SEPANG LOCA

Amelia Lapeña-Bonifacio

Characters:

Son

Mother

Father

Sepang Loca

Two Fishermen

Five dancing women

Townfolks: Elena, Pedro, Cardo, Nicolas

Scenes:

1- Village dustroad before Sepang Loca's garden

2- Village church yard

3-A kitchen

4-Same as 1, this time the whole scene revealed

There will be a need for only three settings: Scene 1 and 4, middle stage; Scene 2, left side of
middle stage; Scene 3, right side each to be spotted while Son narrates story. In all flashbacks while
narration is going on, movements are pantomimic and dance-like. Dimming and blackout, as
indicated each time throughout text, should hold the characters transfixed - like figures in a painting.

SON (spotlighted, right side of stage): By the time my men get done with this part of the old
hometown, it will be crusted clear through with a foot deep of cement. Think of it- a thick crust of
cement on every stone, every inch of dirt, every living thing lodged within the heart of this yellow
earth. A highway glaring white under the intense yellow sun. And yet, now (sitting and picking up
stick to point with), this you see was once the village (dimming on Son, gradual lighting on road,
Scene!, characters coming to life slowly as narration gathers details) dustroad. It was a busy little
dustroad. Brown fishermen with slimy green nets slung over their shoulders, village women
balancing deep baskets of silver-bodied fish on their heads- they would walk on this dustroad, down
to the sea or up to the marketplace, dark seaweeds entwined around their bare legs, their mouths
white with seasalt, their headbands fluttering in the hot air,their happy chatter breaking through the
heavy yellow dust clear as the animated gobble of fowls. I used to watch them. They were simple
hearted really. Brown and strong. They heave the heavy burden of fish from the sea and their
women sell or barter their catch for rice. They lead a simple life, marvel secretly at the strength of
their women (gradual dimming), humbled at the coming of each child. They die old, their lungs
clogged with salt and their skin toughened like leather by seawater (complete blackout). There used
to be a grass hut (slow spotting) here beside which stood a stone well. We had to cut through this
land. My men bulldozed the place and swept everything away as though they were matchsticks. As
they were uprooted and rolled aside before the mouth of the machine, I remembered. My men
knew nothing at all about this place. They came with me from the city. We have been sent by the
Government. But I, I remembered. Ten, or was it nine years ago? Perhaps, it did not even happen at
all? Sepang Loca (flash on a brightly-costumed woman walking down the dustroad, a meeting
between her and two brown fishermen who each brush against her arm. She feels from them to one
side of the stage and cowers. The two fishermen walk on, throwing their faces up in laughter) they
used to call her. They say that each town has one of them (spot dimming on Sepang Loca, in
cowering position.) Yes, one of them (complete blackout) in every town.

One of them in every town a toddling idiot with a perpetual grin, a town's clown. We, we
had this bright speck of a foreign bird it seemed, buxom and brown, her hair pulled back and shining
with coconut oil. Ah, but she had firm breasts and thighs, this Sepang Loca. Once, during the
Feastday of Santa Clara (flash on Scene 2- a church yard festooned and bright with paper buntings
and lighted lanterns. On one side, stands a huge statue, the only visible part of it being the hem of its
heavy velvet gown resting on a flower and candle-decked carriage. It has stopped in the center of
the church yard after the procession and before it, five women are dancing), I saw her dance. The
women come here when they are infertile, they come to dance and chant their prayers. They come
wearing their brightest dresses and straw hats covered with flowers. It was into this circle that
Sepang Loca entered dancing. She was wearing a red skirt and a crown of red flowers. Giant
gumamela- they were bobbing wildly while she danced and threw her skirt high and stomped the
ground. The women tried to stop her, danced around her to cover her from our view. But Sepang
Loca would snake her way out of their circle each time and dance impetuously, her supple body
thrown in full abandon to the dance, her arms beating the air like wild wings, her crown of flowers
quivering like red tentacles. The women grew more and more horrified. Heavens, how would Santa
Clara take all of this- this vulgarity! Sepang Loca's thighs gleaming under the lanterns and the men
cheering! They all, in an unmistakable wave (dimming), swooped on her like a cloud of hawks until
the crown of red flowers was no more (complete blackout).

