A Short Story by Joey Bidan
Anarchy. The first week after the world's worst typhoon of all time struck the province, Leyte was destroyed; Tacloban is a total chaos- a hopeless city without laws. Everyone is a criminal. Everyone is scared.
Palo is a town a few kilometers just next to downtown Tacloban. I lived there particularly near the historical area where General McArthur landed during World War II which is now in ruins after the storm. But never mind that, I'm not at home anyway. I'm busy.
"...Alex!" somebody called me and I turned to see it's my elder bro, Kuya Anton. "Help me here. This one's too heavy!"
In the dim light of the Robinson's mall, I ran to help him carry some sort of a giant speaker into the push cart that is already fully loaded.
"You really think we need this thing?" I asked him as I'm catching my breath. "We never know when the lights are coming back."
"Never mind that!" He said smiling as he picked objects on the floor to the cart. "Mano Jun and his pedicab could have unlimited trips to Palo and carry everything here. Just do your thing and think of the future, ok?"
So that's how we spent the whole day and no, we're technically not shopping since everything we take are for free. At that time, I didn't even know it was called "looting" - a once in a lifetime opportunity. (And ironically, Mano Jun our pedicab guy is a policeman in civilian's clothes for heaven's sake!) We stopped at 8pm when it's already dark and scary and; when somebody's screaming "rape!" and "help!" at some corner of the mall. We got home and were amazed at how it turned into some sort of museum when we're supposed to just take food.
We could not sleep peacefully then, since the more supplies we got, the more intense the night becomes. The family's worried too much we got ourselves a weapon for each one of us. A hammer for Kuya Anton, kitchen knives for nanay, a rifle for tatay and i don't even know how to kill with a hacksaw. There was no law after the world's worst storm and we're preparing for house invaders like it's World War 3 or something.
It's not just us. The whole province are being paranoid actually. News spread about desperate escaped prison convicts murdering people in their sleep; NPA rebels roaming around with rifles to ask for food and supplies with force; greedy akyat bahays and; even Aswangs? All throughout the night you could hear screaming and gunshots...and who could sleep with that?
They're coming...
It went on like that for two more nights and my eyebags are campingbags already. Our roof was partly torn off and I can't help to imagine someone's up there watching and waiting for me to sleep then attack. And tonight, it was 2 AM and I'm clutching on my stupid hacksaw as I stare at a lizard on the ceiling, waiting for another scratching noise on the roof.
They're coming...
Suddenly, i heard voices at the back of the house. Voices of men whispering in a dialect i never heard before. So I silently got out of bed holding on my hacksaw and slowly stood near the window to check who they are, when I heard people shouting outside the house. People are running at the streets and just like yesterday, floodlights and flashlights are criscrossing the sky from every window of every house. Another false alarm or did they catch somebody now?
I followed Kuya Anton out of the house and there was nanay and tatay at our gate along with a crowd of shouting people. As we get nearer, I observed people are pointing and kicking at something...or someone in the middle of the crowd's circle. I don't know why my heart is thumping fast but it's probably because this is my first time. It was my first time to see an akyat bahay caught in the act.
I caught a glimpse of the person and he was partly lying, naked on the pavement. His skin was as dark as the night and; hair curl as a grass. I looked again and saw that he's actually not naked. There's a piece of some sort of hanging cloth to hide his genitals and I realized it was probably a "bahag" worn by most indigenous tribes. Then I heard people shouting he's a Badjao. I asked Kuya Anton how Badjaos from Mindanao got here and he doesn't even know as well.
People now stopped kicking the guy when the baranggay kagawads arrive for questioning. By that time, he was crying and holding his bleeding neck pleading mercy for his life. I gasped when I saw it's not physical injury but a gunshot wound and nobody even cared! There was so much blood I could smell metal in the air.
"...ayaw kog patya migo (don't kill me friends)."
"Why are you here?" The kagawad asked pulling stuffs and ATM cards inserted in his bahag.
"...mangaplay kog trabaho bai (I was applying for a job)."
"…in the middle of the night?" The kagawad waves the wallet and ATM cards on the guy’s face. "With these?"
That probably made the crowd mad to kick him all over again, shouting and dragging him farther. I couldn't stand it anymore and got away from the crowd, tears swelling from my eyes. For crying out loud, will you take him to a doctor first and question him after? I thought.
I don't know if I should feel pity or angry with that Badjao. Who am I to judge him? Is this how far a man will dare himself to do for survival? Is it really survival or greed? The man may be illiterate but he seems to know what ATM cards are worth. It's just so sad to think he doesn't know they're useless to him. Is he worse than us, educated people looting the mall shamelessly? In a land seemingly forsaken by the government, where there's no help or business or food, what should discriminated people like Badjaos do? It breaks my heart to think.
Then alone in the street, I was shocked to see two young Badjaos in bahags going out of our own house. One of them was crying and the taller one reached and pulled him away from the lights. They stopped when they saw me. And in their sad eyes, without words I realized the akyat bahay the people apprehended was probably their father.
I just stood there and watched them go. The next day, I heard the Badjao died in our baranggay hall.
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