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#Mitolohiya Books #Young Adult
Chapter 2: On the Pearl Island
KIKO WAS TO blame for all of it.
Like her, Kiko was born a slave. In Pearl Island, the slaves served in the household of Datu Sakay, the leader of their tribe.
In return for their service, Datu Sakay divided food and drink among the tribefolks. He made sure that all who lived in the community could survive peacefully. He, along with his warriors, also defended their territory from enemies and fierce beings.
Almost every young man dreamed of becoming a warrior.
Except Kiko.
That git was a coward.
Tok…
“Aray!,” Sapira complained, clutching her head. Her mother stood before her, hands on her hips, glaring sternly.
Ani Selena wore a long baro’t saya, her long hair tied back. In one hand, she held a wooden ladle she had been using to stir sweetened bananas. At the moment, however, the ladle served as a weapon.
“Nay!?” Sapira protested.
“Where is your mind wandering off to now and you haven’t been able to listen to a single thing I said!” scolded her mother. “What did you do? You forgot to soak the sugarcane again!” Her mother was on the verge of squashing her with the wooden ladle.
Sapira winced.
“Eh,” she grumbled, “I don’t even like cooking. You’re the one forcing me to stay here. The furnace is killing me!”
Faster than she could say stop, her mother cuffed her by the head
“Aray!”
“Enough, Sapira,” her mother said, hands on her hips. “What kind of woman doesn’t know how to cook? If you keep this up, Datu Sakay will cast you out. Try living like the barbarians—let’s see how long you last!”
The barbarians were those cast out by the tribe. They had no homes, no food. They survived by begging—others, by looting.
“You’re so dramatic, Nay,” retorted Sapira. “It’s only cooking that I don’t like. I’m good at making weapons and repairing tools.” —she was the assistant of her older brother, Salermo, the tribe’s blacksmith— “I’m useful to Datu Sakay.”
That infuriated her mother. Sapira instinctively raised her hands to protect her head.
“Tsk.” Her mother grimaced, though a faint smile flickered in her eyes at the sight. Sapira lowered her hands, her face flushing with embarrassment
“Hoy Sapira!” — She winced. Just as she thought, her mother wasn’t finished—“Stop that. That’s not a woman’s work. Stop spending so much time with your brother.” Then she went on listing the duties a proper woman should be doing.
“Sapira?”
“Po?”
“Are you listening?”
“A bit.”
“A bit?” her mother snapped, her nostrils flaring.Â
Just a little more and her mother would have struck her again, Sapira thought. Fortunately, at that moment, someone arrived.
“Nay, someone’s here!” Sapira said, pointing.
Ani Selena paused.
“Ani Selena? Are you here?” called the visitor. A thin figure appeared at the doorway—it was Kiko, her childhood friend.
“Oh, Kiko, what brings you here?” Ani Selena asked.
“Yeah,” Sapira added. “What are you doing here?”
Kiko stepped closer to Ani Selena. “Datu Sakay is asking for you, Nana Selena” he said. “Binukot Busilak needs your help.”
The princess of the tribes was called binukot —a maiden so carefully kept that her feet were never allowed to touch the ground. Whenever she needed to go somewhere, she rode in a special bamboo carriage carried by four young male slaves.
Sapira rolled her eyes at what she heard. ”Why didn’t that bratty binukot summon me instead?” she cut into the conversation. After all, Sapira was the personal servant of binukot Busilak.
Kiko frowned. He hated it whenever she referred to the binukot that way.
“Binukot Busilak wants to be measured for a skirt, Nana Selena,” Kiko explained. “She’s asking you to weave it.” Sapira’s mother was a skilled seamstress. The wealthy in their town came to her for garments. Even nobles sought her out to have colorful clothing made.
“I see,” her mother replied, wiping her hands on the edge of her blouse to remove the oil. “In that case, let’s go.”
“Nay?” Sapira protested, “What about what you’re cooking?”
“Well, isn’t that obvious? You’ll continue it.”
“Huh?” she exclaimed. “I don’t want to!”
Her mother planted her hands on her waist. “And who said I was asking for your permission?” her mother retorted. “This is not a request—it’s an order, Sapira.”
Sapira fell silent. When her mother used that tone, it was time to keep her mouth shut.
“Hah! You thought you could get away with it!” Kiko teased. Sapira shot him a glare—which, unfortunately, her mother noticed.
