BIG SISTER

by Consorcio Borje

"YOU can use this," said Inciang, smiling brightly and trying to keep her tears
back. "It is still quite strong, and you will not outgrow if for a year yet."

Itong watched his sister fold his old khaki shirt carefully and pack it into the
rattan tampipi, which already bulged with his clothes. He stood helplessly by,
shifting his weight from one bare foot to the other, looking down at his big
sister, who had always done everything for him.

"There, that's done," said Inciang, pressing down the lid. "Give me that rope.
I'll truss it up for you. And be careful with it, Itong? Your Tia Orin has been
very kind to lend it to us for your trip to Vigan."

Itong assented and obediently handed his sister the rope. His eyes followed
her deft movements with visible impatience; his friends were waiting outside
to play with him. He was twelve years old, and growing fast.

Sometimes when Inciang toiling in the kitchen, sweeping the house, or

washing clothes by the well in the front yard held a long session with herself,
she admitted she did not want Itong to grow. She wanted to keep him the
boy that he was, always. Inciang had raised Itong from the whimpering, little,
red lump of flesh that he was when their mother died soon after giving birth
to him. She had been as a mother to him as long as she could remember.

"May I go out now and play, Manang?"

And Inciang heard herself saying, "It will be a year before you will see your
friends again Go now."

She listened to the sound of his footsteps down the bamboo ladder, across
the bare earthen front yard. Then she heard him whistle. There were
answering whistles, running feet.

"TELL him, Inciang," her father had said. That was about three months ago.
Inciang was washing clothes by the well with Tia Orin.

"Yes, you tell him, Inciang," said Tia Orin. It was always Inciang who had dealt
with Itong if anything of importance happened.

Inciang rose to her feet. She had been squatting long over her washtub and
pains shot up her spine.

"Hoy, Itong," called Inciang. Itong was out in the street playing with Nena,
Lacay Illo's daughter. "Hoy, Itong," called Inciang. "Come here. I have
something to tell you."

Itong gave a playful push at Nena before he came running. He smiled as he

stepped over the low bamboo barrier at the gate which kept the neighbors'
pigs out. How bright his face was! Inciang's heart skipped a beat.

"You have something to tell me, Manang?"

Inciang brushed her sudsy hands against her soiled skirt. "Yes. It is about
your going to Vigan."

Itong sat down suddenly on the barrier.

"Your are going to high school, after all, Itong," Inciang said. She said it
defiantly, as if afraid that Itong would like going away. She looked up at her
father, as if to ask him to confirm her words. Father sat leaning out of the low
front window, smoking his pipe.
Itong looked at her foolishly. Inciang's heart felt heavy within her, but she
said, with a little reproach, "Why, Itong, aren't you glad? We thought you
wanted to go to high school."

Itong began to cry. He sat there in front of his father and his sister and his
aunt Orin, and tears crept down his cheeks.

"The supervising principal teacher, Mr. Cablana," went on Inciang in a rush,

"came this afternoon and told us you may go to high school without paying
the fees, because you are the balibictorian."

Itong nodded.

"Now, don't cry," said his aunt Orin. "You are no longer a baby."

"Yes," added the father. "And Mr. Cablana also promised to give his laundry
to Inciang, so you'll have money for your books. Mr. Cablana is also sure to
get the Castila's laundry for Inciang, and that will do for your food, besides
the rice that we shall be sending you. Stop crying."

"Your Tata Cilin's house is in Nagpartian, very near the high school. You will
stay with him. And," Inciang said, "I don't have to accompany you to Vigan,
Itong. You'll ride in the passenger bus where your cousin Pedro is the
conductor. Your cousin Pedro will show you where your Tata Cilin lives. Your
cousin Merto, son of your uncle Cilin, will help you register in school. He is
studying in the same school. Will you stop crying?"

Itong looked at Inciang, and the tears continued creeping down his cheeks.
Itong was so young. Inciang began to scold him. "Is that the way you should
act? Why, you're old now!"

Then Itong ran into the house and remained inside. His father laughed
heartily as he pulled at his pipe. Inciang started to laugh also, but her tears
began to fall fast also, and she bent her head over her washtub and she
began scrubbing industriously, while she laughed and laughed. Outside the
gate, standing with her face pressed against the fence, was Nena, watching
the tableau with a great wonder in her eyes.

Inciang had watched Itong grow up from a new-born baby. She was six years
old when she carried him around, straddled over her hip. She kept house, did
the family wash, encouraged Itong to go through primary, then intermediate
school, when he showed rebellion against school authority. When he was in
the second grade and could speak more English words than Inciang, her
father began to laugh at her; also her Tia Orin and her brood had laughed at
her.

