HOME | DD

Description
I
Was He a Ghost?

Living near Malacañang Palace was not always the most glamorous thing. The kids from nearby schools caused traffic jams as the began and ended each day. There were times that a rally or protest would keep us shut in our homes. That aside, we were like any neighbourhood in the Philippines.

Every afternoon as the sun would set, my childhood friends and I would gather by Freedom Park across the palace gates. There, we would play until one, two, and then three stars would appear in the sky, telling us it was time to run home.

I would sometimes stand at a nearby streetcorner and watch the goings-on in the Palace. To any four-year-old, a ball or official banquet would have been magical. But state visits and coups d'etat were normal things for the denizens of the San Miguel district.

I would chat with the Palace guards posted at the gates, or with the busy groundskeepers. Mang Romy was my favourite; he was already sweeping the lawn behind the black iron fence of the Palace for as long as I can recall. It has gotten to the point where I remember the names and faces of those who had lived in, worked at, and departed from Malacañang over the course of my life. Many were wrinkled by long years as faithful members of the Presidential household, or as hardened officials in the Palace bureaucracy.

But among the legions of government employees, guardsmen, staff, and even Presidents that have come and gone, there is one face that never seems to leave the Palace grounds–or my mind.

----

"Oi! You must be deep in thought over some boy," my best friend Maricela Luna called out. I turned to see her – dressed in black as always – adjusting her glasses before typing away on her phone.

"Huh? And since when was it illegal to reflect on life's mysteries?"

"Wooow, so profound, man. Heavy," she said in a drawn out, sarcastic tone. "Oi, time for me to head home. See you at school on Monday?"

I stood up to hug her as soon as I heard her clothes rustling. "See you then, girl," I told her.

"Bestie, wait with me at the corner until I catch a jeepney? Please?"

I was too lazy to go, so I made up some excuse. "Look, I still have chores to do. Mummy won't be home from work til 9, while Ate is out with friends. I have to clean up before they return."

Maricela was a bit disappointed as I showed her out the gates of my house. "It'll only be a bit! Walk me to the guardhouse at least?"

"Fine. I could use a bit of time away from the house, anyway." It was a Friday afternoon, and a public holiday at that. Maricela had been in the house with me because she wanted to gripe about her boyfriend back in the province.

I locked up the front door and the gate. Phone in hand, we strode out to the street and crossed over to the pavement lining the Palace. Maricela went on and on about her mother this, her mother that, and her mother driving her crazy.
“Honestly, it’s like everything I do is wrong! I go to school, I do everything she says, and yet every little mistake of mine sets her off! I don’t know what to do anymore…"

Her voice trailed off as you looked at the plants creeping from cracks in the outer wall of the Palace. A slightly uncomfortable feeling pierces your stomach; a bit of anxiety seeps in. Your eyes adjust their focus from the black bars of the fence to the whitewashed Palace itself beyond.

From the main entrance emerged a man in a white, short-sleeved baróng. Trailing him is a much shorter man, similarly dressed and carrying a mound of paperwork. A common sight around the Palace. Your eyes remained fixed on the first one, who suddenly looks your way. You quickly stare back at the pavement, embarrassed that he probably met your gaze. The hot feeling of shyness gave way to a giddiness and warmth you have never felt before.

“Oi, are you okay?” Maricela asks. “It’s like you saw a ghost or something."

“N-no, it was no one – I mean, it was nothing!” you mumble.

“Nothing? Well they do say the Palace is haunted, anyway."

You peek again through the iron bars of the Palace fence.
The man was gone.

(To be continued)

Description
I
Was He a Ghost?

Living near Malacañang Palace was not always the most glamorous thing. The kids from nearby schools caused traffic jams as the began and ended each day. There were times that a rally or protest would keep us shut in our homes. That aside, we were like any neighbourhood in the Philippines.

Every afternoon as the sun would set, my childhood friends and I would gather by Freedom Park across the palace gates. There, we would play until one, two, and then three stars would appear in the sky, telling us it was time to run home.

I would sometimes stand at a nearby streetcorner and watch the goings-on in the Palace. To any four-year-old, a ball or official banquet would have been magical. But state visits and coups d'etat were normal things for the denizens of the San Miguel district.

I would chat with the Palace guards posted at the gates, or with the busy groundskeepers. Mang Romy was my favourite; he was already sweeping the lawn behind the black iron fence of the Palace for as long as I can recall. It has gotten to the point where I remember the names and faces of those who had lived in, worked at, and departed from Malacañang over the course of my life. Many were wrinkled by long years as faithful members of the Presidential household, or as hardened officials in the Palace bureaucracy.

But among the legions of government employees, guardsmen, staff, and even Presidents that have come and gone, there is one face that never seems to leave the Palace grounds–or my mind.

----

"Oi! You must be deep in thought over some boy," my best friend Maricela Luna called out. I turned to see her – dressed in black as always – adjusting her glasses before typing away on her phone.

"Huh? And since when was it illegal to reflect on life's mysteries?"

"Wooow, so profound, man. Heavy," she said in a drawn out, sarcastic tone. "Oi, time for me to head home. See you at school on Monday?"

I stood up to hug her as soon as I heard her clothes rustling. "See you then, girl," I told her.

"Bestie, wait with me at the corner until I catch a jeepney? Please?"

I was too lazy to go, so I made up some excuse. "Look, I still have chores to do. Mummy won't be home from work til 9, while Ate is out with friends. I have to clean up before they return."

Maricela was a bit disappointed as I showed her out the gates of my house. "It'll only be a bit! Walk me to the guardhouse at least?"

"Fine. I could use a bit of time away from the house, anyway." It was a Friday afternoon, and a public holiday at that. Maricela had been in the house with me because she wanted to gripe about her boyfriend back in the province.

I locked up the front door and the gate. Phone in hand, we strode out to the street and crossed over to the pavement lining the Palace. Maricela went on and on about her mother this, her mother that, and her mother driving her crazy.
“Honestly, it’s like everything I do is wrong! I go to school, I do everything she says, and yet every little mistake of mine sets her off! I don’t know what to do anymore…"

Her voice trailed off as you looked at the plants creeping from cracks in the outer wall of the Palace. A slightly uncomfortable feeling pierces your stomach; a bit of anxiety seeps in. Your eyes adjust their focus from the black bars of the fence to the whitewashed Palace itself beyond.

From the main entrance emerged a man in a white, short-sleeved baróng. Trailing him is a much shorter man, similarly dressed and carrying a mound of paperwork. A common sight around the Palace. Your eyes remained fixed on the first one, who suddenly looks your way. You quickly stare back at the pavement, embarrassed that he probably met your gaze. The hot feeling of shyness gave way to a giddiness and warmth you have never felt before.

“Oi, are you okay?” Maricela asks. “It’s like you saw a ghost or something."

“N-no, it was no one – I mean, it was nothing!” you mumble.

“Nothing? Well they do say the Palace is haunted, anyway."

You peek again through the iron bars of the Palace fence.
The man was gone.

(To be continued)