WHY EVERYTHING SEEMS to taste like chicken to us mere humans can completely be explained by the diet of our fore fathers back when the dodos were still around. The “chicken” taste, actually is not chicken but is in fact “dodo.” For several thousands of years, the dodos have supplied our ancestors the perfect combination of nutrients enough to make us outlive the dodos as a species. The dodo was and still is the ultimate food for the meat-eating man.

Throughout the years, a couple of theories have been made attempting to explain the disappearance of the dodo. Some say an asteroid hit the earth sometime in the sixteenth or seventeenth century in the general area of Mauritius, where the dodos were known to have thrived, wiping out all the dodos. Others say there was an overkill of dodos, when it was proven that the meat from the animal could supply a human being with just about all the sustenance he would need for a healthy diet. The real reason behind their disappearance, however, is still unknown, as the people presenting these conjectures can give neither scientific proof nor intelligible explanations to support their hypotheses.

It wouldn’t be until one hot and humid April afternoon in the valley of Pidpatayan in southern Philippines that the world would finally see the demise of the dodos in a clearer light.

• • •
Engineer Geraldo Listalta, a professor of Chemistry and Physics in a prominent Manila State University—therefore a true lover of science—had been interested in dodos since childhood. As a young boy, he would miss street games with his “friends” only to go to the library to read books about the dodo. There weren’t too many printed material on the subject of dodos around that time, but fortunately, what little there was his town’s public library collected them, and Geraldo Listalta read them all.

But as Geraldo grew older, he felt that his mind’s longing for knowledge, specifically about the dodos, wasn’t much satisfied with what he learned from those books. He felt there was more to be known about the animal he was for some strange reason extremely fascinated to.

In his college years, his interest with the extinct birds never dwindled, and though he wasn’t taking a course related to either paleontology, zoology, or nutrition, he used every academic opportunity to share with the world what he knew about the animal. In his Business English class, for example, he composed a letter addressed to Mauritian public officials requesting permission to excavate their forests in search of fossilized remains of dodos. It gave him an excellent grade of 1.0. Then, as a contribution to his university’s official newsletter, he wrote an essay entitled “The Dodo’s Role in Fulfilling Our Recommended Dietary Allowance,” which brought him to fame and made him and his article the talk of the school months after his article was published. Finally, in his Drama and Theatre class, he made a pantomime on the dance believed to have been performed xby a dodo male in front of a female preceding a sexual intercourse. He got a 1.0 on that as well.

Geraldo Listalta graduated on his projected time of graduation, and with honors. Days before he actually took the engineering board exams, more than a dozen letters of application from various sectors of the industry, the government, and independent research societies landed on his mailbox. Geraldo Listalta only laughed at this, feeling greatly sorry for those companies; he had no desire to work for all those companies practically begging for his talents and acclaim. Long before he graduated, he already had his mind made up. He would teach in the very university he had graduated from.

Passing the engineering board exam, ranking, as expected, as the topnotcher, he immediately headed to the Electronics Engineering Department of his college to apply as an instructor, and was immediately sent away. “We’re all from the same college,” was all the reason the rest of the faculty staff gave him, as they handed him back his application form as well as his résumé. “And besides, there are already enough instructors in this department.”

The following months saw Geraldo—not for the first time in his life—heartbroken and defeated. He couldn’t believe that in spite of what he had achieved academically, his own department still wouldn’t accept him as an instructor. Finally, driven by his innate optimism towards life and almost anything at all, he resolved to just apply as an instructor in another department from the university, the Department of Science and Mathematics, which, as a student, he had heard from rumors to be comprised of “a much rational bunch of people as compared to those in the Electronics Engineering Department.”

He applied a day later and was warmly—and “rationally,” as he commented in his acceptance speech—accepted. From then on, Geraldo Listalta, now a licensed engineer and a professor of knowledge, was known both inside the academic circle and the studentry as “Spongclong,” the kin of dodos.

As an instructor, Spongclong gained much new knowledge on his favorite animal. Close to students and exposed to their often unconventional ideas, he was able to formulate new theories on the dodos’s demise. And with “The Dodomites,” a university-supported research group with founding members of twelve students and five university professors, Spongclong was now closer to the truth than ever.