My old man died when the war was about to end in the Philippines and Americans landed on
Leyte and town after town was being liberated. The Japanese Army was retreating to the North; in
its wake, across the land there was burning, ooting and killing. Some Japanese soldiers stuck sticks of
dynamite and blew up the bridge before they left town. A shrapnel, big as an axehead flew and
struck Father down on the nape. Almost severed his head. We brought him home and Mother sank
moaning at the sight of so much blood. She wasn't strong after that. Just like a shadow. She doted on
Father, Mother did. I guess that's why she died shortly after. She never got up from bed after she
fainted. But that evening-

(Flash on Scene 3, a huge white-washed kitchen. A cool, old kitchen with high half-oval
windows lines in threes across its thick adobe walls so that without the massive stone stove filling
one corner, a big iron funnel forming an inverted "y" over its red flaming mouths, the low pantry and
immediately above it a row of bronze pots and pans gleaming alternately in the darkness, one might
think that he had stepped into one of those roomy Spanish conventos. There is a small flight of steps
peeping on the deep end of the stage. On the opposite side is a half-open door from which now the
orange glow of the setting sun has streamed in. The orange path is caught of the cobbled floor and
between the legs of a round table. There are three chairs around it, quiet and waiting. The linen is
white and spotless. The table is set.)
MOTHER (coming down the steps and turning her head to call): Be sure to mop the floor, Mauricio,
mop it up por Dios y por Santo. One would think I have a household of mayors by the way you
people behave. What a lot falls on a woman the day she bursts from the womb. Ah... (going around
the kitchen stove to table, fixing supper)...a woman has to do this, a woman has to do that and then
pooh (swinging a wooden ladle) life comes...

SON (taking the ladle and putting it in his mouth): . . .to an end. Hummm, arroz caldo! I'm famished.

MOTHER You always are. Go on there (taking the ladle and shooing him off with it) and wash. Go.

SON But first (ceremoniously kissing her hand and then her check) there! Buenas, Mama, buenas.
And now your blessings.

MOTHER (making a big sign of the cross over his bowed head): The Lord's bountiful blessings on you,
son.

BON: Thank you, Mama.

MOTHER: How's work, Son?

SON (walking to the kitchen sink while rolling up his sleeves): We have macademized the road to the
Camino Real. Tomorrow, the men have made a pact of it, at the sight of the Camino Real, at no less
than ten feet they swore, they will throw up their shovels and drink tuba. Pedro, that aly fellow, has
three bamboo tubes full ready- the reddest to burn out throats.

MOTHER: Ten feet? Oh, you little children! Touch the Camino Real and then rejoice. Bah, men are
such fools, they grovel with joy at the sight of a door. You'll drink with them?

SON: You ask me if I can stand near a spray and not get sprinkled with water! Where's Father?

MOTHER: In the bathroom. Poor man, he must have gone to sleep again. It comes so easily when
one is old. I have caught myself dozing off a number of times, too. I would sit here darning a sock,
here by the fire and then my stitches begin to blur, my thread and sock, they roll to the floor and my
chin falls on my chest and I wake up in a jolt. Ay, me, we are getting older and older each day. We
know, yet we cannot do anything about it. First, it was the cradle's here and the grave's there. Then,
it comes to be the grave's here and the cradle's there and how we crossed the line is really beyond a
poor old woman's thinking. Ah, but it happens. And then it is all over. Son, I beg of you (putting a
bowl on the table), stay away.

SON (wiping his hands with a towel): Huh?

MOTHER: Stay away from wine! It's an evil spirit. I remember Ronaldo once, I remember it distinctly.
He was swaying on the road, his shirtfront drenched with blood, his eyes...

SON: Aw, Mama!

MOTHER: Son, I tell you. Let me tell you- Ronaldo once...

SON: We take a few glasses, Mama, but after what? After days and days of digging up the shape of a
road, under the sun, the stones are live coals, the shovels like lead. Mama, I tell you, we throw all of
these down and free our bodies. Wine is the wind.

