The power clicked off in an instant, leaving Mr. Lee alone
inside a house that was large, dark, and empty.
He got out of his chair and traced the hard corners of his
furniture. First, the edge of his large executive desk, then the polished lip
of the glass-topped end table, then the brass rivets along the beaded ridge of
the leather sofa. He tapped his foot across the floor to the facing wall and
slid his hand along the chair rail, using it as a guide to the basement door.
Windows were shut and locked tight. The ai was stale and
stiff. The house was barely able to breathe. Mr. Lee headed downstairs, using
the little bit of light from his cell phone to light the way to the circuit
box, cautiously stepping through the minefield of construction materials strewn
across the floor. It was another of Eiselle’s new projects for the house –
something else to entertain guests and clients.
Mr. Lee opened the circuit box and turned each button off
and on, flipping through the switches in succession. They clicked loudly, but
the house remained dark. In fact, the only light came from his cell phone. In
time, that also faded to black and left Mr. Lee in the dark. He pushed a button
on his cell phone and used the light to investigate the switches for a few moments.
He methodically flipped through them again, but there was only the hollow
clicking sound that echoed off the concrete walls. He made a call to Marco that
went directly to voicemail. He headed upstairs and ventured out back to the
guesthouse, in search of his groundskeeper.
“Marco!” called Mr. Lee, “I need your help inside the house.
I can’t get the electricity to work again.”
“That’s probably because of the blackouts.”
“Blackouts?”
“Yes, you know, rolling blackouts. We have them every few
days to avoid major power outages.”
“Oh.”
Mr. Lee folded his arms across his chest and stared at Marco
for a moment. It was a long moment. Marco just stared back. He’d figured he’d
told the old businessman enough and he’d figure it out for himself eventually.
“Don’t we have a generator?”
“We subverted that electricity for the power washers and
pool cleaning this morning.”
“You did what?”
“We needed it for Ms. Eiselle’s party. She said....”
“Please don’t bring her into this. Isn’t there any way to
get it running again?”
“There is a little power left, but it’s harder to start a
generator than it is to keep it running.”
“There’s got to be a way.”
“Maybe I can get it started, but maybe not. The power should
be on in the morning.”
“Let’s fix the generator now. I have lots of work to do.”
“Okay, Mr. Lee, but I can’t promise anything.”
“I don’t want promises anyway.”
Ms. Eiselle arrived a short time later, pulling her little
red BMW into the turnaround at the front of the Lee Estate. When she saw the
house unlit, she turned around and immediately headed back out again.
“There’s no way I’m getting sweaty and gross when I can
spend the night in a nice hotel,” she muttered.
Even though none of the streetlights worked, the flow of
traffic kept the streets of Sarangani well lit. Street cart vendors also worked
by the dim incandescent glow of their vehicle’s headlights. All in all, it was
an easily manageable situation. It was the everyday situation during the rainy
season.
Eiselle looked down towards the coast. The lights were off
inside every hotel and resort surrounding the bay. Fishing boats were the only
evidence of life as their deck lights dotted the shore.
Ms. Eiselle drove directly away from the Estate, eager to
get away from the darkness and wetness of Sarangani.
Vehicle lights quickly faded into her rear view mirror as
she sped north on the old coastal highway. The coldness and blackness of the
bay took the place of Sarangani city lights as the coast stretched along her
driver’s side window, swallowing up all available light.
She dug around in her purse with here one free hand and
gripped the steering wheel with the other. Her fingers searched through folds
of leather until she grasped onto a cigarette and popped it into her mouth. She
immediately tasted the cigarette’s cool menthol-flavored tobacco on her pursed
lips. Even without lighting it, the taste was smooth and sensual. She flicked
the lighter and it sparked a few times before catching fire. It cast a bright
orange glow throughout the car’s interior as she lit the tip. With one long,
slow drag, the cigarette’s ember cast a golden orange glow on the tan leather
seats. She held her breath for a moment and her nerves seemed to melt - at
least until she hit the provincial road.
It was pocked with cracks and potholes – one of the many
deteriorated works projects that hadn’t seen good days in almost a
half-century.
“Muther pucker!” she spat out, “these stupid, stupid
mutherpucking roads. I hate this pucking place!”
Five decades earlier, it was a different time, though.
Eiselle Santiago wasn’t yet born and neither was Rosalia Sasfy. In fact,
Rosie’s mother was a child back then, living just southwest of Metro Manila
with an extended family of parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins.
Arvind and Jonny were teenagers, too, living in the barrios of Sarangani.
