Hunting

Alex de los Santos

I really did not want to go with the hunting party that weekend. But Julius, who was seated in the back of Tito Ike's jeep, called that I should join. Julius was Tito Ike's nephew. He grew up with Tito Ike's family because his parents died in a car accident when he was very young. Tito Ike and Tita Vicky had four daughters so they sort of adopted him. He was Tito Ike's constant companion every time Tito Ike visited Dad.    We were not related to Tito Ike. He was Dad's buddy in all his hobbies. They hunted together, they fished together they went to the cockpit together, they drank together. Sometimes his family had dinner with us, sometimes we had dinner with them. Either way, we would expect to stay up so late because the older men would drink beer until mom and Tita Vicky ran out of stories, and my mom would start dozing off on the sofa, and we children would get bored and start quarreling with one another.     In all of those gatherings at their house, I had to put up with Julius' games. He didn't have monopoly, or scrabble, or dominoes, or snakes and ladders. We would play with guns made of banana stalks, and we had to make-believe the bedroom was a forest in Central Panay. He would be Army, and I NPA. I hated it because I had to die all the time. If I had a real gun, I would have shot him to end his silly games. Lucky for him, I wouldn't dare touch a real gun. If we were not playing Army-NPA, it would be racing down the highway on our easy riders, or dribbling his adult-sized basketball.     Julius was in the sixth grade, I was in the fifth. I hated him because he was a bully in school. He was among the big boys in their class, captain ball of the basketball team who always played against St. John's Academy. They would always win, of course. That's why he was very popular in school, especially with the girls. But little boys, myself included, avoided him, and maybe resented him. My resentment was not so much because he was more popular, but because he did not talk to me in school. It's like he doesn't know me at all. When he would pass by our classroom in the second floor and I happened to be by the corridor playing pick-up sticks with my classmates, I expected that he would at least acknowledge my presence by smiling or saying hi. Why, just last Sunday I scraped my knee when I climbed the acacia tree to untangle the kite we were trying to fly. But it would always seem like he did not see me at all, short of stepping on our sticks.    That's how Julius' invitation changed my mind that weekend. He really asked me to join the hunting. It wasn't my first hunting trip. Before Dad used to take me along with him. In fact, I felt I was required to go with him all the time. He'd leave me alone in some spot, and would tell me to wait till he comes back. Always, I would find myself sitting under a tree for hours on end, staring at the sky, wondering when he would come back. Perhaps he left me there on purpose because he did not want me? I would think of Hansel and Gretel. My only assurance that he was just around somewhere was when I would hear a shot from his airgun. Or maybe Dad was shot by another hunter, or by the NPA.    Once Dad took me hunting in Taringting. That was when Taringting was still uninhabited and there were no beach resorts yet. The area was all bushes and thickets, and hardly a soul, but for occasional hunters and boys looking for spiders during the season, passed by. We rode on his Yamaha that he parked under a shady madre de cacao tree. He instructed me to guard the motorcycle. So there I was under the madre de cacao, which was in full bloom, keeping an eye on a Yamaha bike. I pretended it was a cow grazing. It couldn't go far anyway, so I scouted around picking weeds and flowers. I was about to pick a branch of baho-baho, a flower named for its odor, when a bee poised itself in flight right before my face and, before I could scream, stung my right cheek just beside my nose. I screamed. Dad came running to me, asking what happened. I just cried and cried. Dad was scared himself. He lifted me up onto his motorcycle, started it in panic, and drove back home. Mom, of course, scolded him. That was to be my last day out with Dad. Since then, he sort of counted me out of his expeditions.    I never learned about the hunting trip until that Saturday morning Tito Ike's jeep parked in front of our house honking for Dad. Dad was waiting for them, I was sure, that's why he positioned himself by the porch right after breakfast. I asked him where he was going, but he just looked at me coldly and mumbled something like "stay home." Not that I was interested to go with him; I just wanted to know so I would have a ready answer in case somebody calls or asks for him. It was not his business to tell Mom what he was planning to do on weekends, except when they were going together - like to a common friend's birthday party, or to a funeral.    