The message of a dying Igorote mother [essay]

Title

Language

English

Source

The Little Apostle of the Mountain Province XIX (9) May 1950

Year

1950

Subject

Conduct of life

Philippine essays (English)

Rights

In Copyright - Educational Use Permitted

Fulltext

OH'. THAT DREADFUL NIGHT . . . PHOTO VERANNEMAN THE MESSAGE OF A DYING IGOROTE MOTHER ~ The first streaks of daylight filtered through the little hole just overhead. It had been one of those sleepless nights during which the poor emaciated body of my consumptive mother had been racked with pain. And now that Dame Compassion had granted her a little respite, she was lost in wanderings and reminiscences. had dragged my mother outside. A voley of curses had rent the very surrounding air. There and then a cool-bloody murder had been committed. Why had he chosen my mother for his victim?- Oh! she was lovely, and gentle, and kind, and she was such a very dutiful wife and mother. Suddenly she caught sight of me Stealthily I slipped outside into the and said, "Madre, how vividly I re- dark. Where was my beloved mothmember that dreadful night. ..... when er? Where, the maniac who had a man had staggered into the hut and dragged her along? Who was he? - 19.. . ... He had fled, fled with the blood of his wife still cleaving to the blade of his bolo. Suddenly the moon stole out from behind an inky-black cloud and shed her pale silvery light upon earth. And behold! There upon the grass I recognized the distorted and bloody face of my beloved mother. Red warm blood oozed steadily from a deep gaping wound, just above her left eye. Life was slowly ebbing away. Oh! that I could have stayed the IFUGAO WOMAN WITH CAMOTE hand of the grim specter of death• who hovered above my dear mother! I wanted to scream, but found no voice. Suddenly the ground gave way beneath my feet. I reeled and fell into a dead faint. Oblivion had drawn a veil of mercy before my eyes. When I regained my senses, I lay on a little improvised mattress of grass. Near me sat an old and shriveled woman trying to soothe my painful brow. HAPPY TO HAVE HER NOONDAY MEAL PHOTO CASTEL -20For a long time I lay there as in a daze, not knowing what had passed, not being aware of the great loss I had sustained. But little by little the appalling scene came back to my memory. Luckily I could cry. It eased somewhat my aching heart. But oh! to have no mother more and to see no father around. I looked at the kind old woman, but I closed my eyes again and slept the sleep of the innocent. I had just reached my sixth birthday. Twenty and two years have passed since I beheld for the last time the face of my beloved mother and that of my treacherous father. The latter never. came back, but rumours had whispered the painful truth into my ears. I never got strong. Lack of the bare neccessities of life caused my body to waste away day after day. Kind neighbors had taken me in and had treated me like one of their own until that fatal day when after a heartrending cough my dress got stained with blood. Fear of contamination decided against my fate. I was given to understand that it would be safer to leave the house and my adopted family. But where was I to go? Destitute and homeless I went from place to place, from house to house, living on charity. I had not the courage to look for food. I had not the strength to work. And one day when the wind was fiercely blowing from the North and the sun refused its healing warmth, a young man with a very sensitive face, and muscular arms and legs stopped his carabao, scanned my face, and withEXTRA-CURRICULAR ACTIVITY! out much ado took place at my sideand spoke; "You are ailing, aren't you? Why do you sit here shivering with cold?" My eyes filled with tears. One by one they trickled down into my lap. I could not speak, but I looked up into his face, painfully smiling him my thanks.- "Follow me," said he, "come to my hut and rest until you feel well enough to go home again' ...... Home! Where was my home? I faltered, but somehow I managed through a flood of tears, to say that I had no home. In a gulp of words, some incoherent, others angry, I blurted out the whole painful truth and ended with a curse for him who had caused my bereavement. He was stunned. Some minutes elapsed while neither of us spoke, then in a gesture of compassion he stretched forth his hand, helped me on my feet and said, "Henseforth my hut shall be your home . . . . Being naturally very timid and bashful, I would not go with him at first; but his winning smile little by little drew me like a magnet to his - 21side. "Your name?" asked he. " People call me Songay, my real name is Mary Lumawig."-"Do you know whether your father is still alive, and if so, where is he now living?" he inquired.-"My beastly father, the murderer of my beloved mother lives not so far away, they say. He has found another woman and other children to kill, if he feels like doing it. I . . . ... I curse him, speak not of him anymore." - "Poor girl," was all he said. Slowly we took to his hut, there I stretched my aching body upon a mattress and soon I fell into a deep sleep. I had found a home at last .. Inspite of my sickness, Pablo grew fond of me, and asked me to become his wife. Never was there a better and gentler husband. I bore him two children. One a little boy, the very image of his father. He never grew up. Two days after his birth, he winged his flight to a better place. ... THE YOUNG MAN STOPPED HIS CARABAO (page 21) PHOTO CASTEL The other is my little girl. My husband and I were not to be consoled, when our little boy had been rutlessly snatched away from us. The new sorrow almost broke my heart and caused my husband to pine for many a week thereafter. He lost his appetite, grew weaker and weaker and finally caught my own sickness. Before he died we had become Christians, thanks to a dear Madre that lived over there in the convent. Once more this lgorote mother lay wasted and dying with a young girl of eight years old sitting at her feet. I too sat near her waiting for death. Her eyes were closed, her lips did move now and then . She gasped for breath. Still she made a slight movement and wanted to speak but had to wait until another cough had ceased.-Slowly the words came from her parched lips, ''Madre, . . .. .. . won't . . . you . . . take ... my girl . . . with .. . you ... and . .. - 22be a. . . mother ... to her?'' - Readily I acquiesced and tried to prevent her from further talking. But she went on, more feebly, more slowly, more painfully, "Madre, I ... remember ... wha t ... you ... have ... told me . . . so .. . often a.bout Him. He . . . too ... was . .. dying ... , but his . .. was ... a cross ... to ... hang ... on. - Open the door, ... Mad re .. . , I hear ... His. voice. He ... comes.- 'Father, forg ive them, for they know not what they do.' Yes .. that' s ... it. Madre, . . . if ever. . . you see . .. my father .. . tell hirn ... that I. too . .. forgive . . him. Jes us, . .. I love .. . You Jesus ... I forgive . Her eves had closed in death . Ana , her little air!, lives in the convent with the Moth~rs. -·-23Ji(- ·- ·- ,,- ·- · - ·- - -·- ··- _ ,,_ .!£ I I - i I Monsignor Sheen had been ° I asked to give a lecture in Phi- I I ladelphia. '.\"ot knowing his I i way about the city, he ap- i j proached a µ;roup of boys. i i ' 'Son1n-." he addressed one i j of them. "•'could vou show me j ! the wav to the T~wn Hall? I j I will s1-ieak there tonight and ! i _ show the people the wa~- to 1 . _ heaven .. , I I I The hoy looked up at him i skeptically: ''Humph, you . . 1 1 : show the wav to heaven? And ! - von don "t t>~·en know the wav I ! io the Town Hall." · I i I :l:E·-· --··- .. --·· -···- ·- .. - ··-·· - .. -l:< PHOTO VERANNEMAN

pages

19-23

Media