“Sapira!” her mother scolded. “Is that how a young woman should behave?”
“That’s right, Ani Selena, you’re correct,” Kiko chimed in with a grin. “Let’s go po!”
“Why don’t you stay here instead, Kiko? Keep an eye on Sapira. I’ll just go to Binukot Busilak’s chambers myself,” Ani Selena suggested.
“I don’t want to!” Kiko and Sapira protested at the same time.
“And why?” Ani Selena asked, her brow furrowing.
“I don’t want to be left here alone,” Sapira said. “And Kiko wants to go with you too. He wants to see Binukot Busilak.”
The boy’s ears turned red.
“I-I don’t—” he stammered. “Wait, that’s not what I meant. I’m not going just because—” He trailed off, unable to finish his sentence. Turning to her mother, he added, “Ani Selena, please don’t believe her!”
“Why? Isn’t what I said true?” Sapira teased.
“Sapira!” her mother admonished. “Enough already. Be kind to each other. I’m leaving now.”
“Opo,” Kiko replied.
Her mother shot Sapira a sharp glare for letting only Kiko answer.
“Opo,” Sapira replied reluctantly.
“Make sure the dessert you’re cooking turns out delicious. Datu Sakay’s guest has come from another town. See to it that our tribe is not put to shame.”
She grimaced, “Opo.”
Glug…Glug…, simmered the huge pot, mocking her annoyance.
“Cut it out,” she snapped at the boiling pot.
At once, the pot’s bubbling stilled.
As if it got scared.
“CATCH!”
Kiko tossed her a piece of dalandan, a sweet citrus fruit, he had hidden in the pocket of his trousers. Unlike the other boys their age who trained to become warriors, he wasn’t dressed in a colorful bahag and tsaleko. Instead, he wore mud-colored clothing made from plant fibers. The fabric hung thick on his bony frame. There’s only one tattoo in his body, the mark of his enslavement. He had cried for nearly a week when it was carved into his skin.
“Where did this come from?” Sapira asked, expertly catching the fruit.
“Kuya, brought this back from the forest after hunting,” Kiko replied with a shrug. He sat beside her, pulled out another dalandan from his trousers, and began peeling and eating it. He didn’t notice the flicker in her eyes.
“He found the tree in the middle of the forest?” Sapira asked.
“He also caught a lot of birds. He presented them to Datu Sakay earlier.”
Sapira stirred, pondering quietly. Using the wooden ladle, she took some to ascertain the taste.
“How was it? Delicious?” Kiko asked curiously.
She paused for a moment. “Come here. Taste it.” Kiko moved closer. He took the ladle and took a sip.
“Well? What do you think? Is it good?” Sapira asked.
He savored it seriously.
“Well?” she pressed.
“It tastes… kind of burnt,” Kiko finally said.
Sapira quickly scooped some for herself and tasted it. “No, it doesn’t,” she replied indignantly.
“No, it really does taste burnt,” he insisted.
“It doesn’t!”
“But—”
She placed her hands on her hips. “Do you even know how to taste properly?”
Kiko shook his head. “I just eat at home. That’s women’s work,” he said with a shrug, as if that fact was an obvious given. Sapira grimaced.
She decided to ignore her friend’s opinion and tasted the dish again. “Still bland,” she declared. “This just needs to be stirred.”
“Ahh,” the boy nodded. “I thought it was already burnt,” he laughed.
Sapira could only click her tongue as she watched her childhood friend scratch the back of his head. After a moment, her eyes gleamed.
“Did you know that stirring is good exercise?” she said casually.
The boy shrugged.
“Exercise improves the body,” she continued. “Did I ever tell you that Binukot Busilak likes men with well-built bodies?”
“Really?” he asked.
Sapira nodded. “What woman would refuse a muscular body?” she added.
Kiko looked at his own pathetic skinny build. He stood up at once. “I’ll do the stirring!” he volunteered.
Sapira smirked to herself.
“Can you really?” she said, raising her eyebrows as if doubtful. “There’s a proper balance, rhythm, and weight to every stir. I don’t think you can do it.”
He shook his head. “No— I mean, yes, I can! Come on, move aside. I’ll do it.”
“Alright then,” Sapira agreed, as if Kiko left her no choice, “if you insist.”
The boy beamed with excitement as she handed him the ladle.
Sapira’s smirk widened.