fiction
How Rosang Taba Won A Race
by Dean Francis Alfar
I. An Introduction
Down in the busy markets of Binondo is a drinking place, Rosa's, where visitors and roughnecks are often found making trouble, noise or love. In that place inebriated men circulate a story, repeated with delight and embroidered with each telling. The Katao of Hinirang enjoy telling it most, because it features the stunning victory of one of their own against an Ispaniolan gentleman.
Today, one hundred years from its first incarnation, different people continue to assign different meanings to the story, but all hold in common its having essentially occurred: as a subversive comment on the conqueror/conquered status quo, as an anecdote on gender role reversal, as the first shout in the inevitable revolution that would return Hinirang to its own people, as a cautionary tale of arrogance and comeuppance, or as a simple tale of a woman who used her mind to achieve triumph in the face of an impossible foe.
What follows is a retelling of this famous tale, rendered from various records, sources and interviews, both anecdotal and established, but replete with the embellishments, speculations of dialogue and motive, and internal sidebars accumulated by its continuous evolution as a narrative.
This is the story of Rosang Taba (who gained a certain notoriety among the pale-skinned elite as Rosa Gordura, and among the foreign merchants and traders as Rosa the Fat) and how she won a footrace against Ser Jaime Alonzo Pietrado ei Villareal - champion fencer, marksman, runner, swimmer, horseman, and the pride of the Ispaniola-in-Hinirang.
II. A Challenge and A Wager are made
It began one afternoon, during a special merienda held at the residence of Alejandro Baltran Alessio du Verrada ei Ramirez, Guvernador-Henerale of Hinirang. The occasion being celebrated was the defeat of a small force of insurgent natives north of Ciudad, and the hero of the hour was the young commander of the Ispaniola force, Ser Jaime Alonzo Pietrado ei Villareal. The two men sipped chocolate from Mejico and discussed things only men-of-action particularly cared about, and were later joined by the Guvernador-Henerale's mistress, Andreia Carmen Jimenez ei Rojillo, freshly returned from confession from the Katedral Grandu.
They were seated at the spacious courtyard of the Guvernador-Henerale's residence, a pleasant arbor of shady trees, flowerbeds and smooth-stoned paths, where the breeze was the most aromatic and the heat less oppressive than elsewhere.
"Ultimately, I must concede to the fact that the lovely Seóra has pointed out to me," Ser Pietrado said, looking at Andreia directly in the eye. "These Katao du Hirinang, these indios , are not much of a threat at all. Certainly not for the flower of Ispaniola. They are lazy, boorish and unorganized. They have no courage, no morals, no civilization. If not for us, they would burn as pagans."
"Ser Pietrado, you have misunderstood my words," Andreia met his gaze evenly. "If the Katao were given equal opportunity, then I suspect your words would be emptier than they are now. Any one of them is your equal."
"I can defeat any one of them in anything. At any time, anywhere," Ser Pietrado boasted. "They are like animals."
"Ser Peitrado!" the Guvernador-Henerale admonished him. "Those are words not in keeping with the character of a gentleman."
Before the young man could reply, another voice interrupted their conversation.
"I could beat you in a race."
The three turned to see who had spoken. A very fat serving woman, carrying a tray of cold refreshment for them, was biting her lips in despair.
"Forgive me, my lords, my lady," she spoke in halting Ispaniola, "I did not mean to speak my thoughts out loud."
"No, no," said Andreia, gliding to the woman's side. "But did you mean what you said?"
" Opo , Seóra," the woman replied, "I want to show the gentleman that we are not all stupid. And we are certainly not animals."
Ser Pietrado turned to the Guvernador-Henerale. "Ser, if this is the kind of servant you keep, I-"
The Guvernador-Henerale, impressed by the fact that the woman had courage to speak, silenced him with a gesture. He turned to the servant and asked her, "What is your name?"
"I am called Rosang Taba, my lord."
Ser Pietrado's aristocratic lips lifted in a sneer. "Rosa Gordura. How appropriate."
"And what do you do for me?" the Guvernador-Henerale asked her.
"I am one of the house servants, my lord. I thought my lords and the lady would like some more chocolate," Rosang Taba said, glancing at the cups and saucers on her tray.
