Culture Shock

Chapter Fifteen

My dreams haven't changed even when I thought it would, because Leonidas leaves my side not a day in a week. The fire gets even brighter from which he fails to save me. Even shamans whom I consulted see no great possibility, for no one apparently will burn me like a filthy criminal hung on the monstrous hanging tree.

I often wonder what if dreams are worthless and meaningless? That what if our brains were made to deceive us with the thoughts we choose to believe?

The consciousness won't consent, because every dream leads us into another symbolism of a closed message. Perhaps, a warning.

I can't die a loser.

Four days upon the wedding ritual, Johann became a Clare dodge, even at breakfast. That night when it was supposed to, nothing happened. They may accuse me of being an irresponsible wife for hauling my husband from his own satisfaction. Well, that's better than making love with a man who'd certainly skip-and-hop into his concubine's room after infusing an embryo inside me.

Who would want an embryo at fifteen?

He can avoid me as long as he wants; lock in his room with Bo Young like what he's been doing these past four days. One day, when I was walking along the hallway, I came across her with a basin of water and towels in her hands. Those were for Johann's wounds, she said.

It bothered me because every evening I pass by Goldenlane, I hear him yowl. He doesn't tell me anything and his silence disturbs me.

Instead, I spent my days with soldiers' children and with Saree to get away with the tension this marriage is building. Since I am a Sender, I am forced to wear traditional clothing which somehow excites, getting alteration of colors. The guru sent queries for the king's authorization of daily meetings with the children inside the palace to hear new tales.

The old man did me a good favor.

Each day, kitchen woman busies themselves in preparing petty presents for my little visitors, distributing baked biscuits and drinks as an expression of my gratitude for hearing my reserved stories.

Since they lack the knowledge regarding each forefather's country, I thought that I can be a good source of information through extending my learning from school.

The Prances, for instance. I tried my best to recall advisable historical events that has happened to France which kids can relate to. French Revolution and the Execution of King Louis XVI aren't among them apparently, so I'd rather speak about Victor Hugo's The Hunchback of Notre Dame (in a kiddy sense).

Written in book from the libraries I've visited, there landed seven nationalities. But as I counted, there are eight which also makes sense to me. Filipinos are the natives inhabiting the island.

For now, I can't trace the date of their set down. An only conclusion in hand is it was before the First World War. It is possible that other Europeans aside from the Spaniards during Magellan's Galleon sail attempted to conquer the country, but not after they have set foot.

Portugal? Nuh-uh. English people? Possible. How about the others?

China entered to trade years after Borneo and Japan attacked during World War II. My research adviser has once read an article accusing Korean soldiers to be originally responsible of the comfort women issue, saying that Japan, before crossing Philippines' threshold recruited Korean men to expand their military troop.

Internet can be confusing at times.

Stitching all the patches may take years, more or less. Collecting information from the internet might quite be impossible, along with meeting the old women from Antique who used to tell me tales about the black-coloured rice.

One day, Clare. Just take it easy, for now.

When all the patches are sewed, I will write a journal as a proof of my research. Scientists and historians provide journals that they keep for themselves, so the moment they die, families will surrender those to the living institutions.

The problem is I don't have a family. Ha-ha. And where do I start the search? I don't even have books on grasp and if I want one, I have to steal from the Old Capitol. For me to break in, I have to propose my idea to the king, and when I get there, I'm free!

Gosh, I'm a genius.

Nah. As if he'd grant that. Fun sucker.

Starting from the root would be the best shot. Perhaps, with the kids, Leonidas, and the other soldiers to whom I've outspread my readings. A revolt isn't something that I plan, if that's what they think. It's what we call, "Hitting two birds with one stone."

Gaining their trust equals my freedom without being forced to lie on the marriage bed.

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