The Mysterious Stranger of Camp Laging Handa

Michelle's text message read:

"Christine, go to Johnson Park at 3:00 p.m. today. It's an urgent meeting."

I texted back.

"Deal. I'll see you this afternoon friend. Hope it's something important."

So many anxious uncertainties began clouding my mind. I thought to myself the last time Michelle had a conversation with me.

"Who was precisely this mysterious student Michelle talked about the other day? A certain someone who carried my limp body back to camp after those bullies assaulted me?"

With all things considered, I diligently prepared to deal with this stranger by talking candidly to myself in front of the mirror. It may be odd, but this has been my forte for years now.

That way, I can relieve the pressure of talking and introducing myself to strangers, good or bad.

Unlike most girls (or women my age), I don't dress to be beautiful or attractive. Whatever's comfortable for me, I would naturally wear them.

For today, a white t-shirt, blue denim pants, a baseball cap, and a fresh pair of black Converse Chuck Taylors were my go-to wear for the day. After some light makeup, I strolled my way to Johnson Park.

It was already 3:00 p.m., and I was sitting solemnly on one of the green-painted benches at Johnson Park. The weather was relatively on the balmy side which was ideal for such an outdoor meeting. I anxiously waited for Michelle but after 15 anxious minutes, she had yet to show up.

Feeling a little worried, I reluctantly decided to text Michelle. The message read:

"Michelle, what's the hold-up?"

I expected her reply, but no ring was heard. I texted the same message to her the second time but to no avail.

Three more replies followed, none of which were answered. Then at around 3:45 p.m., Michelle finally texted back.

"Sorry for the prolonged delay Christine. I was stuck in horrendous traffic at Ortigas, and my smartphone ran out of power. Don't worry, I'll be there soon. Just wait."

I replied, "Okay then. In the meantime my feet need some leisurely exercise."

While waiting eagerly for Michelle to arrive, I stood up and walked gently around the park for several minutes. But just as I marveled at the cute little birds and the green grass, a red Toyota Vios suddenly caught my attention.

"Who could that be inside the Vios?" I thought to myself.

Then a tall lady and her male companion came out of the car. It was indeed Michelle and the mysterious stranger.

The stranger sported medium-long slicked-back hair and a light-skinned complexion. He wore a loose-fitting yellow shirt, khaki pants and brown top-siders.

He also stood just as tall as me. What a fortunate coincidence.

"Michelle, I thought you wouldn't make it," my voice tinged with relief and joyous excitement at the same time.

After exchanging a few hugs came a question I longed to know. "So who was he?"

Michelle eagerly introduced the stranger to me.

"I would like you to meet Carson. He is the student who saved you from near death during camping in first grade.

Michelle then presented Carson to me.

"Carson, meet Christine," she said.

"Nice to meet you Christine," a smiling Carson greeted me as we shook hands. "I have to admit, it was very surreal to help a stranger like you who was all alone and helpless. I'm happy we finally get to see each other again after so many years."

Turning serious, Carson and I went for a private talk about what happened at Camp Laging Handa all those years ago.

"I don't recall what happened after those bullies beat me up. So can you narrate the story for me to know?" I asked Carson while we sat on the bench.

Carson did not hesitate to tell the story.

"Sure thing," he responded.

In his testimony, Carson recalled how he saw a barely conscious young girl lying in the dirt with bruises across her body and soil all over her face, her eyes narrowly open. He presumed it was me after all, which I later confirmed.

Continuing with the story, Carson remembered how he carried me back up to camp and showed my bruises to the teacher. It was there, he said, that I fell unconscious and the rest of the group were worried for my safety.

Carson concluded the story by saying he and the teachers rushed me to the hospital. Just before they took me to the ambulance, the officials had announced to the students that camp would be abruptly cancelled because of an unfortunate incident.

Carson then told me I suffered from a concussion that resulted to amnesia and could not recall what happened after the bullies had abused me.

"Thank you for telling me the whole story," I said to Carson after he had finished the story. "My first thought was that the bullies left me for dead but thanks to you, I am still alive in this earth."

Satisfied with Carson's testimony, we stood up and joined Michelle on the basketball court. There, I officially accepted Carson to our inner circle.

"Thank you so much for helping me recover during my lowest point of first grade. As a reward, I decided to include you to our group."

"It was my sincere pleasure," exclaimed Carson as he nodded and smiled tenderly towards Michelle and me. "I can't wait to see the two of you again. Here's to more glorious adventures with you."

As the radiant sun began to set, Michelle and Carson transported me back to my room. Upon stopping at the condominium, I thought about bidding goodbye to them, but then my stomach growled fiercely in hunger. So we decided to eat dinner outside and bond some more before Michelle and Carson fetched me home.

Then came Thursday morning. After that hearty conversation with Carson about what happened in Camp Laging Handa, I decided it was the proper time to write a new blog entry. This time, however, no help was needed after having picked up the information from yesterday's meeting.

"Now what to do next?" I naturally thought to myself.

Having finished writing the blog, it seemed like there was nothing else to do that day. And so I walked back and forth inside the living room, waiting eagerly for a brilliant idea to pop out of my mind.