"And do you think you can actually defeat this gentleman, Ser Pietrado, in a. what did you say?"
"In a race, my lord."
"A race?"
" Opo , Ser."
"And you are certain of this?"
" Opo , Ser."
"Then you shall have your chance."
Ser Pietrado raised his eyebrows. "Your Excellency, certainly you jest! This, this obese woman is no match for me in anything, especially in a race!"
Andreia fixed him with a glance. "You can beat her, yes?"
"Of course I can!" Ser Pietrado nearly shouted. Andreia simply smiled.
Rosang Taba cleared her throat timidly. "I just ask two things, my lord. As the noble gentleman has said, I am hardly fit. May I ask him for a head start of fifteen paces?"
"Take fifty paces!" Ser Peitrado laughed at the absurdity of it all. "What is your other request, that I race blindfolded?"
" Hindi po , Ser. But that you allow me to choose where we shall race."
"Then do so. We shall race tomorrow afternoon. Let me know where," Ser Pietrado said.
"Jandro," Andreia said to the Guvernador-Henerale, "How about a small wager?"
"Ah, certainly," the Guvernador-Henerale smiled at the woman he loved.
"I cannot possibly fail the Seóra's expectations," Ser Pietrado told Andreia.
"Who said I'm wagering on you?"
After Ser Pietrado left in a huff, the Guvernador-Henerale wagged a finger at Andreia and moved to comfort his favorite commander. And the most beautiful woman in Ciudad, without looking directly at the fat serving woman, whispered words only Rosang Taba could hear.
"Manalo ka."
III. Rosang Taba, in brief
Rosang Taba's parents had longed for a child. Her father prayed to the spirits of his people, those whose names were forever etched in the collective memory of the mountain tribe he had left behind when he sought his fortune in Ciudad. For many years, he called out to the gods of the wood and sky but it was as if his gods chose not to hear his prayers. He always thought he was being punished for abandoning the ways of his father, grandfather, and all those who came before him.
Her mother, a kitchen servant in the service of the Residencia of the Guvernador-Henerale, offered prayers to the icons of her masters. She would stand outside the Katedral Grandu and silently implore the Tres Hermanas , that inscrutable Trinity of Women in whose name the Ispaniola had come. But they also seemed deaf to prayer, and the poor woman decided that perhaps the Tres Hermanas suspected that her piety had an ulterior motive.
It was after they ceased to pray to both the spirits of the Hinirang and the goddesses of the conquerors that a child came into their lives. In the endless delirium of joy that characterized their love for the child, they named her Rosa and proceeded to give her everything their meager stations in life allowed them.
Her father, riddled by the guilt of having left the mountains, taught her all the stories of his people and instilled in her a pride in her ancestry. Rosa's heart grew rich with her father's every telling of legend, fable and myth.
Her mother established Rosa's presence by her side in the kitchen and taught her the secrets of the Ispaniolan sideboard - its medley of rich sauces, creams and spices, and attempted to share with her child her appreciation for the language, culture and faith of her masters.
It was thus that not only Rosa's heart grew, but her mind, spirit and body as well, as if her external nature struggled to keep pace with the leaps and bounds her inner nature knew. She drank deeply of her father's tales and devoured the fruits of her mother's suspect conversion. By the time she was a young woman, it was inevitable that her name would change to reflect what to all who saw her was obvious. She became Rosang Taba - of broad shoulders and massive girth, insatiable appetites for food and learning, and an almost overwhelming pride in her mountain ancestry.
IV. Rosang Taba and her father converse
" Bakit mo ginawa iyon?"
"Hindi ko po masikmura ang mga sinasabi niya. Tinawag niya tayong mga hayop!"
"Bigkas-hangin lamang iyon."
"Hindi po tayo hayop! Hindi po tama na tawagin nila tayong ganoon, na parang mas mababa sa kanila."
"Rosa! Hindi mo ba naiintindihan ang nagawa mo? Hindi mo ba kilala kung sino ang napili mong-"
"Kilala ko po, Tatay. Kilala ko po."
"Hindi ko ipinagkakaila sa iyo na magsabi ng nilalaman ng puso mo, nguni't. paano-?"
