Cage

Happy as a lark- that would have aptly described my mood as I walked away from the warehouse. In my satchel was a crisp one-thousand-dollar bill and a five-hundred-dollar bill. I was paid in cash—1,500 US dollars, the equivalent of 3,000 Mexican pesos- 50% of the total payment for the abaca. I was promised the other 1,500 dollars before the end of the month.

I was told there would be no problem exchanging the dollar, as it was a highly sought-after currency. And with the Spanish Empire declining, the dollar would only grow stronger against the peso. If I maintained good relations with the Americans, I could have not only a stable trading partnership but also a highly profitable one.

While I was busy with the transaction, the day had progressed to midday. The port was now even busier, and the day was starting to warm beyond comfort. The traffic was thickest at the port exit, where dockworkers came in and out to Aduana Street. With the deal done, I was to meet Isidro and Vicente at a hotel in Binondo.

I exhaled sharply, anticipating the heat as I prepared to insert myself into the large crowd pouring in and out of the gate.

Before I could, I heard shouts in English to make way. American soldiers emerged from the traffic, carrying several crates and what looked like a cage. I would not have taken a second look were it not for the odd reaction the cage elicited from the crowd. Some were confused, some were angry, and a few were amused.

I assumed it was an exotic animal. Even in Vietnam, I had personally seen several exotic wildlife specimens being shipped to the US. One of my superior officers had even tasked me once with sneaking a macaque into the cargo.

I stopped to watch their procession pass by until I got a better look at what was in the cage. It was a primate… more specifically, a young female Homo sapiens, in other terms, a young human girl. The girl, probably no older than eight, wore the tribal clothing of the Igorots, an indigenous tribe that lived in the mountains of the north.

During my younger years, during my stay in Manila and the nearby provinces, I had made several purchases of very cheap produce from the Igorot tribesmen. They were a friendly and smiley folk who did not deserve to be placed in a cage.

"What are you doing?" I blurted out in English, with a heavy Filipino accent.

Upon hearing me, the soldiers carrying the cage slowed down. I briskly walked to match their pace. My ears warmed, and my skin crawled when I saw the bright eyes of the girl glance at me before she weakly buried her face against her legs again.

"Carrying shipment," one of the soldiers answered bluntly, an amused smile on his lips.

"You do realize you have a young girl in a cage," I said, raising my voice, trying to make sense of what they were doing.

"Yes, we do," another soldier answered. "And this girl is bound for St. Louie for the exhibition."

I angrily huffed. "Exhibition, por Dios! That's a fellow human being, a young girl at that, not an animal."

"A primitive human," I was corrected. "And why are you bothering us, old man? Is this your daughter?"

The rest of the soldiers chuckled at that.

"If you don't stop making a fuss, we might give you a cage as well," a soldier said to me. "You might be speaking English or wearing a suit, but that does not make you any less of a savage."

I halted in my tracks, in utter disbelief. Never would I have guessed, in this life or the previous, that someone would say something so vile to me.

What Teniente Triviño said to me the night he came to Marinduque echoed in my mind. I had disregarded it as an empty and vain exaggeration.

But of course… it was true.

While I was serving in Korea and Vietnam, had I not thought the same of the Koreans and the Vietnamese? That they were human but not my fellows? A lesser human—not as civilized, not as evolved.

"You spoke out of order, Private Custer," the officer marching alongside the soldiers said, even as he was smiling himself. "Forgive him, sir. He is young and has an unbridled tongue."

I gritted my teeth as I watched the soldiers have another round of laughter while they walked away toward the dock. I could not forgive them, and I could not forgive myself for not being able to do anything for the girl.

There was a point to be proven. I had been a Filipino for more than five months now and had been among fellow Filipinos. They did not live in the same comforts of the first world, did not enjoy the same luxuries, and were not as numerate and literate. Nonetheless, I had found they were not any less human.

Damn them who think simple is primitive.

Damn the Americans.

---

"Tiyo? Are you listening?"

Isidro's voice took me out of my train of thought and reminded me that I was facing a table of food in the dining area of the Hotel de Oriente.

"Yes?"

"I said, Señor Tiangco bought all the abaca I offered him. He bought the second grade at six pesos per picul and the mixed grade at four pesos per picul. How about your deal with the Americans…? You look horrible. Were you able to sell?" Isidro asked before taking a gulp of wine.

"The Americans bought the abaca for twelve pesos per picul," I said as I resumed noisily slicing my bistek tagalog.

"Whu… What? That's great! We should only sell to them from now on. How did you do it?" Isidro said. If we were not in the sophisticated company of the other guests in the hotel, he would have raised his voice and stood up.

"No… this will be the first and last time I will be selling to them," I said sternly, back in my dark thoughts again.

"Did… did something happen?"

I ignored Isidro's question and turned my attention to Vicente Triviño. The lieutenant had been silent, enjoying the braised chicken on his plate.

"You said you were going to Bulacan to visit your parents," I said to the teniente.

It took a moment before he noticed I was speaking to him. When he answered, there was still food in his mouth. "Yes… but I am tired. So, I am going tomorrow."

I let go of the silverware, letting it clack loudly against the table. I wiped my lips with the napkin.

"I am going with you, and we are going this afternoon."

"What do you mean? Do you have business there?" the teniente asked.

"I am going to meet the Señor Presidente."