28/05/2022
JORIZ REGOYLA & NOLAN LOPEZ | AUDIO-VISUAL
That Much Trodden Road
By: Joriz Regoyla & Nolan Lopez
At the height of the Moro Rebellion, The Armed Forces of the Philippines intensified their campaigns in Mindanao to contain and pacify the Moros and end their century-long struggle for an independent homeland. The intensity of each battle seems to increase after each one, with many civilians caught in the middle of the intense skirmishes, forcing them to flee towards safety, abandoning their homes and their livelihoods as the devastation consumed all that they hold dear.
On an open plain with the sun slowly coming down from its peak, Fatima watched as the ugly black smoke from a nearby village rose high into the blue sky, her heart heavy with worry and anxiety for her family that she unknowingly separated from. Sighing softly, she continued upon that worn-down dirt road. After a few minutes of walking, she came upon a lone tree on the side of the road with a teenage boy that is about her age, and he seemed to be resting and holding something in his hand. From a distance, it seemed to be a necklace of some sort, but upon closer inspection, she could see that it was a rosary. Fatima reserved herself, weary of the boy’s Christian origins. Though her instincts told her to move away, the sight of the boy’s bag filled with kakanins and bread made her hungry stomach growl, ultimately waking the boy up from his light nap due to the sudden noise.
“H-hello,” the boy waved, “I’m Nataniel, who might you be?” Fatima was cautious and looked around her with fear written all over her face. Nataniel saw this and wanted to put her at ease when he heard Fatima’s stomach growl.
“Oh? You must be hungry huh.” Nataniel reached for his bag of food and grabbed a piece of bread and offered it to Fatima. With caution, Fatima slowly extended her hand towards the bread and yanked it from Nataniel when it finally was within grabbing distance. The bread was stale yet it tasted heavenly and that was enough for her to feel euphoric as she went through the bread with gusto.
With the euphoria of food finally fading, her eyes peeked at the boy who was watching her and she could see a grin forming on his face. Her face flushed from embarrassment as she tried to avoid his searching eyes.
“W-what are you looking at?!” She stuttered as she tried to cover her face from being exposed.
Nataniel stood up and chuckled, his grin reaching his ear as he circled around the embarrassed Fatima.
“Well, it seems that you really like the bread. Would you care for more?”
Fatima turned redder than before, if it was even possible. “I-I only grabbed the bread because I haven't eaten since this morning because of the… battle” She finished softly that Nataniel had a hard time hearing the last word.
“Yeah, battles tend to ruin someone’s daily life,” Nataniel glumly stated, “I’m going to the evacuation center, do you want to go with me?” Seeing no better alternative, Fatima agreed to the idea, she would attribute the decision to that stale bread.
“I still haven’t known your name,” Nataniel said as the odd pair walked down the road, “My name is Fatima.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Fatima,” Nataniel regarded her for a moment, “Did you get separated from your family?”
“Yes, in our rush to pack up our belongings and the general chaos in our town, I got separated from them and it led me here,” Fatima answered, glancing at the rosary he was tightly holding. “Are you a devout Christian?”
“I try to be,” Nataniel rubbed the beads of his rosary, “For my mother at least.”
The unsure nature of Nataniel’s religious identity intrigued Fatima, she is a dedicated Muslim after all and was loyal to her faith. Witnessing someone so unsure of their faith made her ask, “Why?” to Nataniel and continued with, “Why are you so unsure of your God?”
“It’s not Him I’m unsure of, it’s some of his followers that I don’t agree with,” Nataniel responded.
“You’re not what I expected for a Christian,” Fatima observed, “You’re not-”
“Evil that kills people for fun?” Nataniel cuts her off and even he winced at what he said.
“Are they not? Killing my people and stealing our land, always wondering when the next attack will happen, making my little brother cry!” Fatima shouted. Nataniel stopped walking as he sucked a lungful of air to steady himself.
“Most Christians aren’t like them,” Nataniel said softly, “I’m not like them.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to snap at you like that,” Fatima glanced at the pained expression on Nataniel’s face. As he slowly rubbed the beads of his rosary, it dawned on Fatima, “Is it your mother’s?”
“Yes,” Nataniel looked at the rosary that’s now on his palm, “A memento from her.”
Fatima reached out for his hands and she stared into his face stained by a single tear, the action, very much frowned upon by her culture, seemed to put him at ease as a gentle smile soon appeared on his face.
“For what’s it worth, I’m truly sorry, for everything,” Nataniel said softly, “It’s alright Nataniel, you don’t have to ask forgiveness for the things you didn’t do.”
They continue their trek down the road in pleasant silence, not noticing that their hands are still intertwined. After almost an eternity for them, the pair arrived at their destination, just only noticing their intertwined hands, they let go with much hesitancy. Unsure of what would happen next, their interaction will just become another memory. They started to part.
“Fatima,” Nataniel called out to her, “Can I see you again?”
“We will see each other again Nataniel, Inshallah.”
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