dekada 70 why is the film entitled dekada 70? what issues during colonialism are still depicted in this contemporary film? what filipino ideologies are mirrored in the film cite. significant and relevace.

Dekada '70 is a 2002 Filipino drama film released based on a book called Dekada '70 written by Filipino author, Lualhati Bautista

Plot

The film tells the story of the life of a middle-class Filipino family who, over the space of a decade, become aware of the political policies that have ultimately led to repression and a state of Martial law in the Philippines. Filipina actress Vilma Santos stars as Amanda, who realizes the implications of living within a dictatorship after sorting out the contradictory reactions of her husband and five sons. Her husband (Julian), played by Filipino actor, Christopher de Leon, supports his eldest son's (Jules), played by Filipino actor, Piolo Pascual; efforts to rail against the government while refusing to follow Amanda's wish to find a job. Her second son (Gani), played by Filipino actor, Carlos Agassi, is in the United States Navy. Her third son (Eman), played by Filipino actor, Marvin Augustin, writes illegal political exposes. The fourth son (Jason), played by Filipino actor, Danilo Barrios fell victim to a corrupt police department, and her youngest son named (Bingo), played by Filipino actor, John W. Sace, is still a boy.

Cast

• Vilma Santos - Amanda Bartolome
• Christopher de Leon - Julian Bartolome
• Piolo Pascual - Jules Bartolome
• Marvin Agustin - Emmanuel Bartolome
• Carlos Agassi - Isagani Bartolome
• Danilo Barrios - Jason Bartolome
• Hindi Alam - Bingo Bartolome
• Kris Aquino - Student Leader
• Ana Capri - Mara
• Dimples Romana - Evelyn
• Philip Salvador - Carlos Bartolome Sr.
• Jhong Hilario - Willy
• Carlo Muñoz - Rene
• Tirso Cruz III - Evelyn's Father
• Orestes Ojeda - Dr. Rodrigo
• Joshua Dionisio - Carlos Bartolome Jr./Cocoy/Caloy
• John Wayne Sace - Bingo Bartolome
• Marianne de la Riva - Evelyn's Mother
• Manjo del Mundo - policeman
• Kakai Bautista - rallyist

Differences from the novel

• Near the end of the film, the Bartolome family is seen passing by the casket of former Filipino politician, Benigno Aquino, Jr. in 1983. This scene is not in the novel, because it was released shortly before Aquino's assassination. 

Dekada '70 (Dekada '70: Ang Orihinal at Kumpletong Edisyon), translated literally into English as "[Decade] '70's ", is a Filipino novel written by Lualhati Bautista.^[1]
Dekada '70 is the story of a family caught in the middle of the tumultuous decade of the 1970s. It details how a middle class family struggled with and faced the changes that empowered Filipinos to rise against the Marcos government. This series of events happened after the bombing of Plaza Miranda, the suspension of the Writ of Habeas Corpus, the proclamation of Martial Law and the random arrests of political prisoners. The oppressive nature of the Marcos regime, which made the people become more radical, and the shaping of the decade were all witnessed by the female protagonist, Amanda Bartolome, a mother of five boys. As Amanda's sons grow, form individual beliefs and lead different lives, Amanda reaffirms her identity to state her stand as a Filipino citizen, mother and as a woman. Dekada '70 introduces the new generation of Filipino readers to a story of a family from a particular period in Philippine history. Its appeal lies in the evolution of its characters that embody the new generation of Filipinos, as well as being the story about a mother and her family, and the society around them that affects them. It is a tale of how a mother becomes torn between the letter of the law and her responsibilities as a mother.
A defining but not subversive Filipino novel, Dekada '70 was one of the two grand prize winners for the 1983 Palanca Awards for the novel.^[2] It was adapted into a film by Star Cinema in 2002, starring Christopher de Leon and Vilma Santos.

what filipino ideologies are mirrored in the film cite.

From time to time, a politically and socially relevant film like Dekada '70 that likewise ranks high in form and quality emerges from the commercialized world of Filipino movies.

