Metanoia

“Dios ko!”

Fr. Francis exclaimed as he saw the poor man’s body lying under the flickering streetlamp over
the pool of crimson red blood. He wanted to call the police but thought better. He had seen all
the news. Instead, he called Nestor.

“Doy! Kwaa ko aring skena unahan sa bakeshop!”

The line then went dead.

Moments later, a teenage boy came, pedaling a tri-sikad.

“Dre, wa nay gasolina imong jeep. Ga tri-sikad nalang-“

The boy stopped and stared wide eyed at the corpse. He looked at the priest with an intense
horror etched on his face.

“Dre-“

“Uli nata. Pagdali!”

So, immediately the priest got in the tri-sikad while Nestor pedaled as fast as he could. They
had reached the gates of the rectory when sirens flared behind them.

“Dre- Unsaon naman ni!” Nestor whispered as he and the priest got out the vehicle.

“Kalma lang. Wa kay dautan na gihimo,” Fr. Francis replied and calmly faced the coming three
policemen.

“Maayong gabie diha Pads,” the police with the biggest stomach greeted.

“Maayong gabie sad! Unsa may toyo nato sir?”

The priest then felt the boy slowly cowered behind him.

“Kanang. Kahibaw baka pads unsay background sa imong bata-bata dha?” the other policeman
asked.

“Kahibaw man,” the priest replied cooly.

Fr. Francis tried to take a good look at the three policemen’s faces yet the flickering blue and
red lights behind them blinded the priest and could only see the silhouettes of the three.

“Ahw, nasayod diay ka nga adik nang imong bata-bata Pads?” the third police asked.
“Sa balay sa Dios, walay adik o dautan. Aduna ray mga tawo nga andam mangayog pasaylo sa
Ginoo. Si Nestor kay nangayo nag pasaylo ug naghinulsol na sa iyang mga sala sauna. Busa
wala nay rason na tawgon siya’g adik.”

“Wala man siya ning surrender Pads,” the first police said accusingly.

“Ah. Pero nag bag-o naman siya sa wala pa nagsugod nang inyong operasyon TUKHANG.
Maong, dili na kailangan niya mu surrender.”

“Pero Pads, dapat musurrender jud siya Pads para malista-“ the third police started but the first
whispered on his ear.

“Ahw mao ba Pads. Maayong gabie nalang ninyo Pads,” the second hurriedly said.

The priest smiled and greeted them back.

The policemen then went back to their car and sped off.

“Unsaon naman nato ni Pads?” Nestor said moments later as they had entered in the drawing
room.

“Wala. Inosenta ka. Wala kay dapat ikabahala. Tog na diha,” Fr. Francis said and patted the
boy’s back for assurance. “Sayog mata ugma ha, andama ang akong mass kit mga alas singko.”

Nestor then watched the priest climbed up the stairs. When he heard the priest’s door was
closed, he sank on the sofa, debilitated.

It was true, Nestor had already stopped using illegal drugs thanks to Fr. Francis. The priest had
found him on the street, nearly dead because of overdosage. The priest took him into a hospital
and from then on had cared for him. He adopted him in his rectory and made him as his bata-
bata. What was peculiar was that, the priest had never lectured Nestor about drugs. The priest
just acted as if Nestor was just an ordinary boy dying because of poverty. And that, made
Nestor realized his sins and immediately went to conffesion with the priest. Since then, he was
a changed man.

Until last month.

His uncle, Uncle Karlo, cornered him behind the town’s market pointing a kitchen knife at him.

“Ning kanta ka no!”

“Wala kol uy!”

“Patay na si Demonyo! Wala na tay dealer ari!”

“Wala koy gistorya ni padre kol. Wala jud kol!”

“Siguraduha diha. Kay musipyat gani ka, ibitay naho nang imong ulo atubangan sa simbahan.
Dli ka ikyas sa imong kagahapon oplok!”

His uncle then left him, shivering and scared to death. To be honest, a little streak of pee had
slithered down on his legs.

Back at the drawing room, Nestor sighed and finally decided to go to bed.

Meanwhile, Fr. Francis was beginning to fall into slumber when he heard a commotion below.

“Iring guro ron,” he thought and tried to fall back to sleep. Finally he did and dreamt about the
passion of Christ.

At midnight, the door of the priest’s room went ajar and slowly opened a little bit wider. Then a
shadow went inside and silently closed the door. A faint light from the street lamp outside had
managed to enter into the room so that a slihouette of a man can be seen slowly creeping
towards the bed. Slowly, the man strecthed out his hands towards the sleeping priest. His
breathing became ragged as the hands got closer and closer. For a moment, the hands stopped.
But then swiftly, they covered the priest’s mouth, muffling the scream of Fr. Francis.

“Shhh. Ayawg singgit dre. Madunggan ka nila,” Nestor whispered at the priest.

