DAMIEN’S SUCCULENT FIESTA BREAKFAST

-ANTHONY GERARD ODTOHAN-

Every November, the town of Rona Milagros celebrates its fiesta with much gusto. It appears to many to
be quiet, backward people.

There lives in that town a family with a boy named Damien. At dawn of that one fiesta day, Damien, who
was the youngest and the only son left in the family, woke up earlier than usual because he had to run
an errand for his mother for the family’s fiesta breakfast.

Since fiesta happened only once a year, Damien knew that his mother, Manang Rosa, would not be just
sending him out to buy their staple of dried fish and puto’t tsokolate. This day, he knew, called for
something special – a scrumptious serving of special meat sold only by Manong Caribes.

Yesterday, his mother had called him with such urgency, “Damien!” Manang Rosa had shouted for him,
earnestly preparing the dishes for the fiesta.

“Yes, Ma?” answered Damien. He had rushed straight to the kitchen upon hearing the all too familiar
call from his mother. He had been playing patintero with the neighbors.

“I need you to…..,” Manang Rosa interrupted herself upon seeing how profusely sweaty Damien’s face
and arms were. His sando was already drenched with sweat.

“Hay Naku! How many times have I told you to always wear your labakara on your back whenever you
play outside? You wouldn’t want to catch a cold now, would you?” she said, with a concerned and stern
look on her face.

Damien just kept his silence, but his eyes began to well up.
“Sorry, po. I promise not to do that again.”
Manang Rosa arched down and looked him straight in the eye, and then hugged hum tightly.
“I don’t mean to frighten you, Damien. It’s just that you’re my only son, and I don’t want to lose
you too soon.”
“That’s why I want to be a good boy, “ Damien replied.
“Salamat, anak. By the way, I called because I need you to do an errand for me. I need you to
wake up early tomorrow morning to buy me something from the market, so we could have our special
meal to celebrate the fiesta tomorrow.”
“Yes, ma.”
“Great. I’ll leave a list and just enough money for you on the sala table before I go to bed. Sige,
go to bed na so you could wake up extra early.”
“Okay. Goodnight, ma,” he kissed her good night, and rushed straight to his room.
On his bed, Damien thought of his father, Serafin, who was a farmer and a very poor man. He
knew that his father could barely make ends meet, and that he had desperately wanted to give his
family a better future than he could provide. His mother was only a lavandera and Damien himself –
although already a decent reader – had yet to get through first grade in the local public school. He was
only a boy.
Once, he heard his father say that every year, a man by the name of Don Lucio Dante would visit
their town to recruit locals willing to work for him. Every year, hundreds of townsfolk would line up at
the town plaza hoping to get picked. Many years ago, Don Lucio had indeed picked his father for work.
But there was a catch to the privilege: all those who would be accepted for their new jobs were strictly
forbidden to write any letters back to the family, and they were not to make any attempts to return
back depending on the terms of a contract between that family and Don Lucio himself. Serafin had taken
the chance, had said goodbye, and had left. The money Don Lucio sent proved generous.
And with these thoughts, Damien sighed, and went to sleep.

The rooster crowned at around half-past four in the morning. Damien, who felt rested, was ready to go
about his mother’s errand. She was still asleep, but Damien found the list and the money on the sala
table, and soon began the half-hour trek from his house to the town market.
His mother’s note read:

Damien,
When you get to the market, find Manong Caribes. Just ask around. He sells the best-tasting
meat. He is from the city, but he is a very kind man. He comes to the city only during fiesta to sell special
meat, so that we wouldn’t have to travel to the city. I already have some of the ingredients that I need,
but here is a list of the things I still want you to buy:

3 kilos ground beef

1 kilo pork liver
1 liter of blood for dinuguan

Love,
Ma

P.S. Show this note to Manong Caribes, just to make sure. Tell him Manang Rosa sent you. He
knows me by that name.

Damien walked past aging banana stalks, and the cogon grass, in shades of black and blue, rustled about
in the lonely fields surrounding him. The early morning was moonlit, and it was still cold. But Damien
was already used to doing early morning market chores. As he walked past the fields where his father
used to work in, he recalled how Serafin used to teach him how to man the carabao plow even if he was
much too small to ride the animal by himself. His father also taught him how to handle a bolo to slash
through the weeds, with sharp precision and with little use of force. How he had loved to see the weeds
cut off from their roots in quick slashes. How he had fun poking the carabao when his father wasn’t
looking, just to hear it moan, just for the fun of it. How he wished his father could still spend the fiesta
with them.

When he finally got to the market, Damien was pleased to see that there were also other people
around, people who had woken up even earlier than he did. He poked about the bargain goods. The
signboard littering the dimly lit, tile-laden stalls read: Coconut flesh, P20 per kilo; Red hot chili paste, P1
per pack; Fresh eggs, P5 each… and the list went on. He looked around some more hoping to find
Manong Caribes without asking for help, but to no avail, “Excuse me,” he asked one of the women
vendors who was selling fruits and vegetables. “Do you happen to know where I could find Manong
Caribes? My mother sent me on an errand to buy meat from him.”

“Hmm… Buy some papayas from me first. They’re juicy and fresh”
“I’m sorry, but as much as I want to, I only have enough with what my mother had sent me.”
“Then I’m sorry, too. I can’t help you.”
Damien asked the woman in the next stall, but with no luck at all. None of the vendors were willing to at
least point him towards the right direction.

Fortunately, an elderly man clutching a basketful of produce had noticed the look of despair on
Damien’s face. “Hey, boy. I heard that you were looking for Manong Caribes.”

