Asdahlia, page 5
“These are rabid-wild-running individuals waging personal holy war against the Americans”.
It is a dreadful piece of conversation that found its way into his head at this moment, preventing him from fully rejoicing the advancement of his career as an educator.
Scanning through the circulars about the municipality, he seems to be looking for some horrific warnings or any reference to it, but his fear was abated upon reading the summary report and statistics.
“Davao is a remote place in the southern Philippines located in the eastern part of Moroland; population. . . total of 30,000 inhabitants, 4,000 of them were Christians and the rest belonged to the ethnic indigenous tribes;. . . . . . . . The economic conditions of the people did not improve at all during the Spanish regime… . . . The municipality is relatively peaceful and regarded as safe haven for all Americans assigned in the Moroland.”
Charlie finds himself relieved reading this over and over, especially the last part of the report that says “regarded as safe haven for all Americans assigned in the Moroland.”
“It is safe! I am safe! It is adventure. I say I must rejoice!”
He stands up and walks around the room aimlessly, reminding himself to focus on the positive in order to succeed in this job. The other men in the room are also busy reading the advice they received. There is a general feeling of apprehension in the room. They will be separated from each other from this point. They hug, shake hands more vigorously than necessary, wishing one another the best of luck. With great courage, they prepare for deployment to their respective destination.
CHAPTER 5
Davao to Jolo
Charlie collects his mail from the mailbox in front of his small bungalow located along one of the secondary streets in this remote municipality. He opens one letter and scans through it. His face lights up a bit. He pushes the two pages of paper back into the envelope and looks at the return address before he reaches for the rest of the mail. He turns around and with quick strides goes up the three flights of stairs leading into the kitchen then tosses the rest of the mail to the center of the small dining table.
The heavy metal chair with intricate iron-lace design, grates into the linoleum floor matting when he pulls it to sit down. He empties the contents of the envelope on the table and reads it again. Then with two hands supporting his nape, he leans backwards looking up. Soon his eyes are lost in the white ceiling. After a while of rocking himself back and forth, he sits up straight and looks down at the paper again.
It is a Certificate of Appointment showing he has been appointed Justice of Peace of Jolo and the Moroland. The letter instructs him to proceed to his new post in the capital of Sulu archipelago. At the bottom of the page is the signature of Newton W. Gilbert, Secretary of Public Instruction and Vice Governor of the Philippine Islands.
Charlie becomes pensive not sure how to feel about this new leap in his career. He is excited but not quite ready to leave Davao behind. This has become his home for the past three years since he arrived in the Philippines. He remained here and continued the efforts to establish schools despite many of those who arrived with him in 1909 had already returned home. They were unable to bear the loneliness in this remote location. While he was forming alliances in the local political circle and members of the local elites, his friends were not able to adapt to the new environment and culture. They were terrified of the constant Moro raids in nearby coastal villages, fearful of being re-assigned to the far-flung places, and fearful of contacting tropical diseases. Malaria accounted for many deaths among their compatriots all over the archipelago. These and many other reasons drove them to return home to America sooner than they planned.
Charlie walks out the door and stops to sit on the wooden bench that stretches the length of the narrow porch in front of his home. He stares ahead but doesn’t seem to notice the smoke of dust aroused by the hooves of passing horses and carriages. The dust blows in his direction until it vanishes on the grass in his front yard, and leaving a trace of earthy color on all the foliage and flowers that line the sidewalk.
The infrastructure and economic development in Davao is far behind than that of Manila because of the piratical and marauding of the Moros in the area for the better part of the previous century. The Recollect priest who arrived in this Spanish settlement back in 1848 established the mission of San Pedro and since then worked only for the conversion of the heathens to Christianity. Under the Spaniards, the district was not fully colonized. There was no means of internal communication within the military government and its ranks. Communication from Manila was mostly late, irregular or unreliable due to the remote location.
The carriage pulls up and Jerry acknowledges.
“Hi there”
The sight of his friend approaching jolts Charlie back to the present. He is still holding the appointment paper in his hands, sitting motionless, ultimately breathing audibly before standing up. Jerry Forsight lives two houses away from Charlie’s. He belongs to the first American Military Forces lead by Major Hunter Leggit who arrived in Davao in 1901. The military camp where Jerry is stationed also houses the office of the Superintendent of Schools. Jerry gives him a ride to his office every morning and they became close friends even as other Americans in the area bonded together in this farthest destination in the Pacific.
He notices the paper and the envelope Charlie is holding and how the black-rimmed eyeglasses make him appear much older than his twenty-six years. Jerry could see the crease deepening in his forehead adding to his already grave expression. Jerry has gotten used to his friend’s looks that become too serious over the passing of time but he can still tell when something is bothering him.