President Marcos’ first presidential term began in 1965. It
was a time of promise. He created national infrastructure programs that
improved the highways, bridges, and rail systems. He was the one responsible
for the increase in domestic coconut, banana, and rice production. In fact, the
Filipino rice farmers doubled rice production and became exporters for the
first time in the region’s history.
He also created a National Children’s Hospital as well as
the Philippine Kidney, Heart, and Lung Centers, responsible for saving a
multitude of Pinoy lives. Additionally, Marcos ordered the construction of the
Golden Mosque, to help ease Catholic-Muslim tensions.
However, by the end of his first term, the sweet taste of
liberation began to sour. Marcos installed friends, relatives, and colleagues
into prominent corporate and political positions, ousting any ex-pats and
foreign nationals.
Marcos enacted martial law in 1972, dismantling the Filipino
Congress, curtailing the free press, imprisoning oppositionists, and creating a
socialized works program.
Citing threats of both Communist and Muslim insurgence, a
Congressional vote overturned the Presidential term limits and elected Marcos
to a non-expriing third-term. In a thankless response, he entrenched the
populace and militarized the country, expanding the Philippine Army from 65,000
to over a quarter million. That employed the poor. However, it also pushed
military officers to take over the free press.
Marcos also established the military youth program called Kabataang Barangay – or the
“Village Youth”. It was originally described as a local legislature for to
encourage children’s rights, before long it turned into something very
different. Children aged 15-18 were shipped off to rural indoctrination camps
and trained in Filipino nationalism and paramilitary training. Filipino
opposition leaders, like Ninoy Aquino, were imprisoned for actions of dissent.
Others often met more harsh treatments.
The Marcos regime, which had been backed by the United
States, had become despotic and corrupt. The Filipinos were becoming tired of
working hard for very little reward while politicians and business executives
lived a lush life. By 1983, they wanted change.
Aquino, who had been imprisoned for a decade, was sent to
the United States for urgent medical care at the request of President Marcos.
However, when he returned three years later, Aquino stepped out onto the runway
at Manila Airport and was assassinated on international television within a minute
of his arrival.
Rumors flew around the globe. Marcos attempted to silence
critics by staging a snap election. Corazon Aquino, Ninoy Aquino’s wife, ran as
his opposition. After votes were tallied, Marcos won by over 1 million votes.
However, there were rampant rumors of vote tampering. Several poll workers
walked off in disgust.
The people held demonstrations and protests that culminated
in the EDSA uprising. Over two million Filipinos gathered on the EDSA highway
as tensions ran high among the Archbishop of Manila, Marcos’ chief of Defense,
several officers in the Philippine Army, and Cory Aquino herself.
After a thorough investigation, the committee determined
there was widespread election fraud. Aquino moved into the Presidential Palace.
Many of political appointments were overturned and foreign interests returned
to power. Filipino wealth deteriorated in the following decades and the
infrastructure crumbled with each passing rainy season.
“My mother pucking roads!” shouted Eiselle.
She angrily flicked her half-finished cigarette out the
driver’s side window and looked up the road.
When she approached the outskirts of General Santos City, just a
ten-kilometer drive to her childhood home in South Cotabato. The streets were a
marked improvement over the national road. Traffic thickened and then came to a
standstill as she reached the outskirts of the city. Up ahead, a mound of mud
covered the road into Gensan.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid.”
Eiselle cursed herself. She cursed the rains, the winds, the
darkness and the mud-covered road, too. It was just her luck, she thought, no
matter what decision she made, it always seemed to turn out all wrong.
Even though her family lived in South Cotabato and that was
possibly hours away now, Eiselle had cousins in General Santos City. Maybe
she’d just called it quits and stop there for the night.
Jeepneys had cut rows of tire tracks around the mudslide and
a steady flow of traffic crossed this way and that. Eiselle followed along as
vehicles funneled into the gap and towards the only available route to Gensan.
“Come on, come on,” she urged the luxury sports car as the
back tires slid towards the cliff. She grasped the steering wheel with both
hands as she clenched the cigarette between her teeth. She accelerated through
the mud, which only caused the car to fishtail violently to the left. A
teenaged boy stood in the center of the road with his hands shoved forward.
“Stop, ma’am! Stop!”
She revved the engine until the back left tire caught a rut.
“God, damn it!”
“Ma’am!” the boy stood directly in front of Ms. Eiselle’s
red BMW. The car’s exterior was painted brown and the undercarriage was caked
in mud. The boy motioned for her to roll down her window. She pressed the
button and down it went.
“Ma’am, let me help push you out.”
Eiselle took a long, puff on her cigarette and blew the
smoke through her nostrils in one hot breath.
“Alright, push me out.”
