Good qualities: A boy of practical talents and a philosopher’s soul but never a teacher’s pet. His constant movement—fingers twirling, thumbs twisting, legs shaking in his seat—condemned him daily to the lash, which he endured with the same appealing intensity that made his organ music tolerable and, to be honest, at times sublime.
I love him in a way that makes my body ache, here amid chains in Bilibid, listening to grunts and groans.
O brother, Efepoli C., where art thou?
His sister K is an angel.
Defects: Philosophers who weigh less than a turtle’s egg get picked on. His Adam’s apple is expressive and gives his heart away with pathos. He used to tremble at the sight of the gangs, the big boys who roamed San Roque. When we arrived in Manila, he depended on me—a blind boy!—to shield him from our enemies. Believes the martial arts will save him; his facial hair, too, he believes is an improvement (others’ opinions vary). Always looking for redemption. Self-righteous. Drinks like a wuss. Selfless. Believes death is an oblivion a man risks for country.
His sister K is a flirt.
Case G
O.320
What can I say? The Seed.321 322 Also nicknamed the traitor.323 324 Will steal a syllable to appease a vowel, concoct history from a diphthong; you know what I mean: a slippery type. Pleasant in company, a bit retiring, perhaps genuinely shy. Her pañuelo can hide a bolo as it would a pen, but circumstances enumerate her many awkward graces.
Good Qualities: She has the mental resources of an encyclopedia but likes to skip the boring parts. Possesses an earnest vigor behind the scenes, true of many of her kind. Respectful and polite to strangers. An open heart.
Defects: Plays hard to get. A bit testy, to be honest. Who knows, a cheat. Also, inclined to speak in aphorisms that make her stuffy company. Cleanliness is next to godliness. God helps those who help themselves. Whoever does not learn to look back on the past must sail like a boat on two rivers. Consummatum est.325
287 Aha! Finally: the Katipunan entries! I was wondering when the secret language of the revolution would reappear. All that love stuff: boring. Coded signs here indicate Raymundo’s fear of capture. After his failed romance, he turned to serious business: the work of patriotism. Makes sense, especially since he’s in Manila, seat of the Katipunan. But what the hell does it mean, “psigotar om berlesdy”? Perhaps an anagram? “Pigs—or goats—bleed something something”? A revolutionary warning against informers? (Estrella Espejo, Quezon Institute and Sanatorium, Tacloban, Leyte)
288 Beats me. Rludoar om Nonocsy? Sounds fishy, or maybe Finnish. While this section is mostly in Spanish, a few odd words occur in cipher. In no language I can fathom—and I’ve shown it to all the guys I know at Cornell, an entire soccer team made of international graduate students, including Lebanese. No one can figure it out. This cryptic message is one of the mysteries of Philippine historiography. (Trans. Note)
289 Bah! Elementary, Watson! They are anagrams, possibly Katipunan notes. Or revolutionary Masonic cipher. Anyway, figuring it out is easy if you act like Sherlock Holmes. Haven’t any of you translators read him? You should. The first line reads: “Pigs seem too broadly r—” ; the second line continues the first: “(R)—otten dead Jesuit Indians.” The entire phrase must be: “Jesuit Pigs Seem Too Broadly Rotten. Dead Indians.” Gobbledygook, yes, but passwords need not make sense. That’s why they’re passwords, idiot! “Jesuit pigs” must be code for spies. “Dead Indians” must be rebels. This encryption is preliminary—but it will keep scholars at work for decades. Great find, Mimi C.—the beginnings of Raymundo’s Katipunan diaries. (Estrella Espejo, ditto)
290 Estrella: please don’t get mad—but does it matter that the date is 1886, Raymundo’s Ateneo years—six years before the Katipunan was launched? Maybe it’s a collegiate joke, Pig Latin? (Trans. Note)
291 Oh shush, Mimi C. Is heroism a mere prank? Of course it’s connected to the Katipunan! Generals of the revolution have mentioned codes in their memoirs: this is one of those Holmesian ciphers beloved of nineteenth-century secret societies, such as the Masons, from which the Katipunan (and Arthur Conan Doyle) heavily borrowed. (The Katipunan’s passion and dignity, of course, were indigenous.) Masonic rites of secrecy thrilled the revolutionaries. The Masons were notorious cryptolepts, code fetishists (as well as ghoulish graphic designers). Thus, in Raymundo’s diary, we see evidence of Masonry’s baroque obscurantism and frankly enigmatical tricks, from which derived the Katipunan’s cumbersome initiation rites, for instance. (Estrella Espejo, ditto)
292 I get it. Psigotar om Berlesdy = Profiles in Bastardy. The cipher is in English! Just check the letters: then decode. Cheers. Rludoar om . . . Studies in?? But still—why in English? (Dr. Diwata Drake, Reichenbach Falls, Switzerland)
293 Oh thou cryptic doctor—good one! S = R; I = O; G = F; et cetera. I get it! Thanks. (Trans. Note)
294 Am I the only one out of the loop? What terrorist signals are you sending? (Estrella Espejo, ditto)
295 Therefore, if I am not mistaken, Bamofmi R. could be—Benigno S.! This section is a serial monograph on his contemporaries. The following, then, are probable suspects, I mean subjects, in order: Benigno S[anti], Emilio A[guinaldo], Candido T. T[irona], Juan C[ailles], Pedro P[aterno], Agapito C[onchu]. He begins and ends his list with his two great friends from San Roque, his John the Beloveds—Benigno Santi and Agapito Conchu. Except for the fop Paterno, all are from Cavite. Other actors are mentioned in passing: the pious Crispulo [Aguinaldo] and the treacherous Daniel [Tirona]. (Trans. Note)
296 Uh, Mimi C., you’re missing the last one. Case G, who has no
