Chapter II: Fiesta and the Bell Tower of Barrio Alonso

Chapter II: Fiesta and the Bell Tower of Barrio Alonso

3:00PM, a lonely church bell tolls, echoing its song throughout the small kubos that lay scattered orderly throughout the town, signaling that it was that time of day to pray to the Virgin Mary. And every time that bell sings, numerous people, mostly elderly women wearing long dresses and veils that hid their faces, would gather around where the sound was emanating from, as if the parish was broadcasting a feast or a town meeting.

Sometimes Lolas would bring some of their favorite grandchildren, but most discouraged it, seeing that this was the only time that they had to be alone with those who were about to meet their God, or at least, would seem like it. Children often give moments of nostalgia to these elderly people; a nostalgia that  is often unwanted. They often sat outside on their porches every morning to contemplate on their own funerals, and most of the time the off-beat, alien sound of youthful laughter and play would typically make them wish that they were young again. Damn, they would think.

They would even meet secretly on days when it would rain (so children would be forced to stay at home and sleep) just to be with those who are old also. They would waste afternoons playing cards, mahjong; sharing how their love stories began and ended, and how foolishly young they were when they got married. They even joked around with each other; pestering one another about their old husbands and their withering penises and how much they actually miss being a youthful and a beautiful Filipina, a dalaga, a Maria Clara. Ah, those were the days!

The Church Bell was built intentionally tall, about 21 times the height of its beloved Mestizo priest that was a son of a Spanish Guardia and a Filipina nun who had a forbidden love affair. Christened Gabriel Melatino Sinioville, now an accredited father of the Jesuit Order, had a very Spanish stature. He is about six feet seven, with huge and strong arms, thanks to the chores that he had to do day in and day out. Because the young Filipino Sacristans are too young and overprotected by their mothers, he was the one who had to climb up into the tower twice a day to clean it from bird shit; climbing painfully up through a steel ladder that had been carefully attached on the curious pile of stones and cement that formed the old church tower.

Gabriel, being Mestizo, handsome and bestowed with an over-defined muscular body, was often an object of desire for some of the ladies in and out of the town. Maybe it was also because of his unusually haunting eyes that would make each woman feel as if she was staring at the stars when they looked upon them, complemented by his eyebrows that fit perfectly with his proud forehead, red and pinkish lips that would flap like an eagle whenever he would lead the mass; showing but glimpses of the purely white tablets perfectly laid out behind them.

Women gawked whenever he would give communion, especially when his fingers that smelled like honey and freshly cut oak would near their mouths. In just those moments, they sinned, and communion became something they absolutely did not look forward to. Their mouths remained unconsciously open, and sometimes, when the heat was too much to bear, they would stick out their tongue too far for propriety’s sake and touch the tip of Father’s fingers. The body of Christ, he would say. They would go out into the church thinking not of the message that he delivers quite well every time, but the weight and the confusion that came with wondering: “Of all the people You could have called Jesus, why him? Why not that guy over there! Damn it!” Gabriel was already a master at playing dumb, as if he did not notice all the times his fingers got tipped by a tongue on hot Sunday afternoons. But he preferred to remain seamless, as it was a good way to not to lose God’s sheep.

Staring through the multitude of elderly women, half of which were staring at Gabriel already, Father Gabriel Melatino Sinioville saw a pleasant, familiar figure of a woman in a black veil amidst the small crowd. She seemed like she was whispering prayers in the far corner of the church just left to where most people would like to enter stood a statue of the Lady of the Assumption and a beautiful Narra wood cross that was carved and painted beautifully by a Tausug traveler. There she prayed, behind a few pews that were good for kneeling and praying the rosary. When the figure’s head turned towards Gabriel, he immediately waved his wonderful arm into the air, stopping a number of women mid-air in their prayers. Who’s he waving at? The figure made sure that her bright smile be visible to him even from this distance.

He walked slowly towards her, trying his very best to be ignored by all of those who were kneeling and praying to the Virgin Mary, passing through a number of elderly women holding on to their rosary beads in front of religious oil canvasses of the Passion of the Christ and the Last Supper, adorned with decaying day old flowers from the forest and a grandchild who could not understand the words: “behave, or else I’ll leave you here.”

