It was that very rare morning when Rosie was awake before
sunrise. The reason for her being awake, however, was not entirely her own
doing, but that of a newfound friend. Her cell phone chirped in the middle of
the night with a text message from Ralj, interrupting her sleep.
“It was good to see you yesterday. Our unit is headed to
Basilan and I just wanted to send you a note. Can’t say more, but I’ll talk to
you later.”
Rosie clasped the cellphone against her chest as she closed her
eyes and flashed a happy little smile. She quickly opened her eyes and read it
again. Ralj had taken the time to type everything out word-for-word. That was
funny, she thought, and very gentlemanly of Ralj, too. She checked the time. It
was only two a.m., much too early to wake up.
Sleep, however, had trouble returning to Rosie as her mind
raced. At first, it was the message itself. Why would he send a text at two in
the morning? Why couldn’t he say anything else? What kind of mission was it?
Was he in some sort of danger?
The next few hours passed fitfully as she tossed and turned.
Finally, she she decided to give up on sleep altogether.
She tiptoed through the disarray of sleeping bags and
furniture as she followed the narrow beam of light emitting from Mr. Rana’s
office. Mr. Rana, Mrs. Velasco, Mrs. Serencio, and Brian were already there,
hands curled around coffee cups as they warmed up to the morning.
“You’re up early,” said Mrs. Velasco.
“I couldn’t sleep. Got a text from Ralj.”
“You did?” asked Mrs. Serencio.
Rosie nodded, “it just said the unit was off to Basilan.”
“Did it say anything about Pidro?””
Oh, um, no,” stumbled Rosie. Pidro hadn’t even entered her
mind until Mrs. Serencio had mentioned his name. Rosie was completely focused
on Ralj.
“Well, it’ll be alright,” said Rosie as she poured herself a
cup of coffee.
“Care if I turn on the radio?”
When nobody replied, Rosie cranked the handle and the radio
whirred to life. Then, she took the empty seat next to Mrs. Serencio.
“…continued riots throughout Cotabato along with the recent
tourist kidnappings in Basilan has government authorities concerned about
elevating tensions in and around the region.
The United Nations has been called in and ground forces have
already mobilized in around Isabela City. There have also been reports of
machine gun fire out in the province.”
“Mya, this is Frances Vendiola here at the news desk in
Davao. Is there any truth to the rumor of news blackouts in Basilan?”
“Frances, the Philippine Government has maintained that all
media outlets will be able to report live, but only from select secured
locations within Isabela City.”
“Well, be careful out there, Mya.”
“Will do, Frances, and we’ll keep you up-to-date whenever
news breaks.”
“Thanks Mya for that report from Isabela City. Now, we turn
to Jeanie Abordo in our Weather Center.”
“Hey-lo Mindanao! The weather is looking up! We’re expecting
more sunny weather and clear skies throughout the weekend. Highs still in the
mid to high 30s and no rain in sight.”
The radio droned on, filling in as background noise for the
early risers. Even with coffee brewing in the back office, the aroma was slow
to reach the others, which was just fine by the small group. When Mrs. Rana
joined, the back office became a cozy group of six. All was easy-going as they
waited for the others to rise and shine.
Across the Sulu Sea, Master Sergeant Ralj Licayan manned the
controls of the UH-60 Blackhawk as he sat co-pilot on Team D, bringing up the
rear of the convoy. He watched the single red light on the tail rotor of a
hulking shadow of the Black Hawk in front of him.
“Specialist Serencio and Specialist Gomez, turn on your
night vision goggles and keep your eyes peeled. There’s likely to be hostile
forces positioned near the airfield.”
“Aye, aye, Master Sergeant.”
Pidro sat in the mini-gunners roost on the Blackhawk’s
starboard side. It would face the terminal at the landing zone while Specialist
Gomez sat directly behind him. His roost was the one that would stare directly
towards the surrounding plantations.
Barely nineteen and barely trained by the United Nations
joint task forces on the mini-gun, the Specialists’ nerves were on full alert
as the convoy passed over Tambulian Point.