"Mayroon po akong naisip na paraan."
"Karera."
"Kung magawa po ko ito, kung manalo ako -"
"Sa tingin mo ba mapapalitan mo ang pagtingin nila sa Katao? Sa isip mo ba mababago mo ang pagiisip nila?"
"Kung hindi ko po subukan-"
"Kung matalo ka-"
"Kung manalo po ako? Tulad ng mga bayani sa mga kuwento mo? "
"Hindi ito kuwento, Rosa! Alam mo ba kung ano ang nakataya?"
"Opo. Ang pagkatao ko."
V. At the Plaza Binondo
Word about the impossible race, fueled by both Ser Pietrado's celebrity and Rosang Taba's absurd temerity, spread throughout the districts of Ciudad, and the extraordinary crowd that gathered to watch divided into two camps alongside the Plaza Binondo, one of the oldest sites in the city.
On the side of the Ispaniola-in-Hinirang, rich velvets, silks and fine brocade created a sea of color, punctuated by gaily hued parasols and glittering jewelry. The entire Cortes was present, resplendent in their hastily constructed pavilions that shimmered in the afternoon sun. The Mother Church, foreign envoys and diplomats, visiting artists, guildlords and the highest members of the Guardia Civil added to their numbers.
Across from them, the Katao of Hinirang stood shoulder-to-shoulder - uniformed tradesmen, laborers and servants, forming an expanse of white, blue and red camisa, brown salakots and lilac bellos. Hawkers moved among them, offering bibingka, turon and cassava cakes, as the crowd's collective heart beat in fervent anticipation of the incredible event.
When Ser Jaime Alonzo Pietrado ei Villareal arrived, dressed in turquoise doublet and breeches, the Ispaniola-in-Hinirang burst into a thunderous applause. Ser Pietrado gave a blinding smile and an ill-repressed moan escaped the lips of many young women who dreamed of sharing his bed.
When Rosang Taba made her appearance, dressed in cloth and colors of her father's mountain tribe that magnificently displayed her unabashed health, the Ispaniola-in-Hinirang began to laugh. But the spontaneous cheer of the Katao of Hinirang robbed their laughter of its cruel power and shook the very foundations of the Plaza.
The Guvernador-Henerale approached the two contestants, accompanied by the most exquisite woman of Ciudad.
"Rosa," he spoke as the crowd strained to listen. "I assume the Plaza Binondo is the start of your race course. You will now tell us both the middle and the end."
" Opo , Ser," said Rosang Taba replied. She raised a huge arm and pointed eastwards. "Ser Peitrado and I must go through the length of the Street of Lost Hope and return here."
A gasp escaped the side of the Katao of Hinirang, and Rosang Taba's father began to laugh, and was almost immediately followed by another, and another and soon all the crowd on that side was laughing with tears in their eyes.
All of the Ispaniola-in-Hinirang did not know what to make of it. The Guvernador-Henerale raised his hand for silence.
"Ser Pietrado, do you understand the course?" he asked the handsome young commander.
"Of course, Your Excellency," Ser Pietrado bowed. "That street over there. No doubt it loops back to this Plaza."
Rosang Taba nodded.
"Very well. Proceed to the mouth of the street. You may then take your fifteen paces, Rosa," the Guvernador-Henerale instructed them. "At my signal, the race will begin."
"You are a foolish woman," Ser Pietrado told her as they moved towards the mouth of the Street of Lost Hope, "And have chosen an appropriately named street for our course."
" Opo , Ser."
When they reached the street, Rosang Taba counted fifteen steps from its beginning and Ser Jaime Alonzo Pietrado ei Villareal, the pride of the Ispaniola-in-Hinirang, realized that he would lose.
VI. The Street of Lost Hope The Street of Lost Hope is the narrowest lane in Ciudad, averaging five handspans in width. No more than one person can navigate its length at a time.
And Rosang Taba was no ordinary person.
VII. The Race Rosang Taba ran as fast as she could, and Ser Pietrado, with an animal roar quickly closed the fifteen pace gap. But he could not pass her - so tightly was her bulk wedged along the slender path that he could not even see where they were going.
