? Father asked.
Why not?
Did you hear that children? Father said.
My sister started it. The rest of us followed them and soon the spectators
were laughing with us, holding their bellies and bending over the chairs. And
the laughter of the judge was the loudest of all.

How My Brother Leon Brought Home A Wife

She stepped down from the carretela of Ca Celin with a quick, delicate grace.
She was lovely. SHe was tall. She looked up to my brother with a smile, and her
forehead was on a level with his mouth.
"You are Baldo," she said and placed her hand lightly on my shoulder. Her nails
were long, but they were not painted. She was fragrant like a morning when
papayas are in bloom. And a small dimple appeared momently high on her right
cheek. "And this is Labang of whom I have heard so much." She held the wrist of
one hand with the other and looked at Labang, and Labang never stopped
chewing his cud. He swallowed and brought up to his mouth more cud and the
sound of his insides was like a drum.
I laid a hand on Labang's massive neck and said to her: "You may scratch his
forehead now."
She hesitated and I saw that her eyes were on the long, curving horns. But she
came and touched Labang's forehead with her long fingers, and Labang never
stopped chewing his cud except that his big eyes half closed. And by and by she
was scratching his forehead very daintily.
My brother Leon put down the two trunks on the grassy side of the road. He paid
Ca Celin twice the usual fare from the station to the edge of Nagrebcan. Then he
was standing beside us, and she turned to him eagerly. I watched Ca Celin,
where he stood in front of his horse, and he ran his fingers through its forelock
and could not keep his eyes away from her.
"Maria---" my brother Leon said.
He did not say Maring. He did not say Mayang. I knew then that he had always
called her Maria and that to us all she would be Maria; and in my mind I said
'Maria' and it was a beautiful name.

"Yes, Noel."
Now where did she get that name? I pondered the matter quietly to myself,
thinking Father might not like it. But it was only the name of my brother Leon
said backward and it sounded much better that way.
"There is Nagrebcan, Maria," my brother Leon said, gesturing widely toward the
west.
She moved close to him and slipped her arm through his. And after a while she
said quietly.
"You love Nagrebcan, don't you, Noel?"
Ca Celin drove away hi-yi-ing to his horse loudly. At the bend of the camino real
where the big duhat tree grew, he rattled the handle of his braided rattan whip
against the spokes of the wheel.
We stood alone on the roadside.
The sun was in our eyes, for it was dipping into the bright sea. The sky was wide
and deep and very blue above us: but along the saw-tooth rim of the
Katayaghan hills to the southwest flamed huge masses of clouds. Before us the
fields swam in a golden haze through which floated big purple and red and
yellow bubbles when I looked at the sinking sun. Labang's white coat, which I
had wshed and brushed that morning with coconut husk, glistened like beaten
cotton under the lamplight and his horns appeared tipped with fire.

He faced the sun and from his mouth came a call so loud and vibrant that the
earth seemed to tremble underfoot. And far away in the middle of the field a
cow lowed softly in answer.
"Hitch him to the cart, Baldo," my brother Leon said, laughing, and she laughed
with him a big uncertainly, and I saw that he had put his arm around her
shoulders.
"Why does he make that sound?" she asked. "I have never heard the like of it."
"There is not another like it," my brother Leon said. "I have yet to hear another
bull call like Labang. In all the world there is no other bull like him."

