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THE NEEDLE

Synopsis The Needle in this fiction embodies Martial Law. The skull mangled exemplifies the Filipino people specifically human rights victims from all persuasions – enforced Desaparecidos to combatants, students to academicians, civilians to soldiers, peasants to landlords, laymen to religious, ordinary taxpayers to oligarchs, voters to politicians, officials to professionals, – all victims of militarization offered as sacrificial lambs in the altar of Dictatorship. The crucifix and holy rosary, guns, and bullets symbolize the protagonists – heroes and villains - and the causes and institutions they represent. The red roses, a love affair that blooms and blossoms among the main characters. The timeline was September 21, 1972, covering fourteen long years of dictatorship when Martial Law was declared until February 24, 1986, during the restoration of democracy ushered in by People’s Power at Epifanio de Los Santos or EDSA. Post EDSA events from Fidel V. Ramos to Benigno “Noynoy” Aquino III or PNoy to Duterte’s presidency and Ferdinand “Bongbong” Marcos Jr. are briefly treated in an Epilogue. The choice of fiction was deliberate because of its timelessness and very important lesson drawn from that historic event–the restoration of democracy no less by President Cory Aquino. Whether it succeeded or not thereafter doesn’t matter. Filipinos are that unpredictable. Their memory is way too short and the hardest to please. But what is important is we have thrown away the tyrant, award-winning Investigate Journalist Shiela Coronel emphasized restoring fourteen long-lost hostage democracy in 1986. Add to that is the consequent didactic message to all Filipinos especially the Post Martial Law babies: “Beware and never again Martial Law!” In format, the author uses four of Irving Wallace's criteria in writing fiction from his “The Writing of One Novel” with some innovation on grounding characters using flashbacks and other tools characterizing bestsellers like Dan Brown, Grisham highlighting the author’s premium on the relevance of the said historical event and its political ramifications surrounding the subject throughout the story. First, no loose ends in the plot. This one is a tough act to follow. The subplot should be tied together as much as possible to the end. Second, narrative excitement rings the bell for readers. Third, is the use of research to disabuse and mitigate elements of violence and sex. Treating this work as social commentary on different implacable social issues of the day was deliberately utilized by the writer given his Philosophy, Theology, and Sociology background. Note that pictorials used in the work unless indicated in the caption are meant to highlight the theme of each respective chapter. Lastly, the most unlikely ending squeezing creative juices of the imaginative mind. Breaking the rules of writing known to man is also a challenge here. Ergo, treating the subject as fiction against the social commentary backdrop to make the narrative captivating journey instead just plain Martial Law account which is surely dry and monotonous story. How these criteria are treated and addressed by the writer especially the first, third, and fourth is left to readers and critics. Copy editing of the first draft has been done by the author using Grammarly, relevant creative writing tips culled from the internet from the likes of Ernest Hemingway, Jeff Goins, Catherine Reid, Cynthia Jones-Shoeman, Joe Bunting of NaNoWriMo, Billy Wilder, and Pruelpo, an FB friend and OFW dabbling as free-lance writer and guru. The third is actual editing from Ricardo S. Maulion Jr., my son, doing the proofreading. I have yet to accept any copy editors to do the favor for me packaging this project into a cohesive whole work. Ricardo F. Maulion For book order: Email ad: ricardomauliond1205@gmail.com

Ricardo_Maulion · History
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36 Chs

CHAPTER 1 - THE CONSPIRACY

Chapter 1

The Conspiracy

(CAL usually flies regularly Manila-Taipei route. It's the same plane Benigno Aquino Jr. using "Marcial Bonifacio" rode on his way back home to Manila from the US he met his untimely death August 21, 1983 at the Tarmac. The plane seems to be owned by the Taiwanese government. It's the same airbus Fr. Driarco aboard to Taiwan for his missionary work and back to the Philippines to attend his father's burial in this fiction.)

