“My Uncle Gaspar a.k.a. Kapitan” Jayson E. Parba

My uncle’s friends called him Kapitan, not because he was captain of our barrio, but simply because they considered him the steersman of a boatful crookedness they called tong-its, mahjong, and sabong. Mama said that when Uncle Gaspar was born, the crowing of the roosters at early dawn was unusually loud, so that Lolo Efren decided to sell them the following day to cut off the curse he had foreseen as the future of his son, who he named after one of the three magi that visited Christ in the manger.

When I was small, I never saw Uncle Gaspar in our barrio. What I knew was he worked as a truck driver in Saudi and together with him was Uncle Diosdado. Almost every December, a balikbayan box, filled with all the different kinds of chocolates, cigarettes, wines, and some appliances would arrive at the front door of Lola Estella’s house. In our excitement, we would wait until the box was opened although Lola Estella would not want us to crowd around the box. Once the box was opened, different kinds of stuff greeted us, from a 24 inch TV to reams of Marlboro, different sizes of shoes, and chocolates of different brands. These were then generously distributed to Uncle Gaspar’s friends in our barangay. Lola Estela made sure everybody had something from Saudi. The coming of the balikbayan box was like having fiesta. The whole family was happy. The children, me included, were of course very happy as we gnawed our young teeth towards their inevitable decay.

For almost five years Uncle Gaspar worked very hard in Saudi. He sent money to Lola Estella to build a house and to buy a farm lot. Maybe he thought of not staying long in a different world that seemed waterless and was populated by camels and strange people that looked like hermits I often saw in story books my mother used to read to me before going to bed.

As far as I could remember, he rarely visited our hometown in Bukidnon. Lola Estella would sometimes spread out the photo album she kept in the aparador of their house. In it I would see uncle’s pictures together with hairy men who wore long, white gowns that reached the ground and a skullcap which covered their head. I would also see other bearded Filipinos playing cards with him. To my mind, they all looked the same with those beards. Beside them was their pulotan, which later on I learned to be paklay, a combination of an animal’s internal organs cooked spicy.

When I was ten, Lola Estella had a cardiac arrest. After a few days in the hospital, she passed away without her two sons at her side. A telegram was sent to her children in Saudi, and Uncle Gaspar came home immediately. I thought because he was a mama’s boy. Mama said that even if he was very naughty as a boy, Lola had always given him a special attention. Uncle Diosdado did not make it to come home because his employer did not allow him.

He was wearing thick sun shades when he came for Lola’s funeral. He did not speak so much, and he had remained aloof during Lola’s internment, but I never saw him shed a tear. After Lola was buried, Uncle Gaspar decided not to return to Saudi. Instead, he stayed on for many months in our little barrio where he had become a spendthrift. He spent most of his time playing billiards and going to the cockpit. His siblings, including my mother, wondered how Uncle Gaspar had become so lost. Since Lola’s house was located a few steps away from our house, I would often see him going home late, drunk. I asked mother why, she said maybe Uncle was just grieving over Lola’s passing, and at the same time, maybe he was feeling guilty for his absence while Lola was in her deathbed.

It seemed that Uncle had no direction or future plans whatsoever. So after six months of staying in Kauswagan, our small barangay in Libona Bukidnon, his friends suggested that he got married. It was all Osting’s idea. Manong Osting was himself a bachelor all his life. It turned out that he had already someone in mind to match for my uncle. That was how Uncle Gaspar met Auntie Soledad.

Miss Soledad Tolod came from Dipolog City where she graduated her degree in Elementary Education. She came to Kauswagan first as a substitute to Ma’am Carpio whose health condition during that time was declining. Eventually, however, she was taken in as a regular teacher when Ma’am Carpio died out of an unknown disease. I heard from the Grade three pupils that Miss Tolod was very strict. She would not allow any students to get out for recess if they misbehaved in class. Gossips around our barangay said that Miss Tolod was a typical Bol-anon. They said that women from Bohol were normally maldita.

One time, I saw Manong Osting and Uncle Gaspar seated and talking at the porch of the house Lola Estella left. They were looking towards the right where the elementary school stood. They were waiting for somebody.

“So what should I do first?” Uncle Gaspar asked.

“Just smile at her,” Manong Osting replied, sounding very excited.

“Will that do?”

“That’s already a good start.”

“What if she won’t look at our direction?”

“That’s simple. I’ll whistle,” Manong Osting concluded.

