BREAD PEDDLER by Allan N. Derain, translated by Christian Jil R. Benitez

1

My power to hail him by standing calmly in front of the window supposedly shows how I and my ideology dominate him. Not only because I am able to turn his gaze toward me with a simple wave of hand, but also because I stir in him a new purpose as a bread peddler. But wasn’t he the one who first shouted pandesal which made me turn on my bed and caused me to look outside the window, as if called by my name? He shouted pandesal once again, like a shepherd calling out to his sheep, though he knew very well that a bread of salt would not come out and appear before him at his bidding.

2

In my dreams, I would often see those whom I thought I would never see again, telling me things I could never remember upon waking, or if I do happen to remember, I would certainly forget anyway by noon if I do not write them down on a piece of paper, which I rarely do because how embarrassing it would be if someone else ended up reading them. Between what comes and what goes, the bread peddler arrives and calls. And so, the word pandesal that I would hear between slumber and waking is like a desire that just could not be uttered out loud, and so only whispered in dreams. I would then be jolted out of sleep. If the dream interrupted turned out to be sweet, I would blame in my mind the security for letting that man into the subdivision, who disturbed our peace so early in the morning.

3

Once he opens the styrofoam box, my eyes would at once look at the pieces of bread with a darker top because they look toasted just right. If only the eyes could pick things up just by looking at them. Because his tongs would pick up another piece of bread, and another, and another, quickly putting them all inside the paper bag even before I could say anything, before I could ask him what kind of desire other than the one founded on touch and gaze could possibly explain the choice he made.

4

I would hear him call out pandesal but when I look out the window, I would already see him walking not toward me but away from me, going to the next street. He would always peddle his bread first to the houses in that direction. It would take another hour or so before he goes around and gets to me once more. And when he is finally in front of my gate, the sun would already be out, so what else would be left in his box but the ones that everybody else in the subdivision did not pick? At other times, he would come just as when I got in the shower. As water falls on me, I would hear his call, making me consider whether the regret over this another missed encounter would be mine or his. Why have I never asked him to arrive at a certain time so his coming and my waiting would finally concur? Because I could not promise him I would wait for him every day, because I could not promise him too I would want his bread for breakfast every day. Indeed, it is impossible for us to meet in time until our desires also meet.

Allan N. Derain is a multi-awarded writer and editor. He is the author of Aswanglaut, Iskrapbuk, and The Next Great Tagalog Novel at Iba Pang Kuwento. His novel Banal na Aklat ng mga Kumag received the National Book Award, the Grand Prize at the Carlos Palanca Memorial Awards for Literature, and The Reader’s Choice Award. As an editor, he curated the anthology May Tiktik sa Bubong, May Sigbin sa Silong, which won both the National Book Award and the Gintong Aklat Award. He currently teaches at the Ateneo de Manila University, where he previously served as director of the Ateneo Institute of Literary Arts and Practices (AILAP).

Christian Jil R. Benitez is a queer poet, scholar, and translator. He completed his PhD in comparative literature at Chulalongkorn University in Thailand. He teaches at the Ateneo de Manila University in the Philippines, where he earned his AB-MA in Filipino literature. His first book Isang Dalumat ng Panahon (A Theory of Time; ADMU Press, 2022) received the Philippine National Book Award for literary criticism and cultural studies. His translation of Arasahas: Poems from the Tropics was published by PAWA Press and Paloma Press. Most recently, he was shortlisted for the inaugural PEN Presents x International Booker Prize for Alvin Yapan’s Time of the Eye.

© Allan N. Derain. Translation © by Christian Jil R. Benitez. All rights reserved.

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