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Alona’s Quest for the Golden Tree
Chapter 10: Scavenging for Treasures
WHEN I came home, I found Kuya Habagat and Kuya Maliksi changing clothes in a hurry.
“Where are you going?”
Whenever a huge storm blew, the sea rose to dangerous levels. The currents were too strong and the waves were too big.
“You can’t work. It’s too dangerous!”
“Butt out, ‘lil sis,” Kuya Habagat hissed.
I made a face.
Kuya Habagat opened plates and bowls, searching for food. There was nothing. He looked pissed.
“Is Nay back yet?” he asked.
“She’s not here yet?” I replied, frowning.
“I asked you first, didn’t I?” he asked, sarcastically.
“Seems she’s not back yet,” I answered circumnavigationally.
Kuya Maliksi came sauntering in.
“What’s taking you so long?” he demanded of Kuya Habagat.
“I’m starving. I want to eat,” complained Kuya Habagat.
“I told you, Nay went out,” I said, joining the conversation.
“Never mind that,” Kuya Maliksi replied crankily. “We’ll eat when we get back.”
Forced to conclude that he had nothing to eat, Kuya Habagat abandoned his search. He ran towards my brother.
“Where are you going?” I asked suspiciously.
Conveniently ignoring me, they ran out. The heavy downpour greeted them.
For a split second, I debated whether it was worth going after them. I, for sure, didn’t like to be under the insane weather. However, I just couldn’t let these two be. They looked like they’re up to no good.
With tremendous resentment, I snatched my umbrella and ran after them. I staggered as a gust of wind blew harshly.
“Oy! Wait up!” I bellowed.
MY BROTHERS had a good head start. When I came level with them, I was puffing. They were scowling.
They were wearing an expression that clearly said Go-back-home-midget!
“Didn’t we tell you to go home?” said Kuya Habagat.
“Are we supposed to listen to each other?” I retorted, sarcastically. “I thought we’re doing a kind of to each his own game?”
“Be on your way then!” bellowed Kuya Maliksi.
“Yeah, I am,” I bellowed back, holding my umbrella tighter. The wind was coming from the opposite direction and it was tugging at my umbrella.
The two rolled their eyes and broke into a run.
I followed at their wake.
They went straight into the ocean, where several other eleven and fourteen year old kids were gathered.
I kept at them, realizing with a sinking feeling what they were up to.
“Stay here,” said Kuya Habagat sternly.
“I wouldn’t dream of going anyway,” I retorted.
Just like what I feared they would do, the group of boys tottered to the edge of the ocean, diving unceremoniously. Learning to swim even before they could walk properly, the lot was unafraid to venture into the tumultuous ocean even during the storm. Unperturbed by the crashing waves, their little bodies darted in and out.
Not particularly confident about the waves myself, I clutched my umbrella a little more nervously. I stood frozen at my spot, waiting. Harsh winds buffeted me. I was extremely drenched, shivering with cold and growing extremely resentful.
I relieved my feeling by glowering at them threateningly.
From my vantage point, they were reduced to indistinguishable dots that bobbed along the waves.
After several uneventful minutes, a long leafy branch that had been uprooted to the tip, came floating into view.
“Banana tree!” whooped Kuya Habagat, his joyful bellow ringing even against the wind. Together with Kuya Maliksi, the two were towing the uprooted tree.
Poor tree, I thought, powerless against the wiles of nature.
The tree floated toward us almost perfectly intact, the leaves still raw and green. It swarmed with yellow-reddish ripe fruits.
The two made a huge heave to carry the plant ashore.
I came forward.
“That’s huge!”
“Tell me about it!” replied Kuya Maliksi, proud of his work.
“Are we going to plant it at our garden?”
Our garden was occupied by several other plants. There was hardly any room to move. Putting another tree would demolish the little ones and reduce our garden to almost nothing.
“Don’t be silly,” said Kuya Habagat. “We hardly had any space left. No, I’m going to sell this. Mang Teban would pay hefty for this.”
Mang Teban always bought the things the kids scavenged from the ocean. He was not known to provide just compensation for the goods the kids managed to get, though.
Kneeling down, Kuya Maliksi plucked a few bananas and tossed them to the two of us. We caught it, eating greedily. We were too hungry. Three minutes into the feast, I felt an ominous cracking of my teeth, having encountered black seeds natural of native banana fruits. I ignored it. I was so hungry I could eat the whole tree.
Other kid divers were slowly emerging from the water, envious of the luck that brought the tree to come floating within an arm’s reach of my brothers.
“Sweet!” they admired.
“Good for us, eh,” smiled Kuya Maliksi. “You, what have you got, tol?”
Berto, Kuya Maliksi’s friend, rattled the tin cans and shredded dresses in his hand perfunctory, all that he managed to scavenge.
Scavenging during the storm was rather dangerous. One had to be an expert swimmer. One had to brave the raging winds and waves. There was also a high likelihood that one’s effort will be rewarded with a gaping nothing. It’s rare to come upon gems, like this banana tree.
“Better luck next time eh,” I chuckled, butting into the conversation I’m not exactly invited for.
He shrugged, noncommittally.
“At least, not all of us are having such bad luck. Andong, the skinny little kid, got himself a big, fat bangus.”
I loved bangus. I suddenly wished Kuya Habagat and Kuya Maliksi caught that instead.
“Where is he now?”
“Gone home, by the looks of it,” he answered, kneeling down and helping himself to some bananas.“The selfish git.”
“Oh well, you can’t blame him,” said Kuya Habagat, cheeks bulging. “I’d be on my way home, too. I mean, pagkain na ‘yan, magiging bato pa ba? It’s not like the bangus won’t try to get back into the water. See how long you could keep a hold of it if he stays.”
I nodded, thinking that made perfect sense.
“Do you think there is more there?” Kuya Maliksi asked, his eyes back on the ocean, looking wistful.
I shrugged, my way of joining into the conversation.
Yet, it seemed that I wasn’t the only one uninvited who joined the conversation.
“What’s that?” I asked.
There was a transparent blob attached firmly at Goryo’s shoulders.
“What do you mean?”
“That,” I pointed.
Everyone looked at the thing I pointed. The thing I pointed pulsated, its jellylike tentacles sucking greedily.
Everyone’s eyes grew big. Mine also did.
“Dikya!” someone shouted.
The jellyfish caused impeccably annoying itchiness.
Goryo swore.
“Take it out of me!” he panicked.
“Ihian mo ‘tol!”
“What?” reacted Goryo. “No way!”
I watched them as they panicked.
“By the way,” I said idly, “a whole bunch of dikya are coming our way.”
The kids looked at them. Several other jellyfishes were bobbing along towards the shore, eager to kiss our feet.
“AAAAAHHHHHH!”
There was no need to urge us. Everyone scampered, running as far away from the water as possible.
(c) 2016, Herbel Santiago