Curtains for an invader

Title

Creator

Taclob, Paterno F. Jr.

Language

English

Year

1965

Rights

In Copyright - Educational Use Permitted

Abstract

What happens to an alien who tries to fool around with natives.

Fulltext

CURTAINS for an INVADER by PATERNO F. TACLOB, JR. - or - What Happens To An Alien Who Tries To Fool Around Wi t h Natives The Time: D-Day-minus-two. The Place: Cebu. The Occasion: (No background Latin phrases, please) A banquet tendered by Rajah Charles (the former Humabon) in honor of Magellan and his officers. Ra jah Charles, Magellan, Simiut, Sibuaya, Sisakai and other local chieftains were seated around the head table, on which were placed roast pigs, broiled birds, fried chickens, salted fish and other de licacies. Magellan was plowing diligently through the dishes. He had not yet fully recovered from his three-month diet of rats and canvas with sawdust for des sert. The native chieftains didn’t just pick at their food, either. At length the meal was finished, punc tuated by burps, belches, groans and other sounds of gustatory satisfaction. The Cebu monarch, who had been watch ing Magellan, looked at the latter ad miringly and murmured to himself, “Half a pig, three chickens, five eggs and six bananas. That beats Lapulapu’s record by one chicken and two bananas.” Then he summoned the interpreter and once more they took up the current topic, viz: What to do with Lapulapu? The day before, Magellan had sent some of his men to bum the Mactan village of Bulaia and abduct its women. (It was his customary way of saying hello.) Now they were awaiting the answer to an ul timatum sent to Lapulapu after the Bulaia incident, an ultimatum ordering Lapulapu to cry uncle and pay tribute, or else. Presently a messenger arrived, bearing Lapulapu’s answer. It was written on a meter-long Bamboo stick. Rajah Charles grabbed the letter and began reading. The letter ran: Mactan, Two days after full moon Misguided One, I received your letter this morning, and had a hard time deciphering it, as usual. Your secretary should be arrested for such a terrible handwriting, you know. As regards your ultimatum, tell your white friend that I have been used to being on the receiving end of a tribute, and Pm not inclined to change ends right now. Some other time, perhaps. But thank him for the barbecue and kidnap ping session his men held at Bulaia yes terday. It solved our squatter problems there. I read your ultimatum to my men. They say it’s the funniest thing they’ve ever heard since Rajah Colambu’s funer al oration last year. As always, Lapulapu P.S. If you think you can beautify your face by having your name changed into Charles, you’re sadly mistaken. Same Rajah Charles broke the letter over the messenger’s head. Then he ripped out a fearful oath, filled with allusions to La pulapu’s doubtful ancestry, and related subjects. When the angry Rajah had calmed down, he told Magellan of Lapulapu’s refusal, but forgot to mention the other contents of the letter. Magellan sat thoughtfully for a few seconds (to get the desired dramatic ef fect), then stood up and addressed the nobles around him. “Gentlemen of these islands. Once more it is my distasteful duty to go forth and make a dirty rat see the light. I have had considerable experience in these matters, and this one ought to be a cinch. Have I ever told you that I did to the mutineers at Port March-April, 1965 THE CAROLINIAN Page Forty-three Saint Julian? No? Well, remind me to tell one of these days. At any rate, what I did to those mutineers will be a caress compared to what I’m going to do to Lapulapu.” “Will you roast him alive, perhaps?” asked a chieftain. “That is my usual procedure,” replied Magellen. “But we must not limit our style. You will soon find out, however, because tomorrow I’m going with my men to Mactan for a visit, the purpose of which will be to fertilize the island with Lapulapu’s corpse”. “Good! You can use my men,” said Rajah Charles. “I’ll supply the bancas,” said Simiut. “And I’ll take care of the prayers,” said Sibuaya. Magellan held up a restraining hand. “Your offers are very generous, my friends. But this is strictly a One-man show, see? In fighting me, Lapulapu is already at a disadvantage. To accept your assistance would be most unsport ing.” Meanwhile, back at the panting La pulapu was delivering a speech to the council. “...............and so the situation boils down to this: the whites will surely come, but we will have another chance to surrender when they do. If we kneel, it will be for the first time, and the ex perience should be very educational. But if we fight, we can’t expect outside help. Datu Zula, in spite of the seven slaves he owes me, says he remains neutral. That means he’ll wait until after the bat tie then side with the winner. The other chieftains have taken sides with the whites on the assumption that the im ported is better than the local. You know — colonial mentality and all that jazz. “I do not know what course you may take. But as for me, give me liberty, and down with western imperialism! "So here are the odds: Their god against seven of ours; and our one hundred ten warriors against I don’t know how many whites, plus possible reinforce ments from Humabon. Now then, those in favor of battle say ‘aye’. Those who oppose may signify by handing in their resignation.” The decision to fight was unanimous. “That’s fine. Now hear this: Women and children will hide in the hills. Old men will form the reserved group. The rest will stand and fight. High Priest! What do we usually offer the gods be fore a battle?” “Two chickens and half a pig for each of the seven gods” replied the High Priest. “Make it three chickens and one pig each. And throw in a deer for good measure. This battle is going to be a hot one,” said the Datu. “One thing I can say for those whites. They sure don’t spend much on sacrifices”. Then he dismissed the council and ordered the herald to summon his warriors. When the warriors had assembled, the Datu briefed them. "Noble warriors of Mactan, here’s the lowdown. We are going to fight the white men who came in the big ships. Whether the other chieftains will help them or not, we must be ready. I have just received a report from Secret Agent double-O-plok. He says that the whites use small sticks that make small noise and big sticks that make big noise. But don’t worry. Noise never killed anybody. Doub)e-O-plok further reports that the whites wear iron on their heads and bodies. That means we’ll have to hit their exposed parts. Sharpen your weapons. Th-: spears and arrows must b-: hardened over fire. Fall “And remember: Carry on the finest traditions of the Mactan Marines! That’s all.” In the island of Cebu, the invasion force was ready. Magellan’s officers had tried to dissuade him from attacking, remind ing him that their mission was to find a route to the Moluccas, not to make conquests. But Magellan’s mind was made up. He was the big Boss, wasn’t he? And was he going to let anybody defy him and get away with it ? No, by the Treaty of Tordesillas! No! And that, was that. At midnight the Spaniards set sail for Mactan. Rajah Charles and the other chieftains came along for the ride. They never missed a free show, those natives. Upon reaching the island, Magellan sent a converted Moslem trader to Lapu lapu with another ultimatum. (Magellan just loved ultimatums.) “This is your last chance, Datu!” said the trader. “For Pete’s sake, surrender!” “Oh yeah?” said Lapulapu. ‘So I am going to take orders from a bunch of tourists, am 1? Hah! You’re nuts!” “Think again, Datu. When you defy Magellan you are inviting trouble, court ing disaster, and flirting with catas trophe”. “Drop dead,” said Lapulapu. “It’s war, then.” “You’re dam right it’s war,” said the Datu. “Magellan will attack at daybreak,” the trader said. “Well then, tell him to come on time. I’m a busy man,” said Lapulapu. When morning came, it was the Mac tan warriors who attacked. The Datu had decided that if any attacking wap to be done on his island, he, Lapulapu, will be the one to do it. And so the forces clashed. The Spaniards shouted, “Viva Espana!!” The natives screamed, “Wa-a-a-a-h! Our king can lick your king!!” The rest is history. END OF STORY (Author’s note: The id,ea for this story was suggested by: Antonio M. Molina: “The Philippines through the Centuries)” Page Forty-four THE CAROLINIAN March-April, 1965

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