The Courier in Payawon

2

The barrios differed heavily from the poblacion. The colorful, Spanish homes became occasional than standard. Small variety stores would mark certain corners of a barrio. Kamaligs, or bahay kubo, were the prominent design of houses here. Squat wooden houses raised above the ground, bamboo made up its walls and thatched nipa its roof. They were cheap, but strong enough to withstand the typhoons of June as well as provide cool shelter in the heat of April. Neighborhoods became less frequent as more untouched groves of bamboo clusters and shrubbery flanked the dirt road.

Tasio sat below the canopy of a mango tree, having himself some pan de coco he bought close by. Even the bakers and farmers of the barrios knew Tay Banyoso, but like Caloy and Igno, they knew nothing of his location. He thought about asking his grandfather. That meant going back to Barrio Sinudlan alone. Somewhere in the ether of the sky he imagined his father frown at him for even considering it.

Tasio decided to think about it on his way. This package isn't so urgent, and he might as well delay it if possible. A delayed package on a spotless record. Tasio hated the cards he drew today.

Senor Franco Francisco y Canto was a wealthy man. The grandson of a Spanish entrepreneur who made riches in sugarcane and corn. His estate was massive, owning enough land to fit five neighborhoods inside it. He was a good man, kind to everyone who approaches, except for the Chinese, Tasio noticed. Sitting inside the mansion's second floor, Tasio watched as the guards tossed stones at the poor fish vendor who just passed by the Francisco gate.

"They're all cheating bastards. Each and every last one of them. Never trust an intsik, boy." Senor Francisco said, pointing a long, bony finger at the running Chinese man.

Tasio nodded, drinking the brandy he was served. The Francisco estate would be his last delivery, finishing his day at 2:30 PM. Almost record time if he hadn't had that damn package in his bag.

Returning from the balcony, the Senor straightened his suit and sat across the courier. He was monitoring his workers, making sure every piece of tubo was loaded into the carts. It was harvest season, and sooner or later he'd have to pay his workers. That only meant unrest, again.

Tasio placed his glass on the coaster, trying not to put a single drop of water on the newly furnished table. Around them shifted the servants and maids, refilling glasses and picking up used plates. Others were feathering the ornate paintings and vases, others were carrying various bags and boxes. This was the rich life, the good life.

"Here, send this to Corporal K. Jameson at the station." Senor Francisco said, handing the courier an envelope without stamp nor writing. "You're doing me a lot of good, boy. I just hope you can help me more in these coming months."

Tasio picked up a macaron from the table, asking the Senor how he could help before swallowing it whole.

"I'm running for mayor. In the upcoming election I want my name to be everywhere, but a lot of people don't like me. So I need people like you to deliver... pamphlets to my accomplices."

Putting his hand on his chin, Tasio thought about Senor Francisco's request. "Well, sir, pamphlets aren't illegal and campaigning early is okay."

"But it shows I am desperate to get people on my side. I want it to be discrete. I want the people to think good men urged me to run for the position."

Tasio now knew what 'pamphlets' he was talking about. Vote buying was new, and it was also scandalous. He wondered on this for some more. He sent unmarked letters before, done some shady things for extra cash. His secret was that he never got caught. A spotless record with unrecorded spots.