Tambulian Point was a tiny zit of an island poking out of
the sea just north of Basilan. The convoy would soon cut southwest across the
coast, by-passing the city altogether.
“Convoy leader to team, we’re going black from here on in.
Switch off all visible beacons and turn on full electronic eyes.”
Little yellow clusters of light became white hot spots and
the completed picture suddenly formed in Pidro’s goggles as a sonic zap clicked
in his headset. The world was lit in a million shades of neon green. Fishing
boats and shanties were gathered along the shoreline. Fishermen appeared like
ghostly figures emerging from the darkness.
All four Black Hawks peeled to the left and cut across the
coastline. Rectangular buildings passed by the starboard door in a blur. Pidro
went through breathing exercises, inhaling and holding his breath for a five
count before exhaling slowly through his nostrils.
“We’ve got the liaisons at our 3 o’clock,” called the convoy
lead as all four Black Hawks touched down on the tarmac. As Humvees approached
Pidro’s roost, he shifted the mini-gun’s swing arm forward. Troops quickly
unloaded to his left and right.
“All troops down! Bird A away!”
“All troops down! Bird B away! All troops down! Bird C away!
All troops down! Bird D away!”
The Black Hawks rose a mere one hundred meters and trailed
the ground forces below them. As they hovered just over the tree line, the
canopy of palm fronds waved back and forth in the rush of helicopter exhaust.
Shots came up from within the plantation as tracer bursts
lit up the night. Chopper D reeled backwards, rising high above the action.
Pidro tightened his grip on the pistol grips of his mini-gun
as the G-forces pushed back on his chest. He peered down on the firefights
below. From that distance, it wasn’t much different than all the Saturday
afternoons playing video games at the local movie house during his youth. As a
teen, he fought off zombies in a space rover on some far-off moonscape. Now, it
should’ve felt like something different, but to Pidro, it was all a dream.
“Specialist Serencio!” shouted Master Sergeant Licayan,
“you’re bleeding!”
Unit D’s medic checked his carabiner on the guide wire and
rushed to the lip of the starboard door.
“Come here!” shouted the medic. Pidro turned his head under
the force of the medic’s guiding hand.
“Hold this compress over your nose while I snap you in.”
The medic tied off the harness and clipped a pair of
caribiners into the D-rings of Pidro’s shoulder harness. When the medic
unsnapped the seat harness. Pidro lurched forward. A sudden jerk of pressure hit the top of Pidro’s shoulders. His
arms flailed forward as he lost grip of the nose compress. Blood splattered
across his face as he suffered another sudden jerk backwards. The shoulder
harness carried his entire body weight. The medic reached out and snatched
Pidro back into the cargo hold. Then, he pressed down on Pidro’s shoulders and
pinned the Specialist against the Black Hawk’s deck. Then, he locked Pidro
against his body and secured Pidro in place. Pidro sat there, still dreaming,
as the medic wiped Pidro’s face. As the medic pulled the towel away, it was
completely stained in pink. Pidro fainted at the sight of it.
Across the vast expanse of the Sulu Sea, a stew of emotions
stirred the coffee in Mrs. Serencio’s stomach as the bleakness and grayness of
early morning light filtered through windows and reports from Isabela City
crackled on the radio.
“Mindanao was our ancestral homeland long before it was
called the Philippines. The Philippine government has no right to it, the
United Nations has no right to it, and the United States and Australia
certainly have no right to it, either. Mindanao belongs to the people – the
indigenous ones who were here first.
“Turn it off,” said Mrs. Velasco, “Turn it off. Turn it off.
Turn it off.”
“Wait,” interrupted Mrs. Rana, “he still has something
important to say.”
“In the long run, it is just not that important,” said Mr.
Rana as he reached across his wife’s chest and switched off the radio. Mrs.
Rana glared at him as he settled back into his chair.
“What’s not that important?” said Mr. G.
“Oh,” said Mr. Rana, “nothing much, just the turmoil on
Basilan Island.”
“You know,” countered Mrs. Rana, “many of my relatives live
in and around Basilan.”
