Short Story #2 - The Conflict

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First of all, I want to thank those who have read and liked the first part of my short story series entitled The Beginning. I have been very busy these past few days so it took me quite a while to write this. So without further ado, here goes the next part of my story. I hope you'll like it!

Tagum City – the town I was born, where peace and order is pivotal. Growing up, I was accustomed to a culture that believes in non-violence as the best way to resolve a conflict. Guns are only held by those in power or authority and war had never been a problem. People can roam around the city any time of the day, even at night or at dawn.

Marawi City – the place he grew up, where his values were formed. He belongs to the tribe of the Maranaos who follow the teachings of Islam. His upbringing was totally opposite to that of mine. To the Maranaos, owning a gun is a must for every household. As a matter of fact, almost every Marano family (if not all) possesses at least one firearm. To them, a gun is a symbol of power, an important possession to protect them from danger.

At the age of 12, he was taught how to hold and fire a gun. To his family, this was necessary, as they belong to a prominent family of businessmen and politicians. It was their way to equip him with the skill to defend himself if the situation calls for it. Throughout their family’s political journey, they were able to gain a lot of friends but also enemies.

Muslims are still tied to old practices, one of which is "rido" (blood feud). His family had been involved in a decade-long rido and in the course of 10 years, a significant number from his clan died.

Back then, I had a limited perception of the world, and I thought Marawi City was no different from my hometown. I ventured into that place, excited about many things, not knowing the imminent danger I had to face.

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July, a significant month for me as it was my birth month, and the day we both confessed our love. It was a euphoric moment when he uttered the words I love you. Butterflies were all over my stomach. And my smile, it was probably the sweetest I have had in my 18 years.

I am already of legal age, and being in a relationship was considered legal. But, I didn’t tell my mother about him, because I knew she would react negatively if she knew he was a Muslim. Same goes for him, though he wanted to introduce me to his family, we decided not to, because we already knew how they would take the news.

In the Philippines, some (if not most) Christians have a negative perception about Muslims and this can be traced back to history. It would be great if I could explain further the reason behind this long-running conflict in Mindanao, to spread awareness and hopefully to destroy our deep-rooted prejudices against the minority Muslim population. But perhaps I’ll do it in another blog post as it would entirely go away from the direction of this post. Furthermore, Muslims (Maranaos specifically) also feel the same towards Christians.

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Days went by easily, everything was great! We were able to maintain a good bonding, and at the same time we were both excelling in each of our field; him being a BS Math student, and me as a BS Electronics and Communications Engineering student. I always look forward to waking up every day because since I met him, every day was an adventure.

MSU is a large university, it is impossible to roam around the campus in one day. In my 2nd year as a student, there were still so many places in the campus I haven’t been to. During our free time, we would explore the campus, he was my tour guide. With him, there was always something new to experience.

There was one time we hiked for an hour to reach the dairy farm; which I had no idea existed. I experienced milking a cow and a goat, which was one of the best things I have experienced in MSU. One day, we also went searching for the best "pater" (a famous Maranao delicacy, usually beef or chicken cooked with coconut milk) in MSU; we dined at about ten restaurants, strolled for many hours (I lost count), and came up to the conclusion that the best one was the resto located at the College of Forestry. Every experience with him was worthwhile.

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Every morning he would pick me up from my cottage (the term MSUans use to refer to a boarding house), so we could have breakfast together. He would then take me to my classroom before heading to his’. We try to skip seeing each other at lunch time to allow ourselves to socialize with others, and for him to be able to do his 2nd ‘sambayang’ (prayer) for the day. He was a devoted Muslim, one of the many things I admired about him. In the afternoon (except for busy days such as exam week), we would find time to do something new, something interesting, something that would enrich ourselves.

In the evening, we would have dinner together at 6pm. At 7pm, I’m already inside my cottage, and he would head back to his dorm which is a 15-minute walk from my place. By 8pm, nobody can be seen walking around the campus, as the university had curfew hours, from 8pm to 4am.

