THE "ADIOS" FEAST
Next day as we were walking down the road to the good-by feast,
I noticed a crowd gathered in a circle, and stooping over.
"What are they doing; digging gold?" I asked.
"No, they are making game-fowl fight," Moro replied. "They wager
money on which will be the winner and put the other to flight. The
boys and men get very much excited."
"This good-by feast in your honor, before you return home, is called
a 'fiesta' (fe ais'ta)," explained Filippa. "Father and mother and
Fil have spoken to the Padre, and the barrio-elders; and everything
is arranged."
"But what is a 'barrio'?" I inquired.
"It means a village, a ward," replied Filippa.
I could hear bands and orchestras gathering. Here and there were tall
bamboos bent over the paths, and from their arches hung banners and
colored paper lanterns.
Carromatos (car ro ma' tos), small carriages drawn by little black
ponies, were bringing people in. The men and boys were dressed in
white duck, as though they were going aboard yachts.
In front of the houses and the Iglesia (church) and convent were hung
flags, festoons, streamers, wreaths, and bunting.
Flowers and palm leaves were strewn along the path that the procession
would take.
Then we all started. The procession was led by the bands to the
Iglesia, where, from the high campanile tower, the church bells were
ringing. In the church the good Padre said a few words, and gave us
all his prayers and blessing.
While we were inside, evening had fallen. When we stepped out into the
square, we saw a fairy starry land. Some one had lighted not only the
lanterns and torches, but the larger southern stars of these tropical
islands were shining brightly overhead. Colored rockets were also
shot up into the night.
The barrio-saint--really, the small statue of the patron saint of
the village--was carried at the head of the procession.
Then to the music of the bands, we all marched home to the big upper
hall, and gathered around a wonderful table. Roast pig, chicken,
pheasant; mountains of rice and fruit; candied ginger and mango;
pickled chutney, which is sweet and sour at the same time and also
spiced; coconut and nipa wine; flowers as big as a hat and smelling
as sweet as a bottle of perfume! Sandalwood and spice-incense smoked
sweetly, and nearly hid the good Padre and Fil's father, who sat at
the head of the table.
The orchestra tinkled all kinds of drums, castanets, bells, fiddles;
many of them having strange shapes and shrill noises. Funny,
fat-cheeked boys were blowing the very life out of the flutes. All
were very happy!
"Not happy to see you leave, but trying to make you so happy that you
will not have time to entertain regrets to-night. We want to remember
your smiling face," said Fil's father.
Then the table was cleared and moved. The company all gathered around
the hall.
Suddenly a hush; then a clamorous call of the orchestra! Then another
hush--Filippa, dressed in silver spangle, and Fil, dressed in scarlet
and gold, suddenly rushed from opposite sides of the hall to do the
love-dance, in which the brave soldier woos and wins his sweetheart.
They came near each other. She seemed to be coy; to quarrel
sometimes; to beg; to promise. They whirled about; they executed
steps; they snapped castanets. The orchestra sang, whistled, snapped,
strummed. The music flowed in waltzes; it jerked in Castilian measures;
it whispered. It serenaded, while Fil carried a mandolin with a
ribbon. Filippa dropped her handkerchief: Fil gracefully picked it
up. He danced in pleading. He showed all the pretty steps he could
do. As a sign that the soldier had won his lady-love, Filippa at
last consented that he should return the handkerchief, crown her
proudly with it on her cloud of thick hair, and waltz away with her
triumphantly.
It was a pretty tableau. The orchestra broke out in loud and full
harmony, with now and then a wild Moro yell or shout, from the flutes
and drums.
How we applauded! Fil and Filippa had to bow their thanks many times,
from the side of the caida (hall).
Then there was another pause, after the Padre and Fil's father had
whispered.
Suddenly Moro ran out with a rush, to give a wild Mohammedan dance.
How strangely he was dressed! He wore tight red trousers, a red and
blue turban on his head, and a tight jeweled tunic, covered with pearl
buttons. His sash was green, dotted with purple spots. He had purple
parrot feathers at his waist and in his turban.
His feet were bare, as is the custom in his native wilds in the south
island. The round shield that he carried, glistened. He waved two
terrible kriss-knives, with jeweled handles. Over his shoulder he
carried a spear. How he drummed on that shield! He hurled his knives
into the air, and cleverly caught them before they fell. He seemed to
pursue a foe; to crouch like a boy scout; to listen; to follow the
track; to meet the foe; to battle for his life and country. At last
he seemed to conquer with a wild yell, just as he was hurled backward
and his shield was thrown aside. All this, while we held our breath
in excitement, he acted in his strange, barbaric dance, keeping time
with the wind-like, volcano-like music of his native Moro islands.
The fiesta and the dances were over at last. The dancers and the
guests departed.
Next morning, as we stood on the coconut wharf waiting for the boat
to come in, Fil perhaps noticed that I looked sad. I saw by his smile
that he was preparing one of his jokes to cheer me up.
"Father," said he, "may I take our friend back to America, so as to
see that he arrives all right?"
"Wait till you grow bigger," replied Fil's father.
"Then don't blame me if he gets lost," laughed little Fil, as he tried
to stand on his tiptoes, and lifted his hand high above his head,
so as to appear as tall as a man.
After all this courtesy, all this happy, laughing time, in these sunny
summer islands of the purple Philippine seas, it almost broke my heart,
as I left for home, to answer Fil, Filippa, their kind parents, Moro,
the good Padre, and little Favra who were calling from the wharf:
"Adios, amigo" (a de os' a me'go)--"To God we commend you, our friend."
THE END
Printed in the United States of America.