"Schooling would never do me any good," Inciang had said lightly.

She watched Itong go through school, ministering to his needs lovingly,

doing more perhaps for him than was good for him. Once she helped him
fight a gang of rowdies from the other end of the town. Or better, she fought
the gang for him using the big rice ladle she was using in the kitchen at the
time.

And her father had never married again, being always faithful to the memory
of Inciang's mother. The farm which he tilled produced enough rice and
vegetables for the family's use, and such few centavos as Lacay Iban would
now and then need for the cockpit he got out of Inciang's occasional sales of
vegetables in the public market or of a few bundles of rice in the camarin.
Few were the times when they were hard pressed for money. One was the
time when Inciang's mother died. Another was now that Itong was going to
Vigan.

Inciang was working to send him away, when all she wanted was to keep him
always at her side! She spent sleepless nights thinking of how Itong would
fare in a strange town amidst strange people, even though
their parientes would be near him. It would not be the same. She cried again
and again, it would not be the same.

WHEN she finished tying up the tampipi, she pushed it to one side of the
main room of the house and went to the window. Itong was with a bunch of
his friends under the acacia tree across the dirt road. They were sitting on
the buttress roots of the tree, chin in hand, toes making figures in the dust.
And, of course, Itong's closest friend, Nena, was there with them. Strange,
Inciang thought, how Itong, even though already twelve years old, still
played around with a girl.

And then, that afternoon, the departure. The passenger truck pausing at the
gate. The tampipi of Itong being tossed up to the roof of the truck. The bag
of rice. The crate of chickens. The young coconuts for Tata Cilin's children.
Then Itong himself, in the pair of rubber shoes which he had worn at the
graduation exercises and which since then had been kept in the family trunk.
Itong being handed into the truck.
Lacay Iban, Tia Orin, and Inciang were all there shouting instructions. All the
children in the neighborhood were there. Nena was there. It was quite a
crowd come to watch Itong go away for a year! A year seemed forever to
Inciang. Itong sat in the dim interior of the bus, timid and teary-eyed. Inciang
glanced again and again at him, her heart heavy within her, and then as the
bus was about to leave, there was such a pleading look in his eyes that
Inciang had to go close to him, and he put his hand on hers.

"I'm afraid, Manang."

"Why should you be?" said Inciang loudly, trying to drown out her own fears.
"This boy. Why, you're going to Vigan, where there are many things to see. I
haven't been to Vigan, myself. You're a lucky boy."

"I don't want to leave you."

"I'll come to see you in Vigan." She had considered the idea and knew that
she could not afford the trip.

"Manang," said Itong, "I have a bag of lipay seeds and marbles tied to the
rafter over the shelf for the plates. See that no one takes it away, will you?"

"Yes."

"And, Manang, next time you make linubbian, don't forget to send Nena
some, ah?"

Inciang nodded. "You like Nena very much?"

"Yes," coloring a little.

Itong had never concealed anything from her. He had been secretive with his
father, with his aunt Orin, but never with her.

From Vigan, Itong wrote his sister only once a month so as to save on stamps
and writing paper. His letters were full of expressions of warm endearment,
and Inciang read them over and over again aloud to her father and to Tia
Orin and her brood who came to listen, and when her eyes were dim with
reading, Inciang stood on a chair and put the letters away in the space
between a bamboo rafter and the cogon roof.

"My dear sister," Itong would write in moro-moro Ilocano, "and you, my
father, and Tia Orin, I can never hope to repay my great debt to all of you."
And then a narration of day-to-day events as they had happened to him.
And so a year passed. Inciang discussed Itong with her father every day. She
wanted him to become a doctor, because doctors earned even one hundred
pesos a month, and besides her father was complaining about pain in the
small of his back. Lacay Iban, on the other hand, wanted Itong to become a
lawyer, because lawyers were big shots and made big names and big money
for themselves if they could have the courts acquit murderers, embezzlers,
and other criminals despite all damning evidence of guilt, and people elected
them to the National Assembly.

Itong's last letter said that classes were about to close. And then, one
morning, when Inciang was washing the clothes of the supervising principal
teacher, with a piece of cotton cloth thrown over her head and shoulders to
shelter her from the hot sun, a passenger truck came to a stop beside the
gate and a boy came out. He was wearing white short pants, a shirt, and a
pair of leather slippers. It was Itong. But this stranger was taller by the width
of a palm, and much narrower. Itong had grown so very fast, he had no time
to fill in.

"Itong, are you here already?"

"It is vacation, Manang. Are you not glad to see me?"

They ran into each other's arms.

Father came in from the rice field later in the afternoon. "How is my lawyer?"
he asked, and then he noticed Itong wore a handkerchief around his throat.