Our second year in college was over; we both passed all of our subjects and have maintained the average needed to keep our scholarships. I was excited to go home as I miss my family and my friends so badly, but I was also a bit melancholic knowing I won’t be seeing him for a while.

Before March came, we were already talking about our plans for the summer. Both of us wanted to take summer classes. However, a day before my departure, his plans changed. He said he will not get advanced subjects this time and spend his vacation with his family in Lumbatan, Lanao del Sur instead. Lumbatan was his birthplace, the town where his family had the strongest political power. He mentioned about supporting his uncle for his mayoral candidacy and that he may not be able to communicate often since there’s no signal there. I said I was fine with it.

There was a long silence. I didn’t want to question his decisions, though I admit I was a bit disappointed. I was confused so I asked him anyway if everything was okay, if we were okay. He didn’t answer. No, he couldn’t answer. But he took one step closer, and with his arms wrapped around me so tightly, he whispered in my ears “Please take care”. Then he left without reason, without any further explanation.

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I was left standing, alone. To me, he sounded like he was leaving, for good. It took me a while before I started walking with no direction in mind; thoughts were exploding in my head. That night, I couldn’t sleep. Throughout the night, I tried to remember every conversation we had, analyzing if there was something I wasn’t able to decode properly. I also thought about every action I made, did I piss him off at some point? I was very confused, but I got no answers.

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Morning came, I haven’t had a decent sleep. I was waiting for him to come. But he didn’t. This was the first time we didn’t have breakfast together, except for days when he or I went home. I waited until lunchtime, still no show. I was already giving up. And with a heavy heart, I went home.

It was mid of April, I received a text message from him for the first time in 15 days. It said "How are you?" So I rushed to the nearest store and bought load worth 100 pesos. I called him. He did not answer. I was already frustrated. I called him again, and after three attempts, he finally picked up.

I had so many questions in mind and as I was about to shout at him to release all the pain I have kept inside for several days, with a trembling voice like he was trying to prevent himself from crying, he said these words: “I’m getting married, next week.”

It felt like a whole bucket of ice was poured upon me. I was totally speechless. Was it all a joke? Was he trying to pull a prank on me? But the tone of his voice said it all. He was serious. Then he told me he doesn’t love the girl, that it was me he loves. He said he was going crazy and that he wanted to run away. He said he wanted to come to me, but he was held hostage at his uncle’s house. And the line went dead.

He called me as soon as the line was cut, but I just stared at my phone as I didn’t know how to react. His words felt like a knife, piercing right through my heart. Tears started to fall like a waterfall. That moment, everything started to become clear and all the questions I have in mind have been answered. He didn’t even have to explain. I just knew that at that moment, I have lost him, forever.

As I’ve said, Muslims are still tied to old traditions. Rido for one, and the other is ‘fixed marriage'. Fixed marriage or what the Maranaos call “parental” is a type of marital union where the bride and groom are selected by their families (Wikipedia). Many of my friends have been in this situation -- forced to leave the one they love, and marry someone they don’t. Sadly, the love of my life suffered the same unfortunate fate. And I was left alone.

He was my first love, and the first to break my heart. For the next five days, I cried every night. I have passed the stage of acceptance and was already in the process of letting go. But one fateful afternoon, I received another text message from him. He said he’s in Tagum City and he wanted to see me and to talk to me. I couldn’t believe what I’ve read. Why would he be in Tagum when he was about to get married?

I went to our public terminal where he was. There, he was sitting on one of the benches, carrying his backpack. I couldn’t choose from the series of thrills and fears engulfing me in that instant. Then. I just ran. Towards him.

And in that fleeting moment, with our bodies entwined, he cried out and said: "I ran away!"

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Meanwhile, in Lumbatan, everybody was enraged over his disappearance. In two days’ time, he was set to marry the daughter of the town’s vice-mayor -- an arranged marriage that would create a political powerhouse in this small town and would ensure his family’s victory in the elections.

Two days left until the wedding. If he doesn’t show up, it will definitely spark a "rido"- a blood feud, that would not only threaten his family’s political status but also his family’s lives.

To be continued…

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Thanks for stopping by!
XOXO,
Maine

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