Malabon

Okay, okay.

Malabon.

So that kind of area.

In my mind, by the way, anything like Navotas, Valenzuela, whatever, I don't understand it.

I love these names.

I love those.

It was now Malabon City or according to you, the city of Pancit.

Then,

Small Tagal sailing boats alongside the men of war were bargaining with stewards about the price of fruits and vegetables.

Sometimes a vessel flying a strange and hitherto unknown triangular flag crossed the waters of the bay from Cavite to Malabon filled with dark men, the Filipinos under their new colors.

When the moon rose in her full tropical grandeur over the darkening sea, when the electric lights shone here and there on the great iron and steel structures which rocked quietly in the phosphorescent waters of the bay like big whales, then flashed out the searchlights of the American fleet over from Cavite, then could you also see the dark red fireballs of exploding shells near Malate and hear the continuous crackling of musketry.

Then you knew that there was war, that another of the Filipino night attacks was going on, and that again men were losing their lives in the bamboo jungles and rice fields round Manila.

Because it's not often that you win.

For example, I remember one of the very first murder cases I handled involved a man, the head of a family who lived in an urban poor community somewhere here in Malabon area, who was taken by members of the police force and killed only because he was fighting to legitimize the use of electricity and water in their community.

You know how it is in Puyas, puro kabit-kabit yan, illegal connections.

And he really wanted to uplift his community.