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Back The Human Zoo Save as PDF
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

When I arrived home, my aunts and my uncle were just finishing dinner. I had forgotten that it was Wednesday as my routine was organized into roughly indistinguishable days. Even the typical weekly punctuation of Sunday Mass had been reduced as a result of my family’s enthusiastic attendance. As I took my seat at the table, I could tell from their smiling and general solicitude that they had been talking about me.

“Where were you, Ting?” asked Tito Ben.

“I went to Tondo and met with Aling Ligaya.”

“And?” asked Tita Dom.

I considered. “I got the ten of diamonds.”

“Good,” said Tito Ben. “Because you cannot afford to sign away your retirement.”

I looked first at Tita Rosa and then at Tita Dom, who were innocently remorseless. “How are you, Tito Ben? How are things?”

“With me?” Tito Ben put his spoon down on the plate with a dramatic clang. “The church is at war with Gumboc and he with the church. That’s what’s up with me. Of course we are sheltering those unjustly accused of crimes. Of course we are getting involved.”

A few churches, including the iconic Baclaran, had actually started creating schedules among their parishioners to make sure those seeking sanctuary and now living in the church were fed.

“You need to be careful, Ben,” said Tita Rosa. “Remember, you got in trouble with the Jesuits over that Batac thing.”

“That Batac thing” was the Edsa Revolution. Batac would never have been toppled if the church hadn’t wanted it. My uncle had been a real picture-in-the-papers force, and the role of the church in politics questioned; Rome, at least on paper, was opposed to clerics taking sides. “Rosa,” he protested, “I can’t go marching anymore. I can’t even go to the bathroom without assistance. But, yes, I support the church opening its doors to those in need. Sanctuary is a centuries-old tradition, one of the few—and we have many in this country—that actually helps people.”

I thought to remark that allowing people to hide wasn’t exactly help, but my uncle really wanted the church to improve the lives of his people. He knew that his religion was the opium of many but would rather it had been the food bank. I kept my thoughts to myself because Tito Ben had given his life for this, for a church that would shelter the downtrodden, and sanctuary, at least literally, accomplished that.

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