Category: Short Story

Nail Arumpac

Miyanga ipos aya ragon sii sa ingaed a Karomatan sii sa Payong. Ko adaen paen a mga tao a kimbaebaling sa poro ago sa kilid a ragat. Madakael paen a mga tao a kibaebaling sii sa kaporoan sii ko adaen a maulad a diron dipamumulan, na aya mga tao ron na giya bangsa a mga taribasok a paembaetowan siran sa mga taga-kaporoan (mga tao a kimbaebaling sa poro) sa Raebokaen ago sii paeman sa kilid a ragat naso mga Iragataen na siran so mga bangsa a mga patotogaes na sii kimbaebaling sa marani sa ragat, umani isa na adaen a pimbida-bidaan iran sa paekakuwan sa kapaekauyag-uyag iran. So mga bangsa a mga taribasok na paekabaebayaan iran so kapamomolaan sa lagid o ilaw, niyog ‘go salakaw ron paen. Mabaebaya siran paen mangayam sa mga pangangayamaen lagid o manok, karabaw, koda ago sapi. Na sii pman sa sabala siko bangsa mga patotogaes na kawasa sa mga paekakuwaansa kauyagan sii sa ragat lagid o saeda, muntiya ago antona kaon saan a paekasokat sa ragat, umani isa a bangsa na bida-bida e kauyag-uyag.

Nakalipas ang ilang taon sa bayan ng Karomatan sa Payong. Nang may mga taong naninirahan pa sa gubat at sa tabing dagat. Maraming pa ang mga taong naninirahan doon sa gubat sa may malawak na bukiran, ang mga naninirahan roon ay ang tribu ng mga magsasaka na tinatawag ni lang taga-Kaporoan (mga taong naninirahan sa bukid) sa Raebokaen at sa tabing dagat naman ay ang mga Iragatën na sila ang bumubuo sa tribu ng mga mangingisda na naninirahan malapit sa dagat, bawat tribu ay may pagkakaiba ng pinagkukunan ng likas na yaman. Ang tribu ng mga magsasaka ay mahihilig magtanim tulad ng palay, niyog at iba pa. Mahilig din sila mag-alaga ng mga hayop tulad ng manok, kalabaw, kabayo at baka. Sa kabilang tribu naman ang tribu ng mga mangingisda naman’y mayaman sa likas na yamang dagat tulag ng mga isda, perlas at ano pa mang likas na yaman na makukuha sa karagatan, bawat tribu ay may iba’t ibang estado sa buhay.

Ugaid na miyakaisa a gawie, na adaen a miyadaedaeg a Iragataen si sa kaporoan marani sii ko lupa o mga bangsa taribasok a paepaenguwa sa kayo. Kodaen ko masaesaendod a isa otu sa bangsa o mga patotogaes sa di niyan dika gogoray sa mga kayo siko lupa o mga taga-kaporoan na adaen a miyakinaeg iyan a lalis a marani sii ko diniyan di gogorayan sa kayo. “Nga!”, na magan so magaan na inobay a gyoto a patotogaes, na miyailay niyan a giya mapiya a pangilaylayan. So gadong a pamomolan ago so mga pangangayamaen. Miyobay a patotogaes otu ka a niyan mapagilailay sa marani giyoto a kiyamasaan iyan. Nako mailay saekaniyan o mga kimbaebaling roo, so mga bangsa taribasok. Na miyamaemaesa siran ko mailay iran so mga muntiya a dimamanaenang siko lawas iyan ago so paedang iyan a piyangaebaal a poon sii sa ator a maputi sii sa kalodan.

Nang minsan, isang araw ay may napadpag na Iragataen sa gubat malapit sa lupain ng tribu ng mga magsasaka upang mangahoy. Habang abala ang isa sa tribu ng mga mangingisda na nagsisibak ng mga kahoy sa lupain ng mga taga-kaporoan ay may narinig siyang sigaw malapit sa kaniyang sinisibak na kahoy, “Nga!”, dali-dali ay nilapitan ito ng mangingisda at nakita niya ang magandang tanawin, ang luntiang hardin at mga hayop. lumapit pa ang mangingisda para makita pa ito ng malapitan ng makita siya ng mga taga-roon ang tribu ng mga magsasaka. Sila ay nabighani ng makita nila ang mga perlas na kumikinang sa kaniyang katawan at ang kaniyang dala-dalang itak na gawa sa puting bato mula sa karagatan.

“Antaa ginan a mama a sabarang daen kapakailay akaen sa kisosolotaen iyan anan” kabasa o sabaad ko mga Bangsa Taribasok. Miyamaemaesa so miyakailay raekiyan, Taman sa miyaka-oma sii ko Datu (Olowan o mga bangsa taribasok) sii sa ingaed otu so totol, “Datu, adaen a miyakasolaed sii sa lupa tano a sabarang daen so baebangalaan iyan a lagid o kaenaba mibibilang sii ko mga bangsa tano”. Magan so magaan na siyongan saekaniyan o Datu, so miyataro a mama a adaen a di mamanaenang a gayonggay siko lawas iyan, na piyakabolos iyan angkoto a patotogaes sa lagid o paed saekaniyan sii ko bangsa iran. “Inoka sii makaoma sa lupa ami?” pitaro o Datu. “O Datu, miyama kaoma ako sii sangkayi a lupa iyo sabap sa ko kiyadaedaeg akaen sa kapaepaengowa ko sa mga kayo a ipagitagon ami”. saembaeg o Patotogaes. Pamomolowan a paegisaan saekaniyan o Datu na inaenggat iyan so patotogaes “O mapakay a mailay akaen so kapiya odi niyo di kapagoyag-oyag sii ko dinga di taroon a kilid ragat?”.

“Sino ang lalaking iyan na may kakaibang ang kaniyang kasuotan?” wika ng isa sa mga tribu ng mga magsasaka. Namangha ang mga taong nakakita sakanya, hanggang sa dumating sa Datu (ang namumuno sa tribu ng mga magsasaka) sa nayon na iyon ang balita, “Datu, mayroong nakapasok sa ating lupain na may kakaibang kasuotan na parang hindi kabilang sa ating angkan”. Pinuntahan naman ito kaagad ng Datu, ang nasabing lalaki na iyon na may makikinang na palamuti sa katawan at pinatuloy niya ito na parang kasapi ng agkan nila. “Bakit ka naparito sa aming lupain?” sabi ng Datu. “O Datu, nakarating ako rito sa inyong lupain sa kadahilanang ako ay naligaw sa aking pangunguha ng kahoy para may panggatong” sagot naman ng mangingisda. Habang tinatanong ng Datu, ang mangingisdang iyon ay inalok siya ng Datu “Kung pwede ay makita ko ang kagandahan ng inyong pamumuhay sa sinasabi mong tabi ng dagat?”.