FATHER (coming down the stairs): Who speaks of wine, heh?

MOTHER: Your son. He speaks of wine and the wind- and, and liberation!
FATHER: Wine and wind! You should see the man who are brought to my office, hijo, they roll in the
dust like swine imploring, Have mercy, Señor Alcalde, my family would starve. Bah, I don't see any
liberation. And the wind, it brings no fouler smell than wine and sweat combined.

SON (weakly): I speak of drinking until you see a few feathers floating.

FATHER: Aha, the very feathers that should go to the nest. The very feathers! Their families starve
because they want the feathers (pointing to his hand). here!

MOTHER: Tee-dum. It is getting dark. Ay, these windows are for birds. Bring in the lantern, Son. Let's
have supper. Aha, I have the meatiest mutton and broth, ay, the bones are dripping with clear
golden marrow. I went to the slaughter house myself and picked them. You both shall be warmed to
your bones. Oh, button your collar, Mauricio, you'll catch cold. Looks out at me like an eye! First time
I saw it, Son, like a big back teardrop it was, Father pulled himself up proudly this way. And he said,
Paz, he said, my Father gave me this and he pointed to his chest, and I'll give it to my son! It was the
first sign I sought when I nursed you for the first time. Well, come now and say grace, Father. Put the
lamp there and take your seat, Son. The soup is getting cold and I detest a rim of fat around my
bowl.

FATHER: Lord, we thank Thee for this blessing of a full table. Always look with grace, we pray, upon
this house and all its tenants.

MOTHER: Amen.

SON: Amen.

FATHER: Humm, soup's good, Mother. Yes, very good; reminds me, we are to bring a jar of coffee to
boil for the folks at the Aplaya. Quite a confusion going on in the place. I had to send a squad down
there late this afternoon. The town's full of curious people. Something happens, a brawl starts in one
of the streets and they flock to the spot like flies. The Camino Real had to be cleared off for the
traffic. The cars tooted their horns and the calesas jingled their bells until the place sounded like a
mess of a marketplace. It took my men two hours to clear that noisy tangle, the motors and horses
on one side and the people on the other. I promised we'll be there tonight.

MOTHER: What's all this? Not having left the house, this is all very strange to me. Start where you
should, Father. Start from the beginning. Oh, something had happened and I did not even know. Oh,
this is terrible. Why, it seems that I'm not part of this town at all!

FATHER: First, another bowl of soup, Mother. This is very good. Wouldn't you like to have some
more, Son? Mother (calling out to her while she stands before the stove), put more, some more for
Danilo. By the way, Son (lowering his voice), I did not mean to be so hard. I drink too, you know. Like
I always say, Son, a man's entitled to a vice- if he has the pocket for it! Heh!

MOTHER: A ladleful for each of you, no more. You must have room for the meat. Now, Mauricio,
from the beginning.

FATHER: When I left the Aplaya, the place had quieted down, a few men stayed. They build a bonfire
in the yard and a bamboo crane over the stone well.

MOTHER (collecting the soup bowls): A bonfire! A bamboo crane! What are all these for? Oh,
something exciting has happened, ay, truly and I did not even know.

FATHER: Oh, Mother, I'll tell you everything if you just give me the time! Pass the sauce, Son. As I
was saying, the men built a bonfire in the yard and a crane over the stone well in Sepang Loca's
garden. This morning, it was almost noon I think, old Elena said she heard a baby crying. From
Sepang Loca's hut, that is. Old Elena was gathering some camote tops and she said that she sat up
and listened. She ran back to her house and cooked some soup to bring to Sepang Loca. You know
how it is with that woman, being alone and as old Elena says, she snarls at anyone who tries to go up
to her hut and help her at those times. I should say this Sepang Loca's strong and remarkably well-
ordered when her time comes.

MOTHER: Such shame! Ay, Santisima Madre, as such shame!

