"Slave of War"
A few hours passed after all the vegetable vendors returned to the truck, and it started moving again, leaving the town of Urdaneta and heading to the next town.
Erik was still positioned next to the driver's seat, as Kardo wished him to be in a more comfortable state.
He was resting, leaning against the soft seat of the vehicle. He had sold half a basket of the goods he brought to the city, so he was happily counting the money he earned again.
"I still have a lot to earn."
~ Erik's Point of View ~
I only have five baskets left. To be honest, I don't know if the money I'll earn, even if I sell all of it, will be enough to pay for the seeds we borrowed and the plot of land for our vegetables.
"We won't have money for expenses next month. What are we going to do?"
I sighed and glanced out of the truck as it moved.
I watched the sunset in the distance, as it was already six in the evening. I felt even more regretful because the day was ending again, and we were only two days away from going home to our province.
At that moment, Kuya Kardo suddenly handed me a piece of bread to eat and asked me the reason for my sigh. He saw me looking sad and tried to encourage me about the earnings we would make in the next town.
"You worry too much. It's better to save your energy for the next selling round."
I don't know why he knew what I was thinking about my vegetables, but what was more surprising was that I noticed Kuya Kardo's treatment of me had changed. It seemed like he was constantly looking out for me and showing me compassion.
I didn't mention what happened to me in town because he would definitely scold me. I had strayed a bit from the area we were supposed to cover, and there was no other vegetable vendor I could ask for help from in that area at that moment.
My side was aching a bit, but I had to pretend I was okay because he would surely ask what happened to me, and I would be dead if he found out I talked to the Spanish police (Guardia Civil).
Kuya Kardo always said to avoid any conversation outside of our work and any arguments with other people, especially the Spaniards, because it would affect our business. That's why Kuya Kardo never argued with the Spaniards about the fees every time we entered the town.
But wait. Could I tell him about Alfredo? Hmm...
For some inexplicable reason, I was confused, and what he said to me wouldn't leave my mind.
His words came back to me as we walked home, still carrying the carrot basket. Sadness was visible on his face, and I knew he was avoiding my gaze out of embarrassment.
"It's true that we can do some things in the city and enjoy it, but the reality remains that we are poor Filipinos who are subservient to the Spaniards here in this town," Alfredo had said.
"They look down on people like me, and many rights have been taken away from us. It's not fair, but that doesn't matter as long as we live peacefully and safely," he added.
Because of this, I suddenly whispered while thinking about what happened:
" Indio? "
Kuya Kardo heard it but didn't understand, so he asked me to repeat it.
"I know something is troubling your mind, kid. Tell me, and maybe I can help."
It was then that I asked what the word indio meant and why the Spaniards in the city called Filipinos that.
To be honest, I thought it was just a simple nickname or a term based on their language, similar to how Filipinos called Japanese people Hapon and Americans Kano.
"Ah... The truth is, I don't really know either, or maybe I just don't want to know. I don't care about that thing, but the word indio comes from the Spaniards, who often used it to refer to their slaves and servants in the old days," he told me.
I was surprised to learn from Kuya Kardo that the word indio was only for servants and low-ranking people in society. I didn't know why the students called us that earlier, considering Alfredo was dressed decently, so he shouldn't be called a slave.
"It's not because of your clothes or your appearance that we are called indio, kid. Whatever your job or family you came from, to the Spaniards, we are slaves, a lower class they can order around," Kuya Kardo answered.
At that moment, I asked him again about the difference between Spaniards and Filipinos. He couldn't answer directly because he also didn't know much about the system in the city, since Kuya Kardo grew up in the province and only visited the city sometimes.
There were only a few Spaniards in our area, and there were no problems apart from them occasionally taking vegetables without paying. The Spaniards were not interested in living in our area because life there was very difficult, so they only went there to collect taxes.
I didn't know the status of Filipinos under Spanish rule. All I knew was that the country was under Spain, and Spaniards and Filipinos lived together in the country.
"You're right about what you said. Unfortunately, the Spaniards don't see Filipinos as equals. We lost the war a long time ago, so they think they own us," Kuya Kardo said.
"Own us? What do you mean?" I asked.
"From the children to the Filipinos not yet born in the next generation, they are considered property of Spain, as their indios," he added.
It was here that Kuya Kardo told me about the discrimination Filipinos received and some things they couldn't freely do because they weren't allowed to surpass or outdo the Spaniards in anything.
I really didn't know what Kuya Kardo was talking about. It was probably my fault because I didn't pay attention in school when they were teaching about the Spaniards.
But it wasn't just me, because everyone in the province seemed uninterested in that matter. I think it was pointless for a provincial resident and vegetable vendor like me to bother learning about it.
At that moment, I remembered what Alfredo said to me.
"Your ignorance about things will put you in danger."
He must have said that because of my reaction earlier against the young Spanish men who insulted us. It was as if, to them, we were a lower class they could oppress and trample upon.
As our conversation continued, Kuya Kardo told me about the old system of war in the past.
In the old days, territorial disputes between countries were more aggressive and violent, as nations wanted to expand their territories. Unfortunately, if your country lost to its enemy in war, they had the right to claim all the property of your country. The lands, products, buildings, gold, and wealth of the country, including its citizens.
In the past, all the people in the defeated country were taken and brought to the conquering country to be made slaves. What was done to them was often unjust and sometimes inhumane, but that was the system of war then.
You had no choice but to obey because they could punish and hurt you in any way, torturing you until you died.
No law would defend you, and no one would help you, because along with your country's defeat in the war, your rights as a citizen vanished, and you became just a slave they could command and use.
If I consider what Kuya Kardo said, it seems that because the Philippines lost to Spain a long time ago, they still own the country, including its Filipino citizens.
"Huh?" was my response to him.
"But don't worry, kid, because a lot has changed over time. Our country is developed now, and there are human rights being pushed in many countries worldwide, but the problem is that the Spaniards still haven't removed the idea that their race is superior to us Filipinos," Kuya Kardo said.
It's strange to think that just because we lost a war a long time ago, we are still suffering for it today. It seems absurd to think that the old system continues in the modern age.
"Wait, kid, why did you ask that? To be honest, that system isn't really a problem for vegetable vendors like us, because we can move freely in the towns," Kuya Kardo asked.
Kuya Kardo was probably wondering about my question because, as vegetable vendors, those things were pointless to know. To him, as long as we didn't violate any rules, our lives would continue.
"If you want a peaceful life, just don't interfere with that matter and just follow the Spaniards. Clear?" Kardo said.
Because of what I heard, I couldn't help but feel sad and wonder what other Filipinos were thinking about this matter.
The place became silent for a moment, and my conversation with Kuya Kardo stopped. I looked outside, observing the tall grass along the path we were taking.
In that instant, I suddenly whispered to myself.
"A defeated country, and people who are slaves of war," I said.
At that moment, Kuya Kardo suddenly slammed on the brakes of the truck he was driving. It was sudden, and I almost hit my head on the dashboard. My head wound still hurt, so I complained fiercely to him.
"Ouch, Kuya Kardo!"
"DAMN IT! Just when you think things can't get any worse." Kardo said.
But I was surprised when I looked at Kuya Kardo. He was angry and seemed irritated as he slammed his fist on the steering wheel of the truck. I quickly looked ahead and saw motorcycles blocking our way, which had suddenly stopped in front of us.
I was extremely shocked when I carefully observed the people riding them. All of them were carrying long guns and had machetes at their waists.
I couldn't be wrong. These were rebels, and they were here to rob our truck.
End of part 1
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