Faithful Resignation

Charlotte Hernnandez
Hearing the rumbling melody of the excavator, staring at the pit holes, all that I can think of
is the greed that has enveloped the world. As I look around, I see women desecrated like
violated temples, media men battling against the confiscation of their equipment, and there
in the middle, a man clothed in barong placing his Putong on.
From afar, I cant seem to recognize his face. But at that moment, I was certain that as his
sister in faith, I will be safe. We will be safe.
Assalamualaikum, I whispered.
As I stare against the window, I heard my sisters-in-law weeping beside me. Fareena, the
youngest of them all, hugged me, laying her tears incessantly.
Dont be afraid, saudara. We will be safe. Allahs grace provided us with a brother in faith
to protect us. No Muslim woman will be harmed. Alhamdulillah! I exclaimed.
Alhamdulillah! But, Genelyn, I am worried for my baby. I cant get too nervous; I might
bleed! Eden replied.
I admit. I, too, am worried for my sisters-in-law who are to deliver their babies. They might
lose them in a flash. I must do something.
Hence, to alleviate their anxiety, I said, Dont worry. I can take care of you. Esmael crafted
a doctor out of me. It is my duty to protect your safety. They flashed a half-smile. Yes, I
know words will never be enough.
Trying to think of an escape plan, I pinned my eyes on the window. The central heroic
figure sent by Allah, my brother in faith, is gone. I tried to look for him, but he is nowhere to
be found. Then and there, I felt the cringing through my spine. I cant be afraid. Allah will
save us.
Bang! Bang! Bang! The loud blast from several guns bombed the area as I witness the
killing of three media men shot point blank at their heads. Seemingly dissatisfied with only
three, this flock of armed men started raiding every car that has lined up the convoy. As
they approached our car, I asked everyone inside to hold each others arm and never let go
despite the grudging imposition of threat.
A man wearing tidy white shirt printed with Iboto! Zaldy Ampatuan para sa Kongreso!
stabbed the glass window of our car with a dagger. Beside the window, I felt shattered glass

pelting my silky skin. I did not mind the pain. I remained steadfast and stood my ground.
But, the truth is, I am hurting and scared as hell.
Who do you work for? What have we done against you? I asked him. He looked at me with
a blank face, then turned to young Fareena, flashing his mischievous smile. His lascivious
intention was interrupted with the dragging of cars by the backhoe to the pit holes
excavated before us.
Slumped on worm-filled soil, I heard the conversation of a man holding a pistol in his left
and a phone on his right saying Were done with the cars, boss. Esmael is nowhere to be
found! Who then shall we kill first?
Esmael? My husband? Right. I never should have underestimated the extent of their
political ambition. Why am I here? Because my husband said so. Because I was ordered to
file for his candidacy.
Earlier, Esmael and I argued about his decision that could change our lives. As pursued by
the compadre of his father, he will run for governor on the 2010 elections.
But, istri, tracing the legacy of our family, I have inherited the ancestral pursuit of my clan
to cleanse Maguindanao from uproar and poverty. Seeing how my fellowmen suffer from
flimsy houses as the reigning seat continues to build fences around their mansion haunts
me. Ampatuans broke our vow thats why Tiyo Rasul reminded me of my forsaken duty. I
must save the land. Esmael said while leaning towards the patio of our room.
Hearing those words, I cant help but think of my position on his priority list. I replied,
Esmael, its the system itself that is rotten. I dont want your safety to be compromised. I
thought weve been over this discussion already?
My land awaits my salvation. Later, I will file my candidacy at Sitio Maganoy.
Are you crazy? With all these death threats youve been receiving since we got back here
in Maguindanao? Stop your delusion, Esmael. Once and for all, stop this perilous plan!
Seemingly dauntless of my words, he shouted, Since when have you been permitted to
command the authority in this house? Is this how you pay me back after clothing you with
jewels and mores?
Then and there, I was reminded of who I am of where I am supposed to be. I am just his
wife, just one of his wives. I admit that this is my choice. Marrying wealthy man to feed me
with etiquette, and of course, following the tenets of Allah, I must comply with how women
should be. I must adhere to where women are supposed to be.

Men are in charge of women by what Allah has given one over the other and what
they spend for maintenance from their wealth. So righteous women are devoutly
obedient, guarding in absence what Allah would have them guard. But those wives
from whom you fear arrogance first, advise them; then if they persist, forsake
them in bed; and finally, strike them. But if they obey you once more, seek no means
against them. Indeed, Allah is ever Exalted and Grand.
As what my faith dictates me to do, I will be righteous. I will submit to what my husband
wants. Even if it will entail the belittling of my pride.
I cant afford to die. This political feud wont cease to exist. Gemalyn, call the media. I am
certain that their presence would threaten these greedy monsters. Also, call my sisters.
They must witness my heeding to our ancestral vision.
Without a doubt, I followed his orders. When everything has been prepared, he placed his
head near me, caressed my face, and kissed me passionately. As the kiss grow deeper, he
dragged me to bed and showered me with affection. I love you, Esmael.
After making love, he said with enthralling eyes, Istri, can I ask a favor from you?
Sure, my love, everything for you.
Please file the certificate of candidacy on behalf of my presence. I believe that they will
never opt to harm women. Dont worry, media men will accompany you. Ten thousand
pesos per convoy. That would be enough. Istri, I will look after you.
Right then, I was confronted with reality. Where am I? Where can I ever be in his life?
Tomorrow, I shall prepare the breakfast, I said.
Flashing his smile, he hugged me so tight that I can feel his hands notching down my spine.
With the tightening of his hands came tears sprawling down my face. Tomorrow, I shall
face the truth. Tomorrow, I shall breathe the rays of the Mindanao Sun.
I never slept. Thinking of endless possibilities, I pinned my eyes on his peaceful sleeping. As
he snores in his slumber, I cant help but think of how he easily he put my safety in peril. My
face, frozen in dread, was jolted by the stinging rays of the morning sun. Allah will provide.
As I was preparing our breakfastNo, his breakfastthe morning surprised me with my
cousin, Sarah, sitting on the couch.
Looking too young and innocent, she immediately stood up upon my arrival and said,
Auntie, I was sent by Tiyo Esmael here. He asked me to accompany you to COMELEC
today. What time will we be leaving?