FATHER: So old Elena goes there limping, the bowl of soup to stir, as old Elena puts it, to stir Sepang
Loca's milk. For the child, you know. But the mother and the child are not in the house. Old Elena
said that she looked and looked and they were not in the house. She was alarmed to say the least,
she flew out of the hut shrieking that Sepang Loca and her child have vanished. The people came
and they started looking all over the place, inside the house and in the garden. Until finally, finally,
someone remembered how Sepang Loca goes straight to the well after her child is born. She bathes
herself clean, as you know, and the, baby too.

MOTHER: Oh, it is a miracle each time - how her babies manage to stay alive. And she too, how she
lives on and on. The fire of blood and the ice of water in the well! She's as strong as the carabao,
surely, or the devil keeps her. I see no other explanation. Woman die of less No, it can't be true. And
yet it is, she lives on while her babies grow transplanted in some other houses, each home fearfully
waiting for the streak to show. Ay, it is terrible. Ay, such shame, such shame!

FATHER: They were right. They came upon her after cleaning the bushes. She was slumped over the
mouth of the stone well, her arms dangling down the slimy inside of the stone wall.

MOTHER: Santisima, and the child!

FATHER: She must have dropped it. That is what the men are trying to find out.

MOTHER: It is taking them so long!

FATHER: They're almost sure. Sepang Loca must have had a spell of dizziness. She isn't as young as
she used to be.

MOTHER: And she's dead!

FATHER: She was cold and dead when they found her. Must be too much loss of blood.

MOTHER: Madre mia, cold and dead!

FATHER: She isn't as young as she used to be. She isn't as strong. You didn't know about this, Son?

SON: We have moved away from the place more than a month ago. I heard the confusion and saw
the crowd from a distance. Guess I wasn't too interested. We worked hard so we could finish much
before it got dark. You know, we were afraid it would get dark.

MOTHER (reaching out for his hand): Oh, he works hard. Someday, you'll be building bridges and
highways, Son. That will be the day. I may be in the grave by that time or still alive, a blabbering old
woman, but even now as I think on it, I'm proud of you. Joining town to town, why even God will be
proud!

FATHER: I'm ready for my coffee now, Mother. Then, we can rest a little while and go to the Aplaya.
They must be waiting for me. I would not be surprised if someone should come for us now.
MOTHER: This coffee is hot, be careful. Pass the cream and sugar to Father, Son. Push your plate
away, here, let me have it. Your coffee. Oh, it's very hot, I shall not have mine, I think. I'll clear the
table and stack the dishes in the sink, I can do them when we come home tonight. Do you suppose it
is going to take them long, Mauricio?

FATHER: The well is deep and quite narrow. The men were still tying up the bamboos when I left
them. They have to look for a small fellow to do the diving. Then we'll know if the child is inside the
well.

SON: Can it be in any other place? If the woman, if Sepang Loca, is slumped over the mouth of the
wall as you said?

MOTHER: There can be no other place. Ay, such shame, such shame!

FATHER: We'll find out. Mother, take a wrap. It is cold out there with the sea close by. Better put on
a coat, Son.

SON: I don't think I'll go. I'd rather stay here and read.

MOTHER: Read!

FATHER: How can you say such a thing! MOTHER: Not come! The whole town's there.

SON: I shall not be missed.

FATHER: You die, the whole town misses you. You are not there, everyone asks about you. You are
alive, you are there and nobody pays you mind. We are a funny lot. You should be there, hijo, the
men are taking turns at the well and the women watch and keep the coffee warm on the fire.
Mother, the coffee jar.

MOTHER: I'm refilling it, Mauricio. Go up there and get my wrap, Son. It's in the top drawer of the
bureau. You won't miss it- it's my old blue wrap with little black puffy balls.

FATHER: I think we'd better take the lantern, too.