A few minutes later, I saw two women walking towards our direction. One of them was Miss Tolod. I pretended not to hear any of Osting’s and Uncle’s plans. But I could hear them whispering at each other while Mang Osting kept on giggling. Uncle Gaspar gasped. He looked very nervous as the women neared towards the front of the house. He gathered himself and swallowed his saliva. Then I saw him looked at the women intently. It was Miss Tabasa, the grade one teacher, who first noticed my Uncle. Miss Tabasa nudged Miss Tolod when she noticed that my Uncle was staring at Miss Tolod. Miss Tolod’s reaction was that of a surprised woman who didn’t know what was happening around her until Miss Reyes, the other teacher, pointed to Uncle Gaspar using her lips. Then the other two women giggled as Miss Soledad looked towards the place where my uncle was seated.

When the three teachers finally passed by, I saw Mang Osting and Uncle playfully spank each other’s biceps. Manong Osting said something like “You’re the meeen.” I thought they were silly. They behaved like small children.

The following day at early morning, I was awakened by the noise outside our house. I got up, and went out to see what the noise was all about. Many young men and even some old folks in our neighborhood were gathered at the house of Lola Estella. Some were sitting on the ledge of the porch while the others were seated on the bench that was constructed and used during Lola Estella’s wake, when many people came to express their sympathies. In the middle was Uncle Gaspar who was looking so tired, with beards unshaved and hairs uncombed. He suddenly looked like Phillip Salvador, his favorite action star. The men obviously talked about him and Miss Tolod.

“Oh, you should have seen how she looked at Kap! I think she is already in love with him,” Manong Osting said, referring to uncle in his pet name.

“I think we should already start preparing the long table then?” This time, it was Bansin, a good for nothing neighbor who enjoyed being able to contribute in the conversation.

“Wait, I thought going back to Saudi, Kap?” somebody interjected.

“With how things are going, I think, I will stay a little longer before I leave again,” Uncle Gaspar responded. He winked at the men in front of him as if they understood the meaning of those words he kept unsaid.

It was clear. Uncle Gaspar had indeed fallen in love with Miss Tolod. Everyone in Kauswagan heard of it and was excited for the wedding. For Mama and her other siblings, it was something they had been looking forward to considering that Uncle Gaspar was already 33 years old. It was time he settled down.

The wedding happened three months after that incident. But to many people’s dismay, it was not as grand as they had expected it. Uncle Gaspar and Miss Tolod settled for a civil wedding only. The couple exchanged their vows in front of Mayor Lopez. Mama said that during the ceremony, Uncle Gaspar appeared very pale, and when Mayor Lopez told them to exchange their marital vows, Uncle Gaspar’s mind had indeed drifted away for Miss Tolod, who I would call Auntie Sol or Soling after that, had to nudge him by the elbow to get him to saying his piece of the marital bargain.

Uncle Gaspar and Auntie Soling decided to live in a rented house next to ours on No. 08 Street of our barrio. It was uncle’s idea, thinking that number eight would give his family good luck. However, I could often see him go to Lola’s which stood at the right of our house and was only a stone’s throw away. Every now and then, I would see Uncle Gaspar play billiards with Osting and Bansin at Manang Melya’s house and spend almost the whole day there, sometimes skipping meals over a game. On weekends, I would see them play mahjong. One time, they had a very heated argument over the alleged cheating of Nong Maldo. I had to stop reading a short story book when it happened, and Mama, who was then putting the clothes on the clothesline, had to approach them to make sure the argument would not worsen.

Aside from his feat in mahjong and tong-its, Uncle had this very strong passion for fighting cocks. In front of their house, on the lawn were eight fighting cocks of good breed. According to Manoy Ryan, if the rooster is rasa, it is very expensive and has good chances of winning. Every morning at six, Uncle Gaspar would massage each of his roosters while bathing them at the same time. This was how he spent his weekday morning while Auntie Soling busied herself for school.

Uncle’s first son was born on a sunny day in April. Auntie Soling gave birth in a private hospital in Cagayan de Oro. When they arrived at their house at Street No. 08, we were all there to welcome my newborn cousin. Manong Osting and Bansin were also there to welcome their prospect godson.

“His name is Phillip,” Uncle introduced the baby to us.

“Wow! He’s certainly going to be a chick boy!” Manong Bansin said.

“Look. He has dimples in both cheeks. And look down here! He has a big lizard for a newborn!” Manong Osting remarked.

Everybody had a good laugh. Uncle was the most happy of all people.

While Phillip became uncle’s source of joy, my cousin had become the roosters’ source of grief. The spoiled cocks no longer owned Uncle’s time. Uncle, having no regular work, had to take care of his son, since auntie Soling had to go to school to teach. Uncle delegated the task of taking care of his cocks to Manoy Ryan who had the same interest in cockfighting. But sometimes, I thought that the cocks were not as happy as before when Uncle was with them every morning. Manong Ryan, being a growing young adult by then, would sometimes wake up very late. The poor cocks would have to miss their breakfast or morning bath whenever this happened.

