“What is it like?” asked Rosie.
“What is what like?”
“The Lee Estate.”
“You know what it’s like.”
“I haven’t been inside. What’s it like inside?”
“It’s nothing much; just a bunch of wasteful things.”
“This map room is nothing much. The Lee Estate must be something.”
Mr. G. looked Rosie up and down.
“Excuse me? The map room is everything. Just like stars at night, one may shine a little brighter than the others, but that just means it’s brighter. No one star is any more important than another. There are dozens of people who depend on us. That map room is our link to every one of them. Just because Mr. Lee sits on a pile of money like King Midas and owns a house high on a hill, that does not mean he has something. The measure of a man is his internal spirit, not his external riches.”
“Okay, okay,” said Rosie. She settled into her chair and remained silent as she finished her bowl of fruit.
It was early in the morning and there hadn’t been much in the way of relief from the weather all night long. Mr. G. had plugged Rosie’s aircon unit into the generator, but the rumbling motor kept her awake for half the night. She finally got out of bed around 3 a.m. and turned everything off. She sat in the stairwell, restless and awake and lost in thought. Street dogs barked in the distance. Still, that singular sound was the most quiet it had been in eight months and Rosie found that quite a relief. At breakfast, her eyes were heavy, but her mind was still spinning.
“Are you going to the Academy today?”
“I don’t think so. There are too many things to take care of around here.”
“Like?
“Like the mess downstairs.”
“Downstairs…of course. How’s your leg?”
“It’s fine.”
“Let me see.”
Mr. G. flinched as Rosie touched the bandage. The anguished look only grew as she pulled the bandage away from his skin.
“It’s infected!”
“It’ll heal, just give it time.”
“I’m taking you to the hospital.”
“C’mon, Rosie, let it heal naturally.”
“By the looks of things, it’ll fall off completely before that happens.”
Mr. G. was reluctant, but Rosie was adamant. She managed the drive and took care of registration, too. However, that was the limit of her help as Jonny insisted he’d be in the good care of the hospital staff.
“The doctors and nurses can take care of me now.”
“Okay, but send me a text if you need anything.”
“The students need you more than I do.”
“Alright, Mr. G. but if you need…”
“Just go to the Academy, alright?”
“Alright.”
“Quit worrying so much. I’ll be fine.”
Rosie took a taxi-trike back to the Academy only to find Brian’s minivan in Mr. G.’s parking spot. A full classroom of children watched as Brian etched navigation lines around a hand-drawn map of the Philippines. Although it only included the three main archipelagos and a smattering of dots and lines, Rosie recognized it instantly. He was leading a discussion on Ferdinand Magellan and Chief Lapu-Lapu.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m teaching class.”
“Oh.”
Rosie took her place at the table next to Dalisay and Mariposa. It wasn’t long until Brian had Rosie’s full attention, too.
“It was the first of November when Magellan passed through the Tierra del Fuego way over here at the tip of South America.”
Dalisay leaned her whole body into it as she raised her hand high in the air.
“Don’t you mean the Strait of Magellan?”
Brian chuckled, “Hold on Dalisay, you’re getting ahead of me.”
He scribbled the island chain on the board and navigated a chalk line through the middle.
“Because he reached the strait on All Saints Day, he named it ‘All Saints Strait’. Just before that time, Magellan had five ships in his fleet, but he lost one in a storm. The crew from another ship had decided to mutiny, but the mutiny was unsuccessful. Some of the mutineers were killed. When Magellan reached the strait, he ordered two scout ships to go into the passage. However, one of the captains and his crew returned to Spain. Now, the fleet only contained three ships. Many of the remaining crew saw the point as a good sign and reaching it was a turning point.”
“When did they name it the Strait of Magellan?”
“That happened much later. Now, Magellan’s three ships traveled westward. It took five long months to cross the Pacific. When they reached the Philippines, the crew was malnourished and hungry. They met a local Datu, or island chief. He escorted the ships to Rajah Humabon in Cebu.”