(Gradual lighting of the middle stage for Scene 4, while Scene 3 slowly dims out on the Mother, who
is refilling the coffee jar, the father in the act of taking the lantern from the table and the Son coming
down the stairs with his coat on the blue wrap in one hand. They are all transfixed until complete
blackout in Scene 3 and the full lighting of Scene 4 are attained simultaneously. One side has a tall
bamboo crane with a few men around it. They are unrolling the rope into the well and pulling it out
at intervals. They work in heave-hos, the end of the rope apparently holds a man as they call down
into the well a few times. On the other side, before a small bonfire over which a kettle hangs, sit a
few huddled figures. Except for this fire and the torch held above the well, the scene is totally a play
in these three predominant colors: purple, blue and gray to black. The Father, Mother and Son walk
into the scene, the Father holding his lantern aloft to discern the faces which call greetings to them.)

FATHER: Good evening. Good evening to all of you. I kiss your hand, Old Mother Elena. Hoy, Pedro,
Nicolas, Cardo! So good to see you all here.

ELENA: The Lord's blessings on you, Señor Alcalde, and to the Señora. There is room around the fire,
right here. Unless you want to see how they are doing at the well?
MOTHER (sitting down): The men can go there. I shall sit here where it is nice and warm. I brought
some coffee, Old Mother Elena.

PEDRO (yawning): Ho-hum, that's good. Coffee warms the stomach.

ELENA: That's all you have been doing warming your stomach.

PEDRO: Here's space for you, Danilo. Fresh coffee is poured this way first and then down the line.

ELENA (sharply): Can't you think of something better?

PEDRO: Oh, sure. I should have brought tuba, it warms the

blood too (nudging the Son), eh, Danilo? If I didn't promise you those three tubes full?

ELENA (throwing up her hands in despair): He is beyond hope! What is a mother to do? One can only
try so hard! Ay Señora, what monsters we raise!

MOTHER: Sometimes, we can only pray.

ELENA: I have grown callouses on my knees, Señora. Ay! I make devotions to the Holy Virgin. I have
lighted, oh heaven knows how many tapers! How many trips have I made ay, on my knees to all the
holy and immaculate saints in the church. I beat my chest, tears run down my cheeks like twin-rivers.
I implore the heavens to hear me, ay, I'm hoarse with begging. Does it do any good? Ay, Señora,
(sweeping a hand to her Son), as you can very well, see.

MOTHER: You should join your Father, Son; they need strong men. Yes, Old Mother Elena, I should
think it is a mystery what our wombs bring to the world.

PEDRO: You should see Sepang Loca now, she's all dark (passing a hand quickly across the front of
his shirt), and dead. Out there, on the grass. She looks so hard, Danilo, oh, so dark.

MOTHER: Şon?

SON (rubbing his eyes): No, I think I'll stay here. I'll go maybe later.

NICOLAS: I should like to have some coffee, Old Mother Elena. One gets cold easily when one is old,
kind old mother. But indeed, it is a cold night. The air is cold and still like Sepang Loca there.

DANCING WOMAN 1: Yes, like Sepang Loca. DANCING

WOMAN 2: Do the gods watch or the devils?

DANCING WOMAN 3: How you speak! Have care! It is her first night. Her spirit still hovers over her
body. It listens.

DANCING WOMAN 2: Your words creep into my bones. Ay, now I tremble with fear.

DANCING WOMAN 3: It's the solemn truth. Sepang Loca's spirit (pointing emphatically in the
direction of the well) floats there, unable to move away too far. Suddenly it finds itself free and it is
bewildered. DANCING WOMAN 4: Oh, by the third night, it should have pulled itself away, the
corpse would be well-covered with earth by then and so it would fly away free as the air.

DANCING WOMAN 5 (very solemnly): It makes a nine-day journey to the higher regions, away from
all these impure elements and for its safety, we pray for nine nights. On the thirtieth night, my
mother used to tell me, it comes back to visit briefly the people and the objects its owner loved
intensely or hated intensely. Then, away it goes again.
DANCING WOMAN 2: We should not have come. Now, the night is dark, there is a wide field on the
way to my house and over a wall at one end of it is an old mossy cemetery. Ay, I shall stay here all
night I think and wait for the morning.

CARDO: This can go on and on. Bah, such foolish women!

PEDRO: May it go on and on. Ah, such sweet little women!

DANCING WOMAN 3: My husband comes and at once they tie a rope around his waist and lower
him into the well because he is small and light and he can stay under the water like a fish. They have
been dipping him and pulling him out, I shall not be surprised if he is blue all over with the cold.

