Harvest of Sand
By
N. Madera Aguilar
*****
Copyright, 2011
By N. Madera Aguilar
Published by
N. Madera Aguilar
(Through DIY-POD
Self-publishing Option)
In E-book Form
Smashwords Edition
All Rights Reserved
By the Author
*****
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***
Bacolod City, Philippines
November 30, 1990
The churchgoers focused their eyes on the groom whom they found debonair in his embroidered Barong Tagalog, a formal men’s attire the haberdashery at Tailor Alley was so proud to have been the tailor of. As he stood there at the center of the aisle inside the San Sebastian Cathedral waiting for his bride to arrive, he was all smile although there was an occasional lingering of his thoughts to places around the world, most particularly the Middle East. He remembered Kuwait. The nice job he had there. The heat. The sand. A beautiful lady he was about to take as his wife. And another pretty girl named Janice. Poor Janice. Where’s she now?
Brian Rios felt it was awkward to be thinking of her on this wedding day of his and inside the chamber of piety where he would soon be exchanging vows with Rose. But he couldn’t help it. She forcibly penetrated into the deepest recesses of his imagination. As his waiting continued, the scene in his room at the Philippine Embassy in Kuwait on that night of August 2, 1990 came rushing back to his mind. He could still savor the sweetness of those moments. He closed his eyes. The image of Janice was getting clearer, as if in cajolery, drawing him to the quicksand of lust. I wish it was I you were going to marry! The words came ringing back to his ears, deafening and meant to shatter his emotions.
And the incident which like a dormant volcano had lurked in the gloom of his mind exploded once more and plunged him to the haze of the past, swirling him down, deep into the billows of his thought.
Kuwait City
August 2, 1990
It was getting late but Brian Rios, a deputy employment and welfare attaché assigned at the Philippine Embassy in Kuwait, knew he was facing a sleepless night. More people would be arriving and would be joining the multitude of those who were already jostled in the embassy premises.
Brian had personally known many of them. Some had come from the same city where he was a native of—Bacolod City. Life there was difficult amidst massive poverty plaguing its people. Brian found that those whom he had known from that place were propelled by the same cause that brought them to Kuwait. They were Filipino overseas contract workers who had come to Kuwait to seek employment in view of the scarcity of jobs at home. They left their homeland hoping that with their earnings abroad they could improve the living conditions of their families back home—and also their own while on a work mission. Now they found that their hopes for a better life were about to be obliterated. The invasion of Kuwait by the Iraqis had sent them fleeing to the embassy compound.
“What’s going to happen to us now, Brian?” a man asked. Brian looked at him first, then shook his head.
“Frankly, Fred, I’m apprehensive.” Brian looked at him plaintively. Fred Velez was a mechanical engineer employed by a power firm situated in the eastern portion of Kuwait City. He was one of those whom Brian knew from Bacolod City. Fred was having a stable job in Kuwait and was making good at it when this unexpected turn of events intervened.
“We’re in a sea of uncertainty. Look, Brian, at how worried they are.” Fred pointed to the teeming people around them.
Brian’s face showed an aura of helplessness. “Excuse me, Fred, I have to go to my quarters for a while.”
And in a moment Brian did.
Before approaching the stairways leading to his room, Brian gazed at the pallid sky. There was a foreboding shadow that stretched from the horizon to the skyline. He sensed an abnormal serenity engulfing the city and he felt there was some chill in the air although that would be unusual in a hot city like Kuwait. What used to be a quiet warm night to end the grueling day slowly turned into something bizarre and disengaging.
The stairway seemed only a few steps and without much awareness of his ascension, Brian was already in front of the door leading to his room. He groped for the keys in his pocket. They were not there. He collected his thoughts.
He maintained three keys: one for the door leading to his room, the other for the comfort room attached to his room and the third one to the veranda. He was sure he had the keys earlier.
His right hand moved to clasp his wallet. It was bulging. He took it out of his pocket and opened it. There the keys were! He inserted the first one to the keyhole just below the door knob and turned the knob clockwise. In a single clicking sound, the door gave way. He located the switch and the room was suddenly illuminated.
What he saw stunned him. Somebody was lying in his bed.
Bacolod City, Philippines
November 30, 1990
Brian knew he had to be firm. He managed to remain calm and unruffled although deep inside him there was a sudden disturbance which arose to spoil his cheerfulness. He tried to assure himself that the imprimatur of smile on his face would not vanish as countless eyes were watching him—directed upon him who, for a few moments, wasn’t there but somewhere in the maelstrom of past indiscretions.
Kuwait City
August 2, 1990
Brian rushed to his bed. A young woman flinched upon feeling his presence as she lay there. Their eyes met. A reluctant smile flashed on her fear-laden face. He was dumbfounded and for a while was hesitant to speak. He finally scratched his head and started asking questions.
“How did you get in here?” his words did not conceal the tone of surprise.
“You left the door leading to the veranda unlocked. This is only the second floor. It’s easy to climb,” she replied.
He looked at her. She had nothing on but her underclothes. Her blouse and skirt were hung on the chair which faced a small table at the side of the bed.
“What happened to your clothes?” Brian found it disconcerting to see her in such a situation.
“My blouse and skirt are the only ones I’ve got. I had no time to pack up. I escaped from the villa in a split-second chance. I have nothing to change to. I must preserve what I’ve got,” she reasoned out.
“I haven’t heard from you since the last time we met. Tell me what happened,” Brian held her hands and kissed her on the right cheek. She in turn embraced him.
Brian touched her chin and moved her head closer to him. Their lips touched and a passionate kiss ensued. Then Brian relented and repeated his question. He wanted to hear her story.
The girl narrated her story. She recited in vivid details the events that transpired earlier in the morning: the ransacking of the villa where she worked as a domestic helper and the assault on her employers, the childless Kuwaiti couple, which led to their slaying—all perpetrated by the fatigue-uniformed soldiers. She told of her escape while the inroad upon them was in progress.
“What kind of employers were they, Janice?” Brian asked, referring to the girl’s masters.