Back The Human Zoo
Chapters (37)
  1. THE HUMAN ZOO
  2. Also by Sabina Murray
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright
  5. Dedication
  6. Epigraph
  7. Part I
  8. I
  9. II
  10. III
  11. IV
  12. V
  13. VI
  14. VII
  15. VIII
  16. IX
  17. X
  18. XI
  19. XII
  20. XIII
  21. XIV
  22. XV
  23. XVI
  24. XVII
  25. XVIII
  26. Part II
  27. I
  28. II
  29. III
  30. IV
  31. V
  32. VI
  33. VII
  34. VIII
  35. IX
  36. Acknowledgments
  37. Back Cover

Bibo gave Inchoy a frank look and waved a cautioning finger at him. We talked about the weather and the business at the sari sari store, which was doing well, as the other store around the corner had closed. The owner had been killed by the police and the family had moved back to the province. This was not a safe area, but Bibo’s family were close by and if Bibo could not live with Inchoy, this is where she wanted to be. Inchoy broke into a pleading tone. I couldn’t follow all of what was said, but the word “baril” was repeated several times. Inchoy must have been urging Bibo to keep a gun, but Bibo waved him off.

After we had finished eating and the plates were cleared and washed, Inchoy and I moved to the small couch. Bibo sat on the mattress on the floor, her legs swung gracefully to the side, and began to pack a pipe with marijuana. This was one of Inchoy’s few vices, and he indulged only when he was with Bibo. There was a seventies turntable on the lone bookshelf, and Bibo, still sitting, reached for an old record and put it on. It was a recording of Kalinga tribal music. I gestured for Bibo to hand me the battered sleeve with its image of naked tribesmen in sleek bowl cuts holding spears. A three-column explanation of its cultural significance remained alien because I couldn’t read it without my glasses and was too lazy to reach for them.

Inchoy was moved by this northern music, the gongs and drums and fright of it. It was the music playing near the end of Apocalypse Now and had seemed well suited for that. But it also seemed to fit this: the cool air, the slowing time, the heavy perfumed smoke entering my lungs. Bibo held the pipe and took a small, birdlike drag. She then got up and began to dance in the Kalinga way, flicking her wrists outward and stiffening her shoulders, moving in a small circle around the apartment. I watched her through the long minutes, my mind wandering. I thought of Timicheg, whose tribe was neighbor to the Kalinga, hearing the drums coming over the rib of mountains as he and his warriors left to hunt heads.