We were in 1st College (SY 1980-81) at the time, occupying the narrow, rectangular St Luke Dorm on the
2nd floor of the College building, which was directly above the faculty room. There were six of us in the dorm: Ramonito, Batchoy, Nick, RamCims, and I. Right beside St Luke was Dorm A. On the other side was the fathers' area. The St Stephen Dorm, occupied by Soc, Oloy, Juntabs, Marjals, Baloy, and Quiao, was on the other side of the fathers' area.
It was a carefree period when we didn't take things seriously. During one of the rare occasions that we went to the canteen near the crocodile pen, there was a low hanging nangka tree that was bearing several large fruits. The students never missed noticing its presence when the sweet smell of ripe fruit wafted in the air, overpowering the odor of tar and diesel oil coming from the motor pool and generator shed. They would peek behind the canteen and see that somebody had taken care to wrap the fruits in newspaper to keep the insects away. RamCims and I did exactly that. But we went further. We peeked underneath the newspapers, tapped the fruit and determined which one was ripe enough to harvest. It was conveniently chest high.
That night we waited until light's off before making our move.
There was a clump of dama de
noche below the Dorm window facing Cabalit St. The leaves were lush and covered the faculty room window. From our dorm, we would dangle a thick rope down towards the dama de noche and at night would practice rappelling down to the ground. It served some purpose for RamCims and Ramonito when they come in late after a rendezvous with friends in the city.
That night, RamCims and I wore dark
clothes and rappelled down the window. We moved stealthily towards the back of the canteen, not daring to use the flashlight since we were afraid that some insomniac seminarian might spot the light. We tried to be as quiet as the crocodile inside the pen, as we went round it towards the nangka tree. It was there that I capped the flashlight with my hand to allow just enough light for us to determine that we were picking the right fruit. I then held the fruit at the bottom, while RamCims took out his bolo and cut the stalk.
Everything was done in utter silence, not a word spoken, and in pitch black environment. After cutting the fruit, we discarded the newspaper wrap, retraced out steps, then securely tied the fruit at the end of the rope. RamCims climbed first, and I followed. Then, slowly, we pulled the fruit and stowed it inside one of the overhanging cabinet inside the dorm, and went to sleep.
Nobody spoke of any missing fruit the following day. Everything went on normally. But for the next two days, the seniors occupying Dorm A would randomly throw comments on how ripe the nangka fruits must have been since they could smell them even from their own rooms.
The fruit was large enough and we had to invite some seniors of Dorm A to partake of our feast. It was only then that they understood why their dorm had been stuffed with the sweet smell of nangka. (-- nox arcamo)
