CHAPTER 4 Zeke

Zeke in the Land of the Thin Men

Zeke woke up. He felt especially groggy and sluggish, like the way he felt when he had too much to drink the night before. He tried to think of the last thing that had happened to him before he lost consciousness, but nothing came to mind. The clearest thing he remembered was riding in Trevor's Ford Fiesta about to take a pill from a bottle of Quaaludes. Everything was hazy after that.

He also didn't recognize the room he was in. He was lying down on a bed made of bamboo and could feel the coarse bumps on his back. Except for the bed, everything else was made from coconut byproducts: walls and floor made from lumber, roofing from interwoven leaves, chairs made from husks. He was inside a very rustic hut with no electricity and no windows. However, daylight was emanating from the wall cracks and dust-filled air was dancing in its rays. He stood up and saw a makeshift door made from lightweight balsa just a few feet from him. He pushed it aside and went out.

It was a deserted landscape of blackened earth and arid heat as far as his eyes could see. Zeke squinted and tried to survey the surroundings for any movement, but nothing did. It seemed to be devoid of human and animal life. He saw a smattering of houses and buildings that were either abandoned or demolished. He also saw indistinct plant life scattered about and a few coconut trees. He was the only thing living in this unknown and forsaken region of God's earth to which he was forcefully taken to.

He tried to remember a particular science lesson in school on how to determine due north. It had something to do with the position of the sun and the time of the day. The trouble was, his brain was still in a fuzzy mush, and couldn't think clearly. What he could remember was that the sun rose in the east and set in the west. It was nearly noon since the sun was almost above him. So he figured that north was on his left. He had a good sense of direction and his instincts directed him to walk with the sun on his back. He shambled northwards, he surmised it was a good direction to go.

He struggled to walk. Every step he made on the black soil emitted small dust clouds that rose to his face; it was hard for him to breathe and see. The blistering sun was beating down on his senses and made him fatigued to the point of mental and physical collapse. He was also so thirsty he was starting to hallucinate. He was about to fall out of sheer dehydration when he noticed an encampment with people present. He thought he was imagining it. Regardless, he summoned all of his strength and called out to them, real or otherwise. Then he fainted.

He awoke to the smell of marijuana smoke. He had considered it a soft drug compared to the hard ones he was used to. All the same, he enjoyed a puff or two once offered. After all, he was a fiend for all kinds of drugs.

He sat up. Amidst the cannabis cloud, the smokers came into view. They all sat in a circle, with Zeke in the middle. They were extremely thin men, deathlike in pallor and appearance. They wore long priestly robes and held bibles. They didn't seem to notice him. Their eyes were closed and he crazily thought that they were praying over him like he was dying. He inhaled the second-hand smoke and felt much better. He asked out: "Who are you people? Where am I?"

"Praise the Lord! He is alive! You are in the Beta quadrant, my son. Those dropped here are people like you, the drug abusers who, one way or another, displeased the Higher Echelons of the Colony. That's the key word, 'displeased'. Anything worse you'd be in the other three, or worse still, dead. What did you do anyway?" Said the oldest and thinnest among them. He almost looked like a skeleton.

"I-I-I don't know. I don't remember. "

"You will, in time. Once you've adjusted. Here, take a drag. What's your name?"

He took the rolled joint and inhaled deeply. "Zeke. Wait a minute. What do you mean by 'dropped here?' I was kidnapped and brought here illegally?"

"In a sense you were, but there was nothing illegal done to you. The Colony doesn't act and think by those terms. Think of it this way: you are a nasty piece of chewed gum stuck on the sole of a shoe that is the Colony. It needs a sharp stick to scrape out the gum. The sharp stick is this place, my son."

"I think I'm more confused now. I still have many questions to ask."

"And we will answer all of them. So relax, let the drug do God's work and heal you."

###

It took Zeke a while to get an entire grasp of his situation. The thin men were predisposed to talking in inscrutable rhetoric that took patience and time to arrive at a point. The most important thing he learned was that his situation wasn't as bleak as he thought it was. There was still hope. It came in the form of the Sons of Lapu-Lapu, a secret society of which he was a member.