The priest then looked at him with eyes of bewilderment.

“Patyon tang duha nila dre. Adto ta agi sa imong bintana dre. Naa sila ron sa ubos,” Nestor
continued but he took away his hands from the priest’s mouth.

“Unsa?” It was all Fr. Francis could say.

But then the door flew open and there the three policemen.

It happened in just a second, Nestor pulled the priest up and got behind him. He was putting a
kitchen knife on the priest’s neck.

“Duol ug patyon naho ning pari-a!” Nestor yelled.

Fr. Francis could not believe it. Nestor. He thought the boy had changed. But now- How could
he?

Meanwhile, Nestor glanced at his watch.

“Hapit na,” he thought.

“Surrender na ug walay mahitabo sa imoha!” the first police shouted.

“Di ko-“

But Nestor’s voice was drowned by the defeaning roars of gunshots.

“Nana sila!” Nestor thought happily.

He immediately pushed down the priest to avoid the rainning bullets. He pulled the priest out
from the bed and crouched behind it. Meanwhile, the first police got hit and was now
unconscious on the floor. The other two slammed onto the floor and crawled towards anything
they could hide themselves.

“Tara na dre!” Nestor hissed and led the priest towards the back window. At first, the priest
hesitated but later on gave in.

Nestor quickly opened the window and let the priest get out first before him. They were now
outside and safely hidden by the thick mahogany branches. Inside, they could hear muffled
gunshots and screams.

“Hinay dre, mahagbong ka,” Nestor whispered as he led Fr. Francis towards the low hanging
branch.

“Nestor. Ngano man ni?”

Fr. Francis looked at Nestor straight in the eyes and the boy could not help but gulped and
confessed.

A week before, his uncle Karlo told him that an operation TUKHANG will be done tonight. That’s
why they had seen the corpse earlier. His uncle wanted to protect him but in return, Nestor had
to kill Fr. Francis so that the priest can’t tell the authorities anything that could lead to them.
Nestor agreed of course but never planned to kill the priest. He planned that Fr. Francis should
run away through the maze of shanty houses so that when the commotions will be over he’s
safe. Meanwhile, hoping that his uncle’s gang would defeat the police, he would just tell him
that the priest had gone away earlier so that there would be no questions.

“Pero dakong posibilidad nga patyon ka nila,” Fr. Francis said, concerned for the boy.

“Mas maayo pang mamatay ko dre kaysa mamatay ka. Dili ko kaikyas sa akong kagahapon.
Wala nakoy kaugmaon dre. Kung mamatay ka dre, wala nay taw nga mutabang sa mga tawng
sama naho. Wala nay taw nga muhatag ug laing kaugmaon sa mga tawng walay kaugmaon,”
Nestor replied fighting back the tears swarming in his eyes as they had safely reached the
ground.
They were now at the back of the rectory. All the priest would do was to climbed over the
metal sheet fence.

“Too kag makaikyas mo?”

Uncle Karlo emerged from nowhere along with a goon. Nestor then put his body in between Fr.
Francis and his uncle.

“Kol. Ako ray patya. Malooy kang padre kol!” Nestor pleaded.

“Ayaw ka balaka, patyon pud tika!”

There was a gunshot and the goon dropped dead. The back-up of the police forces had arrived.
As his uncle was momentarily distracted, Nestor lunged at him. But he was too late, his uncle
had fired before they both fell on the ground.

The pain in the priest’s stomach was excruciating. He felt like his stomach was on fire.

“PADRE!”

Nestor screamed and stubbornly turned back to the priest. This gave his uncle the chance to
kick him in the shin and pushed him away. His uncle tried to run but a bullet had landed cleanly
on his brain.

Meanwhile, Nestor was clutching the priest’s dying body. At that moment, he could remember
the vague memory of him being on the priest’s arms as he thought he would die of overdose.

“PADRE!!!”

His hoarsed voice echoed throughout the early hours of dawn. Yet, there will be no
tommorrow. The priest had died and all was left of him was grief and hoplessness.

“Isaka nang imong mga kamot!” a policewoman shouted.

Nestor ignored the woman. He looked at the blinding lights of the police with his face shining
with tears.

“Dios ko! Gipatay niya ang pari!” someone exclaimed.

“Ibutang nang kutsilyo ug isaka imong mga kamot!” the policewoman shouted again.

This time, Nestor obeyed. He put down his knife and raised his hands above his head. He
doesn’t care anymore if he’s going to prison. He had nothing left.

But he didn’t go to prison.

There was a gunshot and Nestor was dead.

It was all over the news later that morning. In every newspaper, a headline usually goes:

“Pari patay; Suspect: adik na kumbent boy”

And in the next page, an article was entitled:

“”Operation TUKHANG, Padayunon,” -Presidente”