Asdahlia
ASDAHLIA
Child of the Sea
Nancy B. Stanton
Copyright © 2017 by Nancy B. Stanton.
ISBN: Softcover 978-1-5434-2701-1
eBook 978-1-5434-2700-4
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
This book is a work of fiction based on true historical events. Names of persons, characters, places and incidents are creations of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual or other fictional events, persons, living or dead, are mere coincidence and unintentional.
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.
Rev. date: 05/26/2017
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
Acknowledgment
Dedication
Introduction
Chapter 1: Late 1800S
Chapter 2: Asdahlia
Chapter 3: The Carnage
Chapter 4: Early 1900S
Chapter 5: Davao To Jolo
Chapter 6: The New Post
Chapter 7: The Whirlwind
Chapter 8: Night Of The Amoks
Chapter 9: The Rescue
Chapter 10: The Return Of Charlie
Chapter 11: Ending The Amok Phenomena
Chapter 12: The Uprising
Chapter 13: Search And Rescue
Chapter 14: The Escape
Chapter 15: The Wind And The Sea
ACKNOWLEDGMENT
I would like to thank and acknowledge the collaborative efforts of my illustrators Lyndl Kempis and Khang Hoang Vinh Nguyen for sharing their talents in art to this book, the beautiful cover illustration.
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to the Americans who came to the island of Mindanao and Sulu in the early 1900s to partake in the nation-building efforts of the United States government in the newly acquired Philippine Islands, during the presidency of Theodore Roosevelt. These men braved the remote and mostly undeveloped places, the unfamiliar culture, and the loneliness of living away from home. They took the risk of contacting tropical diseases and worse; death in the hands of suicide warriors called amok.
Few of these men remained and chose to serve their country for the rest of their lives. They were buried in the American Cemetery in Davao City, in the southern Philippines. They were soldiers and teachers - they were called The Thomasites.
To Lola and Lolo, you are the heart of this novel. I wouldn’t be able to do it without you as my inspiration.
INTRODUCTION
The southern ports of Jolo and Zamboanga had been engaged in International trading since the early 13th century. Trading ships travelled through ports of Southeast Asia then known as Sumatra and Malaya, trading with the countries of China, India and as far away as Persia and Egypt. Sea pirates flourished alongside the growth of international commerce throughout six centuries.
The US Battleship Kentucky arrived in Sulu in 1901 to patrol the southern seas and hunt for pirates. Military reinforcement troops continued to arrive to occupy the islands.
As the war intensified between the American forces and the native resistant group, the military governor in the island launched an aggressive campaign to stop the marauding bands of pirates from kidnapping people from the other islands, eliminate slave trade, and impose taxes. These activities angered the population and had given rise to suicide killers known as amok.
The event that happened in Mt. Dajo where hundreds of local Muslims including women and children were slaughtered in a genocide committed by the Americans occupied the headlines both in the Philippines and in the United States for several weeks. The American military declared it as a decisive victory but when it was found out that women and children were among those mercilessly killed it became a huge scandal.
The current Philippine President Rodrigo Duterte made mention of this event during the early days of his presidency noting that America has never apologized for this military atrocity. Philippines remained the longest ally of the United States in the Far East spanning more than a century.
CHAPTER 1
Late 1800s
Blasting sound of cannons and rifles echo in the air as grim reminders that war is still raging in the Bigger Island. The sun is rising in the east awakening all the creatures of this tropical forest. The wilds are getting uneasy with the intrusion of their turf. A family of small deer sprints into the thicket and the birds fly into safety. A man goes up the hill, turning to look behind him every now and then, careful not to leave a trail. He flips the end of his turban to the side to look back frequently making sure nobody is following him. His name is Ubbu and he plans to move his family to the safety of this island before he goes on a long trip.
He finally arrives at the foot of the huge tree, picks up the reeds that have piled up and starts finishing the hut that he has been building secretly for many days by himself. He weaves the reeds into the slats, pulls on a twisted vine to tie the reeds in place, and keeps on adding reeds until all sides of the wall are covered. After several hours, he looks around his creation to make certain everything is camouflaged and well concealed. He adds more leaves and vines over the roof and all around the cottage, then steps back and views it for final check before leaving.
He first observes from behind the bush, happy that there are no boats at sea and the shore looks deserted. He goes to the spot where he tied his boat, loosens and gets on it. Ubbu hurries to return to his family feeling more relaxed now that he can finally sail as planned. The nearest neighbor is about two miles away but he is determined not to arouse curiosity so he waits for nightfall. With the help of his wife, Thalia, and daughter, Asdahlia, Ubbu bundles the few belongings they would need and as soon as the darkness provides enough cover, they load them on a small boat. Seeing that everything is in place he walks around to assist his wife on to the boat as well. Thalia, smoothes her malong wrap on her sides then pulls her daughter up to sit next to her. Ubbu spreads the jute firmly to cover their belongings to make sure the sea water doesn’t get to them. He gives a push to the boat and with a quick hop Ubbu takes his place at the head of the craft and begins rowing into the dark expanse heading south.
