THE two farmers were the closest of friends – more than blood brothers as the villagers would say. In almost every issue, they seemed to have an uncanny way of agreeing.

They had the same favorite food. Their way of dressing – down to the color schemes – was the same. So with their taste in music and TV shows. Even when asked separately, they had congruent choices for candidates to vote for in any election.

There was only one glaring case where the two friends had diametrically opposed views. One was a devout believer in the messages conveyed by the spirit of the glass. The other simply refused to believe in supernatural phenomena and the occult.

"I tell you, it is true, my friend," insisted the believer. "We simply put our pointed finger on the inverted tuba glass placed on a sheet of Manila paper marked with the alphabet and some numbers. There was five of us, including the spiritista (spirit medium). She couldn’t have fooled all four of us.

"I personally asked about my grandfather – where he was in the world beyond. I swear the glass with our combined fingers pressing on it easily moved as if guided by an unseen force. The glass spelled the word, HEAVEN. Then I asked if my lolo was happy where he was and the spirit of the glass moved over the letters to spell, YES!"

Without feeling, the non-believer replied, "Look, if you have faith in that spirit in the glass, fine with me. I just don’t buy any of that sleight of hand."

"I don’t blame you because it is really fantastic and unbelievable," responded the friend patiently. "But even more fantastic is the fact that my lolo also spoke up from behind a curtain. I tell you… I had goose pimples over my whole body (kinilabutan). I was more scared than surprised. In his same voice that I distinctly recall, he even admonished me to be good to my children."

"Impressive," intoned his friend with a hint of cynicism. "In fact, I do wish to talk to my dearly departed Uncle."

"Great! Then we shall do so. Come with me in my next visit to the next barrio where the spiritista conducts the sessions."

More out of a desire to please than to be convinced, the non-believer accompanied his friend.

It was indeed amazing. The spirit of the glass spelled out accurate replies about the personal data of the cynical one. And from behind the curtain, his long-departed uncle spoke in eerie but flawless Tagalog.

As the two left the dark room of the spiritista, the great believer was ecstatic with joy. "I finally convinced you! Now we are in agreement with everything."

The friend remained silent as they ambled along the dirt path leading to the highway. Then he said, "Very convincing. Except for important detail, the voice was quite convincing and perfect Tagalog, too. But you see, my Uncle spoke only Cebuano."