Dominion.md
[silence, or the sound of drowning]
[Caption reads: “Young Tagalog - Woman - Manila”]
I went through 3,700+ digitized photographs taken more than a century ago.
On my computer, on my tablet, I looked at, scrolled up, down, pressed, swiped left, right. Not yet pored through.
I made a list of possible subjects… “to study.” Something impossible. Or at least not possible to bear alone.
Here, a partial and incomplete list of metonyms, notes and impressions:
(not in the order in which they were cataloged by the museum or not in the order that I saw them)
White cloth —
Decontextualizing “jungle.” Or is it to make whiteness the context?
There were pictures where people and objects looked as if they were floating.
The grass on the ground, peeking out of all of that white
This reminds me of the branch someone obviously used to cover their private parts…
In this picture, it was on the ground.
Theirs?
Ours?
The proverbial: rice terraces, planting rice, unpaved roads, women bathing in a body of water
White man, small brown man, small brown woman
The class picture, the conversions, the lines, the soldiers, the western clothes
There were these weird, floating contraptions… Some were looms, actually. For weaving.
Boats, baskets, skulls, jars
Deformed mountain feet, deformed mouth
A woman with albinism, a mestiza, a white woman (the wife of an official)
Mother and child. Children.
About the skull– I saw this picture while I was in bed. It showed the face of… It was an Aeta.
Their head was rotten. Rotted? Cheeks were sunk, but their hair was still intact.
Part of the caption read “… in the condition in which it was taken from a grave.”
I was trying to fall asleep.
I saw it again the moment I closed my eyes.
I went to the bathroom to wash my face, and / but there was a cockroach in the sink.
I tried to get it out. But then its limbs detached…
Apparently, I just learned, they can regrow their limbs?
Then the cockroach slipped into the drain.
Sometimes I wonder if it’s still stuck there.
I find adverbs of frequency interesting these days.
I was at a popular beach destination recently. To vacation. To vacate. I vacated.
I had no idea it’s that commercialized there now. Like, what?
Everything’s convenient and expensive.
(Inside voice) But the food was amazing. The mango shake…
Wait, I forgot to tell you —
About this mango I ate one morning at the start of the year?
It was the size of my hand. A third of my face!
After I washed it, I pinched it near its beak. Ripped its skin, peeled it counter-clockwise.
I took a bite of the soft meat and it engulfed me back.
Not me— I mean, my nose, my cheeks, my mouth.
But not my eyes and my ears, certainly not my shoulders, my knees and my toes. Haha.
Wait. Can I say that?
[ . . . ]
Yellow, sticky juice dripped from my mouth, trickled down my hands and elbows.
The kitchen table was wet.
There were pictures of mouths, too. Of a man, deformed. Of rivers. Something about a ritual.
I thought, “This is a mango.”
A mango among mangoes. The mangoest of them all. The epitome of a fruit.
“This is a mango.”
It was so sweet and delicious.
But on my last bite, it tasted sour.
But going back to the island…
The bodies of men and women and children.
A headless body tied to poles. Multiple pictures of it being carried, and
thrown into a ditch. The gashes on its body. The fact of his headlessness.
Another dead man. Wounded by a tulisan.
Another dead man. A dead tulisan.
Numbers written on paper stuck to people’s chest and arms.
Unrelated, possibly, also: prisoners of a provincial jail.
A car. A flute and other musical instruments
The pictures of a group of people in front of a phonograph were not in this collection, unfortunately.
This one.
But there were pictures of those who impersonated
“God the Father, God the Son, the Holy Ghost, the Virgin Mary, etc.”
Etc., etc.
Field crops, mountains, vintas, sultans, soldiers
Smiths, seamstresses, millers, pointed teeth, distortions, deformities
(not alphabetical, clearly, not exhaustive)
Funerals.
“a grave tunneled into the hillside”
Some people were naked because they were naked.
Some were forced to wear their nakedness. You can see it in their faces.
In the way they bent their arms or slightly turned their hips.
Women and girls unclothed. Covering their breasts. Standing.
Just standing there.
The slit of their girlhood.
The men and boys, too… were undressed.
Everybody.
Even the land.
The photographs I liked the most were the ones with blurry faces. They were not still enough.
And this one of the pearl diver in a diving suit.
In the island, I entered this cave…
It led to water. Of course. And I jumped.
Sometimes I think about our right to be forgotten.