Ko mapitaon otu na miyakaoma so patotogaes a paed iyan so Datu o mga bangsa taribasok. “Asalamoalaikom” kabasa o patotogaes. “Antaa…Aydow!, so karuma ko!” pitaro o karuma o patotogaes rakaes a miyagakaes iyan so karuma niyan “Ama!” pitaro mambo o mga wata o patotogaes. Paekabaya-baya so pamilya o patotogaes ka saekaniyan na miyaka kasoy sa ingaed iran a bibiyag ago miyakan duwa-duwa siran sa ino adaen a tagaepada iyan a naba isa ko mga Bangsa Patotogaes a Iragataen. “O Karuma ko?, antaonon a ped kanan?”. Piyagosay mambo o patotogaes ko pamilya niyan na piyamakinaeg iran mambo. “Bolos kano sa kapipiya ginawa” maana piyakataros siran o karuma o patotogaes sii ko walay iran sa kapipiya ginawa. Ko mapasad oto na pitaro o datu ko patotogaes “Badi mapakay a malibaet ta a lupa iyo aya ka an akaen mapagilay-ilay ‘go bako nga mawit sii ko datu iyo sa giya bangsa niyo?”. “Ana mapiya giya miyanaeg akaen raeka Datu” pitaro o patotogaes sa gumiyanat siran mambo sa walay ongkoto a Patotogaes. “O karuma ko, pagawa ako daan sa walay ka pagunotan ko angkayi a datu. Sa kabaya iyan a kamasaan iyan so kapaekauyag-uyag tano sii sangkayi a kilid a ragať”. “Oway karuma ko, siyapaen kano o kadaenan” inisimbag mambo o karuma o patotogaes. Miniyog mambo so patotogaes ka adaen a tadaeman iyan sa giyong koto a datu o mga taribasok a piyakabolos iyan sa lupa iran sa lagid a paed saekaniyan sii kokobangsa iran. “Giya ron so mga litag a kibaebaetad ami sangkayi a ubay a mga ator a para ko mga saeda ago mga layagan” pitaro o patotogaes sii ko Datu a mga taribasok.

Nang umagang iyon ay dumating ang mangingisda kasama ang Datu ng mga magsasaka.  “Asalamoalaikom” wika ng mangingisda. “Sin…Naku!, ang asawa ko!” sabi ng asawa ng mangingisda kasabay ng pagyakap niya sa kaniyang asawa “Ama!” sabi naman ng kaniyang mga anak. Labis ang tuwa ng pamilya ng mangingisda na siya ay naka-balik ng buhay sa kanilang angkan at pagtataka nila na bakit may kasama siyang hindi isa sa mga taga-Iragataen “Asawa ko?, sino ba iyang kasama mo?”. Nagpaliwanag naman ang mangingisda sa kaniyang pamilya at pinakinggan naman ito. “Bolos kano sa kapipiya ginawa” na ibig nitong sabihin ay lubos silang pinapatuloy ng asawa ng may mabuting ginhawa. Matapos ang iyon ay sinabihan ng Datu ang mangingisda “Kung pwede ay malibot natin ang inyong lupain ng akin itong masilayan at madala mo rin ako sa namumuno sa inyong tribu”. “Aba’y ikinagagalak kong marinig iyan mula sa iyo Datu” sabi ng mangingisda na siya ring pag-alis nila mula sa bahay ng mangingisda. “O asawa ko, aalis muna ako ng bahay sapagkat sasamahan ko pa si Datu. Na nais masilayan ang ating magandang pamumuhay dito sa tabi ng dagat”. “Oway karuma ko, nawa’y gabayan kayo ng lumikha” sagot naman ng asawa ng mangingisda. Pumayag naman ang mangingisda sapagkat utang na loob niya ang pinatuloy siya ng pinuno ng mga magsasaka sa kanilang lupain na parang kasapi ng angkan. “Itong ang mga nakalagay dito sa tabii nitong mga bato ay panghuli ng mga isda at mga alimango” sabi ng mangingisda sa Datu ng mga magsasaka.

Ko mapasad iran malaebaet a bala sabala a sakop a mga bangsa a patotogaes, na tumiyaros siran ko walay o mapuro o mga patotogaes. “Bolos kano!, sa kapipiya a ginawa.” Pitaro o Datu o mga patotogaes. Aya iran daen kiyapakasolaed na inalaw siran o Datu a kanduri sii sa paekaenanan “Untod kano na kan kano ko mingi paeriparado ami rkano”, madakael a lino a mingi paeriparado o mga patotogaes lagid o piyagiyaw a saeda, pitinola a saeda ago adaen a mga unga a pamomolan. “Mga antunaa onon ini?” pakaisa o datu sa ginawa niyan. Miyasaegipa o Datu o mga bangsa taribasok a da a baegas sii ko paekananan.

Nang matapos nilang malibot ang bawat parti na sakop ng mga tribung mangingisda, ay tumuloy na sila sa bahay ng pinuno ng mga mangingisda. “Tumuloy kayo sa mabuting buhay” sabi ng Datu ng mga mangingisda. Pagkapasok palang nila ay sinalubong na sila ng Datu ng salu-salo sa hapag-kainan “Maupo kayo at kumain sa aming inihanda para sa inyo”, maraming ulam ang inihanda ng mga mangingisda tulad ng inihaw na isda, tinulang isda at mayroon ding bunga ng puno (prutas). “ Ano ang mga ito?” tanong ng Datu sa sarili. Napansin ng Datu ng mga magsasaka na walang kanin sa hapag-kainan.