Dalisay raised her hand again, only to have Brian ignore her for a short while. Dalisay outlasted him as she cleared her throat and stretched her hand into the air.
“Yes, Dalisay?”
“Why are we talking about Magellan instead of the Rajah Humabon?”
“Magellan’s arrival had a greater influence on Filipino culture.”
Dalisay shook her head.
“Yes, Dalisay?”
“The Rajahs were here long before the Spanish and are still here today. My family comes from the Malay.”
“Ah, yes,” said Brian, “the Malay peninsula – the Rajahs, in fact the entire Sultanate migrated from Arabia to India and Malaysia before settling in the southern Philippines, but it was Magellan who converted the Datu of Cebu to Catholicism. In return, the Datu begged for Magellan’s help in defeating a rival clan.”
Dalisay shook her head.
“Yes, Dalisay?”
“Missionaries may have originally come from Arabia, but Malacca is where they lived. Even today, Muslims are the main inhabitants of places like Sulu and the Moro islands. It’s because of the government that Mindanao isn’t its own country.”
Brian hurriedly flipped through Rosie’s lesson plans. As he swept the sweat from his brow, Rosie approached the head of the class.
“Dalisay, we’ve talked about this before. Although the Rajahs were important to Mindanao, so was Magellan. They were the same but different. My family is Filipino, too, and they’re of Spanish descent.”
“Sasfy is Filipino?”
“No, but just like America, the Philippines is a melting pot of cultures, whether it’s Spanish, Portuguese, Japanese, Chinese, Malaysian, or American.”
Dalisay bowed her head. The contentious debates between the pair often ended in a stalemate. In the end, however, both girls managed to widen their point of view.
“When Magellan landed in the Philippines, it was near the Easter holiday. Unlike the rest of his stops, his stay in the Philippines lasted longer. This happened for several reasons.
First, his crew was weakened by the long trip across the Pacific. The sailors used the extra time to heal.
Secondly, Magellan’s crew worked for the King of Spain. Magellan converted many of the Cebuanos to Catholicism.
Thirdly, there was Chief Lapu-Lapu.”
The children had been listening up to that point, but their eyes were starting to glaze over in the late-morning weariness. However, as soon as she spoke Chief Lapu-Lapu’s name, the children came to life.
“The Datu of Cebu and many other tribal chiefs paid tribute to Magellan and converted to Catholicism without much hassle. The tribe of Mactan Island, under the rule of Chief Lapu-Lapu, resisted conversion. The Datu of Cebu also had problems with Lapu-Lapu’s navy, which controlled many trade routes to the island. At the Datu’s request, Magellan attacked Mactan.
Magellan took three ships into the bay but left the one filled with the Datu’s warriors behind, thinking the natives, armed only with swords and wooden shields, would easily be dispatched. He also thought that when the Conquistadors quickly finished off the Mactan warriors, it would impress the Datu’s men.
Fifty conquistadors, clad in plate mail and metallic shields, slogged through the marsh and attacked Chief Lapu-Lapu’s legion of 1500 men.
Needless to say, Magellan underestimated the Mactan tribe. His troops were easy defeated and Magellan himself was killed in battle. One ship became marooned in the thick, muddy swamp. The two remaining ships escaped to the Malaccas. There, they traded for silk and spices before heading across the Indian Ocean, around the southern tip of Africa, and onward to Spain.”
Rosie looked to Dalisay. Dalisay simply smiled.
“Alright, class, it’s time for lunch.”
The children fled to the playground, leaving Rosie and Brian alone in the classroom.
“Thanks for coming to my rescue,” he said.
“No problem. I know how frustrating it can be with these kids – some of the brightest minds in the province and they’re all gathered here, trying to do us in! Sometimes, I just don’t understand why Mrs. Rana doesn’t home school Dalisay and Mari.”
“You know why.”
