Narrator: October 1888. The town of San Diego lays near the shores of Lake Bai, surrounded by fields of grew sugar, rice, coffee, and fruit. From the topmost view of the town one would see a beautiful collage of Nipa, tile, zinc, and palm roofs, each separate house recognized among their orchards and gardens by a distinguishing tree or sign posted. A river wrapped itself around the city; making a barrier to the distant mountains. Nature had been a resident on the land far before any man had stepped foot upon it, gathered around San Diego is a dense forest with century old trees, enormous rocks velvet in moss, and local legends of evil spirits.
Tonight the people of San Diego tonight are treated to an open invitation dinner at the home of Don Santiago de los Santos, better known as Captain Tiago. The fine home decored with canvases of religious paintings, expensive chandeliers, and other belongings regular to those who hold such a title.
>Padre Damaso speaking with a foreigner.
Padre Damaso: You’ve just arrived to the Philippines, haven’t you?
Foreigner: Yes Father Damaso, this town is so ni-
Padre Damaso: You’ll see, A few more months in this country and you’ll be agreeing with me; it’s one thing to govern from Madrid, and quite another to make-do in the Philippines.
Foreigner: But…
Padre Damaso: Take me for example (gets louder; most of the guests looks) I’ve spent TWENTY-THREE YEARS HERE, living on the rice and bananas, I KNOW THE PEOPLE HERE! I’ve heard their confessions and know of their lives.
Foreigner: Well, don’t you thi-
Padre Damaso: Listen, when I first arrived, I was assigned to a small town, the people very hard working. When it came time for me to transfer to a larger to a larger parish, you should have seen them send me away. They broke down and cried, they loaded me