DEATH INTO MANHOOD

Jose Garcia Villa

About the Author

He is a poet and a short story writer, exerted more influenced upon Filipino writers of short story
than any other writer. In 1929, his “Mir-i-NIsa” won the Free Press P1,000 award for the best story. That
same year, he also edited the first anthology of Filipino short stories in English.
It was also in 1929 when he was expelled from the University of the Philippines for publishing
the Philippine Collegian an unconventional poem entitled “Man Songs”. With his prize money from
Free Press, he left for the United States, where he has lived in self-exile.
He earned renown as a writer abroad.
Some of his awards were the Pro Patria award for Literature (1961); Heritage awards for
Literature(1962).;and National Artist Award for Literature (1973). He is also included in a volume of
Who’s Who in America.

Tona did not realize that when she gave herself up to Doro she was seeing him for the last time.
Doro was young and new to the town and most of the girls wanted him. Doro was tall and his arms
were strong and when the girls looked at him they looked with yearning. Doro had gone about with
the other girls but finally he had chosen Tona. Tona became crazy about him.
Shamefacedly Tona made Doro repeat that he loved her. Doro said, "I love you." Tona let Doro go
happily although she cried softly.
Tona told her mother that night that she was going to marry Doro: (*We love each other. Doro and I
are going to get married, inay! "Tona said.
Tona's mother cried sentimentally.
"It comes in every one's life,” Tona comforted her.
"I guess . . . it does," her mother said.
"You will live with us. Doro will not mind."
"Doro does not make . .. enough," her mother said.
"I will wash clothes. We shall try to manage," Tona said.
Tona's mother said she would kill the pig she was raising, for the wedding: "It is already a big
pig."
 "It will last us long, the meat," Tona said.
"Doro will take good care of you?"
"Doro will take good care of me."
But they never saw Doro again. Tona tried hard not to cry but it was useless. Then she told her
mother why she had to marry Doro and her mother beat her.

* * *
Tona's child was a boy. Tona loved the child and called him Berto. Tona forgot all her hurt
about Doro and became immersed in Berto. Berto became a little god.
Berto grew up to boyhood. Tona worked hard washing clothes for their living. Tona's mother
had died years before. Berto was eleven now and his demands were growing. Tona sent him to the
public school and every now and then there were contributions to make. Berto needed money to buy
pad paper or a notebook or a few centavos to give to the Red Cross. Berto got a pin with a red cross
printed on it in exchange for the few centavos for charity.
Sometimes, when Berto was away, Tona cried. Her body ached with work. In the Philippines,
labor is cruelly cheap. Working people earn very little. A washerwoman earns a cruel fifteen pesos a
month, equivalent to seven and a half dollars. If she earned twenty pesos she was very lucky, very happy.
Tona could have married conveniently. There was a carpenter, Mianong, who wanted her but she
refused him. She was afraid for Berto. Mianong would not have the right feeling for Berto who was
not his child. Then Mianong and she would have other children and the things that should go to Berto
would have to be shared. It was a selfish thought but Tona loved Berto,
One day, as Christmas approached, Berto asked for long trousers. Tona was taken by surprise.
Berto was asking for long trousers. Tona had not thought of it—that some day Berto would need long
trousers, that some day Berto would grow up.
Tona looked un-understandingly at her son. - - "How old are you, Berto?"
"Fifteen, inay."
It took Tona a long time to fully comprehend. Berto was fifteen, had grown up—was getting
beyond boyhood. Tona felt hurt, she could not understand why.
"You will get me long trousers, may?"Berto asked.
Tona did not hear. There was an increasing hurt in her.
"You will get me long trousers, may?"Berto repeated.
"Y-yes," Tona said. "I will get you long trousers, Berto."

* * *
 Tona came home from market one Sunday and Berto was bathing in the batalan. The batalan
adjoined the little kitchen and the entrance to it was doorless. When Tona bathed she used to hang a long
piece of cloth across the opening but now the opening was unscreened and Tona saw Berto's nude
body. Berto was big now. His muscles bulged. Tona, without wanting to, caught the new maleness of
his body. When Berto saw his mother looking at him he felt greatly embarrassed. Blood rose to his face.
Berto hid himself in a corner. There he continued his bathing so that his mother could not see him. Tona
realized what that meant. Something was interposing between her and Berto. Tona refused to look
Berto's way again—refused to see Berto's bodyy which Berto did not want to let her see—which she
used to bathe not long ago. Berto's body belonged to himself now. Something had happened to his body
and Tona must never see it again. Tona could hear the water splashing on Berto's body. It seemed as if
Berto were far, far away—as if the water pouring over his body were a sea separating him and her.
"What are you doing, Berto?"
Berto stood before a mirror and turned around to face Tona. Berto was nervous and grew pale and
put his hands behind him. A thin line of blood rush above his mouth.
"What were you doing, Berto? What have you got in your hands, Berto?"
Berto forced an awkward smile.
"I. . . I was .., shaving, inay, "
Tona studied him silently.
"I . . . I got to shave now. I. . . I am seventeen now . . . It doesn't look good . . . if
one does not shave . . . I mean..."
"You 've got blood on your lip, Berto," his mother said.
"You .. . you frightened me, inay. I cut myself.
"Berto," Tona called. How hard his name felt on her lips. All the young softness, the tenderness, of it
seemed to have gone.
"Berto ..."
"Yes," Berto said.
"Do not cut yourself again, Berto. "
When Berto was eighteen he put on his best clothes one night and told his mother he was going out to
the movies. Berto was dressed in his white drill suit and his head was shiny. He was tall and his chest
was thick. Berto told his mother not to wait up for him. Tona asked him why and Berto said he might
come home late.
Tona said, "You should not come home late,"
"But I am a boy," Berto said.
"You are going out with someone," Tona guessed.
 "I'm taking Maria to the show," Berto said.
"You're going out with a girl."
"Yes," Berto said.
His mother looked at him steadfastly and Berto became uneasy. Berto began to explain. Berto
talked about Maria. Berto said lovely things about Maria. Berto said they wanted to be . . . together.. .
"I got to go now—Maria is waiting for me."
"You better go."
As Berto descended the bamboo stairs Tona looked apprehensively at her son. Tona fought
hard to grasp the significance of it. There he went— Berto—big, tall, young—going out to see a girl...
Berto is ... a man.
Berto is a man,
Berto is a MAN.
She grew suddenly afraid of Berto, suddenly apart from him. A cruel tumult was unleashed in her.
Berto was no longer Berto. Berto was a man. Man . . . DORO.
She reached nervously for her shawl and ran impassioned into the night. She raced to Maria's house.
Maria's mother was at the door.
"Where is Maria? Where is Maria, Aling Pipa?"
"She went out with your son, Aling Tona."
"Poor Maria. Poor Maria," Tona said wearily, futilely. "Tell her never to go out alone again with
Berto ... never to go out alone again with Berto.'