When The Roosters Crowed

All Rights Reserved.

2021.

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It was a beautiful morning for the old man. Typical to his day was the coffee too bitter to his tongue but preferred it that way, the fresh morning breeze mixed with the cigarette he had lit, and the pandesal his wife bought from a nearby panaderia. His wife already prepared his breakfast on the table located in the backyard as this was where he mostly spent his early hours.

He was excited about today. His manok would win today's tupada. The excitement was abruptly cut when he saw his wife rush out of the house. He yelled to ask where she was going but she did not reply. His wife Ada had always been a quiet woman but the years had already taken a toll on her. And yet she was still beautiful. Her gray hair swayed with the wind, her steel brown eyes against the bright morning sun, her short skeletal figure holding a walis tingting and an old metal pandakot. She would always clean their lot of the dried leaves, especially from the old talisay tree erected in their front lawn. He watched his wife leave her chore unfinished and go out of their gate.

A! Lunes manaya, he thought. She would go to balëy to stockpile their food for the whole week. It was a habit. Sometimes she would ask him to accompany her, other times he would volunteer, but recently she had been going alone. He felt bad for his wife but he was still thankful. She was a beautiful loving wife.

While he was waiting for his kumpare to arrive, he tried to feed the fowls. His bones were already frail and because of an accident years ago, he had trouble walking and had to use a crutch to move around. Still, he managed. He noticed that none of his roosters were crowing. They were clucking and picking up the dirt but none crowed but he let it past his mind.

The fowls were always in good care as he made sure they were healthy before every tupada. He had known how to raise them since he was young. He watched his father and would watch the tupada whenever his father would go, though his mother did not approve. Surprisingly, he had an inkling to the fowls. He knew how and what to look for on a certain chicken. He did not care if it was imported or not. He just knew the potential of one through his keen eyes.

Shortly when his father died, he eagerly tried to replace his father's role but his inexperience caught up to him. However, that did not stop him. He honed his skills in raising the fowls until he eventually went on to let his backyard-raised tandang fight in the ring. At first, it was just a small tupada. Local growers like him betting some small money for their pride and pleasure. On one occasion, the police raided their illegal cockfight. He escaped but he lost his fowl. He wanted to do it legally after that but the bets were too costly for him. So he tried to make connections from Barangay Captains to Councilors. He made positive connections over the years. He even made himself kumpare of the Vice Mayor by working as an underling for two years. He was what they call madiskarte. Those years paid off as he eventually had himself and his family built a house over the small patch of land his father had left him. Still, his habit did not die. He would buy and grow some fowls, even tried to breed his own, only to be betted on. His winnings would go directly to his wife, save for a few to celebrate with his friends over Emperador bottles. As for his losses, he made up for the next fight.

He heard the gate squealed and he peered through the glass jalousie to see Ada and kumpareng Kaloy arrive at the same time. He could not go to the cockfight since the accident so he had his kumpare take care of the business. He would grow the panabong; his kumpare would bet. That became their arrangement. Kumpareng Kaloy offered the deal one drunken night. Usapang lasing, Ada told them the following morning but a deal was a deal. Kaloy did not ask for anything from him. They had known each other since they were children and offering a bottle of Emperador from the winnings was all he could do to thank his kumpare.