Flickering lights of homes scattered along the seashore appear like stars in the distance and are now becoming dimmer behind them as the boat thrusts forward with increased speed. After several minutes they are completely engulfed by darkness.
The little girl clutches at her wrap-around to fend off the cold as they travel with the wind behind them. She moves closer to her mother for warmth, staring ahead with half-closed eyes. After several hours of navigating in darkness, Ubbu brings the boat to its slowest speed.
Hidden behind the thick fog and the pointy rocks sticking out of the sea, lies Skeleton Island. Located at the southern tip of the bigger Howling Island, its mythical existence has struck fear in the people of the other islands for many generations.
According to legend, it was believed to be inhabited by woodland nymphs, gnomes and spirits that no man ever dared tread upon. Tales were told throughout past generations, about sailors ensnared into its shores by melodious voices of nymphs, who sang these men into their doom, and their ships were never found again.
It did not take them very long to arrive in the shores of this dreaded place under the cover of darkness. Brown kelps washed over by the waves scalloped the beach, outlining the dried pieces of wood and human skeletal remains scattered beside a shipwreck half-buried in the sand. They are bleached by years of sun, wind and salt. It is aptly called Skeleton Island, where pirate ships in the days past were brought and abandoned untouched and there to decay.
Asdahlia, beset by an eerie feeling that something out there is watching their arrival, clutches her mother’s arms. Their eyes move from side to side as the sounds of nocturnal creatures seem to draw nearer yet they must try to keep their attention on the mossy path. Both of them carrying bundles upon their head, hurry to keep up with Ubbu who is leading them up the craggy mount and deeper into the forest under the dim light of a small torch. The hasty climb brings them to a small clearing. Ubbu moves ahead where a camouflaged structure is waiting, and with his muscular brown hands, he parts the hanging vines revealing a cottage. He pushes the door to open inwards and lighted the lamps that he took out from the bundle.
The lamp illuminated the shack and with gaping mouth and widened eyes the two are awed by the unexpected sight of a well-built cottage as they continue to follow Ubbu inside. Asdahlia immediately drops her bundle on the floor and proceeds to inspect the small rooms with amazement while the couple puts out their belongings to get situated. Thalia sees the hearth and places the pot of salt by the corner, pushing the bag of sugar in its place, and the sack of rice next to it. Seeing that they have everything they may need, Ubbu smiles with satisfaction as he tightens his belt around his robe, bends to hug his wife and his daughter and in barely audible voice, says “goodbye” to each of them. They watch him as he turns to leave, vanishing into the darkness. With closed eyes Thalia exhales
all the pent up emotions of the day-long activity.
A large ship is anchored at the mouth of a cave hidden behind the protrusion of rocks. Its blackened mast almost touches the dirt roof concealed by a mesh of hanging vegetation. The thick ocean mist hides her from the Battleship Kentucky that roams the southern seas. The sails, which are purposely the color of the sea, have been rolled down and there is no sign of life visible anywhere on deck to catch the curiosity of any passing boat. Below the deck, however is a bustle of activity.
Blending with the darkness that surrounds him, Ubbu arrives unnoticed by his men. His turban tilts to one side as he looks up at the moon above before he slips in through the captain’s door proceeding to inspect the cargo on board.
Spices from Maluku and precious metals such as gold, silver, tin and copper from Penang fill the cargo room. His eyes draw to a squint and his slow smile exposes two rows of rusty gold teeth veneers. He looks on with satisfaction as his men tighten the chains that secure the boxes and bales in place. Their thick arms damp with sweat, stretch and pull to make sure the locks are secured in place. Brown skin gleams with every flexed movement of muscles.
Lifting the edges of his robe, Ubbu proceeds forward to avoid the tangle of ropes and baskets scattered on his way, and old trash that has seen sun and rain for God knows how long, emitting a most unpleasant smell. The darkened tips of his fingernails look like dried crude oil clutch against his robe. The layer of thick garment he wears over the loose pants is gathered by a belt at the waist emphasizing the long barreled pistol tacked to his right side and the knives in its leather sheath hanging on his left. He walks around with that dull brown boots, worn-out by the weight of his steps, announcing his comings and goings aboard the ship. His heavy steps never fail to evoke fear among his crew and captives alike. Nevertheless, his men see to it that they keep his boots brushed to shine. The attention given him by his men lends to a look of superiority spreading over his face. Above all he prides himself as a successful and famous merchant from the east, trading with the Dutch, the sheiks and other reputable merchants in countries all over Asia; from Sumatra and Malaya to Amoy, India, and even as far away as Persia, Egypt and the ports of Judah.
