The big outrigger
pump boat carrying passengers from Romblon island rode the waves under
a bright late afternoon sun. The smell of pungent deisel engine fumes
carried by a mild habagat wind stirred the peace among those
who tried to catch sleep...
Banton island
loomed northeast. A school of dolphins put on a show of sea
dance - aft and fore a few meters away from the pump boat As if on
cue, a
squadron of flying fish catapulted jet-like above the waves; wrapped
in
poetry, they disappeared in the swirling mass of sea....
There was this
guy sitting on the upper deck, his back resting against the
wooden pole at the center of the outrigger pump boat. I recognized
him at
once. His name: Arsenio Falihan.
The sea and islands
are no strangers to Arsenio. He used to be a gromete
(crew member) of batel and lanson ( wooden boats powered
by wind and sail) . He knew the tradewinds and sea routes to Mindoro,
Batangas, and Lucena. His broad shoulders carried with him the weight
of copra and lumber and hogs.
But that was long
ago. Arsen as I fondly call him was a story teller.
Besides that he knew every hill and cove in Banton island . I inched
my way to where he was sitting. I said hello; we shook hands.
We were about
30 minutes to the island. He pointed left of us Gakot island. "Between
Gakot and Banton, the Paraiso rests - in her hold were my Tatay and
Nanay and my baby brother." Yes, I remember the Paraiso. It sank
one May night after a loosing battle with a gale.
Arsenio's voice
cracked but when someone yelled that Yuksuhan cliffs came into picture
perfect view, he smiled. "One more story for you. About
Makusog and Mabangyo. Makusog was the son of one of the tribes in
Banton. Mabangyo, the daughter of another tribe.. They grew up together
- they ran wild in the rain; they hunted seashells, octupos, squid
and crabs in the coral reefs.
Makusog (strong)
and Mabangyo (sweet smell) fell in love. But their parents objected
strongly to their union. Both of them were already promised to someone
else.
At the foot of
Yuksuhan cliffs one morning, a fisherman found the bodies of
Makusog and Mabangyo among the rocks......
"That's why
the cliffs are called Yuksuhan - you know, a place to jump!"
Arsen ended his story with the promise that over a glass of tuba,
he would
wait for me that evening when there was moonlight; when the habagat
wind was at peace with the sea....
The pump boat
moored; the passengers disembarked. I looked for my backpack. When
I came back for Arsen, he was gone.
Bewildered, I
asked myself why dolphins, flying fish, batels, lansons, and a
guy named Arsenio make up a beautiful story of love.