• • •
“The Dodomites” became active almost immediately after the university granted it financial support. Twice a year, a group of volunteers were sent to Mauritius in search of dodo remains. This was costly, of course, and, naturally, after two years, the foundation lacked funding and was in threat of shutting down once and for all.

But Spongclong was not one to lose hope easily. Though accepting that no group could ever be sent to Mauritius again due to financial restraints, Spongclong looked for possibilities of dodo study from other sources. This time, he employed the help of Prof. Dillato from the History Department, an expert on Pre-Hispanic Philippine culture.

After a short week of skimming through the pages of old, dusty history books, Prof. Dillato was able to provide Spongclong with a report, saying that dodos used to exist in our islands during the thirteenth to the early fifteenth century A.D., and that it was as a matter of fact, the favorite food of the Dumagats. What interested Spongclong the most in Prof. Dillato’s report were the illustrations; apparently, the Dumagats have etched pictures of dodos in their caves.

Now, with expeditions requiring a comparatively smaller funding, Spongclong’s “The Dodomites” could no doubt continue their study.

• • •
In June of 1997, Spongclong went on his first expedition to Mindanao, with Prof. Dillato, and three students. The first thing they did was check out the caves where the early dodo sketches were reported to have been found. Spongclong could only be so jubilant finding that the sketches were really there. Above all, the sense of destiny at finding that the dodos that he loved so much since the days when he was still a child had been in his very country filled his heart with joy. Tears fell from the middle-aged man’s eyes at the thought of beholding the reported wall paintings.

The next thing they did was dig the perimeter of the cave for dodo skeleton. They found some, and decided to take them back to Manila. The skeleton, of course, was no different from a typical turkey’s.

Spongclong and his team were on their way to the airport when an event that would forever affect the study of dodos happened. A man, by appearance a member of an Islamic terrorist association, kidnapped Spongclong and his team.

• • •
For three years no news about the professor or his team would reach Manila. Of course it was known that they were abducted, but it seemed no one from Manila could care less. Spongclong, for one, had no family. Immersed in his study of the extinct birds, the professor had, in his youth, very little time for romance. And as for the rest of his group, well, let’s just say the Manilans had more important things to worry about.

Meanwhile, Spongclong and his team were developing a friendship with the people who abducted them. For three years, they helped each other, with Spongclong and his team not only assisting in farming, but also giving small lectures on Chemistry and Physics, while their abductors providing them information about the long-gone favorite roasted bird, which was the dodo.

“Not all the dodos, you see,” an abductor told them one afternoon, “were edible. Some of them, you see, have this hole in their bellies. And you know a dodo is not edible when it has a hole in its belly.”

“A hole in the belly?” asked Spongclong. “How come?”

“Don’t you know? The UFO’s.”

Hearing this definitely gave a new angle in the extinction of the dodos. Could it be that the UFO’s did to them what in the present day we suspect they are doing with cattle in different parts of the world? Could the UFO’s have something to do with the dodo’s extinction?

“How did you know all of this?” asked Spongclong.

“Stories,” said the abductor. “You know us.”

Thus, a new theory emerged—in fact two. It could either be that the UFO’s have studied earthly existence by using dodos as subjects, and the number of dodos just dwindled, causing them to be extinct. That could explain why there were relatively few dodo remains to be found. Or it could also be that the UFO’s studied the dodo, and at one point discovered something of value in them, that the UFO’s took all the dodos.

Pretty ridiculous theories, Spongclong admitted, but (as what has always been every scientist’s excuse for every ridiculous theories they come up with) centuries ago people thought the earth was flat, and the duck-billed platypus was merely some kind of a joke.

Spongclong an his team were more than ever driven in finding more about the dodo. Their captivity, however, limited them from finding more discoveries. So one day, Prof. Dillato, gathered up all his courage and asked a federation member, “Just what is the reason why we were kidnapped?”

The federation member stared at him blankly for a few seconds, before saying, “Let me ask the Hut about that.”

