THIS IS Part 3 of the brilliant translation by Prof. Celia Parcon of my Palanca-winning story.
Celia Parcon was my Communication Arts II teacher at UPV.
I am so happy, and lucky, that my former professor decided to translate my stories.
Right now, we are in the process of preparing her book of translations for publication.
It’s a literary feast featuring five award winners, and one of my newer short stories.
I think the book is going to be called “Nothing’s Lost”—as, you know, in translation.
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FATHER OLAN, GOD, AND THE RAIN
By Peter Solis Nery
Translated by Celia F. Parcon
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The group from the K of C was followed by the women.
On Thursday, before he could leave for Iloilo to talk to the Archbishop of Jaro, Father Olan was besieged by the Catholic Women’s League led by Mrs. Alicia Sanz. At the end of the morning Mass, he was approached by Inday Alice and the members of the CWL, the Legion of Mary, and the Apostleship of Prayer.
Without beating around the bush, the women expressed their dismay over the priest’s disapproval of a special day of prayer for rain.
“I am not disapproving, Inday Alice,” the priest consoled the leader of the women. He looked at all the others. They were all waiting for his explanation.
In truth, it was with a heavy heart that the priest refused the women of the church. They were the pillars who were relied on to run the parish. From the liturgy to the apostolate. From collecting contributions and donations to training the cantors and readers at Mass. When the priest needed to have information disseminated to the faithful in the whole town, the women could announce this faster than any radio can. They were the Radyo Puwak—the Voicebox Radio, that brought the Gospel of salvation and led the Bible-study groups.
The Catholic Women’s League, the Legion of Mary, and the Apostleship of Prayer can be depended on at all times. Padre Olan can approach them anytime for anything the church needed. When the church runs out of funds, it is the women who find a way to ensure that the projects and tasks push through. They multiply the five loaves and two fish so that everyone can be fed. How could he hurt the feelings of the faithful like this?
“But you did not approve,” in a sulking tone replied Inday Alice, wife of Knight Rafael Sanz. “Paeng said you gave a lot of excuses.”
The priest invited the women to the hut at the back of the convent. He had requested Nang Paquita to prepare breakfast, and he asked the women to be seated.
With the hot coffee and chocolate, Nang Paquit also brought some ibus—sweet sticky rice dessert wrapped in coconut leaves, and ripe mangoes that came from the town of Jordan. All mangoes from Guimaras were sweet, but for Padre Olan, the most delicious came from Jordan, where the main office and farm of the National Mango Research and Development Center was located.
When everyone had settled, the priest started to speak.
“Inday Alice, my dear ladies,” he gently started, “I understand you all, but I hope you will also try to understand my position. As much as I would like to help you, I am in a difficult situation. I am a priest, not a babaylanor witch doctor. I cannot command the rains to come.”
“Father, that is not what we mean,” clarified Inday Alice.
“No?” asked the priest. He did not mean to mock, but from his lips came the word with a slight sneer.
The women showed no reaction.
“So what is it you want? Isn’t it that you want a special day for prayer to ask for rain? You want me to perform a miracle! You want a circus—to gather all the people inside the church in order to witness my power and magic. But I am not a magician. You want me to pray in church, to devise a ritual, and then you will wait for rain. But did you even think about what will happen if we did as you wish and still the rain didn’t come?”
Not a word came from the women.
The priest ended the conversation. “Let us not twist the arm of God for our will. God is not a waiter to whom we give our order.”
The women looked at one another. No one spoke.
Padre Olan cleared his throat before saying more. “But don’t you worry. I assure you that I care about your concern. I am going to Iloilo today to speak with the Archbishop. I will seek his counsel regarding this matter.”
The priest saw how the women nodded their heads. He hoped they understood him.
“And please tell everyone,” the priest added, “that I am not against holding a special day of prayer in the hope that the rains will come.” (To be continued; 500tinaga@gmail.com/PN)