DANCING WOMAN 2: Will we stay all night? A child lies some where, in the black heart of that well.
Maybe it is not there at all? And the men keep working. Ay, they are all silent while they work. As if
their faces are made of stone!

DANCING WOMAN 3: It is a deep well. Truly, a deep well. Weeds weeds choke its bottom. A net of
weeds! A net to hold him under. They will find it hard to pull him up. When they do, he'll be dead!
Uuuh! Oh!

ELENA: Silencio, Felisa. Stop your sobbing this very instant!

MOTHER (pulling the woman to her): We search for a child, woman. It is difficult to search for a
child. Think, if it were your own.

DANCING WOMAN 3: Mine! (She sobs louder.)

DANCING WOMAN 1: Felisa and I, we all, we danced and prayed to the blessed and most holy Santa
Clara for a child.

DANCING WOMAN 2: A seed in our dry wombs.

DANCING WOMAN 5: To sprout in a season of growing.

DANCING WOMAN 4: And it is given to that woman out there!

DANCING WOMAN 5: It could be a boy.

DANCING WOMAN 1 (with under): Yes, it could be a boy! DANCING WOMAN 4: It can be anything.
Ay, but for the grace of having a child.

NICOLAS: I have grown old, not a single hair on his head can now hide the dark, but have I known
what a woman is? There was war, a famine comes over the land, somewhere the open mouth of a
volcano cracks open and spits mud and fire as a woman, she thinks of nothing but to have a child.
My little dead Bestra, God rest her soul (crossing him of quickly). My little sweet wife, when she
spoke of a child, tears stood in her eyes and her lips trembled. When our son was born and she lay
dying, with my own hands, I bring to her lips the face of the child a and she kissed it and she dies
smiling. (Unable to control himself, sobs). Ay, a woman! What power has she through a thing so
small? Why with a thumb I can press those t tiny nostrils! And yet - yes, it is life! My little Bestra, she
smiled. So clear, her face shone. From that coffin, through the mud, that smile was a shout, I gave
the world a child! It is all (shaking his head sadly) confusing to me.

ELENA (turning to the Mother): I came this afternoon. To her house I go with a bowl of hot broth. To
stir her milk, I say to myself. To stir her milk for the baby, you know.
MOTHER: Mauricio told us.

ELENA: And is she there? No! And the child, is it there? No! And so I walk around the house calling to
her. Sepa, Sepa, I call out to her. Does anybody answer? You ask me, Señora?

CARDO: I thought all at once of the well.

MOTHER: And did you get an answer?

ELENA: No one. No one answers. I look into her small room, Señor, there is her mat spread upon the
floor and a crumpled blanket. They have vanished, I say to myself and I run out of the house calling
the neighbors. They have disappeared, I say to them, Sepang Loca gave birth to a child but they have
both disappeared. How do you know, they ask me. I heard a baby cry, I say to them. I'm old, I'm a
little deaf, but I hear a cry!

DANCING WOMAN 3 (lifting her head): She heard it with her heart!

DANCING WOMAN 1: Her face was white when I saw her. She was like a ghost and could hardly
speak.

DANCING WOMAN 4: I said to Felisa it was impossible that they should everything, I say. There is an
explanation for vanish.

CARDO: I thought all at once of the well.

NICOLAS: Eh, eh? Did you mention the well? Of course, I told them about the well. Why, out before
that very road, I said to them, To the well! Go look there and you will find her and the child.

DANCING WOMAN 5: How is a man to know all these things. I ran to the well myself, Señora, while
they were having a fine chat out there. I ran out there. I ran. I cleared the bushes myself and saw the
well. And 1 shrieked, Santisima, I shall never forget it. How she hanged over the mouth of the well
like a limp sack of rice. And they all came running and they saw me on my knees,

DANCING WOMAN 1: She was trembling all over.

DANCING WOMAN 5: I could hardly stand. How could I tell if I was cold or hot? I could hardly get up
on my feet.

