Chapter 10: Chapter 10-Breakfast At The Barracks

AMILYN

 

I wake up the next day to the knowledge that I am, after all, not dreaming.

I was expecting to wake up and find myself back at the apartment, the sun peeking through the window, nana greeting me with her signature warm smile. I expected to be back in my old, regular, non pinili life, where the worst of my worries is my grades is math, followed closely by my worsening acne.

To my surprise however, I woke up and found that I am still inside the bizarrely shaped hut, in the embrace of an unfamiliar bed. Maybe it was too much of a wishful thinking to even hope that I would find a familiar setting when I open my eyes.

I was woken by the sound of an alarm clock going off. You know the one, that annoying beeping sound that makes you want to throw the alarm to the other side of the room, the one that is annoying enough to make you get up from bed groggily, if only to turn it off and stare blankly at the ceiling for the next fifteen minutes.

Opening my eyes, I notice that the sun is already up, its warm rays peeking through the gaps in the walls of the makeshift room.

Sure enough, it’s still that place, the small space surrounded by patterned pieces of cloth hanging from the ceiling, red, blue, yellow, and white forming intricate details on the fabric.

There is some shuffling to the room next to me. Then I remember that I have a roommate. A brown-haired one, with a name that sounded Spanish.

Mary, right. That’s what she asked me to call her.

“You awake, Amilyn?” she calls out tentatively.

“Wide awake,” I reply, holding back a yawn.

“How was your first night here at the base? All good? No centipedes crawling over your skin in the dead of the night?”

“Sorry WHAT?” I ask abruptly, standing up.

“Centipedes. Nasty little ones. Found about three on my first night here. They’re supposed to be useful in class, so authorities don’t eradicate them. But they sure are annoying to deal with when you want to sleep peacefully.”

“We’re supposed to use centipedes in class?”

“Sure. In pagbabalyan. They’re all the rage when it comes to witchcraft,” Mary nonchalantly replies.

I fall silent, imagining myself handling a handful of centipedes on my first day of class. I did not envision that when I was told I was to train to become a warrior. Why would warriors need centipedes?

“You okay?” Mary asks after a few seconds of silence on my end.

“Yeah. Just thinking about centipedes and stuff like that.”

“Oh don’t worry. You’ll get used to it. Besides, much worse things than centipedes are in store for us. We have a whole lot to look forward to.”

“Not really sure I look forward to any of that,” I reply, only half joking.

Mary laughs a little. She rummages around her cot for a few more seconds before poking her head beyond the cloth that separates our rooms.

“You ready? Let’s go. Coffee is the best when it’s freshly brewed. Today is a big day, always best to start big days with coffee.”

“Uhh…go where?”

“The yard, for breakfast.”

“Breakfast? But the sun is already high up.”

“Well it’s always high up, remember? It’s still four in the morning. In the outside world it’s still dark.”

“Oh right,” I say, remembering the big ball of fire at the center of the entire base. We have our own sun in here, up 24/7.

“Come, let’s start your pinili journey the right way,” Mary invites again.

Seeing no chance in the hope that I’m only dreaming, I resign myself to the fact that I am indeed here at this place called Pinag-adlawan, and I am indeed a pinili.

I stand up and follow Mary down the wobbly set of ladder. She leads the way around the uncountable number of uniform houses, taking twists and turns here and there, merrily making her way to her destination as I obediently follow her.

All around us, pinag-adlawan is beginning to open its eyes. People of all ages make their way down their houses, all sporting hairs of different colors and shades. Some are wearing pajama pairs, some topless and sporting jersey shorts, others covered in blankets and comforters, some donning statement shirts, and are even wearing lion clothes. They greet each other in various tongues I cannot even begin to name, waving and exchanging pleasantries. They all walk groggily toward a similar destination, where I assume Mary and I are headed as well.

I smell our destination before I see it. It’s the distinct smell of coffee, wafting through the air like an unseen seductress. My stomach grumbles, and I remember that I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday, and that I vomited what I ate the day before. I’m definitely looking forward to having my fill for this morning.

