Near the gate of Chung Shan Public Elementary School, some rare birds flew down on a bough and began preening themselves. The pupils were walking into the entrance or went out into some shops. But Peregrino’s eyes were holding a look of envy with children positively revelling under the sun, and then the birds.
Yes, Peregrino envied the birds as they were perching on the boughs, soothingly, the tree flowers scenting the air. The perfect spot for an afternoon nap. He wished he could do the same - join the birds on the boughs and magically stay there as he closed his eyes and fell asleep.
His head was bobbing, his eyelids drooping. He didn’t sleep the other night. His shoulders ached from sitting hunched over the steering wheel of a taxi for close to 15 hours a day. And his hands had developed hard skin at the lines on his fingers that divided them into three neat segments.
The only place he could nap at the moment was the lawn that lay sprawling endlessly in front of him. Why not, he thought. But his only concern was he might start drooling as he often did when he slept, mouth wide open. Sometimes, he would somnambulate.
Peregrino’sflat in Wulai seemed so far-off to him now. An entire 60-minute train ride away. Even if he was to be sent to it without delay, he was sure that his insomnia would recur as soon as his jagged bed was within his grasp. So, he just sat on the bench looking on to the trees, holding his very old mobile and an airmail envelope in which the letter of her family was. It was in Tuwa's hand.
The paper smelt like Burayoc, their barangay. Even after all these weeks of being kept in his coat pocket, if he closed his eyes and took a scent of that paper, he could remember what his girls and their house smelt like, the way dust rose when a tricycle drove past, the way it settled in edgings of dresses and resided inside noses.
The handwritten letter in Panda pen ink was beginning to fade away. Some of it had gone in places. But he had read the text enough times to recite it in his slumber. The missing ink hadn’t bothered him before, but for the past few days it seemed to bear a growing space between the sender and him.
Peregrino’s daughter Tuwa, who was all of twenty, was getting married in three weeks. Three months ago, she had sent her father a letter asking him to come home to talk to the man’s family and make the troth official. But Peregrino had been unable to make it home early enough so his brothers-in-law, his wife’s brothers, had gone in place of him.
Tuwa hadn’t spoken to her fatherfor days for fear that he might be disappointed, she was with child for five months. But she was confident that everything would come out OK in time.Her boyfriend was a very responsible sort of person and had finished his university already, andthree months after she would graduate from university, too, so nothing to worry much, she thought.It was love at first sight, and he proposed to her six weeks later. Their love for each other had been increased by what they’d been through together.
Now all that was left to do was for Peregrino to fly back to Ilocos and attend the wedding ceremonyas if he wasa guest. Never did he feel angry with Tuwa. He was rather happy.
‘I’ve sent the money already,’ Peregreno reminded his daughter. ‘I’ve bought you a new phone. I’ll bring it when I get home.’ Every week, Peregrinowould look forward to talking to her daughter by phone, though sometimes he spent more than he would send home. After trying to make his wife realise that there was nothing to get so concerned about anything, he just stayed silent as he pinned his ears back to her unrelenting chatter on the other end.
He always found himself smiling when she talked because although most people would call it irritable, he was really paying attention to her voice. No different voice that he had fallen in love with when he heard it across a high wall for the first time. ‘Oh, Calliope, I love you.’
The girl with that voice at the time had come to visit his aunt and was calling to her seated on a jute makeshift bed nearby, cooling herself with a hand fan, asking whether she needed to debone the bangos. His aunt was a fisheries professor at the IlocosNorte Regional School of Fisheries.
All of twenty three, Peregrino had come out in the backyard just then to fetch his father’s snacks when his ears perked up at the sound of the voice, which he couldn’t define in any other way but like heavenly music, coming from the other side of the walls. He couldn’t see the person, but her voice to him was angelic. That afternoon, he teasingly asked his mother to examine who the young guest was around the corner.
‘Mother, Aunt Xenia has a visitor? Is she her student? Can you know her name for me? Peregrino’s mother was woozily happy to know who that girl was. Neighbours gossiped, shy eyes met and a couple months later, Calliope and Peregrino became man and wife under the shade of a mango large tree as the rest of the barangay celebrated around the love-struck couple. Twocarabaos and five pigs were butchered. The governor of IlocosNorte and the mayor of Pagudpudwere present, and they had sixty primary sponsors. That was 32 years ago. That was the time when Peregrino’s family had a farm to cultivate. They sold it for his father’s frequent hospitalisation.
On top of the three short years soon after their happy day that Peregrino and Calliope had shared a bed, a home, a life, time had gone by in the midst of them, with only these weekly phone calls holding them as one. That, and the three lovely children they had managed to produce in interjected moments spent together. If not Peregrino had lived on his own in a tiny flat in Wulai since 1997, when he had left Pagudpud for Taiwan.
