The Ark

Author's note: These chapters are NOT stand-alones...The story starts here.

What was and what will be...25

I grab a chair and sit down by Tom and Elena. Nelia says dinner will be in about an hour, before kissing my cheek and leaving. Then, in succession, all but Jessa approach, kiss me on the cheek or brow, and say it’s nice to meet our guests, before retreating. I guess it’s quite a performance, as it gets a chuckle from Elena and a wide eyed stare from Tom.

Jessa grabs another chair and sits next to me. We are now two couples. Elena tries to engage Jessa in Tagalog, but Jessa doesn’t have much of it. Instead she answers in Cebuano, but Elena doesn’t have that. Tom is confused and I’m laughing. He’s about to say something, and I motion him to wait. Finally, the two gals figure out that English is their only option. It’s resolved, and Tom asks, What just happened?

Elena, laughing, says, Ira, stop laughing!

Jessa is only smiling, and Tom turns to her and asks, Why are they laughing?

I not know all, but your wife, she speak to me in her dialect. It not mine and I not have it good. I can understand some, but not speak it. I answer in my dialect. She not have that. So we try English. We both have that. That what I know.

Tom! Ira knew what happening. He knows you not really like it when I speak Tagalog. He see you about to complain about this, but he know what happen before I know. So he tell you to wait. She looks at me, Right? I nod. Her face turns back to Tom, So he laugh because you will get what you want without the complaint!

Ira, does she have that right?

I’m getting the laughing under control as I manage to get out, Yeh, that’s about it. … Here we have three Tagalog speakers, two Ilonggo speakers, and three Cebuano speakers. The only tongue all can speak is English. So this house pretty much operates in English. Though, I suspect our children will end up speaking all four languages. We will see. … So, Tom, what are your plans for while you are here?

Elena says we just need to be here a little for me to understand her better. She thinks that if we do that, things will be better between us. But she says we need to avoid the tourist things, because that is not the real Philippines.

Makes sense to me. Getting a feel for your wife’s culture is a good idea. Anything else?

Well, we’ve been talking about buying land here. Elena says we can live here like kings on what income I have coming to me. I’m not sure about that, but maybe, if we can get some land, it’ll be a good thing for her after I’m gone. How’s the land prices around here?

It depends on where you look, but you can pick up a nice parcel for sure. In truth, it’s often not the land itself that is far less expensive, it’s the cost of construction. When it comes to land, you better talk to Ann. She is our specialist in that. All the land we own, she brokered. Ann is amazing when it comes to wheeling and dealing. When it comes to your land needs, she’s the one to work with. And for you, she will not take a cut.

Ann? Ain’t she one of the young ones? How long has she been doing this?

She was doing it when I met her at age fifteen. Fifteen, living on her own, working as a numbers runner for a gambling operation, and doing land deals on the side. She is a force to be reckoned with.

What happened to her family?

I think they are OK. She is from a truly rural remote village where the kids are married off at about fourteen. She didn’t want that life and left to come to Tacloban and make her way in the world.

Tom looks at Jessa and asks, Any chance this Ann was making the story up to get Ira to accept her?

No, Sir, what Ira say, it is the truth.

He looks at Elena and asks, Is this the reason you didn’t want me to see your country before we married?

Elena is clearly uncomfortable and is stumbling, so I offer, Look, there are things in the Philippines that Filipinos are not proud of and would just as soon leave in the past and never speak of again. I think, as an expat and husband of a Filipina, we need to allow those things to be left unspoken. If a gal wants to tell us, she will. Otherwise it’s best to leave it alone. This is probably one of those times.

You covering for her? You know something?

Yes and no. I don’t know anything about Elena and I’m not going to try to find out. Yes, to the extent that I know when there’s something hidden that needs to stay hidden. Life is like that in the Philippines.

Elena is crying, and Jessa moves over to comfort her. They are talking in quiet tones. Tom looks at his wife and asks, Is Ira right?

We hear a very quiet, Yes, Tom. Ira correct.

He looks back at me. You some sort of mind reader?

No. I just live here and I have learned some things about life here. Things you don’t learn in the States. Life here can be very different. For us, life can be amazingly nice, but for others it can be pretty damned hard. The longer you are here, unless you are always thinking that the US is better, you will learn a great deal and probably learn to appreciate your wife far more than you might if just living in the States.

And who might you be?, says Tom looking over my shoulder.

Excuse please, Uncle, supper is ready.

Thank you, Dessa. … Well shall we go to the table?

Elena is walking between Tom and me as she says, What a pretty little niece, Ira.

Jessa says, without missing a beat or betraying any feelings, Yes, isn’t she?