"I have a cold, Father," said Itong huskily.

"How long have you had it?"

"For several weeks now."

"Jesus, Maria, y Jose, Inciang, boil some ginger with a little sugar for your
poor brother. This is bad. Are you sure your cold will not become
tuberculosis?"

Itong drank the concoction, and it eased his sore throat a little. It seemed he
would never get tired talking, though, telling Inciang and Lacay Iban about
Vigan, about school, about the boys he met there, about his uncle Cilin and
his cousin Merto and the other people at the house in Nagpartian.

He went out with his old cronies, but he had neglected his marbles. The
marbles hung from the rafter over the shelf for the plates, gathering soot and
dust and cobwebs. It was a reminder of Itong's earlier boyhood. And he did
not go out with Nena any more. "Have you forgotten your friend, Nena,
already?" Inciang asked him and he reddened. "Have you been giving
her linubbian, Manang?" he asked. And when she said "Yes," he looked glad.

On those nights when he did not go out to play, he occupied himself with
writing letters in the red light of the kerosene lamp. He used the wooden
trunk for a table. Inciang accustomed to go to sleep soon after the chickens
had gone to roost under the house, would lie on the bed-mat on the floor,
looking up at Itong's back bent studiously over the wooden trunk.

Once she asked, "What are you writing about, Itong?"

And Itong had replied, "Nothing, Manang."

One day she found a letter in one of the pockets of his shirt in the laundry
pile. She did not mean to read it, but she saw enough to know that the letter
came from Nena. She could guess what Itong then had been writing. He had
been writing to Nena. Itong had changed. He had begun keeping secrets
from Inciang. Inciang noted the development with a slight tightening of her
throat.

Yes, Itong had grown up. His old clothes appeared two sizes too small for him
now. Inciang had to sew him new clothes. And when Itong saw the peso bills
and the silver coins that Inciang kept under her clothes in the trunk toward
the purchase of a silk kerchief which she had long desired, especially since
the constabulary corporal had been casting eyes at her when she went to
market, he snuggled up to Inciang and begged her to buy him a drill suit.

"A drill terno! You are sure a drill terno is what you want?"

Itong patted his throat, as if to clear it. "Please Manang?"

"Oh, you little beggar, you're always asking for things." She tried to be
severe. She was actually sorry to part with the money. She had been in love
with that silk kerchief for years now.

"Promise me, then to take care of your throat. Your cold is a bad one."

Another summertime, when Itong came home from school, he was a young
man. He had put on his white drill suit and a pink shirt and a pink tie to
match, and Inciang could hardly believe her eyes. She was even quite
abashed to go meet him at the gate.
"Why, is it you, Itong?"

He was taller than she. He kept looking down at her. "Manang, who else
could I be? You look at me so strangely." His voice was deep and husky, and
it had queer inflections. "But how do I look?"

Inciang embraced him tears again in her eyes, as tears had been in her eyes
a year ago when Itong had come back after the first year of parting but Itong
pulled away hastily, and he looked back self-consciously at the people in the
truck which was then starting away.

"You have your cold still, so I hear," said Lacay Iban, as he came out of the
house to join his children.

"Yes," said Itong, his words accented in the wrong places. "I have my cold
still."

Looking at Itong, Inciang understood. And Itong, too, understood. Lacay Iban
and Inciang looked at each other, and when Inciang saw the broad grin
spreading over her father's face, she knew he understood, too. He should
know!

"Inciang," said Father gravely. Inciang wrested her eyes from Nena whom she
saw was looking at Itong shyly from behind the fence of her father's front
yard. "Inciang, boil some ginger and vinegar for your poor brother. He has
that bad cold still."

Inciang wept deep inside of her as she cooked rice in the kitchen a little later.
She had seen Itong stay at the door and make signs to Nena. She resented
his attentions to Nena. She resented his height, his pink shirt, his necktie.

But that night, as she lay awake on the floor, waiting for Itong to come home,
she knew despite all the ache of her heart, that she could not keep Itong
forever young, forever the boy whom she had brought up. That time would
keep him growing for several years yet, and more distant to her. And then all
the bitterness in her heart flowed out in tears.

In the morning, when Nena came to borrow one of the pestles. "We are three
to pound rice, Manang Inciang; may we borrow one of your pestles?" Inciang
could smile easily at Nena. She could feel a comradely spirit toward Nena
growing within her. After all, she thought, as she gave Nena the pestle, she
never had a sister, she would like to see how it was to have a sister. A good-
looking one like Nena. Inciang smiled at Nena, and Nena blushing, smiled
back at her.

More from this author:

Meeting

This story is from a 1941 book that was never published because the
manuscript was lost.