He left his job as a security guard of a milk company in Pasong Tamo in Makati and decided to stay in Laaog for good, but employments were difficult to come by then in Laoag. And opportunities were not favourable. It means it was a dull life, nothing exciting to look forward to, nothing worth reflecting on. Peregrino, then in his mid-twenties, had a young wife and a sister in-law to support. After a dialogue with Calliope that stretched through the night until dawn, he decided to look for work in Taiwan. He had known Taiwan then when his two schoolmates had got married to a Taiwanese. Every year the families would visit Pagupud. And he had hear their companies continued to thrive. Their parents had moved to big houses.
He got to Taipei. He got a cheap ticket on-board a Chunghsing bus from the airport to the house of his friend to begin work for the agency that had hired him as a taxi driver.
Day after day, Peregrino’s day began at 5 AM, with Sundays and holidays. He could never sleep in an extra hour or stay underneath the over-blankets, however cold it was outside. And it was often cold outside in this city. He would slog himself out of bed, get dressed, and drive into the Taiwan Taoyuan International Airport.
There, he would turn into the next side street and park his taxi and wait for a harrowed traveller to come into view from the building’s sliding doors. If he desired a change of sight, now and then he would drive to the more placid Tianjin Street and wait there instead, but carrying outjustno different duty.
It would be unfair not to acknowledge the enthusiasm that his customers brought to the job. There were mothers rushing to kindergarten to drop off their children before work during mean phone calls from their boss because they were late just as the sitter said she couldn’t take the children this afternoon. There was always a drunken passenger on the weekend. The kind who was so inebriated that they forgot where they lived. This was commonly a student from one of the many schools, or it was that young couple who kissed and cuddled in the back seat for heat and other reasons. But he was just another taxi driver in this city of two-and-a-half million and Peregrino longed to be back in a place where he was recognised as more than that.
What had he got in all these years that he had lived away from his family? True, he earned more than he ever would have if he stayed in Ilocos. It was enough to send home and live contentedly. But he had lost out on time rocking his child to sleep, falling asleep next to Calliope as he stroked her hair. He had missed special Sunday breakfasts of sinanglaw and watching boxing matches on television with the neighbourhood.
He was still treated as something like a god each time he returned, which wasn’t frequently. If the captivation didn’t stem from the fact that people were seeing him after so long, it was mostly because he was still amongst the handful of people in his family who had it, made it in a foreign country and coped to stay, as against those who ran back ina couple months, intenselybothered by what it meant to live outside IlocosNorte.
And many of them, at least of the younger generation, were waiting for their pair of rubber shoes or a new watch or a packet of cigarettes, which meant Peregrino’s coming meant more to them than anything. But now he desired to be home to be the father of his children. How he desired, not in Wulai, but in Burayoc, where he could participate in the pre-wedding madness that is a staple feature of a Filipino home. But because he was so distant, these choices were restricted to Tuwa’s uncles and male cousins.
So he just waited for the day that he would fly home. It was for keeps this time. He had turned in his papers a few days and said goodbye to fellow taxi drivers who were the closest he had to family. He had packed his valises with 15 years of musings and things, which remarkably didn’t go in for much space.
The last time Peregrino had been home was when his father had been diagnosed as having cancerten years ago. The old man was helpless and his dying wish was to see the son that he adored one more time before he close his eyes on the world for the last time.
This time, Peregrino was going back, not only for one or two weeks, but forever. He was bidding goodbye to the only life he had known for what had seemed like never-ending. He looked at his TransAsiaticket in disbelief, shaking his head. It almost didn’t seem real.
Peregrino set off for TaiwanTaoyuan International Airport in a taxi whichhe didn’t drive himselffor the first time,on the day of his travel. He got out, got his luggage, and generously tipped the driver $10. Making his way inside the airport, he checked in his luggage, took his boarding card, and headed for security.
During the checking procedures, he was called aside and given something the once-over. His things were opened and repacked. After an abrupt smile from the officer in charge, he was allowed to go on to the departure lounge while the authorities continued to shoot sly doubtful looks over their shoulders.
The plane ride seemed interminable. There wasn’t enough leg room and the meals seemed too small. Peregrino was sitting next to a larger toff who occupied most of the space available. That he was seated close to the washroom did not help his wish to get some sleep during the trip. Even the on-board entertainment couldn’t addle him.
Hours later, the plane landed on solid ground. After a brief period in transit, the plane landed on the Ninoy Aquino International Airport. He was relieved to be back to his country. He spent the next hour thinking of his family, of Burayoc.
The next time when the plane landed, it was in Laoag.
As subtly as possible, Peregrino tried to take in the air while still inside the aeroplane to check whether he could smell the familiar smell of Ilocos, of home. Nothing yet. His family would be coming up outside. He tried to be as good-mannered as possible to the other passengers as he quickly grabbed his cabin luggage from the overhead compartment and made a beeline for luggage claim.