Sons in the Valley

He found out that the Sons were deeply entrenched in every quadrant in the Valley. They weren't known by the real name of society. That was still a secret among them. They held a higher status compared to the others and often acted as an intermediary between the Valley watchers and the prisoner groups. They were tasked to impart the rules that the Valley enforced and also kept the peace. Everyone looked to them to fix a problem that came their way. They were trusted by everyone, including and most importantly, the guards. He later found out that it was all a ruse. They were waiting for the right time to make their move and strike.

In Beta Quadrant particularly, they were known and engaged in matters of religion. They were the spiritual advisers of the prisoners. They provided counsel for troubled souls, which were in abundance. They were distinguished by the long robes they wore and the bibles they held. They also provided another type of service that was tolerated by the watchers: the trafficking of marijuana among the prisoners. This was the only type of drug allowed in the Valley, and this was how the Thin Men held sway.

Zeke was still living on the fringes. He kept to himself most of the time and only interacted with his fellow convicts if he needed anything, like food, water, or personal accessories. They were given a free rein by the watchers and left to their own devices since it was almost impossible to escape. That was the most important thing he learned from the Thin Men, that the mere thought of escaping was an exercise in futility. He also learned that Beta Quadrant was ¼ part of a small island off the coast of the Mindanao archipelago. Alpha, Gamma, and Delta comprised the other ¾ to constitute the Valley.

He learned that the Valley was an impenetrable fortress. The walls were a hundred feet high and twenty feet thick. They were made of concrete with festooning spikes of corrugated metal. This separated the four quadrants and surrounded the whole island. There were massive strange symbols plastered on every surface that looked like Egyptian hieroglyphics.

There was only one main passageway in and out. Watchers with high-powered long-range rifles were stationed in high towers at every corner, watching over them. Supplies were delivered by a helicopter which flew in twice a week.

He was uncertain to let himself be known to the Thin Men that he was also one of the Sons and a Brother to them. He wasn't the sociable type and preferred to be left alone at most times, but he was living in a different and unsafe environment. He knew that being alone was a signal to the other prisoners that he was an easy target, so he had to belong to something for his protection.

He had to tell the Thin Men that he knew their secret.

Brother Bart

The oldest and skinniest of the Thin Men was Brother Bartholomew or Brother Bart for short. He was their unequivocal leader and Beta Quadrant's mouthpiece. All information passed through him and he was privy to all of the Valley's secrets.

Zeke girded himself and approached him one day.

The Thin Men had built an improvised greenhouse for their marijuana plantation. The roof and walls were made of translucent plastic and a large water tank was posited outside. There they grew, dried, and processed the leaves for merchandising and consumption. Right beside it was a barn-like structure that functioned as their living quarters and house of worship. It was empty of furniture except for wide mats made from coconut leaves.

A few weeks later, after Zeke had settled in, he went to the plantation/living quarters and found Brother Bart sitting down with his legs crossed on the mat, alone. He was smoking on a water pipe. He saw Zeke, motioned to him, and said: "God bless you my son! Come here and sit with me."

"Sure. I need to talk to you Brother Bart:"

"Oh, you need my spiritual counsel. You caught me at the right time my son. Take a hit first and feel the healing power of God."

"Sure Brother," said Zeke as took a long drag. He exhaled and smiled. "This is good stuff Brother, better than the one I had when I first got here."

"Like it? This is a new sativa strain I developed. This will enable you to open up all of your senses and feel one with the higher power. I call this the Touch of God."

"Wow. I'm starting to feel it now Brother Bart."

"How can I help you my son?"

"Brother, I want to join you."

"Ha ha ha! You're funny my son. I think the Touch of God has touched you in a strange manner. I'm sorry but we're currently not taking in any new members. Maybe we can help you some other way."

"Sorry, let me rephrase that. I am already a member. See this here?" He pointed to his wrist below his palm. "This is a tattoo of a kampilan, a native sword used by warriors in precolonial times. This is a mark bestowed to me after I became a member of the Sons of Lapu-lapu. I noticed yours the first time I arrived here. I wasn't so sure then because I thought it may be just a scar or something, but now I'm sure," he said and pointed to Brother Bart's right hand.

"The Sons. Hmmm…" He inhaled deeply then exhaled. He stared blankly into space for a minute then inhaled and exhaled again. He did the same motion five times in a row without saying anything. Zeke patiently waited. He already knew this was how it was when talking with Brother Bart. Suddenly he said: "Oh you're a Brother as well! Let us rejoice in God's good name! Welcome my son, welcome. Take a long drag, if you will. It will open your eyes. All your worries will be gone and all your questions will be answered."