“My son is there, too,” added Mrs. Serencio.
Jonny stood in the doorway and tapped a single finger upon
his chin.
“Hmmm…” he said in a long, thoughtful cue, “It is always a
peculiar thing.”
“What is?” asked Rosie.
“How all things are simultaneously important and meaningless
at the very same time. It’s a unique position every person takes within the
universe. We are just little stars – little specks of light watching our
constellations orbit about us – it’s only our observations that indicate our
relative position in the universe.”
“It’s not all that deep,” said Mr. Rana.
“Nothing ever is… o someone. Then again…”
Jonny glanced over to Brian and caught his attention.
“Speaking of relative positions in the universe,” said Mr.
G. as he pointed to Brian and Rosie, “I need you two to wake all the children.
Rosie, I want you to take a few people to get more supplies. Meanwhile, Brian
can keep the rest of the children busy. You can teach a lesson or something.”
“You want me to teach a lesson?”
“I’ve got my teacher’s guide in my backpack somewhere. It’ll
lead you through everything. I’m teaching principles of motion.”
“That sounds like something.”
“You’ll do fine,” said Mr. G., “Mrs. Rana and Mrs. Velasco
can you stir up a mess of breakfast for everyone?”
The women were quite agreeable. The group finished with
their coffee and got to work.
“Alright, everyone, it’s time to get up!”
Brian turned on the lights and they flickered to life
overhead – much faster than most, if not all of the children.
“Wake up sleepyhead,” Brian said to Joy, “It’s time to greet
the sun.”
“I don’t think the sun is awake yet.”
“It’s time to get up.”
“Aw! Come on!” said Joy as she pulled the sleeping bag over
her head. Brian grabbed the sleeping bag by the tail end and pulled briskly.
Joy rolled out of the open end.
“Omigosh! Stop it! You’re killing me!”
“Staying in bed will only make it worse.”
“Okay! I’m up! I’m up!”
Joy sprang up vertically and stood at attention, although
she was still only half-awake.
“What now?”
“You could take a shower.”
“Ohhh,” groaned Joy.
“Come on, it’s good for you.”
Joy picked up her bathing suit and went to the Comfort Room
in the back of the store. Meanwhile, Brian worked on getting everyone else out
of bed while Rosie struggled with her own weariness.
“What’s wrong?” asked Brian, “it’s not like you to drag your
feet.”
“I’m just tired.”
“That’s not like you, either.”
“It’s the text message Ralj sent me. The thought of it kept
me up all night.”
“Oh,” said Brian. He didn’t know why, but he just didn’t
like Ralj that much and Rosie could do better.
“How do you do it?”
“How do I do what?”
“Get through these long days without any sleep.”
“Don’t forget I did two tours in the military.”
“Don’t’ you ever go on autopilot?”
“Autopilot isn’t an option for soldiers. There’s always time
for sleep later.”
As everyone gathered for breakfast, Brian remained on his
feet, holding Rosie’s teaching manual in one hand and a folded pancake in the
other. He circled the tables as he read the text and stuffed dry pancakes into
his mouth, no butter, and no syrup.
When he finished eating, he sat the book aside, but only for a moment as he
quickly washed up and leaned over next to Mr. Rana.
“Do you have any water pails?”
“Take a look inside the Comfort Room.”
“Of course.”
Brian returned with a plastic pail in each hand. Both were
filled with water.
“What are you doing?” asked Joy.
“You’ll have to wait and see.”
“Aww.”
Jonny motioned to Rosie and whispered in her ear. Then, he
pulled some peso notes out of his pocket and handed them to her.
“I’ll drop you off at the store on my way back to the house.
Take this and get some bread and peanut butter. We’ll fix sandwiches for lunch.
We’ll also need plates and utensils. Grab a couple of people to help you.”
“Joy! Juvie! Would you like to come with me grocery
shopping?”
Joy ran up to Rosie’s side and flashed the biggest smile she
had available. Juvie tagged along, but not very far behind the excitable Joy.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.”