He was cleared quickly. Stacking his belongings on to a nearby trolley, he was just aboutto run outside. And as he rushed through the sliding doors,a lot of things had changed.Laoag was no longer the city he used to know. The new Laoag was buzzing with so much energy.
A wave of Ilocos gentle wind greeted him.
The smell of the familiar, the smell of family. There she was, more lovely than he recalled - dark brown eyes, thick brown hair that peeked out throughout,and herangelic smile. She was a vision of loveliness.
‘Papa, Papa,’ called out Tuwa as he was coming near.Her voice was girlish and eager.
There were tears, embraces, and joy-filled cries. But the details are indistinct. After a two-hour taxi ride that had no space for silence, Peregrino was finally home in Burayoc, Pagudpud. He felt like he knew his future son-in-law more than he would have if he had spent three months with him. Tuwa’s animated chatter made it seem like she planned to tell her father five years of stories in one afternoon.
Peregrino got out of the taxi and stood in front of his parent’s house, the old home where he had grown from a boy to a man. His parents had left this world some time ago. His father left first and then his mother years ago. He had happy and sad memories of their house.
He opened the rusty gate that led to a front yard, which smelled still of rain. The sight of the gate was inexpressibly poignant to him. A small dog barked at him. Yayay, their neighbour, who had been with the family since before Peregrino was born, came hobbling out, using a wooden stick for support. She wore a blouse and an abel as her skirt. She was a sensitive, lovable woman. She was weeping with tears of joy.
‘You look rather frail,’ she said, touching his face.
Peregrino’smoustache was as coarse as her palm, the result of more than 40 years of untiringly performing domestic activities. Peregrino just smiled and kissed Yayay on the temple.He laid his bag on the floor and opened it to get a watch for her.
Once the jet lag wore off, Peregrino was able to meet the guests who had started pouring in long before he was up. Some for the wedding, some for him, some for what he had brought with him. They shouted, pulled at his cheeks and asked him questions.
Fresh groups of guests arrived. After a while the room was filled with cases of liquor. They boozed all night. Calliope was sitting beside her husband, a little aloof and detached. He seemed not tired and exhausted.
***
One afternoon,Peregrino’s brothers-in-law introduced the two outside a coffee shop in a public market. He was a shrinking boy whose eyes appeared to say that he loved Tuwa perhaps as much as he loved his Calliope. That was good enough for him. All he wanted was a man who would love his daughter like the way he loved Calliope.
On the morning of the day before the wedding, the decorators had a spot in the garden wreathed so quickly. The florists transformed the front yard where the wedding would be held in a few days. They made an awning made of bamboo. They prepared everything in front of the house. The monobloc plastic chairs were arranged carefully at every table on which there were three plastic roses in every vase. With its simple decoration, the yard was a peaceful haven. Every neighbour then knew that Tuwas was getting married. Having a wedding reception at home was no longer popular in Burayoc, but Calliope liked it.
The caterers talked over particulars of the menu. Calliopeand Tuwahad several menus to choose from: goat caldereta, ox-tongue, lechon, carne frita, nilaga, estufado, and valenciana. The sweet sellers - leche flan, sorbete, buco-pandan salad - did the same. Peregrino was slightly astounded by all the bustles, a marked difference from his more than quiet life in Wulai. Being back after so long, he kept thinking that he could hear the bells of the train outside his window. He seemed of Wulai, and it followed him even in sleep.
He kept waking at 5 AM, getting rattled that he had slept late and remembering that he could sleep in as long as he liked. It felt wonderful to be back with Calliope again, falling asleep in her arms, his head against her chest that rose and fell with each breath that she took.
He tickled the hairs on the back of her neck. He was gently stroking her black hair. It felt so wonderful to be with a woman after so long. But they had so little to talk about. Tuwa wanted to move away to another city with her husband who had found work there, but Calliope didn’t like the idea. Peregrino promised to babysit his forthcoming grandchild, his first grandchild. So there was no reason for the couple to move away. He suggested that Tuwa’shuband-to-be could commute to his workplace every day.
In 15 years that he spent as an OFW, Peregrino had never felt completely accustomed to there. He couldn’t believe how he had coped with working abroad. And now that he was back, how could he feel so incongruous? He was surrounded by people he loved, by his neighbours, by his relatives. How come he felt so alone? In a bustling home preparing for the first wedding in years, why did he feel like he was crying, yet nobody heard him? Why did he feel he was living with strangers? Why did he sadly miss something he couldn’t recognise?
He would have to give off Taiwan to start out on Burayoc again. He would have to connect up with a wife who had turned into a stranger. He would have to find the familiar in what he always thought of as familiar. In the face of travelling so many miles, Peregrino’s journey was beginning with the fatherhood he had never experienced as his children were growing up, his eyes filled with tears, with pang of conscience and validation, with sorrow and contentment.
Now he was looking forward to having a grandchild soon as time was sitting in his hair.
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