“Don’t drive too fast. Let the tires grab onto the dirt.”
He moved to the rear of the car. A group of boys gathered
behind her car as they joined in the push. Slowly, the car ground its way
through the mud. However, Ms. Eiselle revved the engine again when the car
began to slide and stall.
“Ma’am, ma’am. Ma’am!”
He struck the heel of his hand against the trunk, hitting it
with a swift, sharp blow. Ms. Eiselle responded by immediately stomping on the
brakes. She opened the driver’s side window and out poked her head.
“What happened? Did I hit something?”
“No, ma’am, you didn’t hit anything.. Just drive more
carefully.”
Eiselle nodded. If she’d realized the boy was the one who
hit the car, she might have reacted differently. As it was, this time she drove
more carefully and the going was easier. When she passed through to the other
side, she stopped and rolled down her window again.
“Little boy! Come here! Come here, little boy.”
Eiselle sucked air through her pursed lips, calling the boy
like a common street mutt. She clutched an offering of pesos in her hand. He
glanced down at her carefully manicured fingers for a moment, admiring their
glitzy red glow as she jangled the coins in front of him. He smiled as he
looked her over. She simply glowered at the little street urchin. He hadn’t
done it for a tip, but he held out his hand anyway. She posited a pile of pesos
into his dirty little palm and quickly withdrew her hand.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
She nodded to him and drove onward into the city. More
mudslides stood in the way, but none as troublesome as the first. Workers had
already cleared most of the debris out of the way. Locals took care of the
rest. When Eiselle reached her cousin’s house in the barrio, she heard the
rumble of a small gas generator coming from the backyard. A single bright white
light shone on a group of people with shovels and rakes. Eiselle investigated
the generator for a few seconds. Extension cords stretched from the mechanical
monster like tentacles feeding a small bit of life force to the surrounding
houses.
“Is that the one and only Eiselle Santiago?”
“Not to correct you, but now it’s Eiselle Lee, my dear.”
“What are you doing way out here?”
“I was headed to a hotel for the night and I thought you’d
like to come along.”
“As you can see, I’m fighting the weather tonight, but it’s
so very good to see you!”
“It’s good seeing you, too.”
It was her cousin, Lorna, who also happened to be one of
Eiselle’s best childhood friends. A group of neighbors was in her backyard,
removing mud from her backyard. Eiselle took one look and clicked her tongue.
“Every rainy season, it’s always such a terrible mess. I
remember when your father would pay us a peso for each wheelbarrow we hauled
out of here.”
“Yeah, I wage war with the mudslides every rainy season.”
Eiselle nodded, “Come with me to Sweetbay Resort.”
“I’ve got work here.”
“It is early in the season,” said Eiselle, “You know if you
clean it now, the stupid mud will just come back, as strong as ever.”
Lorna propped herself on the shovel.
“Come on, let it go
for one night.”
“Let me get cleaned up first.”
“Don’t use your grubby shower. There’s no hot water here,
anyway. Take a real shower at Sweetbay.”
“Alright, I’ll go pack a bag.”
Lorna put down her shovel and left her troubles behind. The
ridge, however, didn’t truly belong to Lorna, anyway. In fact, nobody knew who
owned the hilly area behind the houses. It had always just been there. It was
unkempt and uncared for, so it became the shared responsibility of the entire
neighborhood.
Lorna quickly packed her things and away she escaped with
Eiselle.
“I think I should’ve stayed.”
“Don’t be so negative. You need this as much as anyone. Sit
back and relax already.”
Lorna heaved a sigh as Eiselle reached between the seats and
pushed the button control on Lorna’s seat. The motor whined as it slowly
reclined. Lorna contorted herself in the seat and tried to relax. Eiselle
switched the air conditioner to high. Lorna grabbed a shirt from her backpack
and draped it over her shoulders.
“Now that feels good.”
Eiselle cut through the mud-slicked roads of Gensan and
South Cotabato to reach Sweetbay Resort, which sat on the western half of the
two-prong Sarangani province at the southwestern tip of the archipelago.
Unlike the eastern part, which held the Sarangani Highlands
and the pristine white beaches of resort towns like Glan and Gumasa, the
western beaches directly faced the South China Sea. The artificially bleached
sand that had been dumped on top of the original black volcanic sands was not
protected like those within the confines of Sarangani Bay.
“Oh, look at that,” said Eiselle, “that just won’t do.”
The South China Sea dumped its roughage along the beach
outside Eiselle’s ocean view window. Eiselle picked up the phone and called the
front desk.
“Hello, ma’am. Did you get checked into your room okay?”
“No, not at all. The beach is covered with seaweed and
slime. How long will it be until you do something about that?”