It was just a two-kilometer ride from the furniture store to
the Jardin Sarangani Market. People were gathered outside, Inside, the market’s
shelves were bare of all the normal essentials: water, drinks, milk, and ice.
The section where the candles, oil lamps, and fuel oil were stored was empty,
too. The regular bread was gone. All that was left were hamburger and hot dog
buns.
“What’s up with the bare shelves?” said Rosie.
“Do you think it’s from the riots?”
Rosie shook here head, “it’s too orderly.”
“Let’s get these,” suggested Joy.
“I suppose that’ll work.”
Rosie, Juvie, and Joy grabbed all the buns, which cleared
the bread aisle. After they filled their baskets, the three girls went to the
back of the line and waited. It extended from one end of the store to the
other. It was almost an hour before they reached Mrs. Soliman at the cash
register.
“Good morning, girls. How are you?”
“We’re doing just fine,” said Rosie, “but I suppose I should
ask you the same thing. Why is your store empty?”
“Our supplier isn’t able to deliver anything due to the
rioting in Cotabato. We’ve called other suppliers, but since we’re Muslim, none
of the Catholics will deliver to us.”
“There has to be somebody.”
Mrs. Soliman shook her head solemnly as she finished bagging
Rosie’s order.
“That’ll be 1400 pesos.”
“Why do you sell to us? You know we’re Catholic.”
“All the money is the same color at my store,” said Mr.
Soliman as he polished a pair of apples on his shirt and handed them to Juvie
and Joy. Rosie waved Mr. Soliman’s hand to the side.
“I insist,” he said, “What is the American saying? An apple
a day keeps the doctor away.”
Rosie relented as the girls gladly accepted his gifts. Juvie
and Rosie loaded themselves down with plastic bags full of goodies. Meanwhile,
Joy only managed to carry an apple in one hand and a single plastic bag in the
other.
Joy tagged along a few meters behind the older girls.
Meanwhile, Rosie’s thoughts lingered back at Jardin Sarangani.
Rosie had dealt with subtle southwestern racism
throughout her youth. She always fielded the question of “Where are you from?”
and she’d reply, “Norman, Oklahoma.” Then, the asker would inevitably say,
“No…where are you really from?” Rosie would often stand and stare blankly at
the asker. As Rosie grew older, she’d
say “the Philippines” and listen to whatever monologue came her way.
In college, it sometimes seemed worse. Tenured
professors, long overdue for retirement, had lectured at length about racism.
Then, some would scribble racist notes in the margins of Rosie’s Western
Civilization essays..
She’d even dealt with the Ranas and the Velascos. Rosie,
however, always tried to remain neutral.
“My legs are tired,” groaned Joy.
“Oh, Joy. We have a long way to go.”
“But I’m so tired. Can you piggyback me?”
Rosie looked little Joy over. Joy wobbled along the side of
the highway as she took giant bites out of her apple. Rosie crouched down in
front of Joy.
“Alright, hop on.”
Joy climbed aboard, wrapping her tiny feet under Rosie’s
armpits. The front of Joy’s sundress was completely drenched in apple juice.
When Joy wrapped her arms around Rosie’s head, her sticky little fingertips
held on for dear life, pinching Rosie’s vocal cords.
“Joy! Don’t hold on so tightly. You’re choking me.”
“Sorr-eeee!”
“It’s okay.”
Joy pressed her cold little thighs and arms around Rosie’s
waist. The plastic bag bounced on Rosie’s chest.
“Alright, get down for a second.”
Rosie crouched down and Joy hopped off. Then, Rosie grabbed
the bag from Joy.
“I’ll take this and you take your apple.
“No more riding?”
“We’re almost there.”
“Okey-dokey.”
Joy tagged along,
trying her best to keep up with the older girls. By the time they finally
arrived at the furniture store, Joy was beat. She went directly towards her
sleeping bag and plopped on top of it. Meanwhile, Rosie stood behind the
impromptu classroom at one end of the store where Brian was teaching.
“Inertia. It’s one of the basic laws of nature. An object at
rest stays at rest. An object at motion…”
“Stays in motion,” interrupted Dalisay.