There are bowls of rice, bihon, boiled shrimp in the shell, a bowl of afritada, a platter holding two offerings of crispy pata, and a platter of fried bangus. The table is set for thirteen.

Tom, allow me to recommend you allow Elena to put a plate of food together for you.

I’m not a child! I don’t need anyone to do that for me.

Look, I’m not suggesting that you aren’t a grown man, but you may not be familiar with how this is done here. And, in truth, wives here often prepare a husband’s plate. It’s seen as something of respect of the wife for her husband.

Humph.

Well, Tom may not be pleased with my answer, but Elena is, as she puts a plate together for her husband and says, Thank you, Ira. You are right.

I’m quite capable of putting my plate together but Jessa, reading the situation like the majordomo she is, picks up my plate and takes on the duty, before placing the completed plate in front of me and asking what I would like to drink.

Elena, picking up on that last detail, asks Tom for his preference. I have already asked for beer, and he says he will have the same. Jessa gets it for both of us.

The gals are drinking Sprite. No one asks Elena, but she is given a bottle of the stuff with a straw in it. Tom makes a comment, a bit too loud, that someone should have asked her, and Elena, in a voice a bit on the testy side, informs him, They do just right, Tom. This just the way we do it here.

In truth, if we had some Coke or Royal here, she might well have been asked. As it is, the cooler only holds Sprite. However, I’m on Elena’s side and keep my mouth shut.

But we are not done with the complaints yet.

This rice ain’t cooked right. Ira, don’t they know how to cook it? You say this is a rice culture and they can’t even cook that right?

Elena is furious. Tom! Please, you are talking nonsense!

The hell I am. Tell her, Ira. Tell her that this ain’t right.

No, Tom, I’m going to tell you to take your cultural prejudices and stow them. This rice is cooked to perfection. First, this type of rice is radically different from the rice you get in your supermarket. While not technically short-grained, it’s the shortest of all medium-grained rice. It’s softer than the rice you buy and it’s starchier. It’s meant to clump. The soft clumping nature allows the rice to be eaten with the fingers, like this. And with that, everyone at the table, including me, demonstrates how it’s eaten.

Seeing what we have done, Elena then forms a small ball of the rice with her fingers and, in full view of Tom, pops it in her mouth. And then she does something I’m sure none of us expect. She closes her eyes, smiles and savors the rice in her mouth.

Once she has swallowed it, she asks, Where this from? To which CiCi answers, Here. This is the rice we grow. You like it?

Yes! It a long time since I eat such good rice.

Tom is shaking his head and says, Sorry.

He is a bundle of righteous attitudes, wrapped in aging skin and bones. He has been arguing, right along, wrongly over things he’s totally ignorant of. Elena is seemingly just tired of his asinine behaviors. I have only been dealing with it for a few hours, but I’m already tiring of it.

Ann, Tom and Elena here are interested in acquiring some land. Why don’t you sit down with them and see if there’s any way you can assist them.

I get eyebrows.

Elena thanks Ann and Tom is confused again. Did she answer you?

Yes, she say yes.

I didn’t hear it.

That because you not listening with your eyes, my love.

That’s crazy talk.

Once again I decide to intercede.

No, Tom, your wife is literally correct. Here, you listen with your ears and your eyes. It’s a cultural thing. How can you be married to and live with this woman for six years and not know this? … May I make an unwanted suggestion? … Every time you are ready to criticize or complain, instead ask, ‘What did I miss?’ … I say that because it seems to be the primary issue that keeps on popping up. Remember, you said Elena wanted you to experience her culture. Each thing that has happened today where you were ticked off is you, not realizing, that you haven’t understood the culture.

You saying I made a mistake marrying a Filipina?

No, I’m saying you are not giving your wife room to introduce you to her culture. Now, if you think that anyone who doesn’t think your view of your culture is the only acceptable one is always wrong, then I guess marrying anyone beyond your own twin might be wrong.

So you are saying I’m being a bonehead?

I suggest you look in the mirror and answer that yourself.

Elena has been listening but has remained silent. Now she speaks to Ann. Maybe Tom and I can sit with you after supper.

Opo.

Tom looks at me. Ann said yes, in a respectful manner.

Ann speaks Tagalog?

No, but some words and phrases bridge the dialects. This is such a case.

There is little more that anyone wants to say, and we all pay attention to the food on our plates. And, for a minute or two, there really is not a word spoken, until Tom utters, Say, this is pork, right?

I’m happy to engage in this subject, and answer, Yes, the dish is called crispy pata. It’s a deep-fat fried whole hock of a pig.

It’s good.

Yes, it is. The crunchy skin makes it a favorite.

Skin? I’m eating skin?

