The sky is dark.

Coconut trees are dancing, swaying with the cool

December winds. Wing as he is known for, is in the backyard squatting,

with his right hand flexed above his kneecap. One of his favorite stags is

stuck between his lap and his chest. While in front of him is the sparring

gamecocks, his father, Wilfredo Pilas Jr. had given him. He scrutinizes the

fighting cocks, their movements and their agility as they battle with pride

and great strength trying to outdo each other. Among the two roosters he

spars, Wing will only choose one for next week’s game, another invitation

from Congressman Barael, different this time for he will be fighting solely

by himself. His stopwatch says two minutes and thirty seconds. He notices

that the rooster he named Marcus is already losing. It is bruised on its right

wing while the other rooster, Victorino whom Wilfredo Jr. laid bets two years

ago is still as strong as it is used to be. He decides to wedge the fighting

cocks. The blood is dripping from Marcus’ right wing. It splatters on the

lawn and stains the earth creating the color of mud. Upon the isolation of

the two roosters, he carries with him the helpless and wounded Marcus.

The wound is terrible but he knows that Marcus can bear the pain

and recover in a few days. He was taught by his father on how to properly

medicate wounded roosters. Upon carrying Marcus and medicating its

wound, he remembers his father at the pit two years ago.

It was on the Sunday of May during the pintakasi, a three-day

cocking festival on the occasion of the town's feast celebrating the saint
1|S a bon g
patron when Wing went cockfighting with his father. Their house happened

to be situated ten kilometers away from the pit so they have to ride using

their motorcycle. They needed to bear the scorching heat of the sun. Wing

held Victorino on his right arm. People who didn’t have private vehicles

would start walking two hours and a half before the game would start. It

was never easy but they were already accustomed to it. There were many

instances when men from the distant places of Clareta walked together with

other roster of men carrying with them their fighting cocks. They would

often sing Dandansoy as a form of entertainment over and over again until

they would reach the pit.

There were no means of transportation during Sundays because the

lawins of Congressman Malvar Barael were only scheduled during

Wednesdays, once in a week. Wing and his father decided to leave the house

thirty minutes before the game. It was Mang Wilfredo’s first time to engage

into a duel, given that he didn’t really intend to fight but to really breed

game cocks. But it was an invitation from the Congressman and he found

the invitation really special.

Dear Wilfredo Pilas Jr,

I would be very glad if you’ll accept my invitation for

this coming Sunday. I would consider it as a friendly game given that you do

not really fight but instead breed plenty of gamecocks in which you are

2|S a bon g
popularly known. You have been a great breeder even before your father

died. If you’re wondering why I invited you for a game it is because I would

like to give your family a chance. I know you already knew about the

farmland that you’re father, Wilfredo Pilas Sr. had pawned. I would like to

give you a chance to retrieve the farmland he pawned many years ago BUT

with these given conditions:

1. If you win the game, I will hand you back the farmland

2. BUT if you lose you will serve me for a lifetime, you will be

one of my working farmers

I will be expecting you. If you want, you could bring with you all of

your friends. The pit needs the crowd. But the crowd enjoys victory. Kindly

bring your well bred gamecock. May the best man win!

P.S May the soul of your father rest in peace!

Congressman Malvar Barael

Wing was 7 months old when her grandmother died and five when

her Mother, Aling Lita died from diabetes. Unlike other children, he didn’t

had time to play bagoongay, bulan-bulan and labo-labo, even though her

friend Isang, a cute chubby little girl who always fashioned her hair with a

pink butterfly clip, a year older than him never forgot to approach him to

join and play. Before his mother departed, five months before she died, Wing
3|S a bon g
would usually stay at home. He was left in the house with the company of

his grandfather, a land owner and his mother who was at that time bed

ridden. Her mother would teach him to read the alpabetong Pilipino and

Wing, as early as five years old knew how to write the alphabets. Wing and

her mother had more time with each other compared to his father. As early

as four thirty, Wing’s father would start walking, going to their farmland to

start tilling the soil and often finish farming and went home at five. It was

during the brink of summer’s death when all of the crops were sold to their

buyers.

When Wing’s grandmother died, they started losing their wealth for

the hospital fees, wake expenses and for her burial. The condition got worse

when her mother suffered from diabetes. The family agonized for five years.