“Dalisay, you know about inertia?”
“Rosie teaches us lots of natural science.”
“She did? Good. Then you can take this pail to demonstrate
inertia.”
Brian handed the pail to Dalisay as she stood front and
center.
“Now, Dalisay will swing the pail over her head and the
water will not fall out.”
Dalisay swung the pail back and forth until he had enough
momentum. The children gasped as the bucket made several revolutions over
Dalisay’s head.
“The water inside the bucket wants to go in a straight line.
The outer surface of the pail is keeping it from escaping. That force is called
inertia. Does anyone know the word for the force the water puts on the pail?”
The children all stared blankly.
“Centripetal force,” said Brian.
“I know all about centrifugal force,” said Dalisay.
“Not centrifugal – centripetal. They’re close, but
different. The water exerts centripetal force against the inside of the bucket
– pushing it outward. Centrifugal force is the force the water
would exert against my arm – pulling it outward.”
Dalisay gave Brian a blank look. Rosie waited for a moment
before saying or doing anything. Then, she ran to her backpack. She pulled out
a shoestring and a snack-sized Pringles can. She emptied the potato chips into
children’s hands and punched a hole in the bottom of the can. Then, she
crouched down and whispered in Joy’s ear.
“Will you please get me a stick about ten centimeters long?”
Joy ran outside and snatched a fallen branch from the ground
and returned to Rosie’s side.
“Perfect.”
She fed the rope through the can and tied the stick to one
end. Then, she glanced around.
“What are you looking for?” asked Joy.
Rosie’s face lit up as she caught inspiration. She slipped
the duck boot off her left foot and secured it to the one end of the rope.
Then, Rosie limped to the front of the class, one boot on and one off.
“May I?” she said to Brian.
Brian nodded.
“Which object is heavier, the stick or the boot?”
“The boot,” the children said in unison.
“The boot is much heavier, but I can lift the boot with the
stick without touching the stick.”
“That’s impossible!” said Jose.
“Just you wait.”
Rosie held the cylinder in both hands as she spun the stick
around and around over her head. As she did, the stick’s orbit grew bigger and
bigger. Meanwhile, the boot slowly crept upwards toward the cylinder until it
had nowhere to go. Rosie immediately stopped spinning the stick. The stick
snapped against the cylinder and the boot fell to the ground.
“The force the stick puts on the rope and the boot attached
to it is centrifugal force. The stick wants to flee the center. The rope holds
it in orbit – that’s centripetal.”
“So confusing,” said Jose.
“I agree. Maybe this is a little much, but the basic forces
of nature are there. The actions of one body determine the actions of another
body. For example, the stick wants to go in a straight line, but the rope holds
it to an orbit. This is just how gravity affects the planets. In fact, all
things have gravity. It’s what attracts one thing to another.”
The children nodded at Rosie. She realized maybe only half
of them understood a single word she said.
“Maybe that’s enough for now. Let’s play sea monster tag!
I’ll hide my eyes and count to ten!”
Mr. G smiled. Actually, the girl from Oklahoma always amazed
Jonny. She could keep the children’s attention like no other. Even Brian, who
was both brilliant and patient, never had Rosie’s spark. All the disruptions,
in and out of class, were just too much for the students. Eventually, every
teacher before Rosie ended up going through the motions. That included Brian.
Rosie, on the other hand, always had the children spellbound.
The screams and laughter of children out in the parking lot
drew the parents to the door like bugs to light. They stood in the doorway,
watching Rosie and the children run around until everyone was exhausted and
hungry.
“This girl could truly be something special,” he thought. If
only he could find a way of keeping her around for more than a single year.
When it was Brian’s turn to be ‘it’, it was not very long
until he caught Rosie by the waist and gave her a twirl. She laughed
wholeheartedly.
“Now, you’re a sea monster, too!”
The twosome gathered up more sea monsters and it wasn’t very
long until Brian’s turn to be it was over.
“What now?” asked Dalisay.
“Let’s eat!” said Rosie she led everyone back inside.