She was smiling at him, and I stopped in the act of tying the sinta across
Labang's neck to the opposite end of the yoke, because her teeth were very
white, her eyes were so full of laughter, and there was the small dimple high up
on her right cheek.
"If you continue to talk about him like that, either I shall fall in love with him or
become greatly jealous."
My brother Leon laughed and she laughed and they looked at each other and it
seemed to me there was a world of laughter between them and in them.
I climbed into the cart over the wheel and Labang would have bolted, for he was
always like that, but I kept a firm hold on his rope. He was restless and would
not stand still, so that my brother Leon had to say "Labang" several times. When
he was quiet again, my brother Leon lifted the trunks into the cart, placing the
smaller on top.
She looked down once at her high-heeled shoes, then she gave her left hand to
my brother Leon, placed a foot on the hub of the wheel, and in one breath she
had swung up into the cart. Oh, the fragrance of her. But Labang was fairly
dancing with impatience and it was all I could do to keep him from running
away.
"Give me the rope, Baldo," my brother Leon said. "Maria, sit down on the hay
and hold on to anything." Then he put a foot on the left shaft and that instand
labang leaped forward. My brother Leon laughed as he drew himself up to the
top of the side of the cart and made the slack of the rope hiss above the back of
labang. The wind whistled against my cheeks and the rattling of the wheels on
the pebbly road echoed in my ears.
She sat up straight on the bottom of the cart, legs bent togther to one side, her
skirts spread over them so that only the toes and heels of her shoes were
visible. her eyes were on my brother Leon's back; I saw the wind on her hair.
When Labang slowed down, my brother Leon handed to me the rope. I knelt on
the straw inside the cart and pulled on the rope until Labang was merely
shuffling along, then I made him turn around.
"What is it you have forgotten now, Baldo?" my brother Leon said.
I did not say anything but tickled with my fingers the rump of Labang; and away
we went---back to where I had unhitched and waited for them. The sun had sunk
and down from the wooded sides of the Katayaghan hills shadows were stealing

into the fields. High up overhead the sky burned with many slow fires.
When I sent Labang down the deep cut that would take us to the dry bed of the
Waig which could be used as a path to our place during the dry season, my
brother Leon laid a hand on my shoulder and said sternly:
"Who told you to drive through the fields tonight?"
His hand was heavy on my shoulder, but I did not look at him or utter a word
until we were on the rocky bottom of the Waig.
"Baldo, you fool, answer me before I lay the rope of Labang on you. Why do you
follow the Wait instead of the camino real?"
His fingers bit into my shoulder.
"Father, he told me to follow the Waig tonight, Manong."
Swiftly, his hand fell away from my shoulder and he reached for the rope of
Labang. Then my brother Leon laughed, and he sat back, and laughing still, he
said:
"And I suppose Father also told you to hitch Labang to the cart and meet us with
him instead of with Castano and the calesa."
Without waiting for me to answer, he turned to her and said, "Maria, why do you
think Father should do that, now?" He laughed and added, "Have you ever seen
so many stars before?"
I looked back and they were sitting side by side, leaning against the trunks,
hands clasped across knees. Seemingly, but a man's height above the tops of
the steep banks of the Wait, hung the stars. But in the deep gorge the shadows
had fallen heavily, and even the white of Labang's coat was merely a dim,
grayish blur. Crickets chirped from their homes in the cracks in the banks. The
thick, unpleasant smell of dangla bushes and cooling sun-heated earth mingled
with the clean, sharp scent of arrais roots exposed to the night air and of the
hay inside the cart.
"Look, Noel, yonder is our star!" Deep surprise and gladness were in her voice.
Very low in the west, almost touching the ragged edge of the bank, was the star,
the biggest and brightest in the sky.

"I have been looking at it," my brother Leon said. "Do you remember how I
would tell you that when you want to see stars you must come to Nagrebcan?"
"Yes, Noel," she said. "Look at it," she murmured, half to herself. "It is so many
times bigger and brighter than it was at Ermita beach."
"The air here is clean, free of dust and smoke."
"So it is, Noel," she said, drawing a long breath.
"Making fun of me, Maria?"
She laughed then and they laughed together and she took my brother Leon's
hand and put it against her face.
I stopped Labang, climbed down, and lighted the lantern that hung from the cart
between the wheels.
"Good boy, Baldo," my brother Leon said as I climbed back into the cart, and my
heart sant.
Now the shadows took fright and did not crowd so near. Clumps of andadasi and
arrais flashed into view and quickly disappeared as we passed by. Ahead, the
elongated shadow of Labang bobbled up and down and swayed drunkenly from
side to side, for the lantern rocked jerkily with the cart.
"Have we far to go yet, Noel?" she asked.
"Ask Baldo," my brother Leon said, "we have been neglecting him."
"I am asking you, Baldo," she said.
Without looking back, I answered, picking my words slowly:
"Soon we will get out of the Wait and pass into the fields. After the fields is
home---Manong."
"So near already."
I did not say anything more because I did not know what to make of the tone of
her voice as she said her last words. All the laughter seemed to have gone out
of her. I waited for my brother Leon to say something, but he was not saying

