CHAPTER ONE
🥕 "Carrot Boy"
As the young man opened his eyes, he found himself in an unfamiliar place.
The area was surrounded by countless flowers and verdant plains. It was a tranquil and peaceful setting, enjoyed by small animals that played joyously across the landscape.
From where he stood, he could see lush trees heavy with ripe fruits. Looking up, he gazed at the clear blue sky and the pure white clouds that partially shielded the sun.
He heard the chirping of birds and the sound of clean water flowing in the river, and along with his admiration for the view, a strong breeze swept over him.
He felt the touch of the cool, fresh air on his skin as it blew around him, a truly pleasant sensation.
In that moment, the young man wondered if what was happening to him was merely a dream or a type of illusion. He asked himself how he had arrived at this place without realizing it.
While observing his hands and savoring the refreshing breeze, a woman's voice suddenly spoke to him.
A mysterious woman with long black hair, wearing a simple white dress, abruptly appeared behind him.
As he turned, a light shone into his eyes, causing him to instinctively cover them with his right arm.
The young man couldn't make out the woman's full face, perhaps due to the sun's glare or the light emanating from the mysterious woman herself, but all he knew was that she was asking him a question with a smile.
"What do you think of my home?" she asked the young man.
The young man was puzzled by the sudden question and was unable to answer, captivated by the woman and startled by her sudden appearance. The young man desired nothing more than to see her entire face and know who she was, but he was not given the chance.
Just then, a strong gust of wind swept through the surroundings, carrying the petals of the flowers and seeming to encircle the mysterious woman.
Her vibrant hair was caught by the wind, dancing as the white petals fluttered around her.
The woman continued to move her mouth, appearing to speak, but the young man couldn't hear her.
All he could hear was the echo of the wind and the chirping of the birds. He couldn't tell if the sounds of nature were simply too loud or if the mysterious woman's utterances truly had no voice.
"What's happening? I can't hear her. What is she saying?" he whispered to himself.
The woman spun around, seemingly narrating things with delight, pointing to the mountains, the river, the sky, and the animals around them. Yet, the young man could do nothing but watch and observe her actions.
As the mysterious woman continued to move her mouth as if speaking to him, she briefly bent her head and held her chest.
A look of concern crossed her face; her smiles were replaced by a sad expression, as if contemplating a problem. In that instant, she suddenly fell silent, and silence enveloped the place.
The young man sensed that the mysterious woman was troubled and he wanted to know why, so he could help. But as he tried to step closer, she suddenly lifted her head and looked at him.
He stopped his attempt to move from his spot when he saw the mysterious woman smiling at him again while reaching out her hand.
A raised hand that seemed to be offering him an invitation to come with her.
Was she giving him something, or did she want him to accompany her? The young man had no idea, because no matter how hard he tried to understand the movement of her lips, he couldn't grasp what she was trying to convey. He only knew that she wanted to communicate something to him beyond words.
It was a moment that greatly surprised and perplexed the young man, but even though he couldn't hear any question or request from her, he wanted to respond. However, even his own voice wouldn't reach the woman before him. He couldn't tell if any sound was leaving his mouth when he spoke, or if he was merely whispering the words in his mind.
He didn't know what he could do to hear her voice. He wanted to know everything and hear her again, even for a single moment.
Even without an idea of what the mysterious woman was truly saying in front of him, he slowly raised his right arm, wanting to reach out to her hand and hoping to find all the answers to his questions.
As his feet took a step towards the mysterious woman, she spoke again.
"The Motherland calls you and requires your help. Will you answer it?" This utterance from the mysterious woman halted his step toward her.
"Answer it?" he whispered to himself, questioning, while observing the mysterious woman's smile.
"What do you mean?"
As the mysterious maiden opened her mouth again, a strong wind blew, causing the young man to shut his eyes.
When he opened them again, he was facing a roof without a ceiling. In that moment, he reached out his hand and slowly realized that he had woken up from his sleep.
He just lay there staring, his undershirt soaked in sweat due to the heat inside the house he lived in.
He sat up from his sleeping mat on the floor and rubbed his eyes to fully wake up. He looked around his home, and, as usual, he was alone.