The woman in the black veil did not bother to get up when Father Gabriel stood by her. She merely motioned him to come down and join her in her prayers. Don’t you make me stand up, she thought.

“I especially enjoy kneeling and praying when somebody answers right away, don’t you?” The old lady said. He watched her words bounce off the veil, making it wave back and forth as she spoke.

“Not when they only tell you to shut up.” Gabriel knelt down beside her and clasped his hands together as they giggled. The old lady two pews fronting them coughed, knowing very well that it was a fake. “It’s always good to see you, Lola Chiong. Happy fiesta.” Gabriel smiled enough to light up the cross.

“Ay, Happy Fiesta hijo. But I fear you will not say the same thing after what I am going to tell you…” she said. She gave out a sigh and lifted up her veil to show Gabriel her eyes that seemed to glow red.

“Have you been sleeping appropriately, Lola? You need your sleep, you know.”

“Don’t lecture me about sleep, young man. I will get enough rest when I am dead. But you, you continue the work of the Lord, and with such a handsome face too, Senior.” She reached her hand out to squeeze Gabriel’s face, like a mother squeezing her child when something would happen that made him or her exponentially more adorable.

“I feel as if this is the only way I can lure a beautiful lady like you to hear mass.”

They both giggled a bit louder. The old lady fronting them was already walking towards a more isolated place.

“Anyway, Gabriel,” Lola Chiong began to speak a little more seriously now. Nothing could ever compare to the sound of her voice whenever she would speak from the heart; it sounded like it was already written in stone, in truth, and it inspired many to fear and respect her, and the whole of Barrio Alonso to love her. Love always comes after honesty, she would always say. “Tomorrow I will speak to Berto Timbreza. He wants to leave town already.”

Gabriel’s face sank, as if he was hit by news he did not expect at all. And it was true; Gabriel always thought that Berto Timbreza would stay here for more years to come. He even thought that Berto would probably be buried here in this town! There was nowhere else for a man like him to go, he would sometimes think. Why else would God lead him here after all that had happened before? Is it because of circumstantial chance that he found this town? This very town that God himself disguised from the Japanese armies? Here he found his peace, whether in God or in His creations. This town welcomed him, and he welcomed the town. He needed to be in this town. Father Gabriel always believed that Berto had been led here by a higher purpose, whether by his own foolishness, or by divine wisdom.

“No… actually I do not believe I have seen him in mass lately. Why does he think of leaving us, Lola?” Father asked, curiously, still at a loss of Berto’s disposition.

“Tomorrow, I shall speak with him, if I can still catch him. Pray that it rains tonight.” Lola Chiong stood up, slowly letting the blood circulate all throughout her legs once again to regain some feeling into it, and started the long walk to her home. She stopped short of the door and turned towards Gabriel as if forgetting something important, saying: “Pray also for Pelagio and Antonio. My fears are starting to worsen.”

Gabriel just nodded and looked towards the crucifix and gave out a weak sigh.

“Every day.” He said to himself, and to God who was hiding somewhere in this church. He looked towards the center altar and saw that old lady that they forced out of her pew was blissfully oblivious of everything else now; he wanted to apologize. He looked to where Lola Chiong had went, and found that she was already in the distance, walking towards the town.

But why leave, Berto? Who are you kidding? Why now, when nothing had happened yet? His thoughts ran amuck in his head. He started to pray, for he was beginning to feel fear. As he was making his way up to the altar, he started to contemplate the road that was still yet to be traveled. He feared for his church, and his ministry, he even started to fear for his life. Right now, he feared a lot of things.

He looked at the entrance and a huge hole just became too apparent for him, gazing off into the horizon and the settling 3:31PM sun, onto the buzzing, curious barrio Alonso.

“May God be kind to us who are to be tested,” he said, silently, almost praying into the loose wind that travels often, passing the troubled souls that took notice. And fair enough, when the Church bell struck 7:00PM to signal the feast of San Miguel and the closing of the Church for the day, the clouds began to settle in and flashes of light illuminated the dark expanse of the forest as an overture.