She did know – the Ranas were busy – always busy. Dalisay’s youngest sister, Shalma, was the reason. She had been stricken with acute pediatric asthma. Her lungs, inflamed and clogged with mucus, were a constant cause for concern. Although Mr. Rana’s furniture shop thrived, he could barely make ends meet at home. Both house and store were in states of disrepair. He’d replaced his employees with Dalisay and Mariposa as soon as they were old enough to work. He used scrap wood to fix storm-damaged walls.
“You never throw something away because you never know when it might be useful,” he always told his daughters.
Dalisay and Mariposa sat with Jose and Joy for lunch. Even though the Jaramillos were much younger than the Rana girls, they always played as a group of four. Jose had a crush on Mariposa and likewise, Joy had a crush on Dalisay. Dalisay always found time for her surrogate little sister.
“What are you having for lunch?” asked Dalisay.
“Mangoes and rice.”
“That’s it?”
Joy nodded.
“I have some homemade sushi, would you like a bite?”
Joy nodded enthusiastically.
Dalisay fed a bite of sushi Joy much in the same way that she’d feed a dog: dropping a single morsel right into Joy’s maul. Even though it was much too big for such a small mouth, Joy managed gulping it down in a single bite.
Dalisay returned to her tray of sushi while Joy scooted closer and whimpered like a puppy dog. When Dalisay held another bite aloft, Joy pulled her paws to her chin and panted happily; another morsel and a very happy pup.
“Alright Joy,” interrupted Rosie, “no more begging, it’s not ladylike.”
Joy frowned until Brian patted her on the head. Then, Joy returned to her own meal of mangoes and sticky rice.
Rosie and Brian sat at the end of the table. While the children laughed and played, the two missionaries were able to talk about work.
“How did you get so many children to attend school today?”
“I went door-to-door, telling parents how important school is for these kids.”
Rosie smiled, “I could never do that.”
“You should. It’s your mission to get students for the Academy. Most of these children will never get a chance to escape otherwise.”
“You make it sound like they’re caged animals.”
“Aren’t they in a way?”
“No – no, they’re not. They’ve just got it tough. Their families depend on them.”
“I know, and that’s the worst part of it all.”
Light winds whipped through the playground as Brian and Rosie ate lunch and enjoyed the antics of the children.
Meanwhile, high on the hill, Mr. Lee’s estate faced challenges all its own. Ms. Eiselle Lee prepared for her cotillion as workers harvested bananas from Mr. Lee’s plantation. She sorted through parchment samples and made her selections for the specially embossed invitations. Outside, farm trucks crisscrossed the property, carving ruts in the otherwise perfectly manicured lawn. It drove Eiselle absolutely mad.
“Arvind, you know I’m having a party, baby. How can you let these men make tracks in my lawn?”
“The cotillion is two weeks away. That’s plenty of time for the landscapers to fix it.”
“Ramadan is coming up. You know we don’t have the workers for that.”
“Marco can hire Catholic workers.”
“Catholics are lazy.”
“You’re Catholic, dear.”
“That’s why I know they are lazy.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll get it taken care of.”
“I hope so. You know how important this party is to me.”
Arvind whistled for one of his laborers. A man jumped off the truck and ran up the hill, dressed head-to-toe in heavy work gear.
“Can you tell Marco that I need to see him as soon as possible?”
“Yes, Mr. Arvind.”
“Good enough.”
Eiselle gave a huff and went upstairs. By the time she returned, Marco arrived at Arvind’s side and was in the kitchen, discussing plans for the cleanup.
Eiselle looked Marco up and down and rolled her eyes dismissively. She snatched the car keys off the foyer table and headed out the door. Marco was well aware of Ms. Eiselle’s antics and just ignored her. Mr. Lee was the one who ultimately signed his paycheck.
“Yes, sir?” said Marco.
“You know Ms. Lee is having a party in two weeks and she needs this lawn fixed before then. Can you do it?”
“That’s no problem, sir.”
“Even with the high holiday coming?”
“You have my word, it’ll be no problem.”
The men shook hands and quickly parted ways. Mr. Lee knew he could count on Marco. He had much larger matters to attend to anyway.
He adjourned to his office and flipped the remote until he found MindaNews.
