Americans -- Philippines -- Fiction; Short stories
Isidro pondered over the suggestion for two silent minutes. The prospect
of a day spent splashing in the lukewarm waters of the Ilog he finally
put down as not at all detestable, and, getting up to his feet:
"I will put them on," he said, gravely.
Which he did on the moment, with an absence of hesitation as to which
was front and which was back, very flattering to the Maestro.
That Isidro persevered during the next week, the Maestro also came to
know. For now, regularly every evening, as he smoked and lounged upon
his long, cane chair, trying to persuade his tired body against all laws
of physics to give up a little of its heat to a circumambient atmosphere
of temperature equally enthusiastic; as he watched among the rafters of
the roof the snakes swallowing the rats, the rats devouring the lizards,
the lizards snapping up the spiders, the spiders snaring the flies in
eloquent representation of the life struggle, his studied passiveness
would be broken by strange sounds from the dilapidated hut at the back
of his house. A voice imitative of that of the Third Assistant who
taught the annex, hurled forth questions which were immediately answered
by another voice, curiously like that of Isidro.
Fiercely: "Du yu ssee dde hhett?"
Breathlessly: "Yiss I ssee dde hhett."
Ferociously: "Show me dde hhett."
Eagerly: "Here are dde hhett."
Thunderously: "Gif me dde hhett."
Exultantly: "I gif yu dde hhett."
Then the Maestro would step to the window and look into the hut from
which came this Socratic dialogue. And on this wall-less platform, which
looked much like a primitive stage, a singular action was unrolling
itself in the smoky glimmer of a two-cent lamp. The Third Assistant was
not there at all; but Isidro was the Third Assistant. And the pupil was
not Isidro, but the witless old man who was one of the many sharers of
the abode. In the voice of the Third Assistant, Isidro was hurling out
the tremendous questions; and, as the old gentleman who represented
Isidro opened his mouth only to drule betel-juice, it was Isidro who, in
Isidro's voice, answered the questions. In his rôle as Third Assistant
he stood with legs akimbo before the pupil, a bamboo twig in his hand;
as Isidro the pupil, he plumped down quickly upon the bench before
responding. The sole function of the senile old man seemed that of
representing the pupil while the question was being asked
and receiving, in that capacity, a sharp cut across the nose from
Isidro-the-Third-Assistant's switch, at which he chuckled to himself in
silent and liquid joy.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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