Play Sa Phil Lit.
Play Sa Phil Lit.
Play Sa Phil Lit.
By Francisco Arcellana
Narrator:
For the Angeles family, Mr. Angeles'; homecoming from
his periodic inspection trips was always an occasion for
celebration. But his homecoming--from a trip to the South--was
fated to be more memorable than, say, of the others.
Nana Emilia read the letter that morning, and again and
again every time she had a chance to leave the kitchen. In the
evening when all the children were home from school she
asked her oldest son, Jos, to read the letter at dinner table.
Nana Emilia: Children, your father wrote us a letter from Mariveles
that I receive today.
Children: What does it say mother?
Nana Emilia: Well, I would like Jose to read it to all of you this
evening. (Gave the letter to Jose)
Jose: (Opens the letter) Well, heres what it says:
"I have just met a marvelous mat weaver--a real artist-and I shall have a surprise for you. I asked him to weave a
sleeping-mat for every one of the family. He is using many
different colors and for each mat the dominant color is that of
our respective birthstones. I am sure that the children will be
very pleased. I know you will be. I can hardly wait to show
them to you."
(Children becomes excited)
Narrator:
Narrator:
Mat after mat was unfolded. On each of the
children's mats there was somehow an appropriate
device.
At least all the children had been shown their individual
mats. The air was filled with their excited talk.
Mr. Angeles: "You are not to use these mats until you go to the
University."
Narrator:
Then Nana Emilia noticed bewilderingly that there were
some more mats remaining to be unfolded.
Nana Emilia: "But Jaime," "there are some more mats."
Narrator:
Only Mr. Angeles seemed to have heard Nana Emilia's
words. He suddenly stopped talking, as if he had been jerked
away from a pleasant fantasy. A puzzled, reminiscent look
came into his eyes, superseding the deep and quiet delight
that had been briefly there, and when he spoke his voice was
different.
Mr. Angeles:
"Yes, Emilia, There are three more mats to unfold. The others
who aren't here..."
Narrator:
Nana Emilia caught her breath; there was a swift constriction in
her throat; her face paled and she could not say anything.
The self-centered talk of the children also died. There was a