“Hey-lo Mindanao! It’s Jeanie Abordo reporting from Davao with the latest update on the weather. The steady rainfall mixed with tremors has resulted in mudslides and flooding throughout most of western Mindanao. There are evac warnings in South Cotabato and parts of Gensan. Also, we’re still watching the tidal surge from Kuala Lumpur. It reached the Borneo Archipelago and waves are over fifteen meters as they reached the coast. The only good news is that the island blocks a direct surge. The bad news is that waves will increase throughout the night. Additionally, we’re expecting more seasonal rains. Our meteorologists have forecasted ten centimeters before the day’s end.”
Mr. Lee turned off the television and made his usual round of calls. He began with the firm.
“Good morning, Arvind Construction.”
“Good morning, Jackilyn, it’s Mr. Lee. Is Mary there?”
“I think she was meeting the city planner at the construction site.”
“Right now?”
“I thought that was what she said.”
“Thanks Jackilyn. I guess I’d better get down there.”
Mr. Lee rushed to his car and immediately headed down to the bay. To the south, the first signs of approaching thunderstorms began to appear. Not only were they in Mr. Lee’s sights, but everyone at the Our Lady Lupita watched as thick, black cumulus clouds loomed overhead.
“Look at those palm trees sway,” said Rosie, “we’d better put everything away.”
The children had gone through this drill before. They stuffed papers into plastic boxes and pinned everything else down with bricks and rocks. Strong winds whipped through the playground as everyone headed indoors.
“Stuff your textbooks in your desks and let’s get the windows, too.”
Brian and Rosie removed the metal brackets from the windows and slammed the storm shutters closed. Then, they fastened each one shut. With each closing storm shutter, the room darkened until there were only two flickering fluorescent lights and a single shaft of light streaming through the door.
Everyone assembled in a cluster around Rosie’s desk, scooting the tables as close together as possible. Dalisay sat demurely in her chair, extending her arms over the seat back as she tucked one leg behind the other. She craned her neck backwards and looked towards the playground. She pointed one gentle finger towards the door. Parents began to arrive.
“Hello, Mrs. Jaramillo! What are you doing here?”
“I was so worried about my children!”
“They’re absolutely safe.”
“…And the wind is making all sorts of spooky sounds!” Joy let out a low moan. Other children followed suit.
“Alright, everybody settle down.”
Even in darkness, Joy’s smile lit the room. Additionally, the crowd that gathered outside began to fill the otherwise spacious classroom. Student tables were pushed aside as parents and siblings carved out spaces on the floor next to the students.
In addition to Jose and Joy’s mother, Juvie’s mother and aunt showed up at the Academy. So, too, did Mrs. Rana. It had been no secret that Mrs. Rana was a devout Muslim. She wore the traditional headscarf and shawl, just as her daughters did. Normally, she also took to wearing sunglasses – mostly for modesty, but it had become such a habit that Mrs. Rana could hardly leave home without wearing some sort of eye protection. Today, it was a pair of Ray-Bans with coal black lenses.
It was also no secret that Mrs. Velasco was a devout Catholic and she made no bones about it.
After lunch, Brian and Rosie decided to continue their history lesson.
“Where did we leave off?” asked Rosie.
“We were talking about Chief Lapu-Lapu,” said Juvie.
“Even though Chief Lapu-Lapu defeated Magellan, it was not the end of the Spanish. For forty more years, more conquistadors returned to Cebu to avenge Magellan’s death, but none were successful until Miquel Legazpi of New Spain, which is now Mexico. At that time, ”
The entire group raised their hands. Rosie picked Juvie Velasco.
“It’s present-day Mexico, right?”
“Exactly, Spain was at its strongest under King Philip. They’d settled the Americas and now they were looking to expand to the East Indies – namely the Philippines.”
Juvie’s mother raised her hand.
“Yes, Mrs. Velasco?”
“The Philippines was named for King Philip.”
“That’s right.”
“And…King Philip helped bring Catholicism to the savages.”