Dekada '70 well reflected conditions and events under the US-Marcos fascist regime — the widespread and intense suppression, brutality and human rights violations as well as the people's fierce resistance. In a simple but clear manner, the film mirrored the social and political crisis during the dictatorship that gave rise to a surging mass movement and a burgeoning revolutionary movement.

what issues during colonialism are still depicted in this contemporary film?Filipinos began creating artistic paintings in the 17th century during the ... from the Philippines, who has won numerous awards for his role in Dekada'70. ... The films in this period dealt with more serious topics following the Martial law era. ... Islamic and other Asian architecture can also be seen depicted

arson perez balana tonton

project in my philippine literature.

                         

                                   ( PHILIPPINE LITERATURE)

      SUBMMITED BY:                                                SUBMMITED TO:

    ARSON P. BALANA                                         Mrs.EMILIA MENDOZA

            BM 301A

Zarzuela (Spanish pronunciation) is a Spanish lyric-dramatic genre that alternates between spoken and sung scenes, the latter incorporating operatic and popular song, as well as dance. The name derives from a Royal hunting lodge, the Palacio de la Zarzuela near Madrid, where this type of entertainment was first presented to the court.
There are two main forms of zarzuela: Baroque zarzuela (c.1630–1750), the earliest style, and Romantic zarzuela (c.1850–1950), which can be further divided into two. main sub-genres of género grande and género chico although other sub-divisions exist.
Zarzuela spread to the Spanish colonies, and many Hispanic countries – notably Cuba – developed their own traditions. There is also a strong tradition in the Philippines where it is also known as zarzuelta. Other regional and linguistic variants in Spain includes the Basque zartzuela and the Catalan sarsuela.
A masque-like musical theatre had existed in Spain since the time of Juan del Encina. The zarzuela genre was innovative in giving a dramatic function to the musical numbers, which were integrated into the argument of the work. Dances and choruses were incorporated as well as solo and ensemble numbers, all to orchestral accompaniment.

Baroque zarzuela

In 1657 at the Royal Palace of El Pardo, King Philip IV of Spain, Queen Mariana and their court attended the first performance of a new comedy by Pedro Calderón de la Barca, with music by Juan Hidalgo de Polanco. El Laurel de Apolo (The Laurels of Apollo) traditionally symbolises the birth of a new musical genre which had become known as La Zarzuela. The genre was named after the Palacio de la Zarzuela, one of the King's hunting lodges, situated in a remote countryside thick with zarzas or brambles, in what is now El Pardo.
Like Calderón de la Barca's earlier El golfo de las sirenas (The Sirens' Gulf, 1657), El Laurel de Apolo mixed mythological verse drama with operatic solos, popular songs and dances. The characters in these early, baroque zarzuelas were a mixture of gods, mythological creatures and rustic or pastoral comedy characters; Antonio de Literes's popular Acis y Galatea (1708) is yet another example. Unlike some other operatic forms, there were spoken interludes, often in verse.

Romantic zarzuela

After the Glorious Revolution of 1868, the country entered a deep crisis (especially economically), which was reflected in theatre. The public could not afford high-priced theatre tickets for grandiose productions, which led to the rise of the Teatros Variedades ("variety theatres") in Madrid, with cheap tickets for one-act plays (sainetes). This "theatre of an hour" had great success and zarzuela composers took to the new formula with alacrity. Single-act zarzuelas were classified as género chico ("little genre") whilst the longer zarzuelas of three acts, lasting up to four hours, were called género grande ("grand genre"). Zarzuela grande battled on at the Teatro de la Zarzuela de Madrid, founded by Barbieri and his friends in the 1850s. A newer theatre, the Apolo, opened in 1873. At first it attempted to present the género grande, but it soon yielded to the taste and economics of the time, and became the "temple" of the more populist género chico in the late 1870s.
Musical content from this era ranges from full-scale operatic arias (romanzas) through to popular songs, and dialogue from high poetic drama to lowlife comedy characters. There are also many types of zarzuela in between the two named genres, with a variety of musical and dramatic flavours.
Many of the greatest zarzuelas were written in the 1880s and 1890s, but the form continued to adapt to new theatrical stimuli until well into the 20th century. With the onset of the Spanish Civil War, the form rapidly declined, and the last romantic zarzuelas to hold the stage were written in the 1950s.
Whilst Barbieri produced the greatest zarzuela grande in El barberillo de Lavapiés, the classic exponent of the género chico was his pupil Federico Chueca, whose La gran vía (composed with Joaquín Valverde Durán) was a cult success both in Spain and throughout Europe. Valverde's son "Quinito" Valverde was even more famous in his day than his father had been.
The musical heir of Chueca was José Serrano, whose short, one act género chico zarzuelas - notably La canción del olvido, Alma de dios and the much later Los claveles and La dolorosa - form a stylistic bridge to the more musically sophisticated zarzuelas of the 20th Century.