Magan a minisa “Inoto? langon a lino a mapapadalaem sii ko paekananan na da ba ron karne ago baegas?” paekamamasa a di niyan ron di kataruwa. “Kagiya sabap sa ginan bo e paengakokowa ami a mga paningkauyagan ami sii sa lupa ami”. Somimbaeg mambo so Datu o mga patotogaes o ino gaeyong koto e mapapadalaem sii ko paekananan. Pakagaan so totol na kumiyan siran. Sako mapasad oto na adaen a pipaesadaan o duwa a Datu sa maebida a bangsa, “Badi mapakay a makasung ako mambo ko lupa iyo a dingka di taroon a Kaporoan?”pitaro o Datu o mga Patotogaes sii ko Datu o mga taribasok. Mapasad a giyong koto a pipaesadaan iran na kumiyasoy so Datu o mga taribasok sii sa lupa iran a tagaepada iyan so Patotogaes ago so Datu iran. “Bolos kano sa kapipiya ginawa hay Datu o mga Patotogaes” pitaro o sabaad ko makadadarpa sangkoto a kanduri. Na gyoto mambo e miyasuwa, miriparado so mga bangsa taribasok sa kanduri a ipasaela-saela iran sa kiya bisitaa kiran o patotogaes ago ko Datu o mga patotogaes. “O Datu, dikami dn pagtao” kabasa o Datu o mga patotogaes sa maana a pambaelingan siran sii sa ingaed iran sa kilid a ragat. “Pagilay kano sii ko kapaembalingan iyo sa ingaed iyo mga bolayoka.” simbag o Datu o mga Taribasok.

Agad siyang nagtanong “Bakit? puro ulam lang ang nasa hapag-kainan at walang karne at kanin?” sinabi nito ng nagtataka. “Sapagkat iyan lamang ang mga likas na yaman na nakukuha namin dito sa aming lupain”. Sumagot naman ang Datu ng mga mangingisda kung bakit iyon ang nasa hapag-kainan. Pabilisin natin ang kwento at kumin na sila. Pagkatapos ng iyon ay may napagkasunduan ang dalawang datu sa mag-kaibang tribu, “Kung pwede ay makapunta rin ako sa inyong lupain na sinasabi mong Kaporoan?” sabi ng Datu ng mga mangingisda sa Datu ng mga magsasaka. Pagkatapos ng napagkasunduan na iyon ay bumalik ang Datu ng mga magsasaka sa kanilang lupain kasa-kasama ang mangingisda at ang kanilang Datu. “Tumuloy kayo ng may mabuting buhay. O Datu ng mga mangingisda” sabi ng isa sa mga naroon sa piging. Iyon din ang nangyari, naghanda ang mga tribu ng mga magsasaka ng isang piging bilang pagbibigay giliw sa pagbisita sa kanila ng mangingisda at ang kanilang Datu. “O Datu, hindi na kami magpapaalam” wika ng Datu ng mga mangingisda na ang ibig nitong sabihin ay sila na’y babalik sa kanilang lupain sa tabi ng dagat. “Mag-ingat kayo sa inyong pag-uwi sa inyong lupain mga kaibigan”.

Ko mapita ron otu na miyakauma so mga taga-Raebokaen sa lupa o mga taga-Iragataen a ki aawid siran sa mga ilaw, kamais, ube, mga pangangayamaen ago tuna kasan paen a paekaekuwa iran a paningkauyagan iran roo sa poro. Gaeyoto mambo sii ko mga taga-Iragataen a miyaka-uma siran a ki aawidan iran mambo so mga saeda, layagan, mga pamomorotaen sa ragat ago tuna kasan paen a paekakuwan iran a paningkauyagan a adaen a raekon a mga Iragataen “O datu, katayi so pipasadaan iyo ko Datu ami, sa mingi gulalan ami sa iwit ami sangkayi a lupa iyo so kiyapaesadaan iyo ko Datu ami” kabasa o isa ko mga Patotogaes. Miya-ipos so pira olan na dataro todaen mambo e paekasuwa-suwa sii ko mga bangsa iran. miyabaloy a laelaekaan kiran uman e bangsa sii ko mga lupa iran ago taros daen so kiyapaesadaan iran a so kambaebaegaya. Taman sa miyakauma so madakael a miyangasasalin sii sa ingaed rakaes so kiyaalin o masa sa miyabaloy a kasabapan sa igira kuwan na dadaen a paekaragon o mga taga-kaporoan ago da mambo a paekakuwa a saeda o mga taga-Iragataen, taros a miyada so kapaepaegawid o mga taga-kaporoan sa paekaragon iran sii ko mga taga-kilid a ragat lagid daen mambo sii ko sabala a bangsa.

Kinabukasan ay dumating ang mga taga-Raebokaen sa lupain ng mga taga-Iragataen dala-dala ang mga palay, mais, kamote, mga hayop at iba pang likas na yaman mayroon sila, ganoon din ang mga taga-Iragataen na dumating sa Raebokaen dala-dala rin ang mga isada, alimango, kabibi at iba pang likas na yaman meron din ang mga Iragataen. “O Datu, narito ang napagkasunduan niyo ng aming Datu, na isinagawa namin sa paraan na dinala namin sa inyong lupain ang nasabing kasunduan niyo ng aming Datu” wika ng isa sa mga mangingisda. Lumipas ang ilang buwan na ganoon parin ang nangyayari sa kanilang mga tribu, naging bukas ang bawat tribu sa kanilang mga lupain at patuloy ang kanilang napagkasunduan ang pagbibigayan. Hanggang sa dumating ang maraming pagbabago sa nayon pati na rin ang pagbabago ng klima na naging dahilan ng minsan lang may naani ang mga taga-kaporoan at wala na ring makuhang isda ang mga taga-Iragataen, naging paminsan-minsan na lang nadadalhan ng mga taga-kaporoan ng mga na-ani ang mga taga-kilid a ragat gayun din ang sa kabilang tribu.

Miyauma so gawi na dadaen a maeyaba a mga bangsa taribasok sii ko mga patotogaes para makaawid sa miyaragon, gaeyoto daen mambo sii ko mga taga-kilid a ragat a da siran daen mambo takaedaeg sa Raebokaen. Sabap roo na miyapasad daen so pipaesadaanan iran. Miya-ipos so pipira ragon na miyawa so sabaad ko mga taga-kaporoan kaan makangaeloba sa baego a baelingan ago paemomolaan, gaeyoto daen mambo sii ko sabaad ko mga Iragataen a paepaengiloba sa baego a balingan kaan siran makapagpoon sa baego a kapagoya-oyag, bago a ingaed ago bago a kapipita.

 Dumating ang araw na hindi na bumababa ang mga taga-kaporoan sa mga mangingisda upang mag-dala ng mga na-ani, gayundin ang mga taga-kilid a ragat na hindi na rin umaakyat sa lupain ng mga taga-kaporoan. dahil doon ay natapos na ang kanilang napagkasunduan. Pagkaraan ng ilang taon lumikas ang iba sa mga taga-kaporoan upang maghanap ng bagong matitirhan at matatamnan, iyon din ang ang iba sa mga taga-kilid a ragat, naghanap ng bagong matitirhan upang magsimula ng bagong buhay, bagong lupain at kinabukasan.