“ “What’s for lunch?” asked Joy.
“You know…” replied Rosie as she dug int the grocery bags
and produced several packages of hot dog buns, peanut butter, and jelly.
Joy wrinkled her nose.
“It’ll be good, I promise. I have a super secret recipe. You
wanna help me?”
Joy nodded and soon, Rosie, with Brian’s help, rallied the
troops again. Mr. Gutierrez and a few of the men helped move a pair of picnic
table onto the patio where it was sunny and dry.
Meanwhile, Rosie and Dalisay spread a plastic tablecloth
over a small card table and began to prepare PB&J sandwiches. Joy stood on
a chair and carefully separated the bun halves and organized them on the table.
Meanwhile, Dalisay and Juvie spread peanut butter and jelly on the separate
halves before Rosie sprinkled sugar on the peanut butter and folded the
sandwiches shut.
“Everyone serve themselves.”
The children snatched the sandwiches from the table faster
than she and Joy could make them. Before any of the sandwich makers had a
chance to eat, all the peanut butter was gone.
“We can’t have jelly sandwiches,” said Rosie.
“Why not?”
”It’s not good for you.”
Rosie went through the packages until she found a box of leftover
rations from the meat packing plant. She held the box above her head as she cut
through the crowd. Joy read the writing on the side of the packing box.
“Vienna Sausages!” she exclaimed.
Rosie peeled back the lid, exposing the finger-length links,
stored in cartilage-jelly. The children fought over the seven tiny links. In
the chaos, however, Joy managed to get two pieces for herself. While they
snacked on the pieces of processed meat, Dalisay looked over the ingredients.
“It says here the main ingredient is ‘mechanically separated
chicken.’”
“Those poor chickens,” said Juvie, “it sounds so awful.”
Meanwhile, Joy shoved a piece into each of her tiny cheeks.
“Look I’m a peeg!” she said as she snorted noisily.
The children laughed hysterically as Joy made piggy faces,
holding her nose upright to expose her nostrils. As she laughed and snorted,
snot bubbles came out of her nose.
“Joy! Stop it!”
Joy giggle-snorted so hard that bits of chicken flew out of
her nose.
“Oh gross!” exclaimed Dalisay.
“My nose is burning!”
“Well, I guess that’s what you get for playing with your
food.”
Rosie held a cupped hand in front of Joy. Joy spat the
remaining bits of Vienna Sausage into Rosie’s hand. Rosie promptly tossed it
into the trash.
“Alright, that’s enough fun for today. Let’s get back to
class work.”
“Awww,” said Joy.
“We have a full class. We should do some work.”
Jose interrupted Rosie.
“We studied all morning while you were gone. Now we’re
finished for the day. Mr. G. even said so.”
Jonny shrugged his shoulders.
“Fair enough, we’ll do something relaxing, like crafts. I
need everyone to go outside and get two medium-sized sticks.”
Rosie searched through the boxes until she found several
bundles of yarn. She went to each child, one-by-one and fashioned a cross from each
pair of sticks. Then, she showed the older children how to weave the yarn
around the sticks to form colorful diamonds of yarn.
“Are we making God’s eyes?” asked Juvie.
Rosie nodded.
Mrs. Rana perked to attention. She walked up behind Dalisay
and Mari and warily watched her children. Mr. Rana curled an arm around his
wife’s shoulders reassuringly.
“It’ll be fine. Come sit down.”
Dalisay and Mariposa both knitted large rainbow-tinted
diamonds and showed the finished product to their mother.
“Can we hang them next to the door?” asked Mari. Mrs. Rana
stammered for a second. Meanwhile, Mr. Rana nodded to his youngest.
“I think they’d make a delightful addition to the store. It
brightens the whole place..”
Mrs. Rana puckered her lips a bit as Mr. Rana hung almost
every child’s God’s eye on the wall behind the cashier’s desk. She stood next
to him as he stepped back to admire the children’s work.
“It looks good, don’t you think?”
Mrs. Rana nodded.
“I think so, too.”
.
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