Transcript of Big Sister

BIG SISTER
Write at least 3 Pre-reading Questions.
a. Who is the Big Sister? Why is this story entitled in that way?
- The Big sister is named Inciang, because maybe Inciang is a very kind
eldest sister that will do anything for her younger sibling/s. As we all know, in
Philippine family traditions, the eldest or Big sister is always the ones who
gives away or called paraya for the younger ones sake. Inciang sacrificed
a lot for her sibling, thats why this story is entitled in that way.

b. What did Inciang sacrificed for his brother Itong?

- Inciang sacrificed her own future for Itongs success. Maybe Itong has a
dream to be successful in his studies and Inciang had to stop her own for his
brother.

c. What are the changes happened to Itong when he grown up?

- Hes already being secretive to her ate that he already forgot that her big
sister is the only person that will understand him.

Where is the setting of the story? What is the time period of the story?
Where does the story takes place?
- The story takes place in 2 places. First, in a place in Ilocos (unknown) where
Inciangs family lives. Second, In Vigan, where Itong go to pursue his
studies.The time period of the story is past, in late 1940s.
Who are the characters in the story? Describe briefly who they are and their
relationship to other characters.

Itong
the younger brother of Inciang, he have to go to Vigan to pursue his studies
because was granted to have scholarship for being a valedictorian. He was
afraid of being away from his sister but when he grown up, he changed. He
become secretive to Inciang especially to his lovelife.

Inciang
she is the Big sister of Itong. She stood up as the mother of her brother
when their mother passed away. She does all for her brother and she want
her brother to be forever young and beside her.

Father of Inciang and Itong (unknown)

- never married again when her wife died and prioritized their farm land.
Wants his son Itong to become successful in his studies.

Tia Orin
- aunt of Inciang and Itong. Become very supportive to them.

Nena
- the childhood crush and the apple of the eye of Itong.

What is the Plot of the story? Give a brief summary.

Inciangs mother died after giving birth to Itong. At that time, Inciang at her
early age of 6, stood up to be the mother of his brother. She watched Itong in
growing up and does all the chores for the family. She become very attached
to her brother that even the feelings of Itong for Nena, her playmate was still
shared to her. But one time, a good or bad news came, Itong was granted a
scholarship because of being the valedictorian in their class. But he have to
be away from his sister and father because the school is located at Vigan.
Years passed, Itong never forgot to send her ate a letter, sharing the things
happened to his life in Vigan. Time came when Itong visited her ate and
Inciang sees changes to his brother, Itong is already becoming secretive to
her especially with courting to someone, and that breaks her heart. She
dont want her brother to be grown up. She dont want seeing Itong to be
getting away from her. But one night, She realized, she couldnt keep Itong
forever young. She already accepted having a sister, Nena.
by Consorcio Borje
What is the Conflict in the story? Write down the sentence that proves your
answer.
- The conflict of the story was when Inciang sees changes to his brother
because Itongs becoming very secretive to her already. She dont want Itong
to be away from her.
*When Inciang saw Itong writing a letter and asked, What are you writing
about? And Itong replied Nothing Manang*
What is the resolution of the story? How was the conflict resolved? Write
down the sentence that proves your answer.
- Inciang realized that she cannot keep her brother forever in her side. So she
just accept the truth that Itong will be falling inlove and will change.
But that night, she knew despite all the ache of her heart, she couldnt keep
Itong forever young
After all, she thought as she gave Nena the pestle, she never had a sister,
she would like to see how it was to have a sister

Give a short background of the Writer. Was there anything in the authors life
that influenced him to write this particular story?
- Consorcio Borje won the 1941 Commonwealth Award for Literature for his
collection of 47 short stories. His Book was never published because WWII
came and the manuscript was lost. (source: sushidog.com) Its not written in
his background what influenced him to write this story.
What is the genre or theme of the story.

- The genre of the story is Melodrama. Melodrama is a story that emphasizes

action over characterization and features exaggeratedly dramatic plot
elements. Because this story is somehow dramatic due to the love of Inciang
to her brother.
What is the Irony in the story, if any?
- In this story, there is no Irony or turning of events because what we expect
that Inciang would accept the things regarding Itong happened.
Vocabulary:

Rowdies
coarse or boisterous in behaviour, rough.

Concoction
to prepare or combining raw materials.

Cronies
a close friend especially of long standing.

Constabulary
force

Comradely
An intimate friend or asscociate.

What lesson did you learn from the story?

- The love of your sibling and family is the most irreplaceable thing on earth.
What is the meaning of this story for you?
Literal Meaning- Big Sisters literal definition was the eldest sister.
Symbolic Meaning Big Sister in this story means a very kind eldest
sister that would suffer for her younger siblings sake.

Full transcript