Lady Johainee Dimaampao Banocag

The wind blew in my direction and brushed through my skin. But instead of coolness, I felt a stinging sensation creeping.

I always wondered how a breeze could be as burning as the sun in this humid weather.

Droplets of sweat started to form on my forehead, and soon my shirt was soaking wet.  A cold drink would surely quench my thirst under this heat, but every time Ama catches a sight of me elsewhere than the rice fields, he immediately yells, “Kasoy ka sa basak!” (Go back to the rice field!)

One can say that I am worse than our carabao, which is given water when it is thirsty and shade when it is tired.

I looked up at the sky to find a hint of rain, but the fiery sun blinded my sight instead. This won’t do. I need to finish plowing the fields if I want to go home early.

“Taps! Baling ka den, wata, ka miyakaranti-ranti so alongan imanto!” (Taps! Go home, kid. The sunlight is intensely hot right now!)

I followed the voice and saw Bapa Asiz gesturing a shooing motion with his hand.

“Amay den, Bapa. Khagaga aken pen.” (I’ll go home later, Uncle. I can still handle it.)

Bapa Asiz is an old neighbor who taught me how to cut the rice stalks when I was five. Well, I begged him to teach me because Ama said that if I don’t learn how to do it on my own, then I am not leaving the house at all.

Aside from cutting rice stalks, he also promised to teach me how to separate the grains from the stalks in the future when I am a bit older. Now that I am ten, I am going to ask him about that promise.

I think ten seems a good age to learn how to thresh the grains.

Besides, Ama said that if I learn how to harvest rice by myself, then he will let me go to school next year. I can’t wait for that to happen because I’ve never been inside a classroom.

A burst of laughter cut my daydreaming short.

I looked at the main road that runs alongside the rice field and saw kids of my age wearing their school uniforms. They were laughing at me as if I were showing something comical in the vast paddy.

They’ve been doing this for as long as I can remember, but I still don’t know why they do. So, I gave myself a quick look.

Aside from my tousled hair and soiled feet, I couldn’t grasp the reason why I feel teased by the fingertips they kept on pointing at me.

“Inoto ako niyo bes isisinga den?” Why are you always laughing at me?

I had to find out.

“Ilaya ngka man a karabaw anan sa likod ka. Da den a phimbidaan iyo.”

Look at the carabao behind you, he said. There’s no difference between you and it at all.

I glanced at our carabao, which has been helping me plow the land since morning. Its skin is as black as the charcoal that Ama tells me to use when cooking.

I looked at my skin and realized that what they were saying was true. I am dark like a carabao myself! This is so embarrassing.

So, without any hesitation, I impulsively lifted my feet that had been buried in the paddy since the early hours of the day.

I ran and treaded the long highway under the scorching heat of the sun until I heard the water rushing through the laoasaig (river).

The eyes of women doing their laundry were following my every move, but I didn’t care. I need to take a bath and get rid of this carabao skin.

My body was already submerged in the water when I pictured Ama’s furious face when he finds out about me leaving the rice field with the plowing unfinished. However, every time I thought about the other kids mocking what I looked like, I wanted to drown myself in the water even more.

I can’t have my future schoolmates laughing at me again.

“Kurang pen ini.” This is not enough.

I briefly whispered these words under my breath as I searched for a small rock among the big ones surrounding the stream. I found one and immediately brought it back to the water with me.

When Ina was alive, I recall seeing her rubbing a small rock on her body whenever she took a bath at the laoasaig.

She never told me it was the rock doing the work, but her skin was different than mine, that’s why I am going to give it a try. It was neither as white as the dove’s feathers nor the white shell of an egg, but it was nowhere near the murkiness of a carabao’s skin.

I was about to start rubbing the small rock on my body when my eyes caught sight of a white rock under the water. I thought that maybe a white rock could make my skin as bright as it is, too.

I held my breath and immediately swam underneath. As soon as I got a hold of it, I started rubbing it on my skin.

I desperately rubbed it on my arms, on my belly, and on my legs. I rubbed it on my face and on every part of my body where my hands could reach. But even after rubbing vigorously, my skin still looked the same.

“Taps! Antonaa i pezuwaan ka san?” Taps! What are you doing there?

Oh, no! It was Bapa Asiz! If he told Ama about me, then I was surely screwed up when I get home.

I pretended not to hear him and continued forcibly rubbing the white rock on my skin. But instead of white, I saw red on my arms. I lifted it out of the water and saw that my skin was bleeding.

I don’t know if it’s the wound or the realization that my skin was dark, but I felt warm tears uncontrollably rolling down my cheeks.

My sobbing turned into bawling. And before I knew it, Bapa Asiz was already embracing me in his arms, consoling me with his soft shushes.

I haven’t cried so much since my Ina passed away when I was four because Ama thrashed me with a rope every time I wept for something. Because of that, I forgot how relieving it is to cry.

Bapa Asiz and I silently marched our way back to the rice fields. As we arrived, I saw sacks of rice loaded in the back of his old pickup truck, parked at the side of the road.

We sat down at the back of the truck, next to the sacks, and faced the vastness of the paddy.

I caught a glimpse of a carabao from a distance and sighed in disappointment. I was still as dark as the carabaos in here.

“Taps, di ngka pekhayaan a maitem ka. Toos anan o langowan a phindukawan ka sa basak.”

Taps, do not be embarrassed by your dark skin. It’s a symbol of all the hard work you had in the rice fields.

I was surprised to hear that Bapa Asiz knew of my dilemma when I never uttered a word since the time he caught me on the laoasaig.

Because I was worried that he was going to tell me on Ama, I tried to change the subject of our conversation.

“Bapa, anda ngka maguwiten a giyangkai a manga khisasakoon a maregas?”

Uncle, where are you going to take these sacks of rice?

I promptly asked him to divert his attention to anything but the reason behind my sudden outburst earlier.

“Mapasa-pasad so langowan a galebek saya na sa Marawi aken giiphasaan so margas.”

After all the work here is done, I am selling the rice at Marawi.

I just nodded at his answer.

I thought he was going to stop there, but what he said next made me stare in timid bewilderment as the sun slowly disappeared along the lines of the rice fields.

“Katawan ka, Taps, na kenaba bu maregas i khapakay a roranen sa trak ka apiya so karabaw na khapakay aken roranen o magunot raken.”

You know what, Taps, aside from rice, I can also load the carabao in my truck if it’s willing to go with me.

Maybe Bapa knew that I did not know what to say, so he let me sit with him in silence, letting time pass by.

