Noli became a salesman for a multinational corporation that produced shampoo and soap, where he put to good use his bragging or “salesmanship,” as he described it. He gave Rhuel a sample of shampoo. “Maka-kaspa kana imong shampoo, Noli,” complained Rhuel, scratching his head.
“You are not used to expensive things,” Noli countered. “You are too local. Bisaya ka man gud.”
“I would rather be a Bisaya as long as I didn’t have dandruff,” muttered Rhuel, brushing white dust from his shoulders.
“YOU BELONG TO our family,” I teased Belen, as we ate ice cream in one of the bakeshops in our town. It was summer break, and I was on vacation, on the verge of finishing seminary. “Nanay delivered you. I cooked the first meal your mother fed you after you were born,” I said, looking at her. “You even w