Wing’s father couldn’t believe that they were already losing their wealth,

spending the income of the year’s harvest for Aling Lita’s medication. It was

a challenge for the family. But not in the case of Wing’s grandfather. He

decided to pawn the land to Congressman Malvar Barael. There was an

agreement. Wing’s grandfather agreed with a certain huge amount of money

offered by the Congressman. Wing’s father was shocked when he knew

about what his father had done. Wilfredo Jr. had his biggest share of the

money. He was told by his father to spend the money to breed some cocks

and to flourish the business he had chosen him to have. Wing’s grandfather

didn’t tell his son about the pact that he and the Congressman had agreed.

4|S a bon g
Wilfredo Jr. had kept a secret to himself. It was a promise that one day he

will have their farmland back. He knew that his father really wanted to keep

the land but some things were just inevitable.

Wing’s father pursued the business. He started with just three

stags in which he secretly acquired from the Congressman asking his friend

Manuel, who owned a one-hectare land to buy the stags for him. He started

to pen the stags at their backyard but later on he decided to transfer the

stags in a wider space, accommodating one-fourth of Manuel’s one hectare

land. After three years, the business had grown. Wing’s grandfather was

very much glad when he saw that the business was growing and flourishing.

One Sunday evening when Wing’s father was out of town and Wing

was left in the house together with his grandfather, Wing heard a soft but

painful fall as though someone had fallen on the floor. Wing was at his room

that time, writing. He hurried across the room and saw his grandfather out

of breath on the floor. He tried and asked for a help but everything was too

late. It was a feeling shot through like dozen knives at once. He was

helpless. He blanketed his grandfather with a white cloth and sat before

him. He took a look outside the window. The moon was gorgeous and still.

The glare shone through the wooden windows of his grandfather’s room

shedding light on the surface of the white cloth. It was illuminating. It had

its own radiance. But beneath the cloth was the dead body of his

grandfather. Cold. Resting.

5|S a bon g
 Wilfredo Jr. and his son Wing were on their way to the pit while

having some conversation.

“Beginner’s luck”, Mang Wilfredo whispered wiping the sweat on

his forehead.

“Grandfather is always with us ‘tay”

“I promise to get the farmland back Wing, I know father really

wanted to keep the land”

“But ‘tay, what if we will lose the game, what will become of us

after?”

“God knows. As you were telling me, father is with us, I’m hoping

for a victory anak”

“But what if…”

“Stop it Wing, be positive. To trust is the least thing we can do”

“Well, losing is part of the game. We need to admit that sad

reality. That’s life”

“I have been a loser all my life and I don’t want to experience it

again, never, not now Wing…”

Their conversation was interrupted when accidentally the front

tire was pricked by a nail. They were already near the pit when it happened.
6|S a bon g
They stopped by a vulcanizing shop and left the motorcycle. It was needed

to be fixed. Wing tried to pull the nail out of the rubber, in his persistence to

pluck the nail he was bruised on his forefinger.

“ Believe me anak, it won’t kill you”

“It hurts.”

“You’re already a big boy, pain is just a feeling.”

“I dislike the color of blood ‘tay”

They were near the pit when a familiar beep honked noisily at

their back; it was the white van of Congressman Malvar Barael. Wing could

hear the scream, the shouting and the cheering crowd even if he was just

very distant from it.

From afar, he could see the vehicles parked outside the pit

including some of the farmers’ carabaos. There were also plenty of habal-

habal, bicycles and jeepneys coming from other nearby towns, looking like

tiny toys of a child. When they finally arrived,he couldn’t help but felt

stunned seeing the structure and hearing the politics inside. A small red

flag was fluttering from a slim bamboo pole outside when Wing and his

father arrived to the place, an indicator that there was a cockfight on. Some

market vendors like Aling Rosing, Manang Felicita and Ging-Ging would

take advantage of putting up makeshift stalls around the pit to sell assorted

7|S a bon g
foods like ginanggang, biko, nilupak, beverages, biscuits and cigarettes. After

the fight, majority of cockfighting enthusiasts would muster around the

foods sold. Winners would often buy all of Aling Rosing’s ginanggang, Ging-

Ging’s biko and Manang Felicita’s nilupak. It was like a Sunday fiesta for

cockfighters everytime a game ended.

