GOOD-BYE, FLIPPER
Simeon
Dumdum, Jr.
1 They’re
looking for a little girl who was photographed squatting beside a dead
dolphin. the photograph—captioned,
“Good-bye, Flipper”—had won a prize in a contest. Touched by the picture, someone has offered
to give the girl gifts.
2 of
the creatures of the sea, the dolphin probably comes closest to the heart of a
child. Hollywood has much to do with
this, thanks to the many films and television series in which the dolphin,
predictably named “Flipper,” plays a child’s best friend. the dolphin’s entrenchment in our affections,
however, is not entirely the work of show business. The creature is naturally friendly and
intelligent. Constantly smiling (the
beak gives the impression), it swims alongside ships and regales everyone with
its somersaults. And its popularity with
people goes back a long time. the
ancient Greeks and Romans mentioned the dolphin in their mythologies and
portrayed it on their coins, pottery and walls.
3 How
the dolphin in the photograph died, we do not know. (If a picture speaks a thousand words, it can
also ask a thousand questions.) did the
fish (or mammal) get itself beached after its sense of direction fouled
up? Did a heartless fisherman spear its
heart? Whatever happened, a little girl
was there to mourn its death.
4 She
reminds me of Bidasari, the girl in a Malay poem mentioned by Sir James
Frazer. A merchant and his wife had seen
her when she was a baby, and (being childless) adopted the little angel. The merchant had a golden fish made and into
the fish he transferred Bidasari’s soul.
He put the golden fish in a golden box and hid it in the pond in his
garden.
5 In
time Bidasari grew into a lovely woman.
6 The
queen of the kingdom heard of Bidasari’s beauty, and, afraid that the king
might take her as second wife, lured Bidasari into the palace and there
tortured her. But Bidasari could not die
because her soul was in the fish. Unable
to bear the suffering, she told the queen, “If you want me to die, you must get
the box in the pond in my father’s garden.”
7 The
queen had the box brought to her and had it opened. In the box was the golden fish. “My soul is in that fish,” Bidasari
said. “In the morning, take it out of
the water, and in the evening put it back again. Wear it around your neck and don’t leave it
lying about. If you do this, I will
die.”
8 So
the queen did a told. Whenever the queen
removed the fish from the water, Bidasari would collapse, and would revive when
the fish was put back in the water. The
girl now in her control, the queen sent her home.
9 The
parents brought Bidasari out of the city and housed her in a lonely and
desolate spot. There she lived alone,
going through the sufferings that coincided with the sufferings of the fish
which had her soul.
10 One
day the king went out hunting and came to the house and found the unconscious
Bidasari and was smitten with her beauty.
He tried to wake her up but failed.
Towards evening of the next day he returned, and still he could not
revive her. But when night came,
Bidasari came to herself and told the king the secret of her life.
11 When
the king returned to the palace, he got the box from the queen and put the
golden fish back in the water. Bidasari
recovered, and the king married her.
12 The
girl in the photograph is little Bidasari.
In a sense her soul was in the fish, and the girl died with the dolphin.
13 So
far the girl is nameless, which makes her every girl, everyone. Just as Bidasari’s soul was in the golden
fish, so is everyone’s soul in the environment, in every fish and beast and
tree. The ancient peoples knew
this. Before they would go out fishing
or hunting, they would purify themselves to be worthy of the catch. They would preach to the fish to come and be
caught and not be afraid, because they would not burn their bones but would
throw them back into the sea, there to become fish again.
14 He
who seeks to console the girl with gifts shares the spirit of the
ancients. He wants to restore her
life. But to do this he—and the
community—must assure her and everyone else that no dolphin will ever die
again, that all of creation, which has all our souls, will endure. This in effect is to say to the dead Flipper,
not “Farewell,” but “Fare forward.”
Meet the Writer
SIMEON
DUMDUM, JR. is a widely published and
anthologized poet. He was born on March 7, 1948 in Balamban, Cebu. His
impressive educational attainment include degrees in Law from the University of
San Carlos, Cebu City, 1976, Theology from the San Carlos Seminary, Makati
City, 1970 and Philosophy from the Cluain Mhuire and University College,
Ireland, 1969. He works as Senior Attorney for the Atlas Consolidated Mining
and Development Corp. He is also a columnist for the SunStar, a Cebu City
daily newspaper.
Dumdum
has attended writers’ workshops and conferences in the Philippines, Singapore,
and England. He was also panelist Cornelio Faigao Memorial Writers Workshop.
His awards include Don Carlos Palanca Memorial Awards for Literature (Third
Prize, Selected Poems,
1981; Third Prize, Axioms,
1983; Second Prize, Masbate,
1982 and Second Prize, Gossamer,
1984). He has also garnered Honorable Mention from the CCP Literary Contest and
a Citation, Philippine Literary Arts Council.
His
poems appeared in Focus,
Jose, Solidarity, Mithi, Midweek, Caracoa, Philippine Studies, Versus, Kamao,
and Tenggara.
Dumdum’s volumes of poetry are The
Gift of Sleep (1982) and Third
World Opera (1987).
(http://panitikan.com.ph/authors/d/sdumdum.htm)
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