“There it is. Welcome to the barracks, Amilyn,” says Mary.

I peek behind her to get a better view of what she’s talking about.

It’s a simple place, this space called the barracks. An open area littered with tables and chairs of all shapes, sizes, and materials. Some are long, rectangular, tall, some are round, others square and draped in cloth, while some irregular in shape. I see some of the early arrivals are lounging on slabs of rocks, while others are sitting directly on the grass. Some are swinging on hammocks, some casually sitting on branches, and one is even levitating, literally sitting in the air.

All in all, it’s the most disorganized, and also the coziest-looking cafeteria I’ve ever seen.

Mary and I make our way toward the edge of the space, where I see adults manning large steaming jars.

“Ay uy. Gasayo gani ako tas madaigay gihapon yang utaw. Unan oras kadi dapat magmata, alas-dose?” I hear Mary mumble to herself.

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That did not sound Spanish at all. Maybe Portuguese?

“Here we go Amilyn, right over there. I assume you don’t want rice for breakfast?” she turns to me.

“Uhh… no. No rice,” I reply.

“Okay. How about some sweet potato? It’s good with tablea coffee,” she asks again, making her way toward one of the jars.

“Sure, coffee is good.”

She nods.

“Dalawang kamote, tsaka dalawang tasa ng sikwate. Paki sama na rin ng saba at kamoteng kahoy,” she tells the woman manning the jar.

“Sauce?” the woman asks.

“May ginamos? Paki lagay ng sili tsaka suka,” Mary replies.

The woman whips up Mary’s order. Placing all of the food on a tray, she hands it to Mary, who accepts it and heads for one of the nearby empty table.

She puts down the tray and takes a seat. I follow.

“Sweet potato, should be familiar enough, right?” Mary says as she hands me a steamed sweet potato.

I nod and accept the crop. She also sets one of the mismatched cups in front of me. Inside is a dark kind of liquid. It smells sweet and full of luscious aroma.

I take a sip of the mystery coffee.

Hmm, it’s kinda like hot chocolate. Sweet, a little bitter, strong, with a distinctively chocolate-y aftertaste. Now this is definitely my kind of drink.

Delighted, I take another sip.

“You like it?” Mary asks as she devours her own cup of coffee.

I nod eagerly, turning my attention to the cup in my hands.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Sikwate. It’s pure grounded cacao beads with no added preservatives. Sweetened by natural, freshly squeezed sugar cane. It’s a Filipino treat,” she explains as she takes a bite off one of the white pieces of something off her plate.

I nod, turning my attention to my piece of sweet potato.

“Question,” I say.

“Fire away,” says Mary.

“Why are we eating Filipino treats?”

She looks at me as if not quite sure what she’s hearing.

“Uhh…did I say something?” I ask again.

“You don’t know? Anything?”

I shake my head.

“Wow, you really are clueless. Poor you,” she mutters under her breath.

“Why? What am I missing?” I ask again.

“Where in the Philippines, Amilyn. Hinatuan river is in the Philippines. The deities we follow belong to the Philippine pantheon. We’re what remains of the ancient brand of warriors who fought to protect the earth from the evils as told in the stories in what is known to the outside world as Philippine Mythology,” Mary explains.

She looks at me, as if wondering if I can process what I just heard.

I try to think for a few seconds.

Philippines. A small tropical archipelago in Southeast Asia, most know for beaches and singers. Why would a small, seemingly insignificant country in the far side of the world hold such importance?

“So you’re telling me that the evil and stuff that we’re being trained to fight are Filipinos?” I ask, not quite sure how to believe.

Mary looks at me, then she sighs deeply. She straightens her back, shoves a stick of something in her mouth, and clears her throat.

“Listen closely Amilyn. I’m about to tell you how the world came to be. Consider this your early introduction to the history of the world.”

I nod eagerly, turning all my attention to her.

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