The Mission

Obet was scared to go out of the house that night. It was the eve of the “Araw ng mga Patay” – the Day of the Dead. Earlier that day he was listening to his Lolo, great raconteur that he is, as he told tales of horror and ghosts and things that go bump in the night. So when Nanay Gloria asked Obet to go on a certain mission for her, he took the order with some trepidation.

He stepped out in the cold night, eyes darting side to side, praying he will not see any of the creatures his Lolo frightfully portrayed in his stories. The street was unusually quiet, Obet observed. The usual group of kids playing patintero at this time of the evening were not there. The perpetually bibulous Mang Tomas was conspicuously absent from his spot near the corner of Lanzones and Atis.

As he approached the leafless madre kakaw, a freezing wind blew and the bare branches of the tree seemed to come alive and started reaching out to him. The wind moaned like the cries of anguished souls from the unfathomable depths of Sheol. The dark shadows from the clump of banana trees took on hideous forms beckoning at him. He wanted to turn back but the weight of this mission was heavy on his shoulders and he knew that there was nothing or no one that he might encounter in this journey would be worse than incurring the wrath of his Nanay. He had to complete this task no matter what.

The wind died down somewhat as he passed by the bamboo grove near the creek. It was then that he heard the creaking noise not unlike the opening of an ancient coffin that seemed to come from within the thickets. He thought he heard a snickering laughter but he rationalized it as only bamboo leaves rustling in the soft breeze that came blowing by. Suddenly a long and mournful ululation pierced the darkness and made Obet almost jump out of his skin. It’s that stupid mongrel of the Santiagos he explained to himself.

Breathing heavily and with leaden feet he crossed the rickety bridge. Just as he came at the northern end he glimpsed a small fire flickering by the edge of the creek. With disbelieving eyes he saw the flame move slowly. It was very close to but not touching the ground! His hair stood on its end. He wanted to run away from it but he kept telling himself that there must be a perfectly logical explanation for this apparition. Gathering up all his courage he picked up a stick lying nearby and inched slowly towards the source of his fear. As he came closer he could make out that it was actually a lighted candle that seems to be moving on its own volition. Fingering the crucifix that dangled from his necklace and offering a quick prayer he crept slowly and prodded the mobile incandescence with his stick. The candle tumbled to the ground and lit up the dried grass thereby illuminating the scene. It was then that he saw a befuddled tortoise scramble away from him as fast as it could. Apparently some practical joker stuck a flaming candle on the poor creature’s back and set it free near the bridge with the intent of scaring the wits off of an unwary passersby. Obet quickly doused the fire and emboldened by this discovery continued on his journey.

It wasn’t long before he saw a faint light in the distance.  That must be my destination, he assured himself. His footsteps echoed on the cobbled street as he half-ran towards the light. Obet was almost out of breath and sweating profusely despite the clammy air when he entered the nipa thatched structure with only three walls. In front of him were several jars and assorted bottles. The tiny gas lamp that hung from the low ceiling cast a harsh glow on a head with white unkempt hair. The head bobbed a little and then Obet saw an old face, wrinkled beyond belief. A pair of blood-shot eyes squinted unwaveringly at Obet. Dark red fluid slowly dribbled on the person’s chin as she stared at him expectantly.

Obet took a deep breath and in a quivering voice said:

“Aling Tekla, pagbilhan nga po ng suka. Pakilista na lang daw po sabi ni Nanay.”