She endured his curses and threats and maledictions, squeezing through the wickedly narrow lane. Her shoulders began to bleed as she scraped roughly against the constrictive walls.
"Let me pass, you pig!" Ser Pietrado cried, savagely planting a boot in her back.
" Hindi! " Rosa shouted, biting back the sting, refusing to allow even one tear to escape her eyes, as she fought to maintain her position and balance.
"Let me pass!" Ser Pietrado screamed, as he attempted to clamber over her, only to be frustrated by the low ceilings formed by the lane's old arches.
" Hindi!"
Each time he struck her with his fists or feet, Rosa voiced her passionate denial of his demands, fueled by a conviction whose depths only her heart understood.
"Jódalo! Let me pass!"
Ser Peitrado howled in anger and hurled at large rock at her head.
" Hindi!" She cried, ignoring the red-tinged pain and sudden warm wetness that engulfed her senses.
He tried pushing her, biting her, clawing at her, ramming her, tripping her, entangling her, everything he could possibly do, but she was a natural bottleneck all the way around and back to the Plaza Binondo where they began, to the deafening roar of the Katao of Hinirang, and the stunned silence of the Ispaniola-in-Hinirang, sparkling mutely in the sunset.
VIII. A Drinking Song Nasaan ka nang kumarera si Rosang Taba? (Si Rosang Taba!)
Sa Binondo, sa Plaza ng Binondo
Ay, nakita ko ang Ispaniola mapahiya (wala silang nasabi!)
Sa Binondo, sa Plaza ng Binondo
Itaas, itaas, itaas
Ang baso, alak at tuba
Kung kaya niya, kaya ko
Kung kaya ko, kaya mo
Nasaan ka nang nanalo si Rosang Taba? (Si Rosang Taba!)
Sa Binondo, sa Plaza ng Binondo
Ay naku, ang bilis kumalat ng balita (makinig ka sa sinasabi!)
Mula sa Binondo, sa Plaza ng Binondo
Itaas, itaas, itaas
Ang baso, alak at tuba
Kung kaya niya, kaya ko
Kung kaya ko, kaya mo
Nasaan ka nang tumawa si Rosang Taba? (Si Rosang Taba!)
Sa Binondo, sa Plaza ng Binondo
Ay, ay, ay, at tayo lamang ang naki-tawa (wala silang masabi!)
Sa Binondo, sa Plaza ng Binondo
Kung kaya niya, kaya ko
Kung kaya ko, kaya mo
IX. Dénouement With the gift of money given to her by the amused Andreia Carmen Jimenez ei Rojillo, Rosang Taba did three things: she purchased her family's freedom, visited a mountain that figured prominently in her dreams, and married a man who could not drown in the irrepressible bounty of her heart. She had thirteen children, numerous grandchildren, and died surrounded by her massive family when she was ninety-four, continuing to add to the girth of her insatiable body and spirit. She never raced again.
Ser Jaime Alonzo Pietrado ei Villareal left on the next outward bound galleon and vanished quietly into the sea.
Esperanza Luisa-Artemio, ed., The Collected Letters of Andreia Carmen Jimenez . (Lu Prensa Universidad, 1863)
Fr. Fernando Carlos Barraquias, ed., Immacolata: Origins and Speculations (Illustrado Press, 1845)
Caridad Soriano-Cortijos, Pangako: Mga Dulang May Isang Yugto , trans. Jose Jimenez Magallanes (Diuata House, 1826)
Gabriel Ternate Mayor, ed., Lu Viajes ei L'Anécdotas (Gremio Traductores, 1801)
Eloisa Villareal-Perlas, The Streets of Cuidad May'Nilad (San Roque Publishing House, 1822)
Diomedes Makabata, Tandang-tanda Ng Lola Ko Ang Lahat ( Maharlika, 1841)
Salahuddin Alonto-Lukman, Awit at Tugtugin ng Lupang Hinirang . (Ma'Gindanao Books, 1796)
Rowena Angela Go "Rosang Taba: A Race of Race, A Critical Reading," in Jacinta Reyes-Jamlang, ed., Hinirang: Beyond the Margins of Race and Gender ( Silliman University Press, 1842)
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