PIPIYANG AND KIRBOT (Part II – Fast Forward to New York, New York) Surely, a picture paints a thousand words. How about two pictures? Two thousand? Perhaps. But I believe that, instead of painting the said number of words, it has, on the other hand, given rise to a swarm of questions now whirling around the heads of viewers of these shots, the way mosquitoes did in Guiuan, after Sra. Yolanda vda de Storm Surge left in her wake the town in sorry and heart-wrenching shambles and disarray. But, definitely, it is a happy picture here. And as anyone can see, it is one so far away removed from post-Yolanda Guiuan or for that matter, the steamy hold of that rickety Chinese junk that plied the choppy waters of the South China Sea in its Amoy-Fukien-Manila route where a tattooed Fukienese stowaway, Boo Wah Ong found two mewling kittens . . . err . . . smelly babies among the bales of mei hoon, that in his pity, he had brought out into the bright sunlight causing his slit eyes to become more like the slightly opened shells of baby clams called buk-ah-tan which he used to eat with so-tang-hoon and bok-choy in a rat-infested seaside back alley of the port area in his native Fukien. Through his slit eyes, and despite the blinding sunlight, Boo Wah Ong was able to decipher the names in Chinese caligraphy embroidered on the smelly mewling kittens’ . . . err . . . babies’ bibs. “Po Tai Tai,” he read the first name on the bib of the smaller one. Turning to the bib of the bigger one, he read, “Po Toi Toi.” And his astute mind could not but immediately grasp the meaning of the calligraphy on the smelly bibs. “The first baby is a girl and the other, a boy! They are the children of Mr. and Mrs. Po!” he exclaimed, in Fukienese, of course. “But which Po?” he asked. “There is Mr. Po Lo Tan, Mr. Po Sy Wang, Mr. Po Lang Sy, Mr. Po Sung Kah, Mr. Po Lu Tang . . . Mr. Po Soo Nga . . . Mr. Po . . . Mr. Po . . . Mr. Po . . . .” he muttered, still in Fukienese, what else, as he racked his brains there on the deck of the bobbing junk. Now, fast forward to New York, New York, and marvel at how Time flies! For, from the time Boo Wah Ong found his foundlings, to the time these pictures were taken, it seems that everything simply happened at the blink of his slit Fukienese eyes. For here, the baby girl is now sticking her tongue out as though saying in Chinese, “Bee! O wat kah!” after the photographer had prompted her to say, “Cheese!” “There are still other pictures,” my trusted informant wrote me. “But I like these pictures the best of all,” he added, adding further that they were taken during and after the baptism of this baby girl. It was also my informant who told me that Boo Wah Ong had sold the baby girl to the husband and wife now holding her. “Who are they?” I asked my informant. “The man is the twin brother of the Indian Governor of Louisiana, Bobby Gindal,” he said. “And the wife?” I asked. “All I know is that she’s from the Bahamas, of Chinese and Mexican or Cherokee parentage, I think,” he answered. “And how were they able to get the baby girl?” I inquired, getting more intrigued. “They were snorkeling at the Scarborough Reef on the north of Palawan, the one being claimed by China, when the Chinese junk where Boo Wah Ong was, ran aground there,” he answered. “The cruise ship the husband and wife took, that was moored nearby, brought the passengers on board. The couple saw the baby girl, fancied her, and bought her from Mr. Boo who sidled slyly to them and whispered in a quivering voice coupled with a lot of gesticulations which the two understood, that being destitute, he actually wanted to throw the babies to the sea, but decided to sell them, instead,” my informant replied. “They could have gotten the baby boy as well,” I said, remembering. “It was not a buy-one-take-one deal,” my informant tersely replied. “And they brought her immediately to New York?” I asked. “No. They first arranged all the adoption papers with the help of the Governor of Puerto Princesa, Palawan, a certain Atty. Vicente Mendoza who had advised them that, without the necessary papers, they would surely be apprehended as human traffickers,” my informant answered. “But didn’t Mr. Boo write a Deed of Sale?” I asked. “He did. He even put his thumb mark on the paper with soot from the glass tube of one of the junk’s hurricane lamps, which he even made stickier with his saliva,” he said. “But it was in Fukienese, and Gov. Mendoza had advised them that not everyone in the China Town of Manila can read and understand it, unlike Mandarin,” he added. “Good they followed his advice,” I said, heaving a sigh of relief. “And the governor had also advised them to have the baby immediately baptized upon their arrival in New York, to make their hold of the baby stronger and more legal,” my informant added. “Good they easily found a priest,” I said. “Yes. By chance, while eating at a famous New York restaurant, Betty Foo’s, they saw one genial-faced Chinese whom they saw was wearing an ecclesiastical collar and whom they approached, and who turned out to be a Roman Catholic priest,” he said. “Wow! What a coincidence!” I exclaimed. “Yes. But he was not Chinese,” he said “What? Not Chinese?” I asked in surprise. “Filipino!” he answered. “It’s getting more interesting!” I replied. “Indeed! For he turned out to be the former parish priest of Guiuan,” he said, smiling. “Really! I’m from Guiuan! I must remember him! Do you know his name?” I excitedly asked. “Definitely! Padre Nilo. Padre Nilo Apura,” he said. “I know him!” I exclaimed. “But there’s a problem,” he said. “With Padre Nilo?” I asked, concerned. “No. With Mr. Boo,” my informant replied. “Why?” I asked. “It turned out that he had also sold the baby to a Chinese husband and wife, from Amoy who were also vacationing in Puerto Princesa, Palawan, a certain Mr. Chua Ty Tan and his wife Chua Mei Yang,” he said. “What?” I couldn’t help shouting! “They should demand . . . err . . . sue that Fukienese,” I exclaimed. “That’s the problem. Boo Wah Ong seemed to have vanished, tattoos and all, into thin air,” he answered. (Part III, coming beli, beli, beli soon.)
Posted on: Thu, 17 Jul 2014 12:50:19 +0000
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