Rosie immediately glanced towards the Rana family. Mrs. Rana was tense but silent. Dalisay’s hand, however, went straight to the sky. Rosie took a deep breath.
“Yes, Dalisay?”
“I don’t think it’s right for anyone to say that the original Filipinos were savages. They weren’t the ones invading foreign land.”
“Um…”
“Let me rephrase it,” said Mrs. Velasco, “I just meant the original islanders.”
“Lapu-Lapu was an island hero,” said Dalisay, “Magellan and Legazpi were invaders.”
“So were the Muslims,” said Juvie.
“They were never brutal savages, like all the others.”
Rosie grabbed an eraser and cleared the chalkboard.
“Let’s move onward to something else. There’s not enough light to teach in here anyway.”
“The Muslims,” corrected Juvie, “were conquistadors just like the Spanish. Do you think Lapu-Lapu would’ve been less offended by someone converting him to Islam?”
Little Joy Jaramillo curled into a ball and pressed her hands tightly against her ears as she began humming. At first, it was quiet, but as Juvie and Dalisay continued to argue, Joy’s humming grew louder and louder until it drowned out the two older girls.
“Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!” she shouted.
Rosie, Juvie, and Dalisay stood tall and quiet, three separate towers amid a sea of vagabond worshippers – parents and children seeking refuge from the storms outside. It hadn’t even been apparent up to that point. Every storm shutter rattled under the wind’s mighty force.
Joy exhaled deeply and thoroughly. Her nostrils flared as she breathed in and out.
“Miss Sasfy?”
“Yes, Joy?”
“May I say a prayer?”
“Um…”
“Please?”
Rosie checked the room. The look on everyone’s face was one of solemn indifference. Rosie knew that Joy, the youngest child, always seemed to have the patience and wisdom of a Buddha – happy even in the darkest of moments.
Rosie nodded.
“Dearest Creator of all things tiny and huge, we are thankful for the rain that washes our face just as we are the sun that warms us.
Dearest Creator, even in our different houses, we are thankful for the walls that surround us. We are thankful for the rice and the mangoes and the bananas that nourish us. We are thankful for everything under sun and moon. – Amen.”
The quiet but unanimous echo of Amen spoke volumes as Joy shifted her attention to the friends at her table: Dalisay and Mariposa. The entire classroom shifted its focus, too. Groups broke off into intimate conversations that led to unfettered happiness. Juvie Velasco migrated across the classroom and sat with Dalisay and Joy. Just as always, Joy had managed to untangle things and bring two opposite sides together.
Then, there was the house high on a hill…
“Marco! Marco!”
Marco scurried through the grove and up the hill to the Lee Estate. The mountain ridge had pushed storm clouds aside. The heavy rains that inundated the coast completely missed the Lee Estate. Still, Ms. Eiselle found reason to complain.
She clopped through the dining room in her high heels, investigating each greasy boot print left on the tiled floor.
“Marco! Where are you?”
“I’m down here, ma’am.”
He stopped at the bottom of the staircase. Ms. Eiselle just stood at the edge of the veranda, peering down at him.
“It’s windy out here and you’ve ruined my hair. Come upstairs and let me show you something.”
Marco climbed the long staircase. When he reached the top, Ms. Eiselle stood in the dining room, near the doorway.
“I thought I’d be helpful and point out the mess you made on my floor. You know I just had it installed last month, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then you also know that work boots will destroy the tiles.”
Marco sighed, “yes, ma’am.”
“I am going out to visit the party planner for the rest of the afternoon. Make sure it is properly cleaned before I return.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And no more walking in my house.”
She returned to the city while Marco attended to cleaning her dining room floor. Although Mr. Lee had been the one signing his checks, he wasn’t the one giving the orders. For better or for worse, Ms. Lee had been making all the executive decisions lately.
Of course, life down the hill was like that of a completely different world. Mr. G. may have owned Our Lady Lupita, but it was a kingdom ruled by everyone except the king. This however, was proxy by praise and not spite.