When it got dark, he stood up, entered the driver’s seat, and turned the engine on. The sound surprised me, but nothing startled me more than the voice screaming my name from afar.

“Mustapha! Mustapha, anda ka?! Miyakapalaguy so karabaw, da a pakaid iyan a wata!”

Mustapha! Mustapha, where are you?! The carabao escaped, you worthless child!

The voice did not sound like that of a father worried about his 10-year-old son who hasn’t come home yet, because it sounded like that of a father ready to hit his child again.

I know Ama well. When he uses my real name instead of the nickname given to me by Ina, it means that he is very furious.

The idea of another sleepless night with bruises on my skin made my heart race with fear.

As Ama’s voice was getting nearer, my head was telling me to run, but my gut feeling was saying something else. 

When I finally saw Ama’s figure from the other side of the road, I decided to follow my instinct. Before I realized what I was doing, I was already inside the passenger seat, telling Bapa to start driving.

I am not sure of what happened to the carabao I lost, but I was sure that since then, Ama lost two of his carabaos and they never returned to the rice fields again.

Almayrah Tiburon

Parang humahaplot ang kurtina sa kanyang paanan. Banayad na itong gumagalaw dahil sa ihip ng hangin. Naramdaman niya ang unti-unting panlalamig ng buo niyang katawan. Kasabay ng pagtiktak ng orasan ay ang mabilis na pintig ng kanyang dibdib. Pumikit-dumilat siya. Hinila niya ang kanyang kumot hanggang sa leeg. Napakislot siya nang mabanaagan sa bintana ang nakadungaw na babaeng may mahabang buhok at maiitim na matang nanlilisik, titig na titig sa kanya. May dalang gulok ang babae.

Walang kakurap-kurap ang babaeng ito sa kanya. Ibinuka ng babae ang bibig nito at umaalingawngaw sa kanyang kwarto ang paulit-ulit na mga salitang hindi niya naiintindihan. Gusto niyang bumangon pero tila mabigat ang kanyang katawan. Paglingon niya sa kanan ay may lalaking nakahandusay, duguan at walang malay. Bumalikwas siya at napaupo. Sumisigaw siya ngunit walang anumang tunog na lumalabas sa kanyang bibig. Nangingilid sa kanyang mga mata ang luha dahil sa nakikitang kalagayan ng lalaking duguan, nakatali ang mga paa’t kamay. Tila inuutusan siya ng kanyang pusong tulungan ang lalaking ito kahit hindi naman niya ito nakikilala. Nanunuyo na ang kanyang lalamunan sa kasisigaw. Unti-unting nawala ang imahen ng lalaki at ang babaeng may dalang gulok.

Nagising si Bae nang naliligo sa kanyang pawis, “A, panaginip lang pala. Lailahailallah!”

Bumangon siya, nanaog upang uminom ng tubig. Madalas mangyari ito sa kanya simula nang mangibang bansa ang asawa. Madalas nakatitig siya sa kawalan at tumutulo ang mga luha. Naiisip niyang sana’y sumama na lamang siya sa asawa.  Para siyang pinanghihinaan ng loob sa tuwing naiisip niyang wala ito sa kanyang piling.

“Eto na naman ako, nag-iisa. Hay!” Bungtong-hininga ni Bae.

Kinabukasan, habang mabilis na naglalakad, dala ang libro at class record ay nakita niya ang paparating na estudyanteng hanggang tainga ang ngiti sa kanya.

“Magandang umaga, Ma’am,” bati ng estudyante.

Ngiti lamang ang itinugon niya at dali-dali na siyang pumunta ng faculty room. Agad siyang naupo at sumandal sa kanyang swivel chair.

Si Bae ay guro sa isang pamantasan. Palakaibigan siya. Palangiti. Ngunit sa likod ng magandang anyong iyon ay naroon ang kalungkutan. Akala ng iba’y wala siyang problema. Kapwa may kanya-kanya ng buhay ang bawat miyembro ng kanyang pamilya ngunit naroon pa rin ang pagdadamayan, kahit malayo pa ang mga  ito sa kanya.

Pangarap ni Bae na magkaroon ng sariling pamilya, simple at iingatan niya. Hindi niya hahayaang mawasak ito ninuman.

“Hindi!” Usal niya sa sarili. “Hindi ko makakaya kung masisira ang bubuuin kong pamilya na puno ng pangarap at pagkalinga.”

Sa pagkakaupo’y may bigla siyang naalala. Anim na taon pala siyang hinintay ni Fahad bago tuluyang maganap ang isang kasalang Meranaw. Marangya ang pagdiriwang. Dinaluhan ito ng mga kamag-anak, mga kaibigan, mga kasama sa trabaho, at mga kakilala. Ilang araw silang hindi nagkita upang paghandaan ang napakahalagang ritwal na ito sa kultura ng mga Meranaw.

Hindi pa nagtapos ang alaalang iyon. Sinariwa pa ni Bae ang huling pagyayakapan nilang dalawa bilang mag-asawa. Hinatid niya si Fahad sa Lumbia Airport. Papunta ito sa Qatar bilang engineer. Naniniwala kasi silang hindi dapat magkasaya sa pag-iibigan lamang, na magtitiyaga sila upang mapabuti ang kanilang kinabukasan.

“Phagilay ka … Pipikir angka pirmi na mahal na mahal kita,” bulong ni Fahad kay Bae.

“Oway. Penayaon aken seka. Kung mami-miss mo ako’y umuwi ka kahit zero at ako na ang bahala. Mahal na mahal din kita,” masuyong tugon ni Bae.

“Hoy, anong nangyayari sa’yo?” Tanong ni Aimah sa nagulat na kaibigang si Bae.

“Mukhang malayo na ang narating ng isip mo, a? Tara na, maglunch na tayo,” sabay haplos sa tiyan.

“O, sige,” wika ni Bae sa malungkot na tono habang nililigpit ang mga papel na nasa mesa.

Napansin ni Aimah ang kalungkutan ng kaibigan. Minsan na rin niyang nahuli na umiiyak

ito sa kuwarto. Batid niya ang dinadala nitong problema. Ngunit ilang araw na niyang napapansing may malaking pagbabago sa mga ikinikilos nito – balisa at laging walang kibo.

Sa faculty canteen ay nabibingi si Aimah sa katahimikan ng kaibigan.

“Ano na naman ba ang nangyari’t nagkakaganyan ka?”

“Wala!” Tanggi ni Bae, ngunit sunod-sunod na tumulo ang kanyang luha.

“Hindi ba, mag-iisang taon na kayo next month? O, ano, uuwi ba si Fahad? O, ikaw ang pupunta sa Qatar?”