“Is the news that bad?”
“It is both good and bad.”
“Then tell me the good news first.”
“I have just been appointed Justice of Peace.”
“Well, congratulations! We should celebrate this weekend.”
“Thanks, and the bad news is I will be assigned in Jolo.” There is a second of silence before Jerry replied.
“I’m so sorry I would agree that is indeed bad news.”
They both have mixed feelings about this promotion that they completed the trip in silence and arrived at work with gloomy expressions. Life in Davao had been simple and never in a hurry that he feels comfortable and safe among its people. They go about their daily business in a leisurely fashion, the kind of life where people relish every minute of every day. In the days that followed Charlie tried to put his mind at ease with the new assignment. He goes to the local bar owned by a very prosperous Japanese merchant, where the Americans congregate on weekends to exchange news and views, then laugh or cry about their experiences. They network with each other regularly to counteract feelings of homesickness.
The months passed very quickly and Charlie is finally getting ready to take the trip to his new post. He goes early to his office that day to gather his personal belongings. He looks up for a moment and regarded his picture hung above his chair and he smiles as he reads the words across the bottom, “First Superintendent of Schools”, then he decided to just leave it hanging in its place. He piles the books in the box and realizes how many he has accumulated in the past three years and that he has to leave some behind.
By mid morning Charlie and his friends enter the gate to Santa Ana pier. He shakes hands with Jerry and says brief, “goodbyes” to his friends who came to see him off before he goes up aboard the ship bound for Samboangan.
It is drizzling and the sky is overcast when the ship starts moving away. Several minutes later they are maneuvering out of the gulf and into the Celebes Sea. Charlie is looking through the small window in his cabin where he can see the peak of the tallest volcano on the island. It looks so imposing in the distance and the top half is covered with thick clouds. He sits there admiring the island that he is leaving behind but after few minutes is gone, it is becoming more and more difficult to see anything through the darkened clouds and are getting darker all around as they go further.
Charlie listens to the noise of the engine and the hammering and grinding sound of metal somewhere below as the large ship plows through the storm. His heart pounds faster while the tempest grows stronger. The weather is turning turbulent and from his window he can see giant waves rise as though it would engulf the ship as they rocked their way through torrents of rain, lightning and peals of thunder. He has heard stories about sea monsters thriving in the depths of Saranggani. Legend has it that monsters rise to the surface during storms and use their tentacles to pull ships down to the bottom of the sea, and here he is at the mercy of the swirling sea.
On the second day in the roughest sea Charlie starts to feel knotting in the pit of his stomach. Dizziness is overtaking his senses. He pulls a white handkerchief out of his pocket and wipes beads of sweat forming on his forehead holding it tightly over his mouth, controlling with all his might the urge to throw up. He shuts his eyes to gain focus.
After another hour the storm is behind them, and his ears popped and relief spreads over his body. He looks around but there is no sign of anyone awake in the cabins. Charlie closes his eyes and gives way to sleep through the day and into the night. He shakes his head to the dinner offered to all passengers. He simply cannot swallow anything at the moment that his stomach will not push back out.
He wakes up the next morning and looks over the sea, but there is no sign of the storm that the ship had gone through. The clear blue ocean is calm once more and the priceless feeling of being able to walk on land again is just minutes away. Charlie watches with fascination the sea birds circling above the water feasting on a school of fish. It takes awhile for the pilot to maneuver the huge ship but it does not matter to Charlie until they are finally lining up to descend on the gangway at the small port of Nuestra Senora Del Pilar. A beautiful sculpted image of the Virgin Mary on the concrete wall is the ever present welcoming sign to greet all who come to the shores of Samboangan.
Erwin Bernaz alights from the caleza and extends a strong handshake to Charlie with obvious pleasure.
“Charlie”
“How are you doing Erwin?”
“How long has it been?”
“Three.”
Charlie eyes his friend at length and laughs delightfully patting him on the shoulder. Erwin chuckles into a conversation while tapping at his midsection. He could be in his late thirties and he looks taller than his five feet and nine inches. He shows more weight in the middle now than when they last saw each other aboard USS Thomas. He is very congenial and carries most of the conversation until they arrive at his office in the municipal house. Charlie smiles at the satisfaction and joy in his friend’s manners as he listens to him relay stories about his work and about the prominent residents of the municipality in his charge.
They walk through the hall, passing a couple of offices then the host points to the office with Chinese characters on the door.
“That is the Office of Chinese Consul from Nanking.”
He pauses for a brief second to draw in some air in his expanding chest before he continues with his narrative almost theatrically.
“We have a considerable number of Chinese merchants here and their population is steadily growing. I must say they account for the growth of commerce in this place. Still, may God forbid the bubonic plague from China reaching our shore.”