He walks down through the frightened faces of a dozen captives linked together by a heavy chain attached to the wide metal band locked around their feet and hands. He surveys each one of them, looking pleased with anticipation that these slaves will fetch him good price at the auctions. He wants to make sure that the Dutch and other middlemen overseas will be satisfied with their acquisition. He is nonetheless worried that this trade has been getting slow lately and some merchants are no longer interested in slaves. His men must ensure that these young men and women are kept healthy and strong. His sharp eyes caught something.
“Huh!”
Ubbu notices the female captive looking limp. He steps back and grabs her by the hair and pulls her closer to look at her pale face and red puffy eyes. The chain clanks noisily against the hull when the rest of the captives strained out of the way, their faces fraught with hate and tension, sweating from the heat circulating inside the ship. The woman squeals a tiny voice. Tears roll down her cheeks as she shrinks back as quickly as she is released. Ubbu turns a darkening face to his band of laughing pirates and growls a command.
“Have you fed them at all? Make sure that we don’t lose profit”.
He glares at every single one just long enough to impress his words upon them. The scornful look received its intended effect and the noise has reduced to a mere vigorous nodding and murmurs of “aye, aye” to their captain. They are suddenly struck by the immense realization of how much is at stake in this trip. Now walking behind their captain with much restrained behavior, they continue to inspect the rest of the ship.
The quarter moon in the sky provides meager light to the man climbing to the top of the mast to peruse the sea for any sign of patrolling boats. Minutes later he stands at the yardarm to slide down thru the rope and report that there is no other ship in sight on the horizon. The men hurry to take their assigned stations on deck and wait for instructions.
Ubbu, who now feels confident that his family is safely hidden away if in case the war escalates in the Bigger Island, gives his final command to set sail in silence.
He stealthily maneuvers the ship away from the sharp rocks, as he had done many times and mastering over the course of many years, taking only few minutes to head out into the open sea and out of sight.
CHAPTER 2
Asdahlia
Many moons have passed since Asdahlia and her mother arrived in Skeleton Island. She was barely six years old when they came and in the three years since she has learned to accept the reclusive life to which she and her mother have become accustomed. She has actually come to love their new home and they are having considerable fun in what they now consider their very own paradise island.
A small piece of cloth in ethnic color of burnt gold wraps around her hips down to her knees. It is held together by the interlocking strands of shells while a small net bag tied by a cord hangs on her waist. Her long hair is a curly mix of black and golden brown bustled to and fro by the breeze. She delights in doing things with her mother. They both like swimming, fishing, and gathering pearls early in the morning when the sea is calm.
Darting ahead into the water, she digs her feet into the sand and the ebbing tide washes over leaving tiny footprints behind her. In a single splash she dives deep into the sea floor where pearls and seashells abound. Swimming and mingling with the pristine beauty of nature hidden under the sea, her secret world comes alive with colors at the first hint of sunlight shooting through the waves keeping the movements below in harmony with the rhythm of bubbling ebbs and flows.
Asdahlia kicks her feet to follow the swift dashing fish. Her hair floats behind as she joins the colorful pandemonium of sea creatures searching for a speck of food even among the tiniest gap in the reefs. She idles along the forest of kelp and other overgrowth of aquatic plants, avoiding the long pink strands of jellyfish hair floating by, always keeping aware of the silver glints of tiny organisms moving about. A few big strokes through the reefs bring her back to her hunt for shells and pearls.
Thalia stays behind on the shore to wait and watch for her daughter. She fully immerses herself in the tranquility of her surroundings. Simply listening to the lapping of the waves evokes a sense of eternity. Her rust colored blouse hugs her bodice and the pant-like wrap-around skirt blows to one side, shaking from the cold sea breeze. Her long sleeves are tied together at the wrists revealing light brown hands that she holds up to screen her eyes as she gazes at the daybreak. She waits for the rising sun to engulf the lush green vegetation around her, and momentarily turning it purple before the sun subtly inches up in the east then it fades back its original shade. She stands there completely unaware how she glows in this changing color of sunrise.
Ritualistically, she will watch again another transformation later in the day when the sun sets in the other end of the firmament to complete its course. In the meantime she picks up the spear and skillfully steps into the bubbling tide without frightening the fish.
Much of the surrounding waters are shallow preventing large ships from passing through the straits. Sea farers dread the protruding clusters of rocks surrounding the island which are barely visible when tide is high, yet it is teeming with fish year round. After a while she glances at her catch in the basket and proceeds to pick it up. She is ready to go back to the cottage. Carrying the spear over her shoulder she calls for her daughter.
“Asdahliaaaaa . . .”
The familiar high pitched voice ripples through the waves. Soon Asdahlia arches a few feet above the surface of the water and dives back in, swimming deeper to gather momentum rising to a somersault several feet in the air and shooting down in rapid circular motion before finally resurfacing. She takes a big breath of air to fill her lungs shaking off the sea water from her head. She lights up when she sees her mother watching her as she emerges, her skin glistening and her hair streaming water down her thin body past her waist. She laughs aloud as she runs to her mother.