Zarzuela in Catalonia

While the zarzuela tradition flourished in Madrid and other Spanish cities, Catalonia developed its own zarzuela, with librettos in Catalan. The atmosphere, the plots, and the music were quite different from the model that triumphed in Madrid; the Catalan zarzuela was looking to attract a different public, the bourgeois classes. Catalan zarzuela was turned little by little into what is called, in Catalan, teatre líric català ("Catalan lyric theater"), with a personality of its own, and with modernista lyricists and composers.

Twentieth century

In the first years of the 20th century, greater quality pieces were composed, such as Doña Francisquita by Amadeo Vives. Zarzuela was supported together with these works that, sometimes, were adapted to the Italian opera musical structure, thanks to the works of Pablo Sorozábal, Federico Moreno Torroba and Jacinto Guerrero. The zarzuela style continued to flourish, thanks to composers of the stature of Pablo Sorozábal – who reinvigorated it as a vehicle for socio-political comment – Federico Moreno Torroba, and Francisco Alonso.

Tanikala

Poetry

Body:

Isa kang kadenang pumipigil sa aking mga hakbang,

Hakbang papalayo sa nais ng takasan,

di-lang dahil sa pait na bunga nito

kundi na rin sa lamig na patuloy

na pinadarama sa kanlungan mo.

Isa kang yumayapos sa aking

Puso, pinipigil ang pagtibok nito.

Upang muling ipagunita

ang mga panahong lumipas na.

Isa kang pasanin sa aking dibdib,

Pinupuno ako ng dalamhati at pighati.

Subalit kailangang ako'y tumiwalag na

sa mahigpit mong pagkakahawak,

Upang ako nama'y makapagsimula na ...

Dead Stars Lyrics#:1

we find our songs
in fashion magazines
we read the story
in the morning paper

I touch their hearts
and they touch my skin
I'm on your screen
and you are just so wide

put us on display for everyone to see
we write the words for all to understand

though I get my kicks
it's slowly wasting me
don't try to be an artist
I try to be a man

dead stars still burn
dead still stars burn

we find ourselves
in pictures on the net
blinded by science
addicted to devotion

I'm in your hold
eager to abuse
my favourite game
I suffer from misuse

I just want to know
the man in front of them
to read their minds
for me to understand

though I get my kicks
it's slowly wasting me
don't try to be an artist
I try to be a man.

Dead Stars Lyrics#:2

Shame on you
For thinking you're an exception
We're all to blame
Crashing down to Earth
Wasting and burning out, you're
Fading like a dead star, woah
Harm is coming your way
Yeah, it's coming your way


You used to be everything to me
And now you're tired of fighting
Tired of fighting
Fighting yourself


Shame on you
For thinking
You're all alone
If you want I'll make you wish you were
Failing to impress
Why can't you sleep with
Someone who'll protect you, yeah
Harm is coming your way
Yeah it's coming your way


You used to be everything to me
And now you're tired of fighting
Tired of fighting
Fighting yourself.