“Yes, sir. I don’t understand why none of the vendors are willing to help me unless I buy from
them.”
“Well, that’s to be expected when you ask around in the market…”
“But this doesn’t usually happen, “Damien interrupted, “I’ve been to this market many times
before, and they’re usually very helpful when I ask for directions.”
“That’s because Manong Caribes is considered as everybody’s top competitor here. Well, his is
clearly your first time. You see, not only does Caribes sell fruits and vegetables, he also sells the best
meat around. And to think that he only comes here once every year, during fiesta!”
“Can you show me how I can find him, sir?”
“Certainly, in fact, I just came from his stall. Got me some ground beef. The most succulent
morsels, they are.”
“Oh, that’s one of the things my mother wants me to get!”

The elderly man grinned. “Your mother has good taste, my boy. Ah, yes, the directions, you asked? Find
Aisle D, Stall No. 33. We’re at Aisle A right now. You can’t miss it. That is if you can count, and if you
know your ABCs.”

Confidently, Damien answered, “Yes, sir!”

“Good. Then have a nice day.”
Finally, Damien was on his way towards Manong Caribes’s stall.
Past Aisle C, where fish and all sort of seafood were sold, Damien found his way towards Stall No. 33.
At first, Damien doubted if he found the right stall since all there was a weighing scale, with no meat on
display on the counter. But he did see a man standing behind the stall, dressed in sack-sown apron on
top of a white camisa shirt. He was pleasant-looking: he was clean-shaven and had broad shoulders. He
gestured ever so gently to meet with the demands of a few folk lined up in front his stall.

Damien approached the man, and asked, “Are you Manong Caribes?”

The man smiled, “Good morning, son. Yes, that’s me but I’d have to ask you to line up first, all right? I
have to be fair with everyone else who came earlier.”
“Okay sir.”

As he waited for his turn, he observed how Manong Caribes handled his customers. There were about
three people in front of him. Each of one, he noticed, simply handed him a slip of paper. Manong
Caribes would take some time to add a bit of chatter as he handed back plastic bags of their orders after
weighing them with his scale. The whole time Damien stood in line, Manong Caribes kept peering
through the line with an I-know-you-from-somewhere-look. But Damien was sure he had never met
Manong Caribes. As far as he could remember, this was their first encounter He began tapping his feet
until his turn finally came.
“Okay, son. You look awfully familiar to me. Hmm…”
“Maybe this will help, sir,” Damien replied, and calmly handed Manong Caribes the note his
mother left him.
 “A-ha! But, of course!” Manong Caribes exclaimed, after scanning the note. “You are Serafin’s
son!”
Damien was at a loss for words. “How do you know my father’s name, sir?”
“Oh… Well, we were together the other day in the city, just before I came here.” He paused to
take a closer at Damien. “You look just like him. Those eyes. Your eyes. That nose. And oh, even the
shape of your face…”
“Were you friends sir?”
“Ahhh, we were close. Very close.”
“How did you meet him? Did you get to know him well?”
“Well, Don Lucio Dante introduced me to him last year when they dropped by my butcher shop.
You see, when I first saw Serafin, I thought to myself, ‘Give him about a year and he will be succulently
perfect!”

Not quite sure what that meant, Damien simply nodded his head. “So, is he coming back? I would really
like him to join us for the fiesta.”
“It’s your lucky day, son. I brought him with me!”
“Great! Can I see him?”
“First, give me the money your mother gave you, so that I can give you her order.”

Damien paid and waited. Manong Caribes reached down under his stall and pulled out five plastic bags,
each tagged with the name ‘Manang Rosa.’ Each of them were weighed in carefully to be sure the
weights were precise.

“Here you go, son,” said Manong Caribes, patting Damien on the head. “That’s three kilos of ground
beef, one kilo of liver, and one liter of blood for your dinuguan.”

“Thank you, sir. And by the way, how did you get to know my mother, too?”
“Also through Don Lucio. I’d love to answer all your questions, but I’ve got more folks lined up
waiting for their turn. You can ask your mother though.”

Damien’s mother was right, Manong Caribes was a kind man.

At around half past six, Damien arrived home.
“Good morning, Damien,” Manang Rosa greeted him with a hug and kiss. She looked excited.
“I got what you wanted, Ma,” he said.
“You are such a lovely child, unico hijo.”
“Ma, can I help you cook?”
“But, of course!”
“Ma, by the way, Manong Caribes told me that I could ask you how come you both know each
other.?”
“Oh… Well, it was through Don Lucio, when we set the terms for your father before he went to
work in the city. Thanks to them, we’re going to have our best fiesta breakfast ever. Your father will
finally be happy. He is with us, I am very sure of that.
Soon, they proceeded to work. With the ground beef and liver, they cooked ginaling with string
beans. With the blood, they cooked it to a simmer, and waited for the pungent aroma of special
dinuguan to disperse.

At the breakfast table, they shared a warm moment as a family.

“Ma, I got bone stuck in my teeth.”
 “Don’t worry. Just wash it down with a nice warm glass of breast-milk.”
“But we don’t have any, Ma.”
“Oh, yes, I’m sorry. I guess I would have to ask you to go back to Manong Caribes.
“But I need a note, Ma. I can’t just go up to him and ask for it.”
“yes, yes, you’re right. How forgetful of me. Hmm…. Remind me to write you a note after
breakfast in the name of your Tiyo Celso. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. After all, his wife left for the city
the same day your father did.”
They heard a knock on the door.
“Good morning, Manang Rosa,” said Nanay Angie, their neighbor.
‘’I smelled your dinuguan and I had to invite myself over. I bet it tastes absolutely fantastic!”
“Come in, come in,” said Manang Rosa. “You could even invite your kids over. There’s more than
enough for everybody.”