The place was new for Wing, it was noisy. Everybody was shouting

and betting. Before entering, he knew that everything would be very

different inside like he needed to join the crowd and be one of them. He told

himself that he was expecting to meet unfamiliar faces most specially those

that were from other towns. It was a strange welcome. There were plenty of

people and majority were those faces that he had never met.

Mang Wilfredo shouted, “What are you still doing there? Come on!

The game is about to end.”

Upon entering, the noise grew louder and louder creating boisterous

barrel of roar. He could not even hear himself. The most domineering voice

among all of the people inside was of the announcer’s, who happened to be

holding an amplifier while he uttered some information about the on-going

duel. There were men standing, stamping their feet, raising hands as if they

were the referee of the game. Spectators in the narrow balcony looked as

though they're close enough to reach down and snatch a bird by its neck.

There were also some who stayed being seated while watching. The noise

8|S a bon g
was different. It was so alien for Wing. It was very different compared to the

noise he always heard on the farm.

It was where men-folk gather during Sundays and holidays to

interact on their common passion, cockfighting, apart from being farmers.

The pit itself was lit by overhead fluorescent light. It was a circular stage

encircled by a glass barrier surrounded by rough wooden bleachers. The

balcony hanged below a web of beams that supported a domed roof, which

gave the entire structure the feel of a circus tent. The dirt arena was

surrounded by banks of coliseum-type wooden bleachers reaching to the

roof, usually jam-packed. In Clareta’s pit, they would charge a nominal fee

to spectators, often eight pesos but anyone who brings with him his rooster

would enter for free.

There you could see varied types of men as some are boys being

accompanied by their fathers just like Wing. Only a few women attend

cockfights except that there was a time when Congressman Malvar brought

with him a female tourist friend for an experience of seeing a cockfight. Also,

some men were accompanied by their wives, just like Aling Gracia, the wife

of Mang Wilfredo’s friend and Aling Carita the second wife of Mang Dolfo,

the uncle of Wing’s classmate. In Clareta, it was the only place where the

poor and the rich come together.

9|S a bon g
 The first game was about to end when they arrived and Wing had

the chance to witness the procedure inside the pit. In the ulutan or

matching section, handlers and owners seek for suitable foes. Congressman

Barael and his father stood outside of the ring while having a negotiation

with the kristo. Spectators inside the pit had their chance of scrutinizing

each bird, which in the case of similar plumage may be distinguished by a

colored leg band, before deciding which to bet on. One handler, Mang Tinoy

put on a hat so that the wagers are placed by calling "mayroon" ("with hat")

or "wala" ("without hat"). He would also ask the bettors which cock they

would favor to win, shouting llamado or the less popular one, dejado.

Mang Adolfo, a fellow farmer was the kristo during that time. With

his extended arm posed as he moved about, shouting the odds, exhorting

the gamblers, and acknowledging the bets. Manong Delfin, the casador

noticed that there was much more money for one rooster than the other so

he then distributed some bets among the prominent cockers, calling them

their names and the amounts they will answer for. Mang Delfin would only

know if they were on when the cockers would nod in agreement.

Mang Delfin had served the pit for almost ten years that’s why he

had a remarkable memory for faces; bets were taken in a split second of

hand gestures and calls, and the changing odds given during a match.

Incredibly, Mang Delfin wrote nothing down, but remembered each bet and

its odds. In Clareta’s sabungan, trust works both ways; anyone could place
10 | S a b o n g
a bet without showing his money. Bets were indicated by a series of hand

signals, such as the wiggling of a thumb or the wagging of a hand. When

betting, two fingers raised means twenty Pesos, horizontal fingers signify

hundreds, and fingers pointed downwards represent thousands.

The cockfight began when the leather sheaths of the spurs were

removed, the blades that they were using were examined and wiped with

alcohol to remove any poison, and the gamecocks of Congressman Malvar

and Mang Wilfredo were released to start the fight. The game would end

when one bird would be killed, maimed into submission, or to the

mortification of its owner. It was a close fight, it drove frenzied spectators to

a howling crescendo.