                                        

                                               DEAD STARS LYRICS#:3

                                      

                                                DEAD STARS LYRICS#:4

DEAD STARS LYRICS#:5

I suffer under your and my dead stars
everything I'd give you, all behind my eyes
just call my name and I'll be with you
I call your name and there's not much
you would do

I suffer under your and my dead stars
memories are wounds, they kill me every day
all the stars shine bright tonight
one reason to live and one to die

and never forget, the pain felt
your and my stars are dead dead dead

again I'm waiting, once more I'm falling
down, left behind, I'm passing time
oh it's killing me and
I listen to the radio as I try to sleep

I suffer under your and my dead stars
I fall under your and my dead stars
call my name and I'll be with you
I die under your and my dead stars

I'll never forget the pain felt

         How My Brother Leon Brought Home A Wife

How My Brother Leon Brought Home A Wife is a story written by Manuel Arguilla about a man who comes home to his province to introduce his wife from the city to his family. This short story won first prize in the Commonwealth Literary Contest in 1940.

Characters

• Baldo - younger brother of Leon, fetched Leon and Maria from the road to Nagrebcan

• Leon (or Noel) - older brother of Baldo who studied in Manila where he met his wife

• Maria - the beautiful and stunning wife of Leon from Manila

• Labang - the bull whom Baldo considers as his “pet”

• Norman Tabios - Maria's ex-boyfriend who happened to be a loro

• Gagambino - Leon's favorite fictional character who gave him lots of guts to study in Manila

• Churita - Labang's girlfriend/fiance

Synopsis

Baldo and his older brother Leon were both waiting for the arrival of their visitor riding the carretela. Seeing his brother's wife, Baldo was easily taken away by the beauty of the woman from city as he narrates their journey to Nagrebcan. The idea of meeting with Leon's parents for the first time made Maria a bit anxious. But along their way home, Maria discovered the peculiarities of the life in Nagrebcan as opposed to their life in the city where she met and fell in love with Leon.

The story is told from the point of view of Baldo, the younger brother of Leon. (The second paragraph gives you the clue.)
Leon is called Noel by his wife, the beautiful Maria. In the story, you'll get the feeling that Baldo makes a distinction between traditional names and modern ones. For example, he takes note that his brother calls his wife "Maria" instead of "Mayang", while Baldo's sister-in-law calls Baldo's brother Noel, which is the reverse of "Leon."
Baldo also wonders if their father will approve of Leon's new nickname.
Anyway, Baldo fetches his brother and Maria, and takes them home. They do not pass through the usual route. Instead, they take a shortcut through a field.
I don't know if symbolism is used in How My Brother Leon Brought Home A Wife. What I felt while reading the story is Manuel Arguilla's great love of Nagrebcan (Bauang, La Union). Arguilla takes the time to note the shape of clouds, the sounds made by the rolling wheels or even the rope near the neck of Labang (the bull), and even the scent of the air.
It's as if Arguilla transports you right there, among Maria and the two brothers. Right there with their father, mother, and sister Aurelia.
Perhaps another title for this short story would be How Manuel Arguilla Brought You To Nagrebcan.

             My Father Goes to Court

By Carlos Bulosan

November 13, 1943

When I was four, I lived with my mother and brothers and sisters in a small town on the island of Luzon. Father’s farm had been destroyed in 1918 by one of our sudden Philippine floods, so for several years afterward we all lived in the town, though he preffered living in the country. We had a next-door neighbor, a very rich man, whose sons and daughters seldom came out of the house. While we boys and girls played and sand in the sun, his children stayed inside and kept the windows closed. His house was so tall that his children could look in the windows of our house and watch us as we played, or slept, or ate, when there was any food in the house to eat.

Now, this rich man’s servants were always frying and cooking something good, and the aroma of the food was wafted down to us from the windows of the big house. We hung about and took all the wonderful smell of the food into our beings. Sometimes, in the morning, our whole family stood outside the windows of the rich man’s house and listened to the musical sizzling of thick strips of bacon or ham. I can remember one afternoon when our neighbor’s servants roasted three chickens. The chickens were young and tender and the fat that dripped into the burning coals gave off an enchanting odor. We watched the servants turn the beautiful birds and inhaled the heavenly spirit that drifted out to us.