anything. Suddenly he broke out into song and the song was 'Sky Sown with
Stars'---the same that he and Father sang when we cut hay in the fields at night
before he went away to study. He must have taught her the song because she
joined him, and her voice flowed into his like a gentle stream meeting a stronger
one. And each time the wheels encountered a big rock, her voice would catch in
her throat, but my brother Leon would sing on, until, laughing softly, she would
join him again.
Then we were climbing out into the fields, and through the spokes of the wheels
the light of the lantern mocked the shadows. Labang quickened his steps. The
jolting became more frequent and painful as we crossed the low dikes.
"But it is so very wide here," she said. The light of the stars broke and scattered
the darkness so that one could see far on every side, though indistinctly.
"You miss the houses, and the cars, and the people and the noise, don't you?"
My brother Leon stopped singing.
"Yes, but in a different way. I am glad they are not here."
With difficulty I turned Labang to the left, for he wanted to go straight on. He
was breathing hard, but I knew he was more thirsty than tired. In a little while
we drope up the grassy side onto the camino real.
"---you see," my brother Leon was explaining, "the camino real curves around
the foot of the Katayaghan hills and passes by our house. We drove through the
fields because---but I'll be asking Father as soon as we get home."
"Noel," she said.
"Yes, Maria."
"I am afraid. He may not like me."
"Does that worry you still, Maria?" my brother Leon said. "From the way you talk,
he might be an ogre, for all the world. Except when his leg that was wounded in
the Revolution is troubling him, Father is the mildest-tempered, gentlest man I
know."
We came to the house of Lacay Julian and I spoke to Labang loudly, but Moning
did not come to the window, so I surmised she must be eating with the rest of
her family. And I thought of the food being made ready at home and my mouth

watered. We met the twins, Urong and Celin, and I said "Hoy!" calling them by
name. And they shouted back and asked if my brother Leon and his wife were
with me. And my brother Leon shouted to them and then told me to make
Labang run; their answers were lost in the noise of the wheels.
I stopped labang on the road before our house and would have gotten down but
my brother Leon took the rope and told me to stay in the cart. He turned Labang
into the open gate and we dashed into our yard. I thought we would crash into
the camachile tree, but my brother Leon reined in Labang in time. There was
light downstairs in the kitchen, and Mother stood in the doorway, and I could see
her smiling shyly. My brother Leon was helping Maria over the wheel. The first
words that fell from his lips after he had kissed Mother's hand were:
"Father... where is he?"
"He is in his room upstairs," Mother said, her face becoming serious. "His leg is
bothering him again."
I did not hear anything more because I had to go back to the cart to unhitch
Labang. But I hardly tied him under the barn when I heard Father calling me. I
met my brother Leon going to bring up the trunks. As I passed through the
kitchen, there were Mother and my sister Aurelia and Maria and it seemed to me
they were crying, all of them.
There was no light in Father's room. There was no movement. He sat in the big
armchair by the western window, and a star shone directly through it. He was
smoking, but he removed the roll of tobacco from his mouth when he saw me.
He laid it carefully on the windowsill before speaking.
"Did you meet anybody on the way?" he asked.
"No, Father," I said. "Nobody passes through the Waig at night."
He reached for his roll of tobacco and hithced himself up in the chair.
"She is very beautiful, Father."
"Was she afraid of Labang?" My father had not raised his voice, but the room
seemed to resound with it. And again I saw her eyes on the long curving horns
and the arm of my brother Leon around her shoulders.
"No, Father, she was not afraid."