They stop at the door with a sign “JUSTICE OF PEACE”. As they are entering, Charlie ventures a question before his host has time to continue.
“Do the people here speak English at all?”
“Yes. Quite a few of them went to Santo Tomas University in Manila. The more affluent ones are educated in Europe.”
“What language do they speak here?”
With a gesturing of his finger, Erwin answers with nonchalance.
“Ahhh, they speak Spanish aside from the local dialect.”
The municipal house is located along the only main street. It has wood floors and large windows made of seashells. Erwin opens the window into the plaza filled with flowers. Everywhere is bursting with colors. He breathes deeply the sweet scents for which the city is known. Charlie joins him and enjoys the view.
Shortly after five o’clock in the afternoon, the sea begins to blow chilly winds and Charlie puts on a turtle neck sweater. The boat for Jolo leaves in the next morning and without any hotel in the area, Charlie accepts the hospitality of the Bernaz’s.
Later that evening he savors the sumptuous dinner of lobster cooked in coconut milk, chili and chopped shrimps that Mrs. Bernaz serves in a sparkling Spanish glass platter. Charlie dishes compliments to his host and listens while she relates how she learned to cook this menu from the local lady and how she and Erwin got married and settled in Samboangan when he was appointed Justice of Peace two years ago.
After dinner they all stand up and move to the balcony to finish their wine. Henry looks around and leans on the baluster of the fairly large mansion where they could see the lights coming from the other Spanish styled homes behind the trees and the vague lights of the surrounding villages. They enjoy a vantage view of the busy port of Del Pilar, named in honor of the local patroness, not very far away. They shifted their conversation to Jolo where Charlie is destined to become the new Justice of Peace. Erwin volunteers some basic information in his voluminous voice.
“Jolo as you may know is the seat of Islam in this part of the country. It is where the powerful Moslem Sultanate is found. The Moros, that’s how they are called, follow the laws of Koran and resist the legal system we are trying to establish”.
Erwin is speaking from the corner of his mouth while pressing on the cigar he is lighting. He blows clouds of smoke a few times and continues.
“The Sultanate claims they have an existing commercial treaty with America since 1842 which gave them recognition as a sovereign nation and recently they have the Bates Treaty which is basically a treaty of non-interference.”
“Well that’s interesting. What does the Governor General say about it?” Charlie inquired.
“Nothing that I know of, he is facing strong opposition from the sultans in his campaign but he vowed to put a stop to piracy, and slave trade.”
“We have been hearing a lot about that.” Charlie shifts his weight to his other foot, changing position.
Circles of smoke from his cigar are rising and Erwin stops his discourse to watch them disappear in front of him. He draws on his cigar again and snorts.
“The Moros are furious about this and they refuse to pay taxes too. It is messy, very messy business.”
Charlie sees the concern in his face shakes his head and continues the conversation.
“I have been informed you will have sufficient protection.”
“Is that absolutely necessary?”
“Most definitely Davao and Samboangan are completely different from Jolo as you will soon find out.”
The two friends talked until their muffled voices vanished into the night. Early the next morning Charlie is anxious to proceed on his journey to the south. Twelve soldiers arrive to pick him up and they are accompanying him on this trip. After bidding “goodbye” to his hosts he gets on the carriage and leaves. They board a large boat plying between Jolo and Samboagan. In no time they are sailing southward for several hours. There are times during this journey when he remembers frightening stories and he fears that pirates might actually appear any moment from out of nowhere. He glances at his watch, estimating that they will be in Jolo by morning.
At about the same time in Jolo, reinforcement troops arrive at the camp. They are on the double unloading from the truck in front of the barracks located within the fortress previously built by Spaniards over the past century. This is the safest place in the area aside from its strategic location. Commander Black Jack Pershing is presiding a meeting with his officers. He is the current military governor of the Moroland who replaced Leonard Wood. He is tall and well-toned and his demeanor is as impeccable as the uniform he wears. The stripes on his shoulders signify his rank of Major General. He is stressing a point with a pointing stick he always carries in his hand. It has red tassels at the base of the handle as if it had some magical power when he waves it. His baritone voice rings absolute authority that everyone below his rank would not dare to cross nor question.
“We will pursue our campaigns more aggressively to completely liberate the people of Mindanao in all the municipalities from the bands of these raiding pirates.” He paused briefly before continuing.
“And this campaign will continue until we have fully achieved this primary objective.”
“Second, we have to be more vigilant to find out if there are slave traders still operating around this area that may have escaped our attention.”
“Lastly we must find a better and efficient method of assisting the civilian office in the collection of taxes. We are facing a lot of opposition on all fronts but be confident that, in the long run, we will prevail and peace will ultimately be achieved.”
