Lightning
slashed the moonless sky. It momentarily exposed what was in it: an antediluvian dresser
gnawed by termites, a plastic chair embellished with spider webs, an
unkempt folding bed inhabited by cockroaches and mice. October winds
forced its way through the rusted window screen. The tempest was
coming. They crawled on all fours, feeling with their palms and knees
the damp and mossy floor of the abandoned lodge. They avoided bumping
into things that would disrupt the sangfroid atmosphere inside the
room. Their eyes, this time, were useless. All they depended on was
intuition. They rested their weary backs against the wall, smelled
their sweat and touched their fresh wounds. They both panted, felt
enervated after long hours of relentless running. He suddenly held
her hand. She squeezed his palm and they succumbed to the blankness.
His
first encounter with her was during the rally of the abantes at
Mendiola. Her image was a contrast to the crowd of bronze-skinned and
emaciated women. Her
complexion was glowing though she was already ruddy because of the
heat. She had an aquiline nose and mermaid curls. He saw her earlier
while she was having a boodlefight lunch with the other abantes. She
did not mind the soiled hands scooping the pile of steamy rice. She
did not complain of allergies or did not show any sign of disgust of
the sardinas. She embraced the noontime sun. She played with the almost
naked street children. He admired what he saw behind his camera.
He
tried to sense if someone was lurking outside. But there was only the sound of the gushing wind and the violent rustling of the cogon grass. The seemingly safe state was suspicious and most of the time, for them, it manifested
greater perils.
He remembered the encounter earlier today: The men in fatigue
uniforms spotted them on their way to the kapitolyo
.They were recognized. Fortunately, they brought their guns with
them, so they were able to defend themselves. They were able to
escape. He wrapped her in his sinewy arms. Their eyes were getting
used to the darkness. His smile was vaguely sketched but it told her
that with him, she was safe. As she snuggled in his arms, she fondled
with her wooden rosary inside her pocket.
They were formally introduced to each other when she visited Hospicio Sam Miguel. She was
cuddling a three-year old orphan when she noticed a well-built man
with almond eyes and wavy hair. He was taking pictures of her. The
first thing that entered her mind was he was probably a member of the
government’s intelligence unit. Since the passage of the
president’s new law on terrorism, abantes like her had been
stigmatized as terrorists. She remembered what happened to her two
fellow abantes who were abducted while they were doing research in a
farming community in Bulacan. She felt odd paroxysms of rage for the man though she knew she must not because the man had not shown any harmful or doubtful motives. It was purely irrational and senseless, she thought so she approached Ka Miriam, the head of the abantes, to ask about the
man. Ka Miriam wrinkled her forehead and dragged her to where the man
was standing.
“
Steven, I want you to meet Almira del Cerna, one of our newest
members. Almira, this is Steven Cere, photographer and journalist. He
is doing a documentary about us.”
Four
in the afternoon, it was time to leave the Hospicio. The abantes were
all preparing to leave when some nuns approached them to
distribute wooden rosaries, their humble token of appreciation.
The
sound of the rustling leaves was soporific. His eyelids were getting
heavy but he knew that it was not a good time to sleep. In the life
that they had chosen, sleeping is letting Death crawl under your
skin. Her eyes were closed but he knew that she was just half asleep. He maintained
vigilance and he knew that she was also trying really hard not to give in to her exhaustion. He ran his fingers on the fresh laceration on his forehead
which he got earlier when he bumped his head on a rock. With the night that they're going to face, he realized that
pain will be an indispensable motivation to stay awake.
His
encounter with Almira and the abantes became often. From his
conversations with Almira, he found out that she was a daughter of a
businessman. Almira often tells him how she loathed the life which
she was born into. She also told him how her mother was gunned down
by one of her envious amigas after winning a game of mahjong. She
witnessed the decadence of her kind and since then she promised to
herself that she would not let herself be contaminated by the evils
of the high life . She joined the abantes when she decided to quit school at Ateneo during her junior year. She was a Philosophy major and although she
was educated in Ateneo, she found her home in UP where she met Ka
Miriam and the other abantes. He admired the girl for leaving her well-off
life, for having the courage to be one of the
abantes, for having sturdy principles. They became good friends,
“sitsirya” buddies, they call themselves because during rallies,
they would go to one corner and eat “sitsirya” while discussing their ideals and their lives before constantly being with the movement. All was well with
their friendship until he found out that Almira hurriedly left for
Davao. He asked Ka Miriam about the details of her trip but Ka Miriam
was stern and she did not let him know where Almira was and what she
was doing. He left the headquarters of the abantes feeling an unexplained emptiness.
She
opened her eyes, she noticed he was staring blankly into to the
darkness. Blood dripped from his forehead. She wiped off the scarlet drips on
his cheek with her hand. He kissed her forehead.
He
was assigned to cover a story about illegal logging in Sariaya. It
was a project rejected by his colleagues because according to them,
Sariaya was like the Basilan of Luzon, reporters get abducted in that
area or worse, they get caught in the crossfire between the military
and the NPA. His brother, who was his only family, was against his
bold decision. Before he left he even had an argument with his
brother over the phone. In the end, he prevailed and his brother, as
usual, just advised him to take care. After five hours of
“habal-habal” ride, he reached the site where he was greeted by
toppled and chopped trees. He started to take pictures. The habal
driver stayed with him for a while but it did not take long when
their welcoming committee arrived. Some men came wearing military
attire and one of them grabbed his camera. He was startled. His
colleagues were telling the truth when they told him that even the
military cannot be trusted in Sariaya. His stubborn journalistic
flair was so strong that he tried to snatch back his camera. But after that,
another group emerged out of the woods. They were dressed like
peasants and they were armed too. He ducked to protect himself
from the exchange of bullets between the two forces. During the
encounter he noticed that not all the peasants with gun were men. One
of them was a woman. Her head was wrapped by a shirt and she wore
glasses, probably to conceal her face and gender. He was still
ducked when some peasant men took him away from the crossfire. With a
blow on his nape, he lost consciousness and when he woke up, Almira’s
face smiled at him She was not in Davao all this time.
He
lost his battle with sleep.When he woke up, the weak gray morning light and the restless sounds of rain and wind filled the room. He woke her up and they
both witnessed the room’s clutter; the dresser, the folding bed,
the chair and the other articles like the broken lampshade, stray
plastic bags, damp and mold-infested clothes, moths resting on busted
fluorescent bulb on the ceiling, frolicking lizards on the walls and
stray ferns and vines growing on out from the cracks on the wall. He
helped her stand and walk towards the wooden door. She had a fracture on her feet so it was difficult for her
to walk. He assisted her until they reached the rickety makeshift ladder. They were
about to leave the lodge which served as their sanctuary for a
night so he checked his gun. For three months of joining Almira in the
samahan,
he always does that. There
was a typhoon and its wrath had just begun. The violent wind played
with the falling rain and they walked outside the lodge until they
got soaked in water. They walked, not minding the danger of being caught by the lesser gods of the militia.
Now, all they have in mind is this chance to escape.