"On the way---"

"She looked at the stars, Father. And Manong Leon sang."
"What did he sing?"
"---Sky Sown with Stars... She sang with him."
He was silent again. I could hear the low voices of Mother and my sister Aurelia
downstairs. There was also the voice of my brother Leon, and I thought that
Father's voice must have been like it when Father was young. He had laid the roll
of tobacco on the windowsill once more. I watched the smoke waver faintly
upward from the lighted end and vanish slowly into the night outside.
The door opened and my brother Leon and Maria came in.
"Have you watered Labang?" Father spoke to me.
I told him that Labang was resting yet under the barn.
"It is time you watered him, my son," my father said.
I looked at Maria and she was lovely. She was tall. Beside my brother Leon, she
was tall and very still. Then I went out, and in the darkened hall the fragrance of
her was like a morning when papayas are in bloom.

Si melvin ay hinatulan ni Hukom Villafuerte ng bitay."ka-kailangan kong... m-maunawaan mo ako,

Rey!"Nasa hindi niya pagtuon ang sakit na nadarama niya."Malupit kayo, Judge. Kasi'y
hindi n'yonaiintindihan kung ano ang maging kaibigan!"Sa katiyakan na hindi si melvin
lamang ang dapata maparusahan, siya'y nagtanimng lihim na galit kay hukom
Villefuerte.Sakan naman, sa isang pagdalaw niy kay Melvin ay nilapitan siya ng ilang bataanng
pulitikong may hawak dito."Kaibigan mo si Melvin, di ba, Rey?" Tumango siya. "Dinaramdam ko.
Wala akong naitulong!""Oo. Wala ring naitulong ang ginawa naming paglapit. Matigas ang ulo ng amo
mo,Rey!""p-palagay ko nga.""pero may maitutulong sa sa'ming iba. pwede mong ituro, halimbawa,
kung saankayo nagdaraan."Ang sarili ay pinily niyang libangin sa kabatiran ng hait hindi sa
pamamagitan ngtulong niya, ang plano ay maisasagawa rin. at maganda ang pangakong
limanglibung pisong pabuya na tatanggapin niya.Marahang huminto ang kotse sa tapat ng Kongreso.
Bago tuluiyang nanaog, ang dinila pagkikibuan ay binasag ng hukom."Masama ang loob mo sa 'kin,
Rey?"Matigas ang kanyang tugon. May pagkutya. "hindi n'yo kailangan ulitin, Judge,
naginawa n'yo lamang ang tungkulin niyo!""oo." iyon ang mahina. "at nahihirapan din ako, Rey!"Tiim
ang bagang na naghihintay si Rey. Kinakabahan. Pigil ang hininga halos.Pagkuwan ay
sumabig ang putok at siya'y napapikit nang mariin. Ngunit mabilis dinna idinilay niya
ang mga mata. At kitang-kita niya ang umigtad na katawan nghukom ay dahan-dahang
bumagsak, at gumulong sa hagdan ng kongreso.Naghari ang tilian at pulasa sa paligin.
Gayon kadaling naisagawa ang krimen, at gayon din kadali na iyong ay lumaganapnang
tila apoy. Ngunithindi gayon kadali na iyon ay nalutas.Hanggang sa araw ng libing, ang bumaril sa
hukom ay hindi natatagpuan. Wala isaman sa mga nakasaksi ang nakakuha sa numero
ng kotseng ginamit. Maynakapagsabi na iyon ay kulay pula, ngunit ni ang tatak o
modelo at hindi naturol.Hindi iisa o dalawang pagbabanta ang tinanggap ng hukom sa
buong panahon ngkanyang panunungkulan. ang mga dinampot at inimbistigahan ay pinawala
dinnang hindi makunan ng ebidensya.Si rey ay ligtas sa hinala. Na naipagtapat niya sa hukom na
kaibigan niya si Melvinna isang gabi ay pinasok niya ito sa aklatan at hiningan ng awa, ay
ni hindinabanggit ng hukom kaninuman, maging kay Gng. Villafuerte.Sa harap ng mga
nag liliwanagang ilaw na nakatunghay sa kabaong ni HukomVillafuerte ay idinaos ang huling
parangal. nasa telebisyon at kaipala ay pinanonoodng libu-libong tao. bawat magsalita
at tumatalakay sa mga kabutihan ng hukom, atbawat katagang iyon ng papuri ay tila
hagupit sa kalooban ni Rey. Hindi niyamaiwasan.Huling nagsalita ang Pangulo.
Pagkaraan ay ipinarinig sa lahat ang talumpati nghukom mula sa dictaphone na hindi
na nito nagawang bigakasin sa sesyong dapatay dinaluhan nito.Sinasabing isa ako
sa pinakamalupit na hukom...Kabilang si Rey sa mga taimtim na nakikinig.Palagay n'yo kaya
ay nasisiyahan ako na ako ay pinupuri, hinahangaan, sa paraanko ng pagbaka sa
kriminalidad? palagay n;yo kaya ay ikinarangal ko nanapakaraming tao na ang hinatulan ko ng
bitay? Tulad ng lahat, si Rey ay walang kakilus-kilos sa pagkakaupo.Ang tagal nang iniisipisip ko, na minsan ay narinig ko sa isang kaibigan... na angbitay ay hindi kalitasan... dahil ang isang
patay ay hindi marereporma... at hindi namabibigyang ng ikalawang pagkakataon.Napaangat
ang mukha ni Rey. Napabuka ang bibig niya. Kaibigan? Ang mgapangungusap na iyon ay
sa kanya narinig ng hukom!Kasama akong Nagsusog na alisin ang silya-elektrika!Si Rey ay