DANCING WOMAN 1: We had to pull her up. Her hands were cold. She was trembling all over and
could not speak.

DANCING WOMAN 4 (sharply): A curse be upon its known father!

ALL THE WOMEN: Ah!

ELENA (crossing herself): Such things could not be said. Oh, all you dear and lovely saints, close your
ears. It was a mistake.

DANCING WOMAN 4: It was no mistake.

PEDRO (aside to the Son): She deplores the waste. Watch that woman. SON: I shall go there (he
stands up) And see what I can do to help.

PEDRO (meaningfully): Sepang Loca lies over there before the well, but there is room to pass on
either side.

SON (softly but firmly): I can find my way. I have eyes.

NICOLAS (Slapping his leg): It is cold and the mosquitoes are beginning to come. You can hear them
coming like the waves.

CARDO: Now, if the body is found, that is another matter. Think of it, old Nicolas, two drowned
bodies.

NICOLAS: Heh, Sepang Loca did not drown. I tell you, young man she was on the well but hardly in it.
In order to drown, doesn't one need water? Well, she was reaching for water but hardly because she
wanted to drown.

CARDO: Oho! Now, let me tell you about foul air, old Nicolas. There are two (spreading long fingers),
I repeat, two plain ways of dying or foul air. One, you breathe it in. And two (triumphanting and
putting up his fingers before the old man's face) and stop breathing so you do not get it into your
stolen breath. I ask you, is this right?

NICOLAS (admitting the logic but knowing a trick is up somewhere): Yah, but.. I mean...

CARDO (blandly, quick to grasp the confusion): And so, you die whether it is in or out of your
system! In like manner, old Nicolas, Sepang Loca drowned whether the foul water of that well
yonder got unto her system or not. (Old Nicolas tries to protest.) Now, I grant you that the situation
may not be entirely similar but, old Nicolas, but! water is one of the more powerful elements, and
this you may not know- it has fury and sound and smell and some weak soul upon absorbing any of
these into its system is forced to swoon. And the creature soon falls (sweeping his fingers along the
ground, old Nicolas following the gesture with fully fascinated eyes) dead! And if such a creature
died because of water, what manner of dying is it but drowning?

PEDRO (clapping his hands while old Nicolas sits utterly speechless): the very font of wisdom! The
very master! (Declaiming) Crawl back to ancient Delphi with tails between your legs, oh you oracles,
for shame! Ricardo Sanprocopio, the great master has come!

CARDO: Now, you shut up there, man!

NICOLAS (peering across them): I think it is the Señor Alcalde himself coming. Quiet you two!

FATHER (approaching the group): It won't take too long now. I should say. Juan thinks he has
touched the body of the child. (A murmur of cwe is heard from the women.) They have to pull Juan
out once in a while. That's what is taking it so long. He gets tired, Felisa. The last time they let him
down, they threw in about thirty feet of rope. Juar said he'll give a real strong tug as soon as he gets
the child.

ELENA: You should have some coffee, Señor Alcalde. And you, Señora, let me fill your cup.

MOTHER: I had enough, Old Mother Elena, it was good coffee. Thank you.

FATHER (extending his hand for a cup) Thank you, Old Mother Elena. Ah, it is so good to sit down by
the fire. My feet are dead. The place's too damp.

NICOLAS (ruefully): Too damp. I'm afraid I'll have an attack of rheumatism when I reach home. I can
feel my muscles tightening. It is a sure sign.
FATHER: Juan said the well is clogged with weeds and vines and the sides are slippery with moss. It is
an old well. He has to work in the dark. We wanted to tie the lantern to the rope but the jigging
might spill the kerosene on Juan and burn his clothes.

CARDO: The jigging will certainly spill the kerosene on Juan and burn him.

DANCING WOMAN 3 (as if in great pain): Ay, no, no! NICOLAS: He is a good fisherman, that Juan. I
remember I threw him out of the boat the first time he came fishing with me. Your baptism, I
shouted after him. He bobbed up and down and sank before I caught him. Son of thunder! How was
I to know that he didn't know how to swim? After that he stayed in the sea, I tell you, a playmate to
the fish!