It was a small house made of patchwork wood and bamboo, a common type of dwelling in their provincial village.
At that moment, he held his head, thinking about the weird dream. He clearly remembered the scenes in his dream but not the face of the mysterious woman.
"My dream was so weird," he muttered to himself.
A moment later, he got up from his seat and folded his bedding. He hurried to the kitchen to wash his face and prepare to leave.
This young man was Erik Lumagbas, fourteen years old, a normal boy with a small build and vibrant black hair. He lived with his family in a small settlement in the province of Ifugao.
The villages in the province were few because much of Ifugao was mountainous and forested, so many of the inhabitants made their living by growing vegetables.
Their small area was just one of the farmlands in the town of Lingawin, from which they supplied neighboring towns.
Since his mother and father went to work early at the vegetable farm, he was always the one left at home and was accustomed to looking after himself.
His haste and preparation to leave were not for school, like a normal teenager, but for work and earning a living.
Wearing an orange hoodie and pants, he was ready to head to his destination and do his routine work as a vegetable vendor.
At a young age, Erik had already started working hard, helping his family meet their daily expenses.
He quickly locked the door and ran out of the house. From there, he went to a warehouse full of vegetable workers busy loading sacks of vegetables onto a truck.
"You're late, Carrot Boy! Hurry up and load the vegetables, or we'll leave you behind," shouted a muscular man in the driver's seat.
They were not the main group supplying vegetables to the towns, so they didn't have a permanent buyer or outlet. Their group simply gambled on selling all their produce during each delivery run.
Their trips usually lasted four to six days until they sold all the produce grown by their families.
He wasted no time and immediately grabbed the vegetables piled up in a basket and loaded them onto the truck. These baskets contained the carrots grown by his family, which his father had harvested.
~
After a few minutes of loading the vegetables, the truck started up and left the area to head to the large markets.
While sitting on the sacks of vegetables, the young man ate boiled carrots he had brought as breakfast. In that moment, he had nothing else to do inside the moving truck but look outside and watch the roads until they reached their destination.
~ Erik's Point of View ~
If you sow, you will reap. Those are the first words you learn and live by if you come from a family of vegetable growers.
Every piece of these vegetables was planted with the sweat and toil of our companions and families. They are guarded and cared for until they can be harvested to be sold at the markets in the city.
My family rents a plot of land to plant carrots, and after a month, my father harvests them. At that time, I join the other growers to sell them in markets in various places.
It's a bit complicated because at first, our leader didn't want me to join because he thought I was too young to sell in the city. I don't know what his problem is with my age, but this has been my job for a long time, so I'm used to dealing with people and avoiding being cheated.
I'm away from home for several days, and honestly, it's hard being far from my family, aside from the loneliness. But somehow, this job is also fun because I get to go to different places and cities.
I admit that it's a bit difficult for my small body to carry big baskets and hawk them, but I have to do it to earn money for next month's expenses.
I can't go home without selling all of our carrots. My mother borrowed money for the seedlings and the land plot to plant them.
Truth be told, only a small amount of money is left for us from this job, but we have to do it and continue because it's the only way we know how to survive.
Hard, tiring, and no guaranteed income.
Repetitive things and problems we face every day.
We have no idea how long we'll have to keep doing this.
How long will we live in this hand-to-mouth existence?
It's sickening.
Truly sickening...
To live as a poor person in a poor community is a punishment and not a good thing.
Perhaps I'm happy and grateful to be the son of my mother and father because, even though we are poor, we live happily together. But that's not enough to say I'm lucky in life.
I have two sisters, one 5 years old and one 8 years old. I want them to finish their studies, which is why I volunteered to stop school and help my mother and father work as vegetable vendors, just like them, so we can afford my sisters' education.
My dream is for them to study high school in Manila, not just in this small community in the province.
They say Manila is very developed and everything there is beautiful, new, and high-class, which is why my family and I dream of living there.
I don't know how much money it will cost for my sisters to finish their studies, but I will strive to make it happen. No matter what.
I hope my efforts will result in a change in our lives.
But...
Is it possible for people like us to experience a comfortable life?