“Ma’am, I could move you to another room.”
“Won’t the beach still look the same from another window?”
“Um…ah…yes, ma’am.”
“Then what good are you?”
“I can get you a room at the poolside.”
“Is the pool dirty, too?”
“No, ma’am, we’ve got it covered with a tarp.”
“Then what good is that?”
“I’m so very sorry ma’am…”
“Oh, just forget it.”
Eiselle slammed the phone and drew the curtains shut.
Meanwhile, Lorna emerged from the shower, shiny and new.
“What’s wrong?”
“This place is an absolute dump.”
“What do you mean? I think it’s beautiful.”
“Look out here.”
Eiselle pulled away the curtains for the big reveal.
“At least we have lights and hot running water.”
“Yes, at the very least we have that. What a pucking dump!”
While emotions ran high in Maasim, Rosie and company took
things in stride at the Academy. The crowd there was just intent on riding the
storm out until morning.
“Can you believe those winds?” said Dalisay.
“Get away from that doorway!” scolded Mrs. Rana.
“Don’t worry, mom, I’m safe and secure.”
“It’s too dangerous out there.”
Dalisay stretched an arm to each side of the door frame and
leaned forward into the cool, wet breeze. She watched the bamboo trees as their
leaves chattered in the wind. Her thoughts immediately turned to home.
“I wonder how daddy is doing.”
“I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
The mighty heads of palm trees whipped in the strong sea
breeze, their windswept leaves fluttered like flags, tattered and torn. Their
elastic trunks bowed halfway to the ground. Dalisay was not reassured by her
mother’s convictions at all.
“Maybe I should text him.”
“If you do that,” said her mother, “he might venture out
into the rain and mud. Besides, it is dark outside. How do you feel about
worrying your father on a night like this?”
Dalisay loosened her grip on the door frame and retreated to
the area next to her sister.
Joy, who sat just beside Mariposa, wrinkled her nose and
stretched her neck forward. She peered through the bangs that hung over her
eyes, watching Dalisay’s every move.
Dalisay sat down and pulled her knees to her chest. She
folded her arms over her knees and rested her chin on her hands. She stared
across the room. Joy glanced towards the far wall, too.
“Wacha’ lookin’ at?”
Dalisay glanced down at Joy.
“It’s nothing, really.”
“No, it must be something.”
Joy sat right next to Dalisay and copied her gaze.
“You must be lookin’ at the map.”
Dalisay shook her head.
“Then it must be the clock.”
“No, I’m not really looking at anything.”
But, of course, Dalisay was looking at Brian’s roughly drawn
chalkboard map. She thought about the Rajahs and Islam and Mohammed. She
thought about the tiny alabaster statue of Mary Magdalene outside the Academy
doors that glowed pale blue in the darkness. She thought about Magellan and Legaspi,
too. What did any of it mean? Why did it even matter?
“Hey,” said a tiny voice. It was Joy.
“Yes, doodlebug?”
Joy giggled. At first, it was a small chuckle, but soon it
erupted into an all-out “Let me rest my
head on your leg.”
Joy tugged downward on Dalisay’s left knee, lowering
Dalisay’s leg just like a drawbridge arm. Dalisay relaxed her legs and crossed
them Indian-style. Joy rested her head on the soft, fleshy part of Dalisay’s
inner thigh. Joy rubbed her cheek on the seersucker fabric of Dalisay’s dress
as it smoothed against her face. It felt so perfectly crisp and cool, even in
this hot miserable night. Dalisay scooted slightly backwards, resting her back
against the hard concrete wall behind her. Joy scooted backwards with her. When
both girls were settled into place, they closed their eyes and listened to the
quiet murmurs of the classroom and the drumbeat of rain on the corrugated tin
roof.
“Hey, Jonny?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“What will we do if the wind and rain continues like this?”
“We’ll just have to make do.”
“What about food and water? What about showers?”
“We’ll figure that out when we get there. For now, let’s
just take it easy and get some rest.”
Brian rose to his feet when most everyone had fallen asleep.
He switched on Rosie’s desk lamp and turned off the overhead lights. A single
pool of incandescent light illuminated the tiny island of desk space. Students
and their parents were assembled into neat little rows, most sleeping happily.
Brian found a small space at the far corner of the room. He squeezed his tall,
lanky body between a cluster of chairs and table legs and made himself as
comfortable as possible.
Brian pressed his face against the smooth concrete slab as
he lay down. It was cool to the touch. It was another small bit of pleasantness
in an otherwise miserable situation. Tomorrow would be another long day.
God willing, the whole flock would get a good night’s sleep.
.
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