Yes. It’s good, right?

I guess. It tasted better before you told me.

When supper is over, Tom asks me to stay with them as they talk to Ann, but I think it’s best if I leave this all to her. I suspect I have butted heads with Tom too damn much as it is. It’s time I left the field of play.

When they finish up with Ann, CiCi drives them back to their hotel. It will allow Elena and CiCi to chat in Tagalog while Tom rides along.

I take the opportunity to sit with Ann and find out what they might be looking to buy. The answer is, nothing special. Just some land along a road, where a home of a decent size can be built, and where they might already have water and electric service. Ann will show them some possibilities tomorrow.

Ira, why they want to buy? I think Tom does not like the Philippines.

I don’t know, but it may be primarily for Elena.

I don’t see the couple for three days. For a lot of that time, they are busy with Ann, as she takes them all over Leyte, Samar, and, I gather, they got as far as Biliran. CiCi has been in frequent contact with Elena as well. So it’s not like I have no way to know what’s going on. I just choose to not know.

I have said my piece with Tom. I’m sure he will ignore it.

If Elena is looking for an escape route, I can’t blame her. Tom really seems to regret making the marriage. I have no idea what Elena was escaping when she married Tom. Maybe, compared to the former, the latter is to be preferred. I simply do not know, nor should I. I don’t owe Tom any favor. There’s nothing unresolved between us.

If Ann can help them, fine. If not, fine.

On the evening of the third day, Ann sits down by me.

I was rude to your friend today.

Oh? Did he deserve it?

She grins. Maybe.

Did Elena get angry with you?

No, she not say anything.

OK, how were you rude?

I tell him, he not respect the Filipino. He should go back to America.

Are they leaving?

How I know?

Well, are you going out with them tomorrow?

No. No more.

OK. That’s fine with me. Thank you for your efforts.

You know, the wife is nice. I like her. Too bad marriage not have a time limit. She married a bad man.

You don’t have that problem.

What you mean?

You can leave me any time you want?

Ira! Why I do that? Never! You are crazy.

Yeh, you don’t need marriage for forever if it is a good thing.

Yes! I think this too. It only hold together the bad things.

Seems that way.

CiCi walks in, holding her phone out to me. I guess there is a call for me on it. That’s a bit weird but… whatever.

Sino to?¹

Hello? Ira, is that you?

Yes, Tom. What’s up?

Elena. She’s leaving me.

What do you mean, leaving you? Are you stranded somewhere? Where is she?

No. She’s here, in the bathroom. She says she wants out of the marriage.

OK, I’m sorry to hear that, but why are you calling me?

You know about these women. Why is she doing it?

I have no idea. Did you have a fight with her?

We always have these little things. You know.

No, I honestly don’t know. What was this little thing about?

Ann said I should go back home, that I didn’t belong here. After Ann dropped us off at the hotel, Elena said she was leaving me.

Why did Ann tell you to go back to the States?

Hell, I don’t know. It had to do with a cart being pulled by some damned ox. The thing was creating a traffic jam in the middle of nowhere.

And?

And I told the guy to get off the fucking road.

Do you think you had a right to say that?

Hell, what the fuck was the guy doing with an ox cart, this is the twenty-first century.

Tom, I want you to accept this with all the love and caring I have in my heart. Go back to the USA and never, ever come here again. Many people here farm with carabao, and you disrespected a hard-working farmer. That is entirely unacceptable.

So you’re saying I screwed up?

That’s the mild way of saying it. You have no business running your mouth like that.

You think that’s why Elena says she’s leaving me?

I have no idea.

You know, I had to grab her phone just to get to you. If she leaves, I won’t even know how to call you, much less get to the airport and get home.

Oh, she might get you a taxi to get to the airport. From there, as they will be speaking English, you will be able to get home. Of course, I really don’t know what she will do.

The call ends and I hand the phone back to CiCi.

Trouble?

Not for us.

I reflect on the strain of what I understand some call “American exceptionalism.” This weird concept that America and Americans are better than anything and anyone else. Beyond being wrong and stupid and jingoistic, it creates real messes. It gives permission for some of the worst that America has to offer.

Tom seems to be a classic example of all the ills that this concept offers.

Ninety minutes later, the doorbell on the pad is pressed. The camera displays Elena standing there. I don’t see Tom, but he might be off to the side. I send the lift down to the pad, and I see Elena alone walk, without a valise, into it. Whatever her plan, it won’t be to stay here.

She presses the button to bring the lift back up, and we wait. Looking out a window, I see a taxi driving back toward Tacloban. I text for Ann, CiCi and Jessa to come.

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1 - Functionally means, ‘who is this?’

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What was and what will be...26