napatindig. sa paligid ay nabuhay ang anasan.Ang kriminalidad ay laganap, sa kabila ng

katotohanang mayroon tayong silya-elektrika. Hindi ang silya-elektrik ang kalutasan.
Kung bagamt marami na ang
hinahatulan ko, at nakatakda pang hatulan ng silya-eletktrika. Isinusumpa ko naang
lahat ng ginagawa ko nang laban sa aking sarili.Natanga nang matagal ni Rey. Namuo
ang huling pangungusap sa utak niya, at angsumunod ay halos hindi na niya nabigyan ng
pansin.Mababawasan ang kriminalidad sa pamamagitan nang mabilis na pagkilos ng
mgakinaukulan... sa mabilis na pagpapasiya sa mga usapin... hindi sa pamamagitanng---biglang
tumindig si Rey at mabilis na umalis sa kalipunang iyon. hindi niya pinansinang nag-uusisang mga
tingin na sumunod sa kanya. Patakbo halos na nagtuloy sasariling silid. Ikinandado ang pinto,
at humihingal, punagpapawisan na doon aysumandal.Ang lahat ay isinusumpa kong
ginawa ko nang laban sa aking sarili... kasama akongnagsusuog na alisin...Matindi ang
alingawngaw ng tinig ng hukom. a, matindi ang gunita ng lahat ngpagsisikap nitong
maunawaan niya!"Rey, dinaramdam kong gawin ang mga bagay na kinakailangan kong
gawain...ngunit sa sala ng isang hukom, ang kanyang pagiging hukom ay dapat
namangibabaw... Nahihirapan din ako, Rey!"Nasumpungan ni Rey ang sariling umiyyak.
mariing nakasubsob ang mukha niya samga palad, at ang mga baliat na niya ay yumayanig.
Ngunit pagkuwan ay pinayapaniya ang sarili, tinipon ang lahat ng lakas ng loob, at
binuksan na muli ang pinto.mapulang mapula ang mga mata niyang naghahanap ng
kinauupuan ng Pangulo.May ipagtatapat siya.