Taller and heavier than most of his friends of his age in the quiet barrio, Turing grew up with his younger brother Atoy under the care of their grandparents. No one in the barrio seemed to know the parents of these two boys and their grandparents refused to talk about them. Some said that the parents of the two boys died during the cholera epidemic, while others said that the parents split up leaving the two children in the care of the grandparents.
“Turing, have you fed the hogs and the chicken?” Lolo Ambo would ask his grandson.
“Yes Lolo. I’m on my way now to school”, retorted the young lad as he would pick his books and walked his way to school about a kilometre away from the heart of town.
Atoy, his younger brother was also an alert lad doing various chores while not in school in the small farm of their grandparents. During market days falling on Sunday and Thursday, the two boys would be on their way early in the morning to sell their home produce like vegetables, fruits, and poultry products. The cash would be turned over to the frugal old couple to defray for household expenses.
“I want to be a truck driver someday”, Turing would tell his schoolmates.
“With your bulk and muscular frame, you should drive a tank”, joked his friends and the group would convulse in laughter.
Atoy, the younger brother, an introvert by nature, would not even say a word as to his ambition or plan in his life. He just let the world drift in its aimless natural course.
“Lolo, I’ll go to the city and find a good job. With my elementary certificate, and some patience, fortune may be around the corner somewhere”, indicated Turing.
“You’re of age and you may go. Be careful and when life would turn against you, you come back in this rural home”, admonished the old man as he blew smoke rings from his cigarette. “Atoy will continue his studies and at the same time, give us company in this small farm”, the old man added.
Years later, after finishing the first level of education, Atoy also left for the city and join his brother Turing. To him, rural opportunity in the sleepy barrio or even the town was very limited.
After reaching a ripe old age, the two boy’s grandfather and grandmother died on the same night that was quite a surprise to the barrio folks.
“How did you know that your grandparents died, Turing?” inquired Ka Kulas, a member of the local police and whose residential house was near the old couple who passed away.
“It was an intuition. For the past nights, I kept on dreaming of Lolo and Lola, and so was Atoy. So, without any news from them, and had not gone home for sometime, the two of us decided at that moment to come here”, explained Turing still wearing the professional driver’s badge and the uniform of the bus company he worked for. Atoy in his elegant wear just nodded in agreement on what his elder brother said.
A Lenten legacy the town always has a colourful celebration of the Holy Week. Like any other place, there would be the same celebrations like the procession on Maundy Thursday and Holy Friday, the washing of the Apostles feet on Holy Friday, and the retrieval of the Virgin’s holy veil after the procession on Black Saturday morning, and many more. However, as a Lenten legacy and tradition, there were twelve male volunteers typifying the twelve apostles of the Bible coming from the various barrios of the town. Attired in their colourful robes of ancient Jerusalem, these disciples would come from different sections of society of the town and barrios. This was also true for the many women who volunteer to carry the various articles related to the crucifixion of Jesus Christ at Calvary. These would includes hammer and nails, the pitcher of water used during the washing of the feet of the Apostles, the shroud, the cock that crowed, the crown of thorns, and many more.
During their grandparent funeral service at the parish church, the priest’s chief assistant that one of the twelve volunteer Apostles had passed away and the church was in search for a qualified volunteer replacement informed the members of the funeral cortege.
“It will be Holy Week in three months and we must find a replacement”, the chief assistant repeated as the funeral procession was leaving the church.
Turing and Atoy stayed in the barrio up to the third night after the burial of their grandparents. Turing could not sleep thinking about the vacant slot in the Apostle’s line up.
“Father, I heard that you’re in need of Apostle volunteer, I would like to volunteer if I can qualify”, muttered Turing who went to the parish before he was to leave for the city.
“You will do,” spoke the reverend father after looking at a clean cut, tall, and with a good bearing. “Try this robe left by the departed Apostle”, he continued as his assistant retrieved the robe from the cabinet in the rectory.
Turing returned to the barrio to tell the folks that he is now one of the twelve disciples for Holy Week. There was jubilation, for exorcists, soothsayers, medicine men and mambo-jumbo groups were already hopeful that the coming Lent would be disarray due to the missing Apostle.
So every Lent, Turing would take a leave of absent from the bus company he worked for to perform his unique role in the town’s annual ritual. Years in and years out, he never failed to appear thereby contributing to the success of the Holy Week celebration. Turing as a mission, although voluntary, considered this work, and a solemn vow, which he would not perform, would be breaking a town’s spiritual legacy and tradition.
As Lenten seasons followed one another through the years, members of the Apostles entourage would retire or pass away to be replaced by others who could be a son, a nephew, or a new volunteer. The way of entry as an Apostle volunteer was widely known, but the reason of Turing in volunteering remained unknown. During the year’s procession, many noticed that Turing had really aged, and his walk was no longer steely as in the past years. He became unstable and if not for his effort or will power, many felt that he could not complete the five kilometres walk of the Lenten procession. It seemed that Turing’s time was running out, for he was the oldest, or the doyen of the Apostles volunteers. It was reminiscent of the time when he first joined the group, he was then the youngest.
“You’re running a high fever, Turing”, remarked the town physician who was called to the parish after the procession entered the parish church thus ending the affair for the night. He was given medication and was told to rest.
“How come you volunteered for this yearly Lenten procession?’ asked the physician when Turing was already feeling better and on the road for full recovery.
“While in the city working as a bus driver, I feel gravely ill. In spite of many diagnoses, doctors could not detect what was wrong with me”, he started. “Still in bed, I fell into a deep sleep and I dreamed that an angel came to me with a parting word that I should serve the place of my birth through its church”, he stopped for a while and took a sip of water. “I asked the angel how I could serve but the angel left me, and then I woke up. I was perplexed by that strange dream, and miraculously, I got well in a day or two and I was back on the job as a bus driver.
“Later in the year, I was bothered again in my sleep and I saw the same angel motioning to me with her hand to move like a traffic policeman in a certain direction. Then I woke up. I did not tell that dream or hallucination to my family. For the next two nights, I could not sleep. At that point, I contacted Atoy told him about my dream. I was surprised when he told me that he could not also sleep for the same two nights. So, we packed up and left for this place only to find out that our grandparents died together in their sleep and no one had informed me.
“It was during the church service for our grandparents in the church that I learned about the need for a volunteer apostle for the annual Holy Week celebration, as the incumbent passed away. That gave me the idea where I could serve the local church as pointed by the angel in my dream sometime back. And so, here I am serving every year to become the oldest in the line of volunteer apostles for the local parish. Like the others I became a part of the Lenten legacy of the religion I process”, narrated Turing who seemed to have been inspired to talk.
“If you are retiring in your volunteer work as age may not allow you do the job next year, who would be your successor?” inquired the good doctor who was fascinated by Turing personal life.
“My eldest son who is now 27 and he is accepted to do it” replied Turing.
“Is he also a bus driver like you?”
“No, He’s a physician like you. A thoracic surgeon”, replied Turing with a satisfied smile on his face.