“Hindi ko alam. Kahit tawag o text man lang, wala akong natanggap.”

“Baka surprise ang pag-uwi.”

Biyernes ng gabi, sabik na sinagot ni Bae ang cellphone niya. Si Fahad ang nasa kabilang linya.

“Bukas ay kasal ko na. Sana ay mapatawad moa ko,” walang gatol na bungad ni Fahad.

Umalingawngaw sa mga tainga ni Bae ang mga salitang iyon. Sandali siyang nabingi. Tingin niya sa paligid ay pinaghalong pula’t itim. Mabilis ang pagpintig ng kanyang dibdib. Muli niyang inilagay sa kanyang tainga ang cellphone.

“Antonaa i dangka raken kasowaten? Anong nagawa kong pagkakamali? Ganito ba ang tingin mo sa pagsasama natin? Huwag mong sasabihin sa akin na nabaling ang tingin mo sa iba dahil wala ako sa piling mo.”

“Antonaa i suwaan aken? Nangyari na ang nangyari at hindi na ito maibabalik pa. Isa pa, pwede naman ito sa ating kultura at mismong sa Islam, hindi ba?” Paliwanag ni Fahad.

“Simula noong una ay alam mo ng ayaw ko ng dowaya dahil ayaw kong may kahati ako sa’yo kahit pinapahintulutan pa ito ng Islam. Bakit mo hinayaang mahulog ang loob mo sa kanya samantalang alam mong naghihintay ako sa’yo? Naging mahina ka!” Mariing sabi ni Bae at pagkatapos ay pinatay niya ang cellphone.

Nang gabing iyon ay ipinaalam niya sa pamilya niya ang ginawa ni Fahad. Galit na galit ang mga ito sa lalaki. Hindi yumayakap sa poligamiya ang pamiya ni Bae – ang pag-aasawa ng higit pa sa isa. Wala silang makitang magandang dahilan para talikuran ni Fahad si Bae. Nagbunga ito ng maratabat sa pamilya.

“Lagi kaming nandito para sa ‘yo. Alam mong mahal na mahal ka namin,” sabi ni Farra, panganay na kapatid ni Bae.

Isang hatinggabi, isang babaeng mahaba ang buhok ang nakita ni Aimah sa kanyang panaginip, nakatalikod ito sa kanya. Mapanglaw ang mga mata ng babae, humihingi ng saklolo at umiiyak habang ang kaliwang kamay nito ay duguan. Huminga nang malalim si Aimah at saka siya dumilat. Bigla siyang napabalikwas nang maulinigan niyang umuungol si Bae. Nagpapang-abot ang hininga nito. Nasa sulok ng kwarto si Bae at nanginginig.

Nataranta si Aimah. Sinusumpong na naman ng sakit sa puso si Bae. Ginawa niya ang first aid na kanyang nalalaman hanggang sa mapakalma ang kaibigan.

Bumalik sila sa higaan. Narinig pa rin niya ang paghikbi ni Bae samantalang nakikiramdam si Aimah. May dalawang oras ding tahimik nang gabing iyon. Akala ni Aimah ay mahimbing nang natutulog si Bae. Kaya umidlip na siya. Ngunit isang kalabog ang gumimbal kay Aimah.

“Allahuakbar! Bakit mo ito ginawa?” Pasigaw na tanong ni Aimah. Panay ang punas ni Aimah sa kaliwang kamay ni Bae. Sunod-sunod ang patak ng dugo sa kamay nito na tinadtad ng hiwa ng blade.

“Banda giya i kabaya i Fahad, Aimah. Ganon din ang babae na matutuwa dahil magiging ganap na silang malaya,” sagot ni Bae.

“Aydo! Phamliin! Kung gusto mo siyang magsisi, magpatuloy ka sa buhay mo. Mabuti kang tao at matalino ka kaya hindi ko inaasahang maiisip mong gawin ito. Hindi ito ang solusyon sa lahat. Mabuhay ka at ipakita sa kanilang masaya ka at doon mararamdaman ng asawa mo ang pagsisising pinakawalan ka niya!”

“Ya Allah, pasensya na, wala kasi akong maisip kundi ang wakasan ang buhay ko. Hindi ako makapag-isip nang matino ngayon,” pagtatapat ni Bae sa kaibigan.

“Sige, inumin mo itong tubig. Huwag mo nang uulitin ito. Alam mo bang hindi ka tatanggapin sa langit kung nagkataon? Sa tingin mo ba, matutuwa ang lahat kung natuluyan ka? Bibigyan mo pa ng problema ang pamilya mo, rido ang iiwan mo sa kanila. Gusto mo bang magkaubusan kayo ng lahi? Mag-isip ka nga,” pagpapaunawa ni Aimah kay Bae.

“Hindi na ito mauulit, pangako,” banayad na tugon ni Bae. Tinungo niya ang banyo upang mag-ablution. Pagbalik ng kwarto ay nag-salaah.  Nanalangin siya at humingi ng tawad sa Panginoong ALLAH.

Tuloy ang magandang buhay kay Bae. Sumasama na siya lagi sa mga kaibigan. Ibinalik niya ang dating mga ngiti at biro. Wala na siyang aasahan kay Fahad, kahit text o tawag man lang. Ang mga kaibigan na lang muna niya ang kanyang kasama sa tawanan at sa iyakan na rin. Ang pamilya ang tanging higit na makakaunawa at susuporta sa kanya, sa kanila ay iuukol niya ang lahat ng tiwala at pagmamahal.

Mag-iisang taon na silang kasal. Isang taon sa bilang, ngunit hindi sa pagsasama bilang mag-asawa. At ang nalalabing isang buwan na sana’y pupuno sa isang taong iyon ay siya palang magwawakas nang tuluyan sa kanila bilang mag-asawa. Akala niya ay madali lang kalimutan ang isang Fahad. Ngunit nagkamali siya. Lagi pa rin niya itong naiisip. “Mahal ko siya pero ayaw ko ng dowaya. Alam kong siya ang may hawak ng talak pero makikiusap akong isauli niya ako sa pamilya ko,” usal niya sa sarili.

Huminga nang malalim. Pakiramdam niya’y gumaan ang kanyang kalooban.

Pauwi na si Fahad sa Pilipinas. Uuwi siya para makipagkasundo kay Bae, subalit napigil siya ng pagsusuka at pagsakit ng tiyan ng bagong asawa.