Driarco had probably been short of two hours' sleep. It seems like his longest night, however. But he is feeling good though uneasy as if there is a portent of the doom awaiting before the new day breaks. He must have been tired because of the overwhelming work in his parish these past few weeks.

Jolted by the ringing of the telephone on the desk by his side, he routinely cleared his thoughts before hastily rising from bed and getting the receiver.

"This might be it," he thought. Putting the light of the lampshade on rubbing his eyes clearing some specks out from their sockets, he saw it was still barely twenty-five minutes before midnight on his wristwatch. The soft tone and resonant voice on the line were very familiar to him. It was his mother Illa Crispe. But what urgent message she had that ungodly hour, the thought taking him aback listening to her voice on the telephone.

"Sorry son disturbing and waking you up," she said pausing setting the tone of her ultimate message to calm his nerve down on the other end.

"Yes, mom, what's up?" Driarco retorted knowing something ominous incident happened back home gauging from her choppy, stammering, tentative, and shaky voice.

Taking a deep bated breath and mustering enough courage after regaining her composure, she finally spilled the sad news.

"Dead! Yes, your father is dead . . .!" Brief deafening silence ensued as if hell broke loose an unexpected impact sending shiver down his spine.

"Excuse me and I'm sorry. Come again please, "he snapped back protesting emphasizing each word begging the question in disbelief, aghast even before the message sank deeper into his subconscious sending fear and trembling all over from the top down his spine.

Like a scalpel, it cuts through into his very deep recesses the echo of the message blowing right before his face catching him off guard.

"He's gone five hours ago after attending physicians declared him D.O.A. upon arrival in a Provincial Hospital. Reviving him back to life was futile," she reiterated holding back her tears, the tone of her voice gradually tearing his spirit into bits and pieces away.

The silence was deafening. The impact of the sad news registered too strong decibel for Driarco's ear. Lost finding appropriate words of comfort and empathy for her son, she just waited for his corresponding response. But there was none save for a deep sigh of disbelief on the other end panting as if catching his last breath.

"What a breaking news of all stories in the middle of the night yet," he thought griping.

He was right. Painful news indeed construed from her calculated statement. "Something obviously must have gone wrong gauging her message," doubt started creeping into his mind. Knowing the incident involving his father made the whole thing doubly outrageous. But what could he do? He was merely caught in the receiving end.

"Isn't it that life is full of surprises anyway? Some like manna are sent from heaven.

All you have to do is just pick them up, take and enjoy them with joyful hearts and great thanksgiving. The rest, are beautifully packaged items and stuff. All you need to do is just open it first repacking them your way of giving back the compliments to the Lord before sharing them with others later."

Ironically, today's gift was practically incomprehensible to Driarco. "Sick joke, no

less pure and simple," the idea piercing his mind disappointed how far evil has inflicted damage to an innocent man.

"God must be crazy," he thought with a reservation heaving sigh of deep bated breath feeling left in the cold of the night.

"Giving away my father's body in a casket! What a metaphor," he pondered!

Holding on to his sanity, he mustered enough strength to be real and patient.

"Death after all is a celebration of life. We have to die to live again. It's a special growth taking place in man's life and there's just no way to postpone it. The only catch is, you don't recognize it until you experienced it yourself or party to the deceased," the thought from the reflection of the subject coming out like globules from his palm.

"But what difference does it makes? We're all mortal in the first place. It's just a matter of time before it would come. Death may be now or later. It's fair game excluding none and indeed like tax is great life's leveler," the thought engrossing him.

"Here today but gone tomorrow," remembering the message of a song by Ray Conniff singers humming the blues of life away.

"That makes passing away mere transition, a beautiful journey towards fulfillment finally meeting God face to face," reminded his subconscious.

"Great and no problem for such ultimate stage of total growth ending its natural destination. But not when it happens out of the blue. Worst still death rammed down unexpectedly shrouded yet in mystery," the notion registered in his mind protesting the shocking news of his father's death.

