Pangangaluluwa

Basilio (Questions)

As for me, I have never seen any ghosts. I envy Isagani and Tano. I have heard all the tales, and I chase after these ghosts, hoping for a glimpse of them-now especially, when I need them.

Four evenings ago, I passed by the convento of Santa Clara, where a young nun is said to appear in the night, singing for a lost love. She was said to have once been the most beautiful woman in all of San Diego, and her sad tale is known to everyone. Sometimes, a young man is seen with her, and when she is with him, she no longer sings but only weeps, not for the tragedy that had befallen them, but for the ones they both left behind to suffer a fate far more cruel than theirs.

I did not see them, but I would have recognized the young man at first sight, and I would not have been afraid of him, not anymore. I would have wanted to speak to him. Maybe he would say to me, Why do you shrink from revenge again, you weak-hearted coward? Nothing good will come from feeling pity for your enemy.

The night after, I stayed in a house by the lake near San Diego. No one lives in that house now, except for a ghost who protects it from anyone who wishes to tear the house down, or so the people say. They say the ghost is a man who used to come to visit the woman who once lived there. She has already left for her relatives in Mindoro, but still, he returns every night, even after his death.

But when I stayed there, the night passed by without any sign of this ghostly visitor. Once, though, I heard shuffling from outside the door and a mournful wail. I threw the door open, heart pounding in anticipation and joy. But the shuffling only turned out to be a wandering stray dog, and the wail was merely the wind, bouncing off the windows. It was a disappointment. I thought the ghost had already come to admonish me. He would have probably said, have you not learned from the sufferings of all the people you loved, and your own as well? Don't stop now, when you are so close to avenging everyone.

In despair, I finally dared to return to the places I thought I would never step foot in ever again, just to see the ghosts of the people I once loved. I returned to my mother's grave, pleading for her to come see me. I went to the convento of San Diego, even daring to climb up the bell tower I once scaled down to escape the sacristan mayor, looking for any trace of my brother's ghost.

But still, I saw nothing.

And now I stand here, beneath the shadow of the convento of Tiani. When I arrived, I stared at the stones at my feet, and I thought I could still see Juli's blood upon them, despite how the nuns must have tried to wash them clean before. I felt again the blinding fury that pushed me to care less about innocent people's lives, and almost participate willingly in the slaughter that would have happened-but somehow, the anger I felt then was muted, a faint echo of things past.

I tried very hard to imagine her as she fell through the window above us, hitting her head upon these same stones-but I only see in my mind the look of pleading on Padre Camorra's face as my companions fell on him, stabbing him repeatedly with their hunting spears, as if he was nothing but a mindless beast.

Why, you ask me. Why am I haunted by a man who was responsible for the death of the woman I love?

I do not understand it, either. And I do not know why I should have these doubts now when this is the vengeance I thought I wanted all along. Everything happened as I had meant for it to be. When Señor Simoun failed, I had nowhere else to go and nothing else to lose, so I gathered together all the people who once supported him. We became tulisanes: bandits feared by many. We raided the towns, stole money from the wealthy, captured priests and flogged them, leaving them naked by their pulpits.

But as the months went on, my desire for revenge was still not sated. I convinced my companions to attack the resting house of the priests in Pasig, telling them that we have to strike at the very heart of the evil that enslaves our country. This time, I said, we will leave none of them alive. We will no longer be mere troublemakers, but murderers out to avenge their sins.