I cant believe you did this. I cant believe you can do this.
Sarah, leave immediately. I dont want you to come with me. I will never compromise your
safety for my own.
But auntie, tiyo will surely get mad. I will do as he says.
Listen to me, Sarah. Just for this time. Now hurry and leave before he even see us. Use the
backdoor and leave quietly. I will explain things when the right time comes. Hurry!
Hearing footsteps trailing down the stairs, I went back to the kitchen immediately and
acted like nothing had happened. I served his tocino on a nice platteroozing its salitre,
dripping crimson hue on the pallid plate.
It was his favorite food. Blood has been his color.
I opted not to eat. Instead, I lingered my eyes on his satisfaction. With his eyes, I see fullness
beyond physical need.
Beep beep. The media men have arrived. The verdict of my fate has arrived.
Finally! Gigi, get their envelopes on my room. Inday, prepare their breakfast. Esmael said
as he left his unfinished plate.
I went back to our room. After getting the envelope containing microscopic token for the
media, I decided to wrap my face fully with Abaya. Under Allahs provision, I shall be safe.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Drawn back to glitches of present adversity, I was surprised when the most sacred Abaya
danced through the wind, dripping globules of innocent blood.
Ate Gigi!
Raucous screaming tagged along the deafening thumping of pistol as the troop of armed
men shot all the men in the vicinity including a girl who forbade the unholy exploration of
her youthful body.
Fareena my precious Fareena.
Aba, Madame! Youre Esmaels wife, right?, asked a dark man wearing nothing but
trousers.
Think of your wife. Think twice. I said looking straightly at his eyes.

Without hesitation, his muscular arms grabbed me forcefully and removed the sole source
of my strength, my Abaya. Oh, Holy Allah, Your will be done.
Trying to unbutton my garment, a familiar voice stopped him.
Did I order you to rape her? Stop that, Mang Bening! Give her Abaya back!
Finding the herald sent by my Allah, tilting towards the east, I found the shadow of my
savior, my brother in faith.
Alhamdulillah! Thank you, brother!, I said while wearing my Abaya back.
Later did I realize that he wasnt the herald. He wasnt my savior.
He grabbed my fist and dragged me behind the backhoe. Removing my Abaya, our eyes
tangled each others as we share a single lens of realitypolitics go beyond religion.
Gripping his Putong, he said, Gigi, you perfectly knew that we have been reigning since the
70s, right? You perfectly knew that this has been the way of things: we ruling, you
following. We are the arm of the government. Nothing can ever stop that. Not even you.
I couldnt say anything back. I was too frail to mutter an answer.
He came near me, leaving a distance that allowed conflicting ideologies to share a single
breath. He said, Gigi, listen. I respect you. Ironically, he started sprawling down my flesh
exploring the entirety of my nobility. He smeared saliva all over my face with sensuous lust,
and fondled my breast with beastly vigor. From my bosom, his hand wandered loosely over
my exposed stomach. Then, his fingers brushed through the bush of my womanhood. With
no care for precision, a fingermaybe threewent in like a battering ram, claiming the
altar I held dearly for my husband.
In an instant, my mind was a blank. A haze overcame me as the filth of a scum violated me
to his every whim. Though I was spread out like a harlot in a whorehouse, a numbing
sensation rung both my knees. The demon, naked from the waist down, pumped his dirty
dick on me like a bitch in heat. He let out an undistinguished moan with every push; each
one more lustful than its precedent. And in this rhythm of succeeding guttural melodies, I
heard Allah speaking in the chorus:

You shall maintain CHASTITY, not committing adultery, nor taking secret lovers.
Anyone who rejects faith, all his work will be in vain, and in the Hereafter he will be
with the losers.
I remember Esmael. I remember how we copulated during the cold nights. I remember our
children. I remember how they waved me goodbye when I leave for work. And now, all I
can think of is how they will look at me with disgust for having been baptized by another
mans fluids.
I cant blame them. Forgive me, Allah.
Mortified of what happened, I chose not to see. I plead the demon to take my sight away.
Bang!
Uncontented, I begged for his mercy
Cleanse my sinful soul. Let every filth be washed away with your lenient bullet. Society can
never accept this sacrilege. Kill me with dignity. Please!
Without a word, he shot my womanhood. Numbing with pain, the squirting of my blood all
over relieved my restless soul. I exerted my remaining breath saying Assalamualaikum,
Andal. Brother, what have you done?