Attachment A

The Sacrifice
Celso Al. Carunungan

It was a rainy day in August, and the frogs were noisy among the mushroom plants in our
backyard.

The house was quiet this night for Father had gone to the house of Don Mateo, the Spaniard
who owned the plantation. Mother waited for him beside the stove, where the pot of salabat was
steaming above a low fire.

When he arrived, Mother ran to him.

“You’re very wet, Thomas,” she said. “Take your clothes off and change, while I pour some
salabat to warm you up.”

“The Spaniard has no money to lend,” said Father, as he pulled out his undershirt. “He
bought fifteen hectares of coffee land and paid the man who repaired the irrigation dam.”

“Don’t worry so hard,” said Mother. “With God’s help these difficulties will pass.”

“I need a man’s help now, Tina, Father said, after sipping the ginger drink, “A man who
could lend me money.”

Mother’s eyes opened wide, for it was terrible what Father said. She rose from her chair
beside the stove and walked slowly to the table near Father. She was heavy with her fifth child.

“Tomas,” she said tenderly, “have faith.”

Under the bedroom, the ground was also warm and dry, and there, Silver, my carabao,
slept peacefully beside the chicken coop. In the silence that came after Mother’s, Silver yelled long
and heavy. It was his way of snoring. The chickens woke up and flapped their wings. One rooster
crowed.

Father heard the noise of the animals and suddenly he thumped on the table with his fist
as if he made a great discovery. The teaspoon jumped inside the cup.

“I know!” Father said happily, “I know it!”

He stood up and came to the corner where I was sitting.

“Crispin,” Father said, “we’ll sell the carabao.”

“Oh, no!” I said, becoming warm suddenly. His words came like a brilliant flash of
lightning after which I saw dark spots everywhere I looked. “No Father --please. Silver is my best
friend.”

I went down the bamboo stairs to where Silver was sleeping. The carabao stirred when I
touched his broad shoulders.
 I tried hard to say what I wanted to say to him. But I could not find the words.

“Silver,” I whispered finally, “Father wants me to sell you away.”

The carabao moves and one of his horns struck an ipil house post. Then he tries to stretch
his front legs as if he wanted to rise, but I pressed my head heavier on his back and he did not get
up.

Then I heard footsteps coming down the stairs and moving slowly towards us. It was
Father. He sat down beside me on the hay.

“Son,” Father said, “I realize how much you love Silver. I have watched you and him
playing in the
river and on the rice paddies. But as you know, your mother is having another baby shortly...

“You know, last year was a very dry one. We had poor harvest. Even the coconuts had very
few fruits. And Maria’s mats are not selling at all. And now, a new baby means more expenses –
food, clothing, midwife’s fees, and other things besides.”

I knew it was a crazy thought, but I wondered why Father, who had four children already
would need another. And this is in exchange for Silver, who was the only carabao I had.

I raised my head and looked firmly at Father, and said, “Why must we sacrifice Silver...
for a baby that we are not even sure would turn out good?”

“Crispin,” said father gravely, “When you grow older and you become a father, you’ll find
out the answer to that I myself made such a sacrifice many years ago. No one knew of it but your
Mother and I.”

Father kicked the loose ends of the hay closer to us so that we could have more hay to sit
on. Then he sat down close beside me.

“Years ago” Father began, “your mother and I had our rice fields to till and the earth was
good and kind. Your mother was heavy with another child, when one afternoon, suddenly the skies
darkened and we saw the locusts swarming over out fat fields. They came and went in a swarm for
many days. Some of the men tried desperately to drive them away by whipping the black skies with
large mango tree branches. Some started to burn their fields to stop the terrible wave of locusts.

In the morning, the sun was pale and lifeless. But in the evening, the sky had an eerie
(unusual connection with supernatural) rosy glow. I became sullen and nervous.

“I went to town frequently, selling one possession after another,” Father went on. “The last
thing I sold was a carabao that pulled the plow in the devastated fields.

“One night, your mother came to me, and in few words, she asked me to sell the house and
the tragic fields and move away.

“But I can’t do that! I said strongly. This is my father’s house and we both love it very
much.”

“No, Tina, I said, my voice is strong, I can’t give up this house.”

 “You mother did not argue. She simply walked to the window and looked at the dark night.
From where I sat, I saw the world outside. It was like one dark, endless tunnel. Then I looked out
of the window and saw the dead stalks of rice plants, some fallen on the ground, some still enough
to stand against the afternoon winds from the west. It was like a graveyard. I looked down at your
mother and said, “When did the midwife say the baby might come?” in a few days’, she replied.

“We still have time, I said. “We can’t just sell the house that fast.

“Your mother smiled.”

“I sold the house two days later. I found a job at the Spaniard’s plantation here in Barrio
Remedios. During our first week here, your mother gave birth to our first son – a healthy boy.”

Father patted me on my shoulder and mussed my hair.

“You were that boy, Crispin.” he said.

I looked at him and saw the stripes of shadow his face. The light upstairs was much weaker
now. Then I felt the tail of Silver brushing against my back and I knew he was awake again.

Then I saw Mother coming down the stairs as she was holding the red and green plaid that
she had made into a blanket for me. She walked with great effort and I ran to her crying. She
wrapped the blanket around me.

I hugged her, and as I felt the warmth of her hand on my back, I saw that Father was rising
from the hay. I brushed the tears from my eyes with my arms and said, “Father, I’ll make a
sacrifice, too.”