Zeke took the pipe and obediently inhaled. Then he felt something was about to happen. The new cannabis strain was starting to affect him the way it was intended to.

The world as he saw it, started to strip away, dissolving and changing into something different. The dull earth tones of his surroundings alter and modified into bright primary colors. The new world as he was seeing it was otherworldly and ethereal, like what his understanding of heaven was. Everything was floating and nothing seemed rooted in place. Brother Bart's cadaverous composition disappeared and a gigantic bird appeared in his stead. It was a majestic Philippine eagle, with its speckled plumage and feathery headdress. It screeched abruptly and he understood. He got on its back and held on.

Vision Quest

The giant eagle flapped its mighty wings and screeched again. A beam of light shone on them from above, like they were about to perform to an unseen audience. Once the eagle reached its full bearing, it took off along with Zeke on its back.

They soared high up the clouds. Zeke held firmly on its neck. He didn't feel afraid. On the contrary, he felt charged. He was excited about the sights he was about to see and the grand adventure that lay ahead. The eagle screeched again like it knew what he was feeling and told him to: "hang tight and hold on!"

They flew to newer heights. He felt the wind rush by him like a warm embrace. He felt joyfulness like had never felt before. He laughed hard and then screamed with all the strength in his vocal cords. He felt he needed to do something, or else his heart might burst. Then it hit him. He needed to do this or else he might violently convulse in extreme ecstasy. He stood on the eagle's shoulders and positioned to take flight.

He raised both his arms and jumped. He thought that if he felt the sensation of flying, he might feel better and calm down. He was right. He indeed felt better and calmed down as he flew beside the eagle. His mind also became clearer as he tried to focus on their flight path. He let the eagle be his guide and followed.

The eagle finally descended, with him preceding close by. He was able to see the familiar sight of land and seas. They flew slowly downwards past the ocean, towards a singular piece of country. Everything became bigger and came into focus, however nothing he recognized. He glanced questioningly at the eagle and it screeched in response. He understood it as saying: "you must see. This is a place in time when a single occurrence will change everything."

He heard what the eagle was screeching about but didn't understand it. He focused instead on its flight path.

They were flying over a huge strip of uninhabited landmass. It didn't directly come to rest and hovered over one spot to another like it was looking for an ideal place to roost. It found a secluded place under the shade of a massive mahogany tree and finally landed, with Zeke following suit.

Then the eagle metamorphosed into a primitive-looking, half-naked Asiatic man wearing only a loincloth called a "bahag" and a narrow strip of cloth bound on his temple and forehead called a "putong." However, he wore jewelry all over his body: large round gold earrings, intricately designed necklaces made from seashells, wrist and ankle bracelets. The Asiatic man then looked at him with eager attention. He then heard an echo-like voice in his mind—which he knew came from the Asiatic man—that said to follow him.

They walked through a thick forest of trees, bushes, and many exotic plant life. The Asiatic man then led him to a clearing that had similarly-dressed people and dwelling huts; they had arrived in a small village. They noticed a few men were hunched together sharpening numerous bladed weapons and painting their faces and bodies as if preparing for battle. They passed through them unseen. They walked towards the biggest hut with a small crowd already formed outside by the doorstep. They were quiet and seemed to be listening to loud voices coming from the inside. The Asiatic man conversed with a woman beside him in a language he didn't understand but whose words were similar to his native tongue. He just stood by, listening, observing what was transpiring.

He felt the air was beginning to tense as the voice from inside the hut became louder and more pronounced. There were murmurs of agreement from the crowd. Suddenly the door opened and out came an elderly man, whom he guessed was their leader.

He was an impressive-looking man despite his advanced age. He wore more ornate gold jewelry, an elaborate golden putong that had colorful feathers attached, and a collarless sleeve doublet of fine gold-colored linen. His bahag, also of the same gold linen, overlapped into a longer piece in the middle which hung to his knees. He had long white hair, tough wrinkly skin, and a slightly bent spine. He had an air of high status and nobility. He looked like a tarnished golden sculpture of a forgotten god from an ancient time. He learned later that his name was Datu Cilapulapu, the village chieftain of Opong.

