Last Tuesday, it nearly tripped Ponciano Alarin, farmer from Region 1. It could have tripped anyone from Cordillera Administrative Region (CAR), for that matter.
In an unobtrusive, wee but cute hut tucked somewhere in the municipality of Naguillian bordering CAR and Region 1, is an unpretentious sign that stuck its foot out in a footpath that can trip anybody. The sign says “Welcome.” Below it, it beckoned in Ilokano, “Sumrek kayo, dungo.” (Come on in, dearie).
Never being the ones to disobey commands of inanimate signs, Ponciano pulled Ah Kong by the ear and gingerly knocked on the door.
The door creaked open and there stood the most terrifying caricature of a person they’ve seen, a look-alike of a creature who rules in the bowels of hell.
In his hand was a wickedly gleaming badang (bolo). As Ah peed on his pants in sheer terror, Ponciano stood his ground, fearlessly. The man stared at the two malevolently.
It seemed eternity when, suddenly, the man’s face broke into the widest grin that could melt to butter the most cold-hearted women, as his voice boomed and reverberated across the nearby meandering hills.
“Sumrek kayo, ka- dungo, dungo!” (Come in, my dearest dears). “Ka-ad-adaw ko laeng diay inapoy. Ket attid-dog ti aldaw nga panag-iliw”, (Just took off the cooked rice from the hearth, and the day is long for us to long.), said the bolo-wielding macho, named Carding Baliba.
So the three sat, ate and talked of May’s lingering daylight and lingering longings of time gone by when one can sleep unafraid in the open skies with mouth open and snoring, never mind if mosquitoes feast on our bodies like vampires gone rampant.
May can be the representative of other months when, during our young days, we were afraid to wake up to relieve one’s self because the darkness kept painting mysterious silhouettes on our visions. And we were forced to hop off the bed only because the bladder is about to burst.
Oh, those long days. Anya ke din aya, nga agpayso, (Truth is…) days of the month of May are long, and even in the midst of cheerful or cheerless moments of longing, time passes to bright and unclouded day.
One has to smile at the thousands of CAR and Region 1 residents who whine days fly so fast and not enough time to finish chores. Rightly so. But at day’s end, these residents, particularly the men, open a bottle of wine and drink to their heart’s delight. As for the women? They mustn’t be moody. Narigat ti bumaket a dagus (Grow old fast).
Because, as May says all along, it’s alright, for new days will come eventually, as sure as May is part of the 12 –year calendar and the year.
Why May days (or summer days) are long is explained by science. It’s about light refraction. Refraction or bending of light by earth’s atmosphere causes the sun’s upper edge to be visible for many minutes before it goes up the horizon. The same is true during sunset. Extent of refraction depends on atmospheric temperature and pressure.
Hence, even before the clock strikes 5:0’clock AM at dawn, it is already bright. After 6:0’clock PM, light still lingers, warding off the incoming darkness of dusk.
That explains why the day hangs on as long as it can, eager and bright, absolutely and positively the last guest to leave the party when all the food and drinks are gone, until the last sunlight dies.
When darkness rises from the ground, it oozes around the ankles, swallowing the last drop of the hours of a day of May. Here you can say, as you turn for home, every day, a sunset dies.
Still, one can be comforted by the certainty that dawn and dusk are the sun’s best friends. Dawn opens the door for the sun to a brand new day and dusk shuts it to embrace darkness of night.
May smiles, saying,” I’m the path, bending life and blossoms as seasons come and go, the summer of your lives to remind when my last day ends, comes the rage of typhoons poring tons of water from the sky to turn the fields to green or turn your dreams to murky water.”
May cautions, “ Woe to any who haven’t battened down by fixing leaky roof, clean drainage while preferring plastic, scatter garbage hither and yon and wantonly destroying trees and environment. Well, for Christ’s sake, I’m the portent of things to come in the company of hell weather that brings misery – for as long as it takes.”
Golly! May merely warns we can destroy a mountain and fell trees in one single day of May or other months anyway, but can’t erect a mountain or transform trees in one single damn day.
Cripes! May demonstrates we can sit back on our heels, tickle our backs and squint at stars cutting their way through the onrushing darkness, till all will reverse. Day becomes night, the blackness glittering with the sands of time, a tiny flame beyond the bounds of time. That would be more than enough learning for the day.
More than learning, sannamagan, our day is made. That adventure of star squinting and sitting back on the heels in the day makes the day a real day.
So when you drink your cup of tea or coffee, you come alive with the thought that there is no wind which could sweep your thoughts from your exuberant heart; not that day, not this day and not any other day.
