Impeng Negro By: Rogelio Sikat

Impeng Negro by: Rogelio Sikat

“You might start the trouble again,” that’s the voice of his mother; giving sermons all over again. From the wearied porch, he stopped washing off the rice crumb from his hands.

“No, I will not,” he grunted.

“No, I will not…” mimicked by his mother. “Just let them. If you will pay them attention, you’ll always be in trouble.”

His mother was still saying many things but he did not mind it anymore. He already knew those. Continuous sermons. His ears get irritated.

He splashed the water in front of him. He again dipped for water. He cupped his hand, rubbed his palms and washed his face.

“You pass-by Taba later before going home,” he heard his mother’s reminder. “Boy has no more milk. Here’s the money.”

He stood up. Sluggishly stretched his long arms and yawned. He’s still sleepy. He still wanted to go back at the corner of his bed. But he needs to go. He will be late in fetching water. And for sure Ogor is there. Even he was the first one; Ogor always manages to be the first one to fetch water.

The bamboo floor of their nipa hut screeched when he entered.

“Your shirt is in the box.”

At his corner left eye he saw his mother. Sitting with left leg up at the end of the almost wearied bench; head resting on the patched wall; Dishevelled hair; gray-colored clothing open, exposing the saggy and sapless breast; with his youngest sibling on her lap. Breastfeeding.  

“Later, you might return again with… damaged face.”

His sight stopped for a long while to Kano, his sibling after him. Kano was white-complexioned, the reason why he was called like that in their place. Kano has the same complexion like his other siblings. Sloven but white-complexioned. Kano is about 7 years old. While he was already turning 16 years old. He was skinny but has long limbs.

He rummaged into the box which his mother pointed out. The clothes of Kano, Boyet and Diding and his are joint-stocked. In the lower part, he got his moss-colored shirt. He holds it on its both sides. Lifted. Sighted.

“That is what you will wear.” Like he have guessed what he was thinking.

He wore the shirt. The was perfectly fitted when it was still brand new but now it loosen up. He looks like a Chinese when he wears it but he doesn’t have many shirts to wear. His mother’s earning from washing clothes was little; he also earns only few from being a water boy.

He went back to the porch. When he went out, he already have with him the container. He headed to the stairs.

“Remember Impen, Ogor.” His mother’s postscript. “Do not mind him.”

He heard his mother’s postscript and he don’t know if because he was still sleepy, he almost stumbled in the protrusive stone at the end of their stairs.

Every morning, he will descend to fetch water, his mother always reminds him not to fight. Do not mind Ogor. He’s really like that; war freak. He always bears in mind his mother’s reminders but maybe he really can’t be prudent when he hears the hurtful teasing to him of the group, especially the ones from Ogor.

[pic 1]

It was Ogor who recently started the fight with him, the one he usually starts the teasing.

“You’re dark, Impen,” he teases.

“Is Kano really your sibling?” questioned by one of the group.

“Who is really your father?”

“Who else,” Ogor interrupted, “Of course, it’s Dikyam.”

Everyone burst into laughter. Ogor’s laugh was the loudest. It was Ogor who was known as the group’s leader.

“So what, if I’m dark?” he answered.

Ogor smirked and looked at him with detested. Followed by the teases of the other water boys including also the children: “Look at your hair. Very kinky! Look at your nose. Very flat! God! The lips, very thick!”

In the long run, he already accepted those tease. That’s the truth, he told himself. He’s a Negro. But, so what, if a Negro? But he closed his eyes. His father was a Negro soldier who vanished in the Philippines when he was born.

The mock that he cannot accept, and the root of the past fights with Ogor, was what he said about his mother. (Is his mother really that bad?)

“Negro’s siblings vary.” Ogor said. “Maybe his mother now can create three more!”

When his mother bears his youngest sibling, her husband left her. They do not know where did he go. And from then on, all the people looked at them with degradation. It’s been a while when his mother stopped washing clothes, ashamed of going out of their nipa hut. It was him who continued to be a water boy. And it was him who was the focused of different teases.

He remembers all the teases. And from then, he felt the grudge inside him; a seed that grows into a desire for revenge for the place who would not give them the chance to live peacefully.

The fight between him and Ogor was still fresh to him, he remembers as he passes-by the rough road going to the water pump. From the windows of the nipa huts, he sees the popping head of the children. They point him. The elders also look at him. They do not utter anything, but in their eyes, movement of lips, he can read the shout of the children, Negro!

He just nodded down.

He can already see the water pump. In the cool but brightly shining sun, he can see the group of the water boys. They are gathered together; having fun.

In that group, he clearly identifies Ogor’s presence. How can he forget Ogor? From the very start, he was treated as his enemy; he was not given any chance to be friends with him.

He was as the same age as Ogor, but he has more slender body built. Ogor was strong. He stands straight and he almost never bends even he has pails of water, like anyone who would pass by him will be easily bumped off.