Some days the rich man appeared at a window and glowered down at us. He looked at us one by one, as though he were condemning us. We were all healthy because we went out in the sun every day and bathed in the cool water of the river that flowed from the mountains into the sea. Sometimes we wrestled with one another in the house before we went out to play.

We were always in the best of spirits and our laughter was contagious. Other neighbors

who passed by our house often stopped in our yard and joined us in our laughter.

Laughter was our only wealth. Father was a laughing man. He would go in to the living room and stand in front of the tall mirror, stretching his mouth into grotesque shapes with his fingers and making faces at himself, and then he would rush into the kitchen, roaring with laughter.

There was plenty to make us laugh. There was, for instance, the day one of my brothers came home and brought a small bundle under his arm, pretending that he brought something to eat, maybe a leg of lamb or something as extravagant as that to make our mouths water. He rushed to mother and through the bundle into her lap. We all stood around, watching mother undo the complicated strings. Suddenly a black cat leaped out of the bundle and ran wildly around the house. Mother chased my brother and beat him with her little fists, while the rest of us bent double, choking with laughter.

Summary

The story is set in a city in the Philippines. The young narrator begins by describing his large family. Though they are poor they are full of mischief and laughter. The children are all strong and healthy even though they often go hungry. In contrast, their rich neighbor’s children are thin and sickly although they are given plenty of good food, which their impoverished neighbors enjoy smelling over the fence. Consequently, the rich man brings a charge against the narrator's family for stealing the spirit of his family’s food. The absurd case goes to court, and the narrator’s father agrees to pay back the rich neighbor. He does this by collecting coins from all his friends present in his hat, then shaking the hat full of coins. Being charged to pay for the spirit of food which his family supposedly got from its smell, he maintains that the jingling of the coins is a fair equivalent. The judge rules in the poor father’s favor, and the rich man is forced to depart with no other payment than the “spirit” of the money the poor man collected.

 

Like The Molave poem?

Not yet, Rizal, not yet. Sleep not in peace:

There are a thousand waters to be spanned;

there are a thousand mountains to be crossed;

there are a thousand crosses to be borne.

Our shoulders are not strong; our sinews are

grown flaccid with dependence, smug with ease

under another's wing. Rest not in peace;

Not yet, Rizal, not yet. The land has need

of young blood-and, what younger than your own,

Forever spilled in the great name of freedom,

Forever oblate on the altar of

the free? Not you alone, Rizal. O souls

And spirits of the martyred brave, arise!

Arise and scour the land! Shed once again

your willing blood! Infuse the vibrant red

into our thin anemic veins; until

we pick up your Promethean tools and, strong,

Out of the depthless matrix of your faith

in us, and on the silent cliffs of freedom,

we carve for all time your marmoreal dream!

Until our people, seeing, are become

like the Molave, firm, resilient, staunch,

rising on the hillside, unafraid,

Strong in its own fiber, yes, like the Molave!

II.

The youth of the land is a proud and noble appellation,

The youth of the land is a panoramic poem,

The youth of the land is a book of paradoxes,

The youth of the land is a pat on one's back,

The youth of the land is a huge canvas of spectral colors,

The youth of the land is an epic tragedy-comedy,

The youth of the land is a crashing symphony,

The youth of the land is a child grown old in tears,

The youth of the land is an old man laughing through a perpetual infancy;

A bastard child of a thousand dreams, masquerading and dancing,

The youth of the land.

III.

We, the Filipinos of today, are soft,

Easy-going, parasitic, frivolous,

Inconstant, indolent, inefficient.

Would you have me sugarcoat you?

I would be happier to shower praise upon

my countrymen…but let us be realists…

Let us strip us

Youth of the land, you are a bitter pill to swallow.

This is a testament of the youth borne on the four pacific winds;

this is a parable of seed four ways sown in stone;

this is a chip not only on the President's shoulder:

The nation of our fathers shivers with longing expectation.