Wala nang hinihintay na Fahad si Bae. Sa isang sulok ng kanyang kuwarto ay natagpuan niya ang sariling takot na takot. Nakatitig sa kanya ang isang babaeng may dalang gulok.  Parang kinukurot ang kanyang dibdib dahil nahihirapan siyang huminga.

Tumakbo siya palabas ng kanyang kuwarto. Sinundan niya ang liwanag na nakita. Sa isang lagusa’y nakita niya ang lalaking nakahandusay. Nilapitan niya ito, duguan habang nakatali ang mga paa’t kamay. Humihingi ito ng saklolo sa kanya na para bang kilalang-kilala siya nito. Ito na naman ang lalaki sa kanyang panaginip, subalit ngayo’y malinaw niyang napansin ang suot nitong singsing.

Nagawa pa niyang tingnan ang kanyang palasingsingan. Suot niya ang wedding ring nila ni Fahad na kapareho ng suot na singsing ng lalaking nakahandusay. Sa likod ni Bae ay naramdaman niya ang pagbaon ng isang matalim na bagay. Alam niyang ito ang gulok na dala ng babae.

Sa labas ng bahay ay kumakatok si Aimah ngunit hindi siya pinagbubuksan ng pinto ni Bae. Marami pang katok ang sumunod. Nag-alala na si Aimah, kaya sapilitan niyang sinira ang door knob.  Dali-dali niyang tinungo ang kwarto nila ni Bae.

“Bae, tanghali na, gising na. Bae, Bae,” malakas ang tinig ni Aimah habang tinatapik-tapik ang kaibigan.

Hindi pa rin kumikilos. Kinakabahan at nananalangin na nang todo si Aimah na sana’y hindi totoo ang tumatakbo sa kanyang isipan. Natutulog pa rin ang kaibigan.

Hinawakan niya ang kamay ni Bae at naramdamang malamig na ito, “Innalillahi wainna ilayhi rajiun. Lailahailallah. Lailahailallah…” Malakas at paulit-ulit na sigaw ni Bae habang tumatangis na niyakap ang kaibigang wala nang buhay.

 

 

Almera A. Alimoden

It was a bright and sunny afternoon. The market was full of life—people were buying vegetables, children were laughing, and merchants were calling out prices. Everything felt normal until a loud voice broke through the noise.

“Help! Help! Someone stole my bag!” a woman cried out, panic in her voice.

People turned to look. Some ran toward the direction she pointed. Others stayed, watching the scene unfold. A few men tried to chase the thief, but the culprit was too fast and got away.

Just then, the woman continued shouting. A man in the crowd asked, “Do you remember his face?”

“Yes!” she answered. “He’s a fish vendor. What should I do now? I never thought that he would steal something from me.”

“What was he wearing?”

“A white shirt, blue jacket, and a short jean.”

By the end of the day, the story had reached every part of the town. Everyone was talking about the woman, the stolen bag, and the fish vendor who took it.

Among the crowd that day stood Hashim, a quiet and observant man who had only come to the market to visit a distant relative. He hadn’t joined the chase, but he watched closely. And he seems to recognize the man.

“Ameen…” he whispered to himself.

Ameen was his neighbor—a hardworking fisherman who supports three children. His wife died after giving birth. Known for his humility and honesty, Ameen had always kept to himself, focusing only on his livelihood and his children’s well-being.

Later that afternoon, Hashim returned home, hoping that what he feared was untrue. But there he was—Ameen—still in that same white shirt and blue jacket, at the front of his house.

“That has to be him,” Hashim thought. “It must be Ameen.”

And he was not wrong. Indeed, it was him.

On the same day, Hashim told others.

“Ameen stole something from the market.”

“No way,” someone said. “He’s a good man.”

“I swear, I saw him with my own eyes,” Hashim insisted.

At first, the neighbors didn’t believe it. But the rumor spread quickly. Soon, even those who liked Ameen started to wonder.

“Maybe life is just too hard for him. He has three kids. Maybe he didn’t have a choice,” they whispered.

Ameen had no idea people were talking about him. He continued with his daily routine—cooking, caring for his kids, and preparing to go fishing. On his way to the lake, he passed by a group of elders.

“Ameen! Going fishing again?” one of them, Sofiya, called out with a smile.

“Yes,” Ameen answered.

“Be careful,” Sofiya laughed, “you might catch a fish that is off-limits.”

The others laughed too. Ameen didn’t understand the joke but laughed along politely and walked away.

As he walked through the neighborhood, he heard children calling him a thief. People stared at him with judging eyes. His heart sank. He realized then what Sofiya had meant. He was on everyone’s lips. People were gossiping. And somehow, they all believed he had done something wrong.

Meanwhile, Hashim went to the police station to report the culprit in the theft.

“Sir, I’m here to report what I saw at the market yesterday,” he said.

The officer looked up. “You mean the case about Ameen?”

“Yes, that one!” Hashim replied quickly.

The officer shook his head. “That case was already solved. Ameen came in soon after the incident. The truth is that the woman refuses to pay for the fish she bought. So, he followed her, took the bag, and brought it directly to our station, hoping that he would obtain his right. Thankfully, the woman arrived.”

Hashim stood frozen. His heart dropped. He was wrong all along. And worse, he had helped spread false information about an innocent man. He returned home filled with guilt. The damage was done. Everyone already believed Ameen is a thief. People avoided him and his children were left out of games. Customers stopped buying from him; he was completely isolated with his children and never talked with the neighbors. His grace and smile gradually faded. He was ashamed to go outside and work, but he still did, because he had.

Even when Aling Sofiya’s hen went missing, neighbors quickly blamed Ameen again.

“He hasn’t been working. Maybe that’s why,” they whispered.

This time, Hashim couldn’t stay quiet.

“Stop blaming him!” he shouted. “Did anyone see him steal anything?”

But deep down, Hashim was angry at himself, not just at the others. He knew that he was the one who lit the match.

One day, he couldn’t take the guilt anymore. He went to Ameen’s house.

“I came to say sorry,” he said. “I am the one who spread the news about you, stealing at the market. I judged you without knowing the truth. I want to make things right.”

Ameen looked at him. “I will forgive you,” he said quietly. “But only if you do something for me.”

“Anything,” Hashim replied. “Tell me.”

“Help me burn the waste papers I have in my house,” Ameen said.

Hashim did what he was told and came later to him.

“I burned them, just like you asked.”

“Good,” Ameen said. “Now bring back the papers you’ve burnt the way it was. All of them.”

Hashim looked confused. “That’s not possible. They’re ashes now.”