Victorino showed a great interest of the fight. He was strong enough

to battle with the Congressman’s gamecock. His strength and agility was far

beyond compare. In just a matter of three minutes he was able to bruise the

left wing of the Congressman’s gamecock. It was very obvious that in any

moment Congressman’s gamecock would de kissing the floor and be pecked

by Victorino.

The losing bird was picked up by the kristo and dropped three times

to see if it showed any signs of life before its declared dead. Victory was

confirmed when Victorino, the dominant cock pecked twice at its victim. The

latter's dead.

11 | S a b o n g
 The sentenciador, the one who gives the sentence grabbed both birds

by the back neck feathers and brought them together for the decisive pecks.

The decision of the sentenciador was final and never questioned. The loser

will be taking his dead rooster home and cooked it in a special dish called

talunan or "loser's repast."

The betting was resolved as money was passed between kristos and

spectators. Trying to renege was not recommended.

People were shouting for the Victory of Mang Wilfredo. They were

happy. It was very evident on their faces.

“Here’s your tip, we must go now”

Mang Wilfredo handed the money to the kristo and left. He was

congratulated by some of his friends, Mang Nestor, Mang Juan and Mang

Rolando.

“Beginner’s Luck, huh!”, exclaimed Mang Nestor

“Where’s our balato?”, Mang Rolando kidded

“You won the game. Will we be seeing you next week for the next

game? Job well done Wilfredo. Please send my warmest regards to your

gamecock, Victorino”, Mang Juan kidded and shook Mang Wilfredo’s hand as

a sign of congratulation.

12 | S a b o n g
 He was holding Victorino while taking his way out of the crowd when

suddenly Congressaman Barael passed by infront of Wing and his father.

“Watch-out”, said Congressman Barael in a soft but angry voice.

“Give us back my father’s land”, Mang Wilfredo whispered in the air.

Congressman Barael quickly left the pit. Mang Wilfredo thought of

going to the Congressman’s Mansion tomorrow to get back their farmland

instead of confronting the Congressman which was defeated, not only by

Mang WIlfredo Jr. but also by himself.

The resonance of the voices inside the arena was slowly diminishing.

There will be another game but it was already five in the afternoon and the

four must go home before it gets dark. Wing was very happy for his father;

he knew that even before the competition his father would not fail him.

Mang Wilfredo was very positive for this victory. They went home carrying

two gamecocks, Victorino and the fighting cock of Congressman Malvar. It

was a tradition that a defeated gamecock be cooked through a dish they

called talunan. Mang Wilfredo was very excited to go home. He could not

wait to tell his father about his victory. Atlast, they will have their farmland

back.

“We will have a delicious dinner tonight, ‘nak”

13 | S a b o n g
 “Yeah, I know ‘tay. Good thing we won’t be having corn and sweet

potato as our dinner. May the soul of that beaten gamecock rest in peace.”

“If you want, we can come back in the town tomorrow and we’ll buy

your favorite top”

“Oh, really? That would be nice ‘tay, Thank God. I owe everything to

that loser gamecock of Congressman Malvar.”

The uproar from the cockpit had died out. They were kilometers

away from the center of the town and Clareta had its own picture of solitude

as the day ended. There were still mountains but they appeared like

monsters in the night due to their dark and gigantic features. Mang Wilfredo

and Wing journeyed under the tilting coconuts with dark long leaves. They

were trapped under the dim of the night. The silent cicadas broke the

silence of the farm fields as their piercing cries serenaded the caressing

winds of May. They were near the river, one of the few places in the town

which had a lamp post. The river was still and dark, the color of the night.

There was a splash of water in the riverbank, a jumping farm toad or a rat

perhaps caused it. Apart from the sounds that the night produced, Wing

heard an approaching vehicle. The sound of it grew as it came nearer. It was

fast. Mang Wilfredo and Wing stayed on the side of the road to free the

vehicle from its speed. But it momentarily stopped right before them. A man

went out of the car, he was wearing a black T-shirt and his face was covered

14 | S a b o n g
with a black cloth, revealing only his eyes. Another man stepped down, they

were unfamiliar faces. Mang Wilfredo and Wing were shocked the moment

these men came close to them. There was a hint of anger in the stance of

the other guy. He was holding a switchblade. He gazed to the other guy and

the moment Wing’s father dropped Victorino in the ground, he felt a sting

inside his gut.