The chief spoke in the same strange yet familiar language that Zeke could almost understand. He spoke willfully, full of pomp and bombast and at times, tearfully. He knew that the chieftain was full of crap—he sounded like a sleazy politician making empty promises—however, he saw that the crowd seemed to eat it up. They were as gullible as sheep being led to slaughter. The whole crux of the speech, he also learned later, was that: to prepare for battle with the fat Spanish colonizer, Fernao Magalhaes!

Bad Seeds Yields Bad Harvest

Zeke had a slight intimation that his trip to the pre-colonial Philippines wasn't real and only a hallucinatory experience brought on by Brother Bart's new strain of marijuana. However, his mind was not functioning in the usual capacity and was more inclined to believe that everything he was experiencing was in fact, real and not all taking place in his head.

For Zeke, the line between reality and unreality had been blurred for some time. Drugs had been a major part of his daily life and his body needed them like drinking water. As a result, "trips" were fairly common occurrences. Some were bad trips—nightmarish journeys into places akin to hell's fiery landscape. Fortunately, some were good trips that impacted him into a state of pure bliss. Soon he longed for the good ones and tried any drug he could get his hands on just so he could experience it again and again. Before long he found out that the trips weren't dependent on the kind of drug he took, but on his general state of wellbeing. If he felt great before taking a particular drug, then the trips would be great as well. If he felt bad before, then bad trips ensued. It was like the drugs magnified his true feelings tenfold. He had a romanticized notion that drugs were God's gift to mankind, the proverbial manna from heaven. He made himself believe that drugs were good for one's soul and a cure for the troubled mind. Trips, good or bad, were essential for his aliveness. In reality, his trips, like his dreams, were the products of his inner subconscious and brought him to places that he needed to be.

Still Life

After the speech, the Chief went back inside and the crowd dispersed, returning to their regular lives. Zeke and the Asiatic Man just stood by, looking around, waiting for something to happen again.

Zeke focused his attention on a nondescript villager—a middle-aged woman—carrying a large clay jar on her head. He was fascinated by the act alone, her strength, and the complete balance of the heavy item on top of her head. She was approaching him from a distance, unmistakably from a river or stream which he had determined was the location of their water source. The path towards him was an uphill walk since the whole village was on a plateau. She lumbered on, slowly and cautiously, like a heavyset bullfrog. She wore a variation of the clothing the men had on, complete with ornate jewelry. The only difference was her chest area was wrapped around with the same cloth type. His attention stayed with her, up until she reached his elevated portion then disappeared inside her dwelling hut.

He was captivated by the goings-on, the tranquility, and the naturalness of the village's living conditions. The whole village scene reminded him of a painting by the renowned Filipino painter Fernando Amorsolo. He was a national artist that specialized in mundane settings, like snapshots from typical Filipino lives. He made something look majestic from something that seemed ordinary.

In the middle of his overall fascination, he suddenly remembered what the eagle/Asiatic Man told him before, about seeing this place in time when a single occurrence will change everything. He finally understood it. He realized that the reason for his journey here was for something he was supposed to see. Something that would enlighten him and put to rest all the doubts in his mind.

This realization was like an unseen signal to action. The men he had seen before, who were busy painting their bodies and sharpening bladed weapons, stood up suddenly. They were yelling incomprehensibly and screaming battle cries. They continued shouting and slowly walked towards the Chieftain's hut, the other villagers following and shouting along.

The battle cries raged on. Soon other men with differently painted faces started arriving from neighboring communities outside Opong, likewise yelling the same battle cries. The small village began to fill up to the brim. The emotions, along with the increasing number of people, were in danger of overflowing the plateau. Zeke and the Asiatic Man had a good viewpoint beside the Chief's hut and were able to observe the whole ordeal.

The Chief, Datu Cilapulapu, emerged from the doorway. Standing beside him were two of his trusted generals who wore a similar gold-colored garb that represented the same high status. The first one shouted a single word for silence and everyone immediately complied. The other one walked towards the middle of the crowd and told the nearest ones to back out and form a circle. He then crouched down, began drawing lines on the ground, and shouted quick instructions. The crowd yelled in agreement and the cries resumed.