Three of them were in the hunting party: Tito Ike, Tito Ben, and Dad. Tito Ben was another of Dad's drinking buddies. They shared a common passion for caged birds. Tito Ben's house had the distinction of having a large cage in the porch, with about two dozen lovebirds in it. Dad's collection was only pigeons, locally called lado. He had four of them in a wire cage that used to house a singgarong, a squirrel native to Madiaas.    The hunt was in Patnongon, about an hour's drive up north. Instantly, I thought why Tito Ike brought Julius along: to guard the jeep when they park it somewhere while the hunters hike the rest of the way to the mountainside. Maybe Julius realized this too, that's why he invited me. I told him Dad did not want me to go with them. His voice sounded pleading when he said, "Tito Pete, let's take Alvin with us."    Dad eyed me a moment. "Do you want to come with us?"    I shrugged with disinterest, and a look that said "you don't want me in, do you?"    Later he said, "Go pack some extra clothes. We're spending the night in Tibiao."    I was excited by the thought of seeing my cousins in Tibiao. I had spent every summer I could remember there. It's three towns farther north of Patnongon. I rolled two t-shirts, a pair of shorts and a towel into my backpack and clambered up the jeep. I sat in the back of the jeep with Julius. Tito Ben was crouching with us, trying to tuck his big beer belly in. He looked like Buddha cradling a big, round earthen jar on his lap. He was using his old de-bomba, the type Dad sold when he got his oxygen rifle. He kept two oxygen cylinder tanks for that, and I anticipated to be the official carrier of the two heavy cylinders during the trip. Tito Ike was on the wheel. He was the one who got Dad hooked on this hunting business. I was sure this hunting trip was his idea.    Just as we drove past the huge acacia trees along the highway, Julius took out his trump cards and shoved them to me to shuffle. I would have preferred to sleep, as drives like this always lulled me, but here was this idiot goading me into this stupid game of cards with all types of cars I couldn't ever imagine existing, with a list of their speed, tire make, machine, horsepower, etc. on them. I obliged to play if only to be polite to him for letting me in on this trip, but when we crossed Pangpang Bridge in Sibalom, I yawned and gave him back the cards. I turned to Tito Ben, who caught me by the head and laid me on his lap. Tito Ben's big belly was hard, and he smelled like a bird.    I dreamed I was walking in a forest full of birds. There were a big red parrot, a very fat white dove, a kingfisher, a bald eagle, a hornbill, a peacock, an ilahas, and plenty of lovebirds. I was holding out a handful of seeds to them and they pecked at it. I was the king of birds. But a shot rang from somewhere and all the birds flew away and disappeared. I awoke when the jeep screeched to a halt. We reached our destination.    The men got out of the jeep and readied their guns. Dad slung his bag with the two oxygen cylinders. Julius and I stayed in the jeep, waiting for instructions.    "C'mon boys, we can leave the jeep here. It's safe." Tito Ike had been here before.    "Dad, should I bring my backpack?"    "If you don' want to lose it."    The men chuckled. Julius laughed the loudest.    Tito Ike led the trail; Tito Ben, Dad, Julius, then me. We crossed the ricefields. It was midmorning and the sun was just beginning to warm up our skin. They walked fast. Occasionally, Dad would look back to check on me, but he never really stopped to wait for me. Julius never looked back. In a moment he was ahead of the group. I just followed Dad's footsteps. Already, I regretted that I joined them.    I caught my breath, tried to keep pace with Dad. I wondered when all the walking would stop. I knew I couldn't ask for a rest. I did not want to give Julius another chance to laugh. We only slowed down when we had to cross a stream on a footbridge. The single bamboo was quite worn and weak. Dad said we have to cross it one by one. Tito Ike crossed first, then Julius. Tito Ben did not trust the bamboo, he rolled up his pants and waded into the water. Dad carefully crossed, and when he reached the other end, he held his hand out for me. I tried to walk like a gymnast balancing on a beam. I caught Julius looking at me with a smirk on his face.    The mountain loomed before us like a bluish-gray tent. It seemed so near, yet from where we were the only thing clear about it was distance. We hiked some more, crossing rice paddies, until we reached a nipa hut in the middle of the rice field. There was no one there. Tito Ike reached for his canteen, took a gulp, and said, "Boys, you stay here and wait for us."    I sat quietly on the ladder, looking at the three men as they leave. I watched them disappear among the clump of trees in the distance.    