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manong’s logistics
when Israel has four hundred years of slavery
I know manong’s stick and bones’ body is bound by rural poverty
if Israel’s feet built the Egyptian bricks
manong, meanwhile, toiled the ricefields
the same as what God heard as Israel's moan,
when their backs suffered from slashes and whipping
just as manong's back is cracked
by burden of the station of his birth
and the systemic corruption of his own people
for just like Israel
three hundred years of colonialism and more to go
manong calls onto God to end his oppression
with no land to own
he is being paid by a landlord
a pair of curious eyes peek behind the back of the landlord's orders
a young girl clutches the clothes behind her father, her uncle and her grandfather
when manong receives the minimum wage from these men
as manong continued to be soaked under the hostile sun
the landlords watches over the weighing scale of every grain
check the sumptuous harvest if they can be sold to the middleman
the middleman who pays cheap and sells them expensive
by the time it reaches the capital of Manila
if these landlords gained a poor trade
they are sorry for manong
for they can only pay what they can
and wish him well by another season
manong has always known labor
while the daughter of his landlord does not
this innocent and naive girl watches over the gruesome sowing
while her hands had never touched
a seedling, a gray loam, or a clay made as her path
this girl never worries about rice
her father always prepared her a meal
rice is a given staple
not coming short from manong's hardworking hands
not until inequality feeds them both
that this girl witnessed what generational chasm is between them
she, a landlord's daughter, is a privileged única hija
to have known things as such
both are at a losing end for a winning party
when imperial Manila has declared a decree
that all land should be given to the state
for mining and for the greater dynasties
which interest this society
and soon the key figures, the dominating sweep of imperial Manila
brings greater tides
slowly encroaches every resources of other regions as such
brewing the resentment of them from North to South
its last straw are voices screaming, “Separation! Separation!
Restructure the constitution down to federation!”
“And get the fuck out of our land.”
meanwhile the landlord's daughter and manong goes about their way
like every mundane day
where they scrape the very scraps of prosperity of this barren land
but barren it is not when under it teems with gold
owned by an Australian
a British scheming hands
única hija was schooled by her grandfather
about, "how people moved along these terrains, hija.
the long history of ingenuity of the natives
I've waded through ethnic disagreements and understand the indigenous people.
I’ve been a boy during the Japanese occupation,
yet I’ve thrived from the American military as a young man, asked aid from the president as a father.
Don't forget, my child. Always remember."
soon única hija finds a warped sense of duty of what's passed down
and inherit the last stroke of flailing dynasty
and reclaim the land
through alliances and loyalty
of the long standing party that preserved her town
against the emerging power that serves as a traitor
when people gave him trust
unlike manong, who's left unburdened
by machinations of influence
this daughter was well-trained to smile to controlling elders
to plastic elites like her godfather
who was tutored by her grandfather
her aunt’s idle husband
who’d done nothing to preserve this land
make mano to your ninong
say thank you to your generous ninang
as a sign of respect, condescension and patronization
among those who sit on their self-appointed throne
the única hija plays a hero for manong
when some of her intentions
is also to keep the status quo intact
to keep manong working in good faith
while única hija's dynasty revives being back to the top
of relevance
her dynasty knew better to rule the land
with better sympathy
than a traitor selling to foreigners
in equal interest to be vested to his newly acquired power
one day, manong shows up at the sari-sari store
in front of him is the landlord's daughter
mefenamic acid and amoxicillin
one pack of cigarette
and dos por dos gin
“list them down to my ledger, neneng
I'll pay them tomorrow.”
But tomorrow consists of three hundred and sixty five days
and the days turned into a decade
manong's bad debts are likely forgotten
thus forgiven
both groaned the ache of despair
but likely the daughter feigned misery in an empty chair
while manong wakes up early
to till the fields once more
because he cannot afford to do nothing
except after a day's work
he goes drinking
the sting of San Miguel gin burns through his throat
empty the cheapest pack of illicit cigarettes
and forget about the woes of today,
tomorrow and what lies ahead
the mother of the girl reprimands
of why did the daughter allow manong to incur a heavy debt
because manong comes knocking at the store once again
asking to borrow a kilo of rice
to feed himself
even if he planted the seedlings on his own
the girl's mother cannot be so cold-hearted not to have a conscience
if manong's asking a debt of rice
and so she gives in
admonishing manong to at least pay the price
diminish at least a portion of the empty promises
such as payment in due time
manong asserts that he will pay
goes home in his nipa hut
relish himself with a meal
until his muscles swell tight
he takes up each of mefenamic acid and amoxicillin pill
and groaned alone, inside the uncemented home
unmarried and forever bachelor
yet manong never think about these things
he drinks them all away
wash them off of his contemplation
be merry, be drunk with fellow farmers
a good natured man that only seeks simple luxury
faulty yet pure
a labor a day, is worth a celebration to live for tomorrow
meanwhile, the mother of the girl is thoroughly pissed,
the mother had her daughter punished,
she let her daughter finish a hand washed laundry,
five or six basket fitting for a washerwoman.
until this daughter had known exhaustion
like manong's everyday routine
the landlord's daughter was never allowed to touch dirt when she was a toddler
now, her palms are roughened by soap and water
once upon a time,
the única hija is pampered by her father
her fair skin and high nose renowned as mestiza
an abomination to let her touch a brown soil and a green grass
but once upon a time is gone,
the signs of it shift
like sands in the air when they drift
nobody's winning in a feudal hierarchy, my dear
what only brings you is an acute awareness
of how unfair each of us is born
and how merciless we are consistently punished
merely by existing
but guilt does you nothing,
brush your hands off, keep moving
if manong is at the fringes
yours is only a little leverage
fuck imperial Manila
be damned this greedy mining
at least when you can breathe freely
have the liberty that manong has not
use it then,
use it where both of you can at least see the end
see a light of this long dark tunnel
even if the light is a dot