Ameen nodded. “Exactly. That’s what I want you to understand. The same way those papers turned to ashes and cannot be brought back, your words did the same to me. You burned my name. My place in this neighborhood. And no matter what you do, you can’t bring that back.”

Hashim’s heart broke. Tears welled in his eyes. He finally understood the weight of what he had done.

 

 

Abdulhamid C. Alawi, Jr.

Khalil came into the world as a symbol of a town’s resilience in the face of natural calamities. Khalil was born in Bubong, Tugaya, during the late 1950s. He grew as beautifully as his community, which was gracefully recovering from the earthquake of 1955. As a young man, his body slowly and steadily gained strength as he joined his community in rebuilding their houses with sturdier structures.

“Khalil! Join us, boy!”, his father called him from the masjid with its door being refurbished. In Tugaya, restoring a door or any wooden part of the masjid is another masterpiece being crafted. Ranaw bows down to their carving skills.

The boy came, sat, and watched his elders. At times he assisted in lifting logs in place after being formed into wooden masterpieces. In a matter of days, he was able to summon enough confidence to hold the tools. His father and uncle patiently taught him the strokes. They initially expected that he could be in for a long grind.

In their time, standards were high. While tourists these days bargain for shallow and poorly crafted wooden carvings at Davao’s Aldevinco or Manila’s Quiapo, the early versions had leaf and petal curves of dapal, potyok, and todi etched deeply into the wood for at least two inches. Boring into the wood took a lot of effort because only the oldest, toughest lumber was chosen. The finest curvatures of pako rabong and lawi can only be done in such, probably, ancient hardened timber. No tree in Ranaw now comes half the age of what used to be brought down from the Great Mount Gurain. These were the levels of artwork that made the impressive torogans of the past.

The boy was not difficult to train, as it turned out. Genes may have played a role or he knew his passions at an early age. His uncle had him advancing in skills quickly. He even added some personal strokes of his own, although generally, the traditional masterful strokes that Maranaw were known for dominated.

“What did I tell you? He is a natural,” his father exclaimed.

Khalil also did well in madrasah. He walked daily to school, routinely aced schoolwork, and walked back home along the natural beauty of Bubong that has given him creative inspirations. He enjoyed Arabic calligraphy the most. He saw the various inscriptions at home, and when the same Holy Verses were presented in another form in the Quran he had in the madrasah, he felt a jolt of excitement. Rapidly, he again progressed in knowing various strokes in Magrebi and Diwani. He mastered, too, when to relax for the informal and modern ones.

The boy took pride in his carving and calligraphy. However, the real masterpieces were in his imagination.

He had heard of the grand welcome for his cousin Luqman. Luqman, who was at least fifteen years his senior, had arrived after studying in Madinah. Khalil’s family shared they wanted him to be next in the clan’s growing list of Islamic scholars. He visualized himself in such a status too.

He saw himself giving eloquent sermons in the same masjid where his clan’s woodworks and calligraphy are displayed. He would sit right in the middle during Friday sermons delivered by Kaka Luqman and looked around, imagining it all play out in his own future at the backdrop of elegant art.

On top of that, he was an obedient son who played actively until adolescence. He was an active lad but never to the detriment of his studies or duties. Relatives liked him for all that he was. In fact, he was also good-looking. Considering his family’s lineage, he was a promising young lad for his community. Those were the best times of his life. Khalil was indeed the darling kid of his town.

Unfortunately, conflict caught up with him. Rido and its vagaries necessitated changes. Male members of his family were willing to kill to prove that the family intended to maintain their prestige and maratabat. In return, other younger men like him had to flee due to communal fear of retaliation against them. That was another aspect of being the apple of his relatives’ eyes. Young nobles had to be saved. He had to leave his hometown and madrasah. Literacy was relegated to a lower station in the order of priorities.

Khalil suddenly became an ever-adjusting young man in Metro Manila. He lived with his elder cousin. Since there were no integrated schools yet, instead of starting over in school, he chose to work and earn for himself and his family back home. At a young age, he realized that without education, all he could earn in the Philippines were crumbs. Moreover, as a Muslim in 1970s Manila, the prospects of finding a respectable job were bleak. Prejudices based on his name and accent were common.

He learned something from his cousins who returned from Saudi Arabia. They said that hefty sums of riyals came with less discrimination in religious life. His decision came quickly, as many Filipinos were going abroad. With some help from relatives, he was able to gather the right set of documents. Saudi Arabia was the prime destination for him. His main motivation, aside from earning, was learning. For him, his arrival in Jeddah was an opportunity to be closer to the Two Holy Cities. He intended to work in Jeddah but fantasized about being able to study, as others had completed their studies at a university in Madinah or Makkah.

Once abroad, the young overseas contract worker (OCW) realized his contract to be actually unfavorable for him. He returned home after two years empty-handed but with better strategies for his next contract. A few contract extensions allowed him to save. He spent a large sum on the studies of his nephews and nieces and landed another contract. The next tour of duty was as tough as the bruising Middle Eastern conflict in Kuwait. He ended up as a TNT, or Tago Nang Tago, the Filipino slang for a person in hiding. He hid among his fellow Filipinos until finally, after a long wait, the Philippine Embassy repatriated him back home.

He flew, this time to Riyadh, one last time. The Philippine Government now referred to him as an Overseas Filipino Worker, with supposed added respect and benefits. Politicians capitalized on calling him a modern-day hero. They were indeed heroes in terms of their sacrifices. In terms of government services for them, that is another story.

Towards the end of his last stint abroad, Khalil started to reflect. All those years, he had forgotten about his studies. There were not many options for those who wanted new skills and knowledge. He stared at his aged face in the mirror and conceded that he had been discriminated against by Arabs whom he thought were his brothers, his rights not amply supported by his government, and generosity likely taken advantage of by relatives.

He finally decided to rest and went directly to his hometown. His Kaka Luqman was still celebrated not just as an aleem but also as a retired public servant who was thrust into public office during the height of Ulama joining Ranaw politics in the 1990s. Khalil was proud of how things had gone with his cousin. He tried to ignore it, but as he went for prayer in the masjid, it sank in. He was saddened by what had happened to his innocent promises to himself, beautifully drawn like the wooden okir and calligraphies in the masjid. They had all become naught. He felt the need to surrender those dead hopes he had held onto for too long and tried to be at peace with himself.

Khalil never married and had no children to his name. The Madinah diploma had become impossible, and most of his savings were short-lived. He learned soon that all he had with him was liver cirrhosis and a few more months. He passed away with rubbed-out dreams and unrewarded resilience amidst the many man-made issues in his hometown, in Metro Manila, and abroad.