DANCING WOMAN 3: When he comes home, his mouth is gray and his eyes are bloodshot. I
sometimes think his hair will.

(At this point the whole group has risen to its feet and is hushed with awe. They all walk slowly
toward the well, the Father leading the way. The Son walks slowly behind the rest. They all watch as
Juan comes out of the well into full view and holds high the body of the child as though it were a
trophy. Some of the women fall on their knees, the sight is too much for them. The rest of the
surrounding has grown dim, the spot where the well is, is now the only bright spot. The Father takes
the body of the child quietly. The rest of the grou are silent.)

FATHER (echoing incredulously): It is a boy!

DANCING WOMAN 1: Ay, he has black hair and a good chest.

DANCING WOMAN 5: Such long full legs!

DANCING WOMAN 4 (approaching and peering at the body): Let me take a look at him. His little
mouth is choked with sand and moss.

ELENA (crossing herself): God help us. Ay, the poor little thing! And to think that I heard it cry.

JUAN: He was lodged between stones in the bottom of the well. I had to clear the weeds and it was
dark. Then I eased the stones. His little body was soft and it floated awhile when freed.

DANCING WOMAN 3 (pulling her shawl off): Take this, you're shivering like a wet mouse.

JUAN (Letting his wife wrap her shawl around his solders): For a while it floated until I caught it.

(The Son turns his back to the group and walks slowly away into the shadows. He hesitates, halts,
looks back.)

DANCING WOMAN 4: I thought at first it might be mud, but look, it is a mole, here on his chest. A
big black mole shaped almost like-a, a black drop!

FATHER (snatching the child and investigating, then weakly): A big black tear!

PEDRO (sneeringly): Sure a black tear!

MOTHER (her glistening eyes search the group until they fall on her Son whose back is turned to her;
suddenly everything is clear to her, she bites the back of her hand to keep from crying out): It is a
son! All of you (with a controlled sob), behold, it is a son! (Blackout)
SON (back to his original position at the opening of the play, his head is bowed): There was no
rebuke in her voice, only a turn to seaweeds and he will grow scales and fins. CARDO: He has the
eyes of a fish, it won't take long.

DANCING WOMAN 3 (turning full on him): With that nose, if you had a mane, you could pass for a
horse!
DANCING WOMAN 5: Take your claws off my husband, bury

them somewhere. Besides, he is right, your husband does have the eyes of a fish.

DANCING WOMAN 3: Watch out, you go too far. What are you being so haughty for, may I ask? Just
wait till a snail spots that snout of yours and it will come crawling and claim you as a relative.

DANCING WOMAN 5: Santa Barbara!

PEDRO (looking at the two women hopefully): This should develop into something exciting.

ELENA: Keep quiet, you two.

DANCING WOMAN 4: Suddenly they seem excited at the well.

MOTHER: They're pulling the rope up. son (calling out), Son, did Juan find it? Son, did he?

SON (walking very slowly toward the group): He tugged at the rope. They're pulling him up.

CARDO: Señor Alcalde, in accordance with the law, they are, one might say, the responsibility of the
state? What I mean, Señor Alcalde...

FATHER: Oh, yes, yes, the treasury will provide for everything, the burial rites, the coffins -
everything!

CARDO (grasping the Father by the sleeve): An, Señor Alcalde, you are God-sent. Without you, what
do we do? We're lost!

FATHER: (pulling the hand on his sleeves): Tush, tush, it was nothing. I try to do my job the best I can
in the best way I see it.

NICOLAS: I nailed a coffin for my wife, my little Besten, my kind, quiet woman. With my own hands. I
build for her a sturdy box. Why, for Sepang Loca I will be willing to nail together the coffins. She was
a poor harmless creature, God rest her soul.

ELENA (crossing herself): And that of her child, Amen.

DANCING WOMAN 1 (rising): That's Juan's head!

DANCING WOMAN 3 (rising): He is green with moss all over his shoulders.

DANCING WOMAN 4 (rising): And he holds...

DANCING WOMAN 2 (rising): The child!

(Speech)