Do we have the right to dream in a country stripped of its own rights and now confined by the iron laws of foreigners?
~ End of Point of View ~
The truck they were riding stopped due to an authority checkpoint.
The checkpoint was guarded by Spanish police officers.
They were in grey uniforms, directing passersby and carefully checking belongings, as if searching for something.
Here, they asked people for IDs and listed them in a booklet. The checkpoint was a way for the government to prevent rebels from entering the towns and causing trouble.
The rebels at that time were Filipinos who refused to accept Spanish rule. The rebels were in many groups, and some of them were bandit groups who caused trouble and destroyed the properties of Spaniards living in the city.
They often blocked vehicles to rob them, and one of their favorite targets was vegetable trucks like Erik's.
~ Erik's Point of View ~
We are far from civilization, so I don't know what's happening in the country, but all we know is that the Spanish government holds control.
I was taught in the school I used to attend that it has been almost 500 years since the Spaniards occupied the Philippines and subjected it to their rule.
Some Filipinos do not accept their rule, so they revolt and become rebels. Honestly, I don't know the point of what they're doing because they say Spain has millions of soldiers, so how can they fight them?
There are also rumors that the Spaniards possess magic and extraordinary abilities, which is why they are not defeated in battles.
Whether that's a lie or true, I don't think it matters anymore. The Spaniards aren't doing anything strange in our area, so it's okay for me that they are here.
In fact, it's better for me that they are here because they keep us safe from the danger posed by bandits who want to rob us.
Hmm...
Freedom?
But what is its value to a simple citizen like me? Will anything change in my life's status if they succeed in liberating the country?
No matter how much I think about it...
Hmm...
I think it's useless...
I can't understand why they are wasting their lives for freedom when they could just live and go with the flow.
~ End of POV ~
While they were going through the process at the checkpoint, Erik looked outside to see what was happening.
At that moment, he saw the truck driver handing money to the Spanish police officers.
This money was another payment to the Spaniards for passing through the checkpoint, in addition to the taxes collected by the government. This payment was mandatory, and they had no choice but to give it to pass peacefully through the checkpoint.
The elders taught them to remain silent and simply follow whatever they were told so as not to get into trouble. This was ingrained in every vegetable vendor over the years and passed down through generations.
Their practice of collecting payment reduced the earnings of the vegetable vendors, especially those with small amounts of produce to sell, like Erik.
Erik didn't dwell on this or resent it much, having become accustomed to giving a percentage of his earnings to the Spaniards whenever they delivered vegetables.
In his belief, this was a small thing, considering that those police officers were guarding them against attacks from the rebels.
More than Five Years Ago
In the middle of the Philippines, in the heart of Manila, considered the country's capital, an enormous plaza was filled with the deafening noise of people and soldiers. Sunlight struck the complex architecture of the surrounding buildings, suggesting the historical significance of the place.
The air was heavy, thick with dust and the smell of sweat from the thousands of bodies gathered in the plaza. A historical and powerful gathering was currently taking place, a display of power and terror that had become symbolic under Spanish rule.
The plaza was packed with approximately ten thousand Filipinos, their faces a mixture of fear, confusion, and suppressed anger. Surrounding them were Spanish soldiers in shiny metal and dark cloth uniforms, their rifles raised and ready to move at any moment. The Filipinos, mostly forcibly brought from their homes and villages, stood under the intense heat of the sun, their clothes damp with sweat and dust, their eyes fixed on the stage in front.
The soldiers guarded every corner of the plaza, their voices rising as they moved the crowd to stay in line, treating them like animals. On the stage, five Filipinos—rebels fighting the Spanish government—knelt, their hands and feet bound by stiff chains that scraped against their skin. Their clothes were stained with bloody wounds and mud, signs of their intense suffering before being brought to this place.
Their heads were slightly bowed, but their eyes blazed with fierce determination, even though their bodies were barely able to move. Behind them stood the large gate of the courthouse, its yellow paint fading with age, and in front of it were the seats of the generals—men in white attire, their uniforms laden with gold and badges, reflecting their high status.