Jonny Gutierrez caressed the shoulder of the tiny alabaster statue of Mary Magdalene as he set foot upon the school grounds. Somehow, it was always a touch of reassurance whenever he needed it most. It had become an action every visitor repeated when they entered the Academy. The carved creases in that shoulder had become smooth with constant wear. Proof that a saint’s work was never done.
“Look! It’s Mr. G!” shouted Juvie.
The entire classroom mobbed Mr. G, making it hard for Rosie to part the crowd and make her way to the old man.
“How’s your leg?”
“Oh, it’s fine. They put a big old bandage on it and told me to keep weight off it.”
“Where are your crutches?”
“They’re in the car.”
Rosie propped her hands on her hips and looked the old man up and down.
“Do us all a favor and have a seat.”
“Okay.”
Brian fetched a chair and Mr. G. sat there next to the doorway. He relaxed in the wet tropical breeze and attended to anyone and everyone that came to sit with him.
Rosie sat at her desk and watched from a distance as Mr. G. greeted the children one-by-one. She thought he looked as busy and happy as Santa Claus on the first of December.
“How are you feeling?” she called to him.
“Rejuvenated and ready to take on whatever comes my way.”
Rosie nodded affirmatively
As wind and rain beat down on the Academy, the children gathered on the playground. Some played basketball and some played hopscotch. Meanwhile, Joy sat with Mariposa and Dalisay as they played a game of jacks.
“Would you like a turn?” asked Dalisay.
Joy nodded enthusiastically.
“You toss the ball up in the air. As it bounces, you snatch jacks into your hand. First, it’s one. Then, it’s two. Then, it’s three, and so on and so on.
Joy dumped the jacks onto the concrete and gave it a try. She tossed the ball into the air and picked up a single jack. Then, she tossed the ball into the air again and attempted two. Her hand already held a single jack. As she scooped for two more, the tiny hand coouuld not hold onto one and collect two more.
“No, no, no,” corrected Dalisay, “you set the one jack aside first.” Put those other jacks down and start over.”
Joy did just that. She collected one, two, and three jacks. On her fourth turn, however, her tiny hands couldn’t grasp four jacks at once. She tried two more ttimes without success.
“I think I’m done with this.”
“Okay,” laughed Dalisay.
Joy turned her attention to the tiny bug crawling through the cracks in the concrete. It emerged onto the playground and scampered across the smooth, flat surface. Joy pressed a thumb onto his body. It flattened slightly for a moment, then rolled into a tight gray-blackk ball as she let loose. Jose reached over Joy’s shoulder and flicked it across the concrete like a shooter marble.
“Don’t!” Joy screeched.
She got up and collected the tiny gray bug into her hands and carefully carried back to the area near the girls.
“It’s just a stupid bug,” said Jose.
“Is not.”
“Is too.”
“Leave her alone,” scolded Dalisay.
Jose plopped down on the concrete behind the circle of girls. He folded his arms tightly and glowered at Dalisay. However, she dismissed him completely.
“Why do you like potato bugs anyway?” asked Jose.
“That’s what they’re called?”
“Oh yeah,” interjected Rosie, “they’re common in Oklahoma. They’re called roly polys, tank bugs, potato mites, potato bugs, but my father called ‘em doodlebugs.”
“Doodlebugs,” repeated Joy, “I like that.”
She mimicked the tiny bug scampering on the ground. Then, she rolled up into a tight little ball and rolled across the concrete.
“Joy!” shouted her mother from the doorway, “stop acting so unladylike! You’re getting your dress all dirty!”
Joy came to her feet and patted down her dress. Her knees, however, were still grimy with dirt. Mrs. Jaramillo rushed out and gave the little girl a spit bath, scrubbing the dirt off of Joy’s body.
With that resolved, Rosie returned to her desk and sat at the head of the class. She just sat and watched all the tiny dramas unfold. She leaned back and crossed her arms across her chest. Mr. G was completely content – almost zen-like. It had eased her tensions about the rain and wind and the long night ahead.
Somehow, the electricity in the air had also rejuvenated her. Come what may, she felt that she was ready for anything, too.
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