“Dunggaba na na”

It was a familiar voice. Wing had heard it before. He knew whose

voice was it. It was a voice he heard at the pit a while ago. His father’s

opponent,the defeated Congressman Malvar Barael.

“Yes sir”

“Tulo ka dunggab aron mapuruhan”

He stabbed Mang Wilfredo three times on his stomach. There was a

beep, perhaps a signal that they must leave. The two men hurried inside the

van and left Mang Wilfredo lying on the ground. Wing picked up Victorino

and held him in his hands. Mang Wilfredo was aching in pain. The stabs

were deep. The blood continued dripping from the cut, it was dark- the color

of Victorino’s feathers. Wing shook his father but he would never react.

Wing cried in one of the vast and lighted nook of Clareta. He shouted,

MUBALOS TA ‘tay, mubalos ta. The voice of Wing reverberated creating

15 | S a b o n g
duplicate enraged protests. They were freed in the absence, heard in the

absence of his father but the voices seemed to be trapped along the woods,

flowing together with stream and hiding beneath the crops. It was a sort of

wound that knew no medications. Wing knew that it was the start of

another journey. A journey without his father but the company of hopes he

had planted in the farmfields of Clareta.

The next day, the news broke out. The death of Mang Wilfredo was

in the front page of the local newspapers. The town was visited with a lot of

people from the media, trying to get an interview on some of Mang Wilfredo’s

friends. Wing opted to stay silent. However, there were a lot of media men

who tried to get footage with Congressman Malvar Barael. He was asked

about what happened. There were a lot of speculations about the death of

Mang Wilfredo but there was none who knew about who really were the

suspects.

Wing was feeding Victorino at the backyard when he heard the news

on the radio. He couldn’t believe the impact that was brought by the death

of his father. During that time, Mang Wilfredo’s death was the talk of the

town.

There are many changes in the town of Clareta. New establishments

are built including Congressman Barael’s internet café and refreshment bar.

Many people discover Clareta and choose to build their houses in the said

16 | S a b o n g
town, including the squatters. A lot of people go to the public market

usually after they attend the mass. Children grow in numbers. The cockpit

is full of men and boys during Sundays. Unlike before, people now pay 10

pesos as an entrance fee if they don’t have their gamecocks with them,

people who mostly experience this are those that are from the nearby towns,

foreigners and some women.

Wing anticipates that when he arrives he will be welcomed by some

of his friends. Victorino is conditioned to fight. His stance is as proud as the

game he had two years ago. But everything is different now; Wing will be

fighting without his father.

“This game is for you ‘tay”, he whispers to himself.

It is already 1:00 pm. The game will start at exactly 1:30 pm. If the

opponent happens not to show up in the game his opponent will be declared

as a winner by default. He rides with his motorcycle. He passes by the river,

the farm fields and the lamp post. He can’t bear the nostalgia of the

moment. He stops and carries with him Victorino while trying to marvel the

beauty and the scenery of the fields.

“Manimalos ta ‘tay!”

He then starts off the engine of the motorcycle and zooms in to the

cockpit.

17 | S a b o n g
 People are shouting. He hears the announcer, calling the last call.

He leaves his motorcycle among the group of vehicles that are parked

outside the cockpit area. When he enters, the cheer of the people inside the

cockpit slowly diminishes. They gaze at Wing, carrying his gamecock. He

raises his hands above his head and waves to the other side of the ring. One

man cheers, “Wing…Wing…Wing…”

Still, the crowd is silent and only the voice of the cheering man is

heard. After a few seconds the voice is seconded together with other men. It

seems like it is a standing ovation given to Wing even though the game

doesn’t start yet. Applause is heard. The silence of the crowd is broken.

Everybody is yelling, shouting, stamping. The noise seems to be betting with

Victorino. Wing goes near the ring to weigh Victorino. Congressman Malvar

Barael is seated on a chair as he lets his man take over the weighing of his

gamecock. After the cocks are weighed the kristo attaches the razor-sharp

spurs to the birds’ legs. The two gamecocks are ready and the uproar gets

louder and louder as the two cocks start to battle with each other.