In the middle of the ten generals stood a robust man, his body exuding power and authority. He was Viceroy Antonio Magellan, the leader of the capital, dressed in an elegant gown with a golden coat that shimmered under the sunlight. His face was stern, his eyes like sharp swords that gazed at the crowd.
His presence commanded fear and respect, and his steps were like the music of power as he approached the center of the stage to face the spectators.
"Citizens of the Philippines," he began, his voice loud and resonating through the air, like thunder in the expanse of the plaza.
"Today, you witness the historic execution of the Philippine rebels who oppose the holy government of Spain!" His words were filled with confidence, and his hands were raised, like a king reigning over his kingdom.
He bravely declared his firm stance, his voice rising with every word.
"I will eliminate all rebels, Filipinos who have no respect for the peace of this nation! There is no place under my rule for the executioners who kill innocent citizens, the animals who destroy the order brought by Spain!" His eyes swept over every face in the crowd, as if daring anyone to fight against him.
"As long as I am the viceroy ruling this nation, I will ensure that no one succeeds in destroying the peace that Spain offers you!" he shouted, his voice full of anger and determination.
The soldiers behind him nodded, gripping their guns tighter, as if ready to follow every command of their leader.
As Magellan spoke, Filipino soldiers in simple Filipino attire climbed onto the stage, but their faces were emotionless, like machines shaped by their masters. Each carried a long rifle, aiming them at the five rebels kneeling before them.
The Filipino spectators were gripped by intense fear, their faces full of tears and anxiety. Children hid behind their parents, clinging tightly, while the elderly bowed their heads, as if defeated by the weight of their emotions.
"Watch all of you what happens to those who oppose the government of Spain!" Magellan shouted, his hand pointing at the rebels. Simultaneously, a soldier slowly raised a red flag, a signal that marked the beginning of the end for the bound Filipinos.
In an instant, the soldiers fired their rifles, the sound of the shots echoing like thunder throughout the plaza. Bullets rained down on the five rebels at close range, their bodies pooling blood that flowed like a river onto the stage.
Moments later, the rebels collapsed to the ground, their eyes remaining open, filled with anger and an unfinished fight. Blood spread across the stage floor, like a dark painting of despair.
The Filipino spectators were horrified, their cries of fear and dismay becoming a chorus of pain. Some viewers trembled, their hands covering their mouths as they held back their tears.
Others wept silently, their faces full of sadness and helplessness, while the youth ran away, unable to believe what they had seen. The soldiers remained standing, their faces emotionless, as if they did not understand the depth of pain caused by their actions.
The scene was broadcast live on television and the internet, showing the cruelty throughout the country. In various parts of the Philippines, rebels watched in their homes or hid in the forest, their eyes burning with intense anger.
"They are animals!" shouted a rebel from a remote village, his fist tightly clenched as he watched the live feed on an old television. "I will kill them! They will pay for what they did to our countrymen!" shouted another rebel, his voice full of bitterness and determination as he held a sharp bolo knife.
In a cave in the northern part of the country, a group of rebels gathered, their faces full of anger as they watched the execution.
"We should no longer allow the Spaniards to remain in this country!" shouted their leader, his voice piercing the darkness of the cave. "We must fight them until our last breath! The blood of our brothers should not be wasted!"
Filipinos in various corners of the country gathered in secret locations, their hearts full of hatred and determination.
To them, the world seemed to have turned a blind eye to the injustice committed by the Spaniards, and they expected no outside help.
"Our own strength is the only thing that will free us!" shouted an old rebel, his voice full of pain but also hope.
"We must fight for our freedom for the next generations of the Filipino race, even if it means our death!"
While the rebels raged in every corner of the country, Magellan returned to the stage, his face full of satisfaction at the success of his plan.
"You want war, so war I will give you!" he shouted, his voice rising in the air, like a challenge to the rebels.
"I will eliminate all of you, no matter where you hide! I swear by it!"
His words caused a greater stir in the crowd; the Filipinos were divided between fear and anger. The soldiers tightened their watch, their guns ready, while the blood on the stage slowly dried under the hot sun.
As the rebels swore vengeance, their hearts were full of fire, ready to ignite at any moment. The air was filled with tension, and the Philippines was ready to explode into a war that would change the country's history.
End of Chapter 1