Everything was silent around us. A korokoko sounded from somewhere. Julius and I were not disturbed at all. He was busy drawing an airplane with a stick on the ground; I was sitting on the ladder, looking at his straight black hair. He ran his left hand on his brow, pushed back the hair falling down his forehead and looked at me.   "Do you think they'll come back for us?"   "Think so."    "What if they don't?"    "We'll go back. I remember the trail."    "You don't," Julius smiled mischievously.    "Of course, I do. I will leave you here."    "This is an NPA hideout."    "You don't scare me."    "Yes it is. That's why no one's around. The villagers are scared."    "He-he. Funny."    "When I grow up I'll join the army. I'll kill the NPAs."    "Shh. They might hear you."    "What about you?"    "I don't know."    "What do you know? Balancing on the beam?" Suddenly I felt scared about the talk.    "Let's play trump," I mumbled.    He stood up from the ground and clambered up the bamboo ladder. I gave way for him. He slid open the bamboo door. Julius had a sure way of doing things.    "Open the windows,' Julius commanded. "Let's play here."    Sometimes I wished Julius were my big brother. But he was too pushy. Maybe all big brothers are bullies. I opened the windows while he slid the door wide open. The hut became bright and airy. I lied down on the floor. The breeze seeped through the openings between the bamboo slats. It soothed me. Julius kicked my feet.    "Hey. I thought we are going to play. Why are you sleeping?" He started shuffling the cards and distributed them.    "I don't feel like playing. I'm hungry."    We did not notice it was almost noon already. Disappointed Julius scratched his head. He opened his bag, took out a pack of biscuits, a water bottle and two bars of Sergs. He gave one to me. I had not brought any provision because of our hasty departure. I was glad Julius was willing to share his. We sat facing each other. I arranged the biscuits and the water bottle before us, just like we were having lunch at home. Julius looked at me, almost smiling.    "What?"    "You're like a girl."    "I'm not." I lowered my eyes, staring at the chocolate bar.    Julius started eating his biscuits, making loud crunching noises as he chewed them. I ate my chocolate in silence, taking small bites, making sure the crumbs do not fall. When Julius finished his biscuits, he quartered his chocolate bar and stuffed all of it into his mouth. He reached for the water bottle and guzzled from it, almost emptying it. He passed the bottle to me.    "See, I left some for you."    "Thank you."    Then he stood up, faced the post in a corner and pissed. I couldn't look at him; I pretended to be busy with my chocolate, my eyes fixed on the floor, but I can see his piss streaming down the bamboo post to the ground.    "Are you circumcised?" He asked, still facing the post.    I shook my head. My no was almost inaudible.    "That's why you're acting like a sissy. Look at me. I'm a real man now."    He turned to face me with his fly still open. His penis was erect and pointing at me. I couldn't look at him anymore. I became conscious of my own erection stirring in my pants. It was so hard it hurt.    Julius stood in front of me, his hand stroking his thing.    "Touch it," he said as he took another step forward. He was so near I could almost smell him. "I can teach you how to play with this."    "No." I looked at him so hard. If I were Medusa, he would have turned into stone. But he was simply insensitive. He just smiled at me derisively.    I dashed for the ladder, but Julius grabbed me by the hand. A gunshot rang from not far away. We both looked at the window.    "That's Tito Pete. Am sure he hit his target. Your dad is a good shot. You're a sissy."    "I'm not," I shot back and ran down the ladder.    Just as I jumped off the lowest rung, I saw a figure emerge from the clump of trees ahead. It was Dad. I could tell from the way he walked. I let out a deep breath. Julius would stop pestering me.    "Got anything, Dad?" I could hear my own voice almost shaking as I shouted.    Dad held out five korokoko and a salaksakan. In a moment, Tito Ike and Tito Ben appeared. Julius ran to meet them. When he returned he was holding an ombok.    "Look Alvin, it's still alive." He presented to me the wounded bird.    "It's going to die, anyway." I went to Dad who was resting on the ladder and sat on his knee.    The men gathered comparing their birds and exchanging stories. Julius sat on the ladder, attempting to resuscitate his dying ombok. I just sat on a stone and listened to the men talk. When it came to hunting, Dad was the best shot among them.    I did not say a word to Julius, even as we walked back to where we parked the jeep. He tried to get my attention by pointing out lots of things on the way, but I just did not feel like talking to him. I always gave him my I'm-not-amused look. I tried to walk alongside Dad all the time.    In the jeep on the way to Tibiao, I glanced at him sideways. I secretly stared at the dead bird stiff on his lap.