Shall we, sons and daughters, brother youths of the land,

Walk up new and forever knock the flirting chip off?

Or will the nation of our fathers be forever and forever

lighting candles in the wind?

                                                                             

STI COLLEGE FARVIEW

                           STI COLLEGE FARVIEW

        70 REGALADO AVENUE,NORTH FARVIEW                             QUEZON CITY

        COMPILATION OF SOLVE PROBLEMS IN     (MATH INVESTMENT)

                   PRELIM,FIRST SEMESTER

                              2010-2011

SUBMITTED BY:

(BALANA,ARSON,PEREZ)

Student no.051-2009-0019/section(BM301A)

SUBMITTED TO:

EWAY,LAURIANO A.

          Professor

                                      

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                             TABLE OF CONTENT

                                                    DATE:              SCORE:              ITEM:

A.)SEATWORK:

                

 

 

 

                                 TOTAL:_______________________________

                              RATING:

B.)HOMEWORK:

 

 

 

 

                                 TOTAL:_______________________________

                              RATING:

C.)LONG QUIZ:

 

 

 

 

                               RATING:

Summary of how my brother leon brought home a wife?

In: Short Stories, Book Search, Footnote to Youth [Edit categories]

[Improve]

HE stepped down from the carretela of Ca Celin with a quick, delicate grace. She was lovely. She was tall. SHe looked up to my brother with a smile, and her forehead was on a level with his mouth.
"You are Baldo," she said and placed her hand lightly on my shoulder. Her nails were long, but they were not painted. She was fragrant like a morning when papayas are in bloom. And a small dimple appeared momently high on her right cheek.
"And this is Labang of whom I have heard so much." She held the wrist of one hand with the other and looked at Labang, and Labang never stopped chewing his cud. He swallowed and brought up to his mouth more cud and the sound of his insides was like a drum.
I laid a hand on Labang''s massive neck and said to her: "You may scratch his forehead now."
She hesitated and I saw that her eyes were on the long, curving horns. But she came and touched Labang''s forehead with her long fingers, and Labang never stopped chewing his cud except that his big eyes half closed. And by and by she was scratching his forehead very daintily.
My brother Leon put down the two trunks on the grassy side of the road. He paid Ca Celin twice the usual fare from the station to the edge of Nagrebcan. Then he was standing beside us, and she turned to him eagerly. I watched Ca Celin, where he stood in front of his horse, and he ran his fingers through its forelock and could not keep his eyes away from her.
"Maria---" my brother Leon said.
He did not say Maring. He did not say Mayang. I knew then that he had always called her Maria and that to us all she would be Maria; and in my mind I said "Maria" and it was a beautiful name.
"Yes, Noel."
Now where did she get that name? I pondered the matter quietly to myself, thinking Father might not like it. But it was only the name of my brother Leon said backward and it sounded much better that way.
There is Nagrebcan, Maria," my brother Leon said, gesturing widely toward the west.
She moved close to him and slipped her arm through his. And after a while she said quietly.
"You love Nagrebcan, don''t you, Noel?"
Ca Celin drove away hi-yi-ing to his horse loudly. At the bend of the camino real where the big duhat tree grew, he rattled the handle of his braided rattan whip against the spokes of the wheel.
We stood alone on the roadside.
The sun was in our eyes, for it was dipping into the bright sea. The sky was wide and deep and very blue above us: but along the saw-tooth rim of the Katayaghan hills to the southwest flamed huge masses of clouds. Before us the fields swam in a golden haze through which floated big purple and red and yellow bubbles when I looked at the sinking sun. Labang''s white coat, which I had wshed and brushed that morning with coconut husk, glistened like beaten cotton under the lamplight and his horns appeared tipped with fire. He faced the sun and from his mouth came a call so loud and vibrant that the earth seemed to tremble underfoot. And far away in the middle of the field a cow lowed softly in answer.
"Hitch him to the cart, Baldo," my brother Leon said, laughing, and she laughed with him a big uncertainly, and I saw that he had put his arm around her shoulders.
"Why does he make that sound?" she asked. "I have never heard the like of it."