A bit annoyed, Prof. Dillato waited for him. But the answer didn’t come until that evening, when the Hut—who of course was a certain Abunjo Tabafunda in real life—sat beside the history professor in front of the campfire. The Hut told the professor, “It is your destiny, of course.”

Startled by this, the professor looked in astonishment at the Hut. “What are you talking about?”

“You were destined to stay with us here for some time,” the Hut said, unblinking, as if in a trance. “And then we’ll let you go. When # 53 becomes the last for the century, you will have the bird.”

Prof. Dillato covered his crotch upon hearing such a suggestion. “I still don’t get it,” he said.

“Oh hell,” submitted the Hut. “Just give me Spongclong.”

So Prof. Dillato called Spongclong. Spongclong and the Hut talked a bit, after which, Spongclong told Prof. Dillato with sparkle in his eyes, “We were going to get the dodo, afterall!”

It was destined, afterall, so when Miss Polonoling 2000, The Last of the Century… Really was held in the Polonoling Grand Stadium, Spongclong and his crew watched it with representatives from those who had abducted them. They knew that if their bet, Candidate # 53, won, then it meant it was time for Spongclong and his team of scientist to be sent to Pidpatayan; it mean “the dodo was ready,” and they should go there to get the it. If Candidate # 53 lost, however, it meant they would be sent to Pidpatayan the next year, or worse, the next hundred, for the Hut was told, “… if Candidate # 53 becomes the last for the century…”

The Final Question & Answer was the most thrilling part of the contest not only for the audience, but for Spongclong and his team as well. Only three candidates were remaining, Candidates # 06, # 22, and their candidate, Candidate # 53. Their bet almost gave the dumbest answer, but thank God—or, in this case, Allah—the other two gave dumber answers. Candidate # 53, therefore was Miss Polonoling 2000, the last of the century… really, and as a result, Spongclong and his team were finally set free.

“Go and be free,” the Hut told them as he let them go. “And get your dodo!”

As much as it would seem as the end of their rather bizarre ordeal, for Spongclong and his team, it was only the beginning, for in their search for the airport, a discovery would be made, a discovery that would lead them to their really final task—the raising of the dodo.

• • •
It was hot and humid, a typical April day in this part of Mindanao. Spongclong and his team were in Pidpatayan, at least according to Prof. Dillato.

“Pidpatayan,” one of the students commented, “what a morbid name.”

Prof. Dillato, the expert on history, said. “Yes, but you know, ‘pid-’ is actually a prefix that means none of what the preceding term implies happens here. Pidpatayan is the most orderly place in Mindanao.”

“Really?”

“Nah.”

“Pidpatayan,” Spongclong said. “Kinda feel like I’ve always been here since we entered the town proper. It kinda feels familiar being here.”

“I feel that, too,” a student said.

Seeing a large stone under the shade of an acacia tree, Spongclong called the team to sit and rest for awhile.

“Oh,” Prof. Dillato said. “I wonder how close we are to the nearest airport.”

“We must be close by, sir,” said another student. “We’ve been walking for three days now. It shouldn’t be far.”

“Hey, look!” said a student. “Dodo footprints.”

“Yeah,” said Prof. Dillato scornfully, “and that thing atop Spongclong’s head is real hair.”

The students laughed.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Geraldo. Did I offend you?”

There was more laughter.

“Hey wait,” Spongclong suddenly blurted out. “They’re really dodo foot prints!”

Suddenly there was silence, and the team realized they were sitting on a dodo’s tomb.

As soon as they reached Manila, requests to excavate were written, and pick axes were donated to The Dodomites headquarters. Never in three years had The Dodomites been as busy, and their headquarters as alive. While the professor and his team were gone, The Dodomites headquarters were regarded by the university students as a motel. It was always dark and there were always some guy going, “Aráy-aráy-aráy,”.

A week after they’d returned, Spongclong and all the Dodomites—now having five hundred members—plus some members of the press, returned to Pidpatayan, equipped to dig out and raise the remains of the animal that had, until a only a couple of centuries ago, waddled the earth with grace.

With kind permission of Jay Santos - Mit freundlicher Genehmigung von Jay Santos