Tiangge

The year 1899 arrived peacefully. I had been almost certain that fighting would break out in December in Manila after news of the treaty arrived on Philippine shores. But for some reason, somehow, the tenuous peace held in Luzon. It gave an old man like me hope that Aguinaldo was still trying to negotiate and bring a peaceful end to all of it.

I was having the best of times on that island.

I imagine most old men would not have been fond of being bothered about every little thing by their children. But I did not mind Isabela wanting me to be involved in everything she did. I had nothing much to keep me busy anyway, and I liked the attention just as much as she liked mine.

"We could just buy indigo fabric directly, hija. Why go through all this hassle?" I asked her as we made our way to the local market. As usual, we were seated in the carriage, while Teniente Triviño, who seemed to have taken a liking to driving, was our driver.

"They're expensive, papá," she replied lazily, using my arm as a pillow.

"I could buy you a steamer if you want, Belang," I said, using her nickname, though I did not quite like how a beautiful name like Isabela had been shortened to Belang. "I imagine a yard of indigo fabric would cost significantly less than that."

Her head left my arm as she sat up properly, an amused look on her pretty face. "You would… buy me a steamer?"

I matched her expression. "Yes, señorita. Why… do you want one?"

"Stop joking, papá," she laughed loudly. "Not to mention, we shouldn't be carelessly spending money, not with the war coming."

"Why would you think that?" I furrowed my brow, genuinely surprised to hear it from my daughter.

"Everybody thinks so, Señor Lardizábal," Lieutenant Triviño chimed in for the first time.

"Well, I did not ask for your opinion, did I, Teniente?" I shot back. "Do you even listen at church? Warmongers burn in hell, Vicente."

"I wonder where patriots go… and where cowards end up. Probably two completely different places," Triviño quipped.

"You really are a little—"

"Calm down, everyone," Isabela raised her voice before I could finish my insult. "I just want to buy indigo dye. How do you two even find the chance to squabble? You're like father and son."

We both huffed at the remark, and Vicente muttered something inaudible under his breath. I simply sighed. I had to admit, we had grown closer during his stay. But our relationship was more like that of an employer and his incompetent employee, or a landlord and his noisy tenant, rather than a father and son.

He had become sharp-tongued after I had suggested that he try to look for another place to stay, when I found out he was in the island for good. As it turned out, Heneral Diokno had completely forgotten him.

"Why did you choose to sew him a scarf, anyway?" I asked Isabela. Isidro was leaving on January 15th with my last quarterly abaca stockpile from last year and my ever-thoughtful daughter wanted to give him a parting gift.

"What's wrong with a scarf?" Her face twisted in genuine confusion.

"Well, it's something you give to someone with a neck," I replied.

"Papá! "she playfully punched my arm, though she chuckled herself.

The tiangge, or town market, lay near the port, where merchants could haul their goods from the boats to the stalls and storehouses in a short distance. Most of the stalls were run by natives, selling local products- produce, handwoven goods, and other essentials. But it was with the few Chinese merchants that one could find the more valuable items, such as indigo dye, which was imported from Luzon.

Most of the Chinese, or Sangleys, as the locals called them, spoke broken Tagalog, just enough to be understood. One of the exceptions was Francisco Lim, a second-generation immigrant who spoke fluent Spanish and Tagalog. He was quite infamous for being resistant to haggling, though that was likely because he was confident in the quality of his goods.

His stall was no different from those of the natives, albeit significantly larger, neater, and more organized. The frame was made of bamboo, and the roof was of nipa. The front counter displayed all manner of spices whose rich aroma could be smelled from several meters away- as well as rice and tobacco. To access the more valuable items, like ceramics and fabric, one had to step inside.

As Isabela entered the stall, Vicente and I waited outside, standing in front of the counter near the carriage. The place was not exactly bustling, but there were enough people to make the day hotter than it already was.

"What is she looking for?" Francisco Lim asked me in fluent Tagalog, leaning on the counter. I never quite got used to hearing him speak so proficiently while looking every bit a foreigner.

"Indigo dye. It's for a scarf for Isidro, he's leaving for Manila on the fifteenth." I grabbed a piece of dried plum from one of the baskets on display, chewing on the salty-sour treat.

"Ah… Manila," Francisco said nostalgically. "Things will get ugly there soon. I did all my trading in that city a month ago. If I were him, I'd stay put until it all cools down."

The sudden sound of a volley of gunfire startled me, as well as the rest of the shoppers. Within moments, the small marketplace was abuzz with murmurs. It couldn't be the Americans or the Spanish… Pirates? Isabela looked in my direction, wide-eyed, before scurrying out of the stall.

"They're at it again," Francisco remarked, not the least bit startled. "It's Capitan Abad. He's training a group of recruits by the shore."

I sighed, rubbing the back of my head. "He's just following orders. He's been promoted to Teniente Coronel, and I think his superiors want him to form a battalion."

Francisco Lim nodded thoughtfully. "I wish him luck, Martín. But I hope he doesn't have to fight."

He paused for a moment before speaking again, lowering his voice.

"The Americans… they're a different opponent than the Spaniards. I've seen their giant steel warships. Their soldiers are well-trained and well-equipped. And I saw them hauling out large cannons and other weapons of war I had never seen before." He shook his head. "Quite frankly, I don't see Aguinaldo standing a chance against them."