One afternoon, I heard Uncle calling Mama as if there was as an emergency. He was walking very fast, panting and looking very nervous like he had seen a ghost. When Mama opened the door to let him in, he was very pale. We then smelled something very foul, coming from him and Epi who was in his arms. It turned out that the baby had defecated and, Uncle who did not know what to do and was not used to wiping out baby’s dirt, panicked. He left Epi to Mama who was more than glad to clean my cousin. From that day on, Uncle would often leave Epi to Mama or to me whenever I had no classes. He would rather spend his day with his cocks or with Manong Osting and Bansin and play mahjong or tong-its. It seemed that the cocks were very happy to welcome him back in their arms, I mean, feet.

In the middle of all this, Auntie Sol was beginning to feel unhappy. Sometimes, I would hear her voice at Manang Melya’s house calling for Uncle to go home. Her Bol-anon accent made her voice sound like she mocked uncle Gaspar who only smiled to his friends every time Auntie appeared in their midst in the middle of a very ecstatic mahjong or tong-its game. Sometimes, when Auntie Sol busied herself with washing their muddy clothes, Uncle would slip out the house as if mimicking Phillip Salvador escaping from George Estregan, his ultimate villain.

One day, I overheard Mama and Manang Gagang talked about a certain Perla who was new in Barangay Kauswagan. According to the rumors, she was a swertres financer and a widow. Her husband was ambushed and the goons took away the money he was bringing with him on that day. Often, Perla would call on the young men who passed by her rented house on No. 09 Street, offering them to drink with her. Since she had money being a gambling financer, many men, especially the drunkards, were often lured to her lair.

I did not know how Uncle met Perla. But the rumors spread out like fire, consuming the malicious minds of our neighbors. Mama told us never to talk about it especially when Auntie Sol was around. But I knew it would eventually reach to her.

By then, Auntie was actively involved in church. She became the mass commentator and the parish secretary. On Sunday mornings, while Auntie’s voice sounded very calm on the microphone in church, Uncle’s and his friends’ voice rose above, rapturous over a cock match in front of their house which was just a few meters away from the church.

One day, Auntie Soling came to our house. She was calling for Mama even if she was still outside the fence of our house.

“Nang Letty…Nang Letty!” she called, her Bol-anon accent very distinct and sharp. I thought she was angry.

When Mama came out, she had already expected the question from her. Auntie Soling had her arms on her waist.

“Have you heard about Gaspar and a certain Perla?” her voice sharp again.

“Yes, Ling. What about Gaspar?” Mama asked, pretending not to know anything.

Auntie Soling left, but she said she would do everything to know the truth. I would have told it to her right there, but I was very young then. Mama said never to join in the conversation of adults, unless you are asked to do so. I would have advised uncle, too, to stop what he was doing, but then again, I was not the right person to do it.

One evening, I heard Auntie told Epi, who was then already 10, to look for her father at Manang Melya’s. Epi came back and said that he did not see his father. I heard auntie rant about having to do all the chores at home and work hard to earn and to feed the family. She was shouting like she had been possessed by the devil. When I came out to see what was happening in their house, I saw her carrying a copra sack, half-filled with something. She walked toward the billiards of Manang Melya. Uncle Gaspar was hiding at the back of Manang Milya’s house when his son Epi went there to look for him, so he was surprised to hear the voice of Auntie Soling outside when he was about to go out and show himself.

“You don’t want to go home? You want to live here? Then be it! Don’t you ever show yourself to us again!” Auntie Soling barked.

She dropped the sack on the ground, turned around quickly ignoring the surprised by-standers and Manong Osting and Manong Bansin who pretended not to see her but whose eyes glanced at each other meaningfully. Manong Osting said something like “Patay!” under his breath. When Auntie Sol was already far from hearing them, Manong Osting called my uncle to reveal himself.

“Kap, wala na si Kumander. She has left” it was Manong Bansin.

The men jeered.

Uncle came out, smiled to his friends, and inspected what was inside the sack. But when he saw his clothes, he fell silent and stood there without saying a word. A few minutes later, he decided to go home, bringing with him the sack. Auntie Soling came home before him. When she arrived, she went directly to the lawn and untied King, uncle’s favorite rooster, and took him inside the house. Auntie locked the door behind her so that when Uncle Gaspar arrived, he could not do anything but stay in the small hut he built for his afternoon naps. He was pleading for entry and said he would never do it again. That he would change. It was in vain though for Auntie did not open the door for him.

I heard a commotion inside their house. King crowed but sounded very weak. At nine in the evening, Epi came asking for a bowl. He said Auntie Soling instructed him to do so. After a few minutes, he came back with a bowl of chicken tinola. When we ate dinner, the chicken was not very tender yet. But man, it was the tastiest soup I had ever tasted.