The two generals walked back and faced the Chief, his arms raised in prayer, and giving a blessing to both. The warriors from the crowd separated and walked towards the pathway, their battle cries in full crescendo, with the two generals leading in front. The Chief, still with his hands clasped, knelt and continued in deep prayer. He stayed behind because his time for war had long passed.

The Ensuing Battle

Zeke and the Asiatic Man stayed behind and waited for the battle army to be far away from them, but not too far. As they heard the battle cries winding down and were satisfied by the distance between them and the army, they resolved to look for an ideal spot to observe the ensuing battle in its entirety.

They found a good one behind a man-sized boulder among the last remaining trees close to the beachhead. There they were well-concealed and had a good vantage point.

They saw a few small boats already onshore and a few more arriving. The larger ships couldn't dock because of sharp rock outcroppings and coral reefs within the shoreline. The ones that arrived first looked like thugs and gave off an air of malevolence. They wore armor made of solid iron, complete with bucklers, cuirasses, and burgonets already deformed from wear and tear. The whole getup looked too big for them because of near-starvation and scurvy from their arduous sea voyage. They were mean and hungry and looking for trouble; all of them were carrying roperas—arming swords—and matchlock muskets. They were only a few of them and including the ones about to arrive, was a paltry number of about fifty Spanish sailors. The one that acted as their leader was a surprisingly healthy and well-dressed man. He was excessively fat, wearing a black leather jerkin, trunk hose, and shiny boots. He had a conical hat made of felt and a black cloak over his shoulders. He looked like a renaissance portrait of an extravagant nobleman, in stark contrast to his shabby-looking subordinates. He had unsheathed his ropera and used it like a stern teacher, barking commands.

They saw that he was directing his underlings to light torches, which some had fashioned from fallen sprigs nearby. Then they crept towards the nearest hut not far from the shoreline and set fire to the thatch roof. The hut immediately lit up like dry tinder and terrifying cries were heard from within. They approached the neighboring hut and did the same thing.

Black smoke began to thicken and envelop their part of the beach, the sailors coughing and some running towards the coolness of the sea. Then they saw stones and sibats—poison-tipped spears—hurled at the sailors, coming from inland. Some had a hit and killed the sailors, still coughing from the smoke. They were caught unaware and couldn't see the enemy. Then the full force of more than a thousand indigenous warriors advanced from the trees, overwhelming the Spanish invaders.

They saw that the sailors were unmatched by the sheer number of the local force. The sailors' weapons, however advanced, couldn't contain the locals' wrath. With their native long swords (kampilan) and daggers (kris), they hacked, slashed, and cut down one sailor after another—a few were able to escape to the large ships—until one remained: the fat nobleman. He was quickly cut to pieces.

The battle ended quickly like a sudden tidal wave. Cries of victory rang across the shoreline. The power and might of the great Spanish rule were defeated, not by the local forces, but by its hubris and foolhardiness. Like the proud Icarus with his wings made of wax who flew too close to the sun, thus melting it and falling into the Aegean Sea.

I think I got it now…

An Important Lesson

He was back. The veil of dreams which covered his eyes was stripped away; he was able to see clearly. He had landed smoothly from the heights that Brother Bart's new strain of marijuana brought him to. He saw the real him still sitting cross-legged across, smiling from ear to ear. "Welcome back. Are you alright?" he said.

"That was…. SO WEIRD!"

"It was, but illuminating, yes?"

"Well, yes…"

"Now you know who we really are and our true purpose in the Colony, yes?"

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes!"

"What did you say?"

"I said yes Brother Bart. Y-E-S. I think you're still high up there and haven't landed yet."

"Huh? Brother Zeke, right? The prodigal Son returns. Welcome brother, welcome."

"Thanks Brother. Can we talk about what really happened there?"

"Talk? Talk is cheap. What the Sons of Lapu-lapu do is action. ACTION! Next scene in history is World War Two, General Douglas MacArthur—"

"Brother Bart, are you alright? I think I better leave now…"

"CUT! No no no! That was bad Brother Bart, really bad! Who is your acting coach? Again, with the proper feeling and motivation…"

"Bye Brother, talk to you soon when you're not crazy," said Zeke and stood up. He turned around and walked away from the nonsensical Brother Bart and the improvised greenhouse. He felt much better and walked with a spring in his step. He now knew his true purpose and was ready for what the Valley might throw at him.