On the first minute, Victorino shows a very promising start just like

what he a year ago. His eyes are focused as if wanting to devour his

opponent. His movements show great agility against the attacks of its

opponents. Instead of waiting for its opponent, Victorino runs the risk of

hitting the neck of its opponent in the first fly. The black is too fast to free

itself from Victorino. Victorino with its courage and fortitude attacks the
18 | S a b o n g
black for the second time; it is the blow that Wing had been waiting. The

black cannot parry the damage that Victorino has made on its neck. There

is blood but the black is still resilient enough to fight.

The crowds applaud for the great stamina and resistance of

Victorino. The cock is very different now, different from the last time they

have seen it. It is more powerful and determined. The black limped badly as

Victorino flew hitting the side of it. He is terribly hurt. People inside the

cockpit cheer for the way Victorino maneuvers its flight. The black takes the

risk of hitting Victorino on the right leg but he fails as victorino with its

accountable speed avoids the black from its attempt. Victorino is aggressive

looking like he really enjoys the game; he thumps the black and gets him in

a flicker. The black is again wounded. There is a swirl of feathers in the air.

The roars rise from the gallery betting for the victory of Wing. Victorino

circles the black in a moment as the black tries to sustain its remaining

strength. The blood from the neck and the wing of the black stains the

ground. People are shouting, insisting that Wing has won. But the black

persists. People can tell that the cock of Congressman Judeo is losing, in a

minute or more it will probably face its own demise. Victorino attacks its

opponent, the black seems to be blinded by the speed and endurance of

Victorino, it is not able to avoid the killing flight of Victorino, its final

downfall.

19 | S a b o n g
 The face of Congressman Judeo is disgusted. He is shouting, as if

encouraging his gamecock to fight and outdo Victorino, but the black is not

strong enough to sustain.

“Fight! Fight! Don’t give up!”,Congressman Barael encourages his

wounded gamecock as if also encouraging himself to fight and stay strong

against Wing.

In a matter of seconds, Congressman Judeo Barael lost his strongest

fighting cock against the challenging Victorino. He is anticipating for his

victory but it seems like things are not going on their right path. He

underestimates the capacity of Victorino. Before the game, he is very certain

that he’ll win and avenge the game of his father a year ago. It is an

unexpected battle he never wanted to happen. Congressman’s friend

Ernesto pats him on his back consoling the grief of his friend.

The cocks are still inside the ring. The only thing that Wing and the

crowd wait is the pecking of Victorino. It is the signal that all of them

anticipate to finally declare the game in favor of Victorino and his master

Wing. The crowd is shouting, louder than the usual uproar they create.

Before the time ends Victorino is able to peck the lying, defeated cock of

Congressman Barael. The winning crowd creates a noise louder than what

Wing had witnessed when his father won the game against Congressman

Malvar Barael.

20 | S a b o n g
 Wing empties his chair and goes in the middle of the ring and sees the

wounded stag of Congressman Barael. He picks up Victorino and raises it

before the roaring crowd. He holds with him Victorino and gazes before the

jubilant faces of the men around the arena.

The losers still applaud the two fighters because of the strength

that both of the cocks has showcased. There are some who goes inside the

ring to congratulate Wing.

Wing knows that within himself the fight is well worth perceiving.

That it is the fight that gives him courage and hope to still continue, in the

absence of his father. He notices the spur tied on the left leg of Victorino. It

is sharp. Enough to bruise the stag of the Congressman but apart from the

wound Victorino has brought, it’s as if he is brought to a time warp where

his father was stabbed under the flickering lamp post. The noise of the

crowd cheering for his victory is muted, he barely hears a thing. The

moment he scrutinizes the faces of the men before him, the memory of the

death of his father flashes in his mind. The secret he slid beneath the crops

and the monstrous mountains will now be freed. The river where he

cleansed his wound will continue to flow and the cry of the cicadas in the

night will not be as piercing as before. That the town of Clareta will become

as peaceful as before when it was still inhabited by his grandfather. He

knows he’ll greet Clareta tomorrow full of hopes and with a peaceful state of

mind. He’ll be awake by the hopeful crows of Victorino and the desires of his
21 | S a b o n g
father and grandfather. Even if he will have their farmland again he is

certain that the two most important men of his lives will never be with him,

he will never have them back.

22 | S a b o n g