"There is not another like it," my brother Leon said. "I have yet to hear another bull call like Labang. In all the world there is no other bull like him."
She was smiling at him, and I stopped in the act of tying the sinta across Labang''s neck to the opposite end of the yoke, because her teeth were very white, her eyes were so full of laughter, and there was the small dimple high up on her right cheek.
"If you continue to talk about him like that, either I shall fall in love with him or become greatly jealous."
My brother Leon laughed and she laughed and they looked at each other and it seemed to me there was a world of laughter between them and in them.
I climhe cart over the wheel and Labang would have bolted, for he was always like that, but I kept a firm hold on his rope. He was restless and would not stand still, so that my brother Leon had to say "Labang" several times. When he was quiet again, my brother Leon lifted the trunks into the cart, placing the smaller on top.
She looked down once at her high-heeled shoes, then she gave her left hand to my brother Leon, placed a foot on the hub of the wheel, and in one breath she had swung up into the cart. Oh, the fragrance of her. But Labang was fairly dancing with impatience and it was all I could do to keep him from running away.
"Give me the rope, Baldo," my brother Leon said. "Maria, sit down on the hay and hold on to anything." Then he put a foot on the left shaft and that instand labang leaped forward. My brother Leon laughed as he drew himself up to the top of the side of the cart and made the slack of the rope hiss above the back of labang. The wind whistled against my cheeks and the rattling of the wheels on the pebbly road echoed in my ears.
She sat up straight on the bottom of the cart, legs bent togther to one side, her skirts spread over them so that only the toes and heels of her shoes were visible. her eyes were on my brother Leon''s back; I saw the wind on her hair.
When Labang slowed down, my brother Leon handed to me the rope. I knelt on the straw inside the cart and pulled on the rope until Labang was merely shuffling along, then I made him turn around.
"What is it you have forgotten now, Baldo?" my brother Leon said.
I did not say anything but tickled with my fingers the rump of Labang; and away we went---back to where I had unhitched and waited for them. The sun had sunk and down from the wooded sides of the Katayaghan hills shadows were stealing into the fields. High up overhead the sky burned with many slow fires.
When I sent Labang down the deep cut that would take us to the dry bed of the Waig which could be used as a path to our place during the dry season, my brother Leon laid a hand on my shoulder and said sternly:
"Who told you to drive through the fields tonight?"
His hand was heavy on my shoulder, but I did not look at him or utter a word until we were on the rocky bottom of the Waig.
"Baldo, you fool, answer me before I lay the rope of Labang on you. Why do you follow the Wait instead of the camino real?"
His fingers bit into my shoulder.
"Father, he told me to follow the Waig tonight, Manong."
Swiftly, his hand fell away from my shoulder and he reached for the rope of Labang. Then my brother Leon laughed, and he sat back, and laughing still, he said:
"And I suppose Father also told you to hitch Labang to the cart and meet us with him instead of with Castano and the calesa."
Without waiting for me to answer, he turned to her and said, "Maria, why do you think Father should do that, now?" He laughed and added, "Have you ever seen so many stars before?"
I looked back and they were sitting side by side, leaning against the trunks, hands clasped across knees. Seemingly, but a man''s height above the tops of the steep banks of the Wait, hung the stars. But in the deep gorge the shadows had fallen heavily, and even the white of Labang''s coat was merely a dim, grayish blur. Crickets chirped from their homes in the cracks in the banks. The thick, unpleasant smell of dangla bushes and cooling sun-heated earth mingled with the clean, sharp scent ofarrais roots exposed to the night air and of the hay inside the cart.
"Look, Noel, yonder is our star!" Deep surprise and gladness were in her voice. Very low in the west, almost touching the ragged edge of the bank, was the star, the biggest and brightest in the sky.
"I have been looking at it," my brother Leon said. "Do you remember how I would tell you that when you want to see stars you must come to Nagrebcan?"
"Yes, Noel," she said. "Look at it," she murmured, half to herself. "

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