Francisco Jose - Dusk

It is not for me, Your Reverence, to blunder into a realm about which I know little. But I have lived here so long, I can feel the passions which, I know, are seething in the hearts of many in my flock. This is not our country and these people are not related to us by blood. A wide and cruel ocean separates us and, try as we may to impart to them what we know, they will always be Indios and we, Spaniards. They will imitate us and we flatter ourselves hoping that it is the best side of our nature that they will copy — the dignity, the pride that we have in ourselves. But this will not be so; they will instead inherit our vices, and as I look around me, I can already see what those are — the greed and the corruption that exist in the highest reaches of the principalia here as it had existed, too, in Valladolid .

This is not what we want. When the time comes, I pray that we will go peacefully .

For the first time, some of their young men are now in Europe, learning what we ourselves have learned. Surely, they will return, their minds enlightened, their thinking broadened, in a way perhaps that ours would never be because we wear the cloth. While we have a spiritual depth which they cannot equal, they will also be more familiar with the secular world, which we sometimes do not fully understand .

It is inevitable, I think, that they should be prepared not just for the duties which all citizens of Filipinas should shoulder, but more than this, they should be equal partners in the leadership. The world is changing; we have already seen what happened to our provinces in the Americas. The time approaches when they should sit side by side with us in our highest councils not because this is what they want but because this is what we ourselves desire .

This means that there should be more Indios selected not just from the principalia and the mestizo families, but from the peasantry, who will have to go beyond the cartilla. In the seminary, I should be teaching not just a dozen pupils but three or five dozen so that our strength and our influence will be permanent .

Forgive me, Reverend Father, for what I now have to say. Forgive these thoughts of an old man who has been touched, perhaps by fever, but just the same, please listen .

Eventually, we may have to admit into our Order the native priests we have trained and train them further in our Houses in Spain, not because we believe they are equal to us — which is sometimes difficult for me to believe because I have always regarded them as children — but because they should be able to manage their own house eventually as all children must when they grow up .

Your Reverence, I know that there are loud dissenting voices in our fraternity, that our military grumbles, and many of the officers find the idea abhorrent. In your last visit to the mission, for instance, I am sure that you remember Capitán Gualberto of the Lawag garrison, how trenchant his views. But Your Reverence knows as well as I do that where the sword is used, the cross is cursed. Capitán Gualberto’s objections are not really insurmountable, as can be seen by the effectiveness of our ministrations where we have persevered .

In the Ilokos, Your Reverence, we have succeeded because we have remained and worked with the people, who showered us with goodwill and sincerity. These cannot but be reciprocated .

I have mentioned how bright some of our wards have been, and it is very sad to see that they cannot go beyond the schooling now permitted them. Some ten years ago, for instance, I brought into the mission in Cabugaw a farm boy of ten whom I had confirmed. There was something in the boy’s face which proclaimed not just his intelligence but qualities of leadership. I taught him Latin, too, gave him the books those studying for the priesthood read. I also taught him the little I know of physics, astronomy, botany, and explained to him the native plants of medicinal value. I taught him what I knew of anatomy. I let him read The Confessions. He was full of questions .

He showed great intelligence, for which his race is not particularly noted. I am aware of the advice against someone from the lowest ranks eventually joining the priesthood. He is still in Cabugaw and I mention him only to show how capable they are in learning and, perhaps, in administering their own affairs, so that those of us in the Order can attend to the more important duties at hand — the eradication, for instance, of Masonry .

We have been here so long. This alone convinces me of our God-given obligation to the Indios. I expect to spend my last days here in Bantay just as so many of us have done and I am happy that my life is my contribution to Mother Spain and to God .

We will be reviled, as, indeed, this is already being done by envious men of dark intent, but it is only because they do not appreciate the legacy that Catholic Spain has bestowed upon them, a legacy which assures them, even if they don’t believe it, of one foot in heaven .

I remain, your devoted servant .

Jose Leon, S.A.

The concerns of Eustaquio Salvador, the sacristan about whom I have spoken with much praise in this letter, matter to me very much, Your Reverence. May I seek your permission that he be allowed to enter the seminary in Vigan? I ask this knowing that he will fulfill his duties with loyalty and devotion, and that he will serve his people and Mother Spain .

Dusk is the day’s most blessed hour; it is the time when the spirits of darkness drift slowly down the bright domain. The acacia leaves droop, the fowl stop their cackling and fly to the boughs of the guava trees to roost, and as the light starts to fade and the shapes of trees and houses and even the motions of people seem shrouded, the essence of time, of change, and the brevity of life itself is realized at last.

Istak often felt like this about the day’s end. If he were still in Cabugaw, where he had served as acolyte for the last ten years, he would now be going up the musty flight of adobe to the belfry. There, in the murk of early evening, he would toll the Angelus, stirring the bats that hung in the rotting eaves. It would be dark when he would go down the flight, the clap of bells still humming in his ears. In the past, he sometimes bumped into a protruding abutment, but he had learned to avoid the traps in the corners. Down the dim hollow, he would hurry, hurry to the convent where old Padre Jose had already said the Vespers and would be waiting to impart his blessings to Istak first because he was the oldest and the best, and then to the younger acolytes.

Now, it was dusk again. He hurried up the path to their house at the other end of the village. A lightness of spirit lifted him; he would have the first good meal ever since he left the convent. In the late afternoon, before he went to the fields, he had watched his mother dress the chicken; told her he must have the gizzard and the liver. Mayang had humored him with the promise, then sent him back to the field to help fill the gaps in the dikes before the rains came and ripped them apart.

The low eating table was set and around it sat his mother and father and Bit-tik, his youngest brother. Only An-no was not present, for he had gone to Cabugaw to give the new priest their gift. Istak bade his parents good evening, but only his mother returned his greeting. The old man’s silence worried Istak; his father was moody again. In the orange glow of the oil lamp, his face was lined. His front teeth had been knocked out by a civil guard’s rifle butt and as Ba-ac chewed, the depression in his right check deepened.

Istak dipped his hand into the shallow bowl of water. Mayang had prepared a tasty broth; she had chopped fresh ginger together with green papayas, and now the scent of chicken and spice came to his nostrils.