Like any ordinary mortals, Driarco didn't have any foreboding it was coming that way; let alone, fast, expecting such frightening news knowing his father's Ora et labora – "Just do right and make things happen -.

Stay in the middle when in doubt because that's where virtue lies. Don't touch any livewires for they would electrocute you in the end – and no-nonsense 'Take everything with moderation lifestyle,'" the reason he extended his vitality this far to his overripe mature age of seventy years old still very strong and healthy until meeting this tragedy. Unfortunately, death snuffing his life out that night spoiled what otherwise would have been his rare and best chance of enjoying life to the fullest with his family. "But never mind. All is fair in life," awakened him and seemed to be coming up face to face with reality.

"Who did this must have very important and urgent reason knowing his father had no perceived enemies," his violent reaction for the first time feeling the heat of the incident facing the blank wall. But if there is any consoling thought consuming his mind is at least his father overshoot official life span of sixty-six years old (sixty-eight for women) and that the remaining four years old was already considered payback time to the family and bonus from God.

"Life is not ours to spend nor cherish. It's God's. We are just here to share His love to each one," he recalled vividly his father's advice imbuing his greater sense of purpose and understanding of the immediacy of time.

"We are living on borrowed time Driarco! Do what you can accomplish today. Do not procrastinate!" the timeless instruction he would forever remember. He would have that epitaph embossed on his exquisite tombstone, his way of returning the compliment and gesture of gratitude to his father for such didactic wisdom instilled in his heart.

"We can play with everything but not with time. Time is just like snowflakes. It melts away while we are even discussing it," recalling an old Chinese proverb.

"Lord God bless his soul. Make it whiter than snow. We commend that You accept his soul as a token of his sacrifice and our humble offering the way You did when Your Son expired on the cross dying for our sins in Calvary," he finally comes into his senses breaking his long silence on the phone with silvery tears now falling freely from his eyes on to the cheek touching gently his whiskers flowing down. The words were sincere and earnest, full of entreaty coming only from the heart of a religious convert.

"Amen, amen and amen," Illa Crispe intoned at the other end before his thoughts played around with some nasty stories feeding his curiosity.

"Never mind negotiating tough road towards Calvary. The hardest the path to travel, the easier we become Christlike," he remembers Fr. Louie empowering his spirit when he was still a struggling Seminarian caught in between two diametrically opposing forces – either to proceed for the priesthood or left the Seminary for another call. But good he did.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Cerebral death, remembering his mother qualifying as the real cause of his untimely death. That after relating how in five straight long hours, his brain didn't register any semblance of an activity shown in an Electro cephalogram administered by attending physicians after he was brought by friends to a government hospital.

"Cardiac arrest before passing away is the clearer and most logical explanation then," Driarco agreed to listen to the graphic narrative reconstruction of the incident – a rare drinking spree with friends spiced up with songs, humor, anecdotes, and stories. No questions whatsoever until they called it a night at nine-thirty before separating their ways probably leaving the poor Nong Clineo on his seat where he perhaps caught his last breath.

Or who knows the Grim Reaper striking under cover of darkness with the stillness of the night as a mute witness did the favor of harvesting him while on his way home.

"But there were no indications of foul play," he learned from his mother, an idea further aggravating his confusion on the issue all the more.

"Strange and incredibly even more than fiction," he uttered summarizing thus far the event surrounding the circumstances.

"Constituting legal death then in jurisprudence," he further ventured without any slightest hint surrounding his father's mysterious death.

"Any conduct of post mortem?" explored Driarco taking aback her mother.

"Pardon me!" she retorted.

"I'm sorry. I mean I got your point and that explains everything," he rectified avoiding pricking her innocence and securing her from any untoward complications given her fragile health his unfounded theory might cause and drag her into. Some other time maybe when all is set after an inquest has been conducted getting into the bottom of the incident. Besides there's that time-tested tradition of honoring the dead first who's premium over other practices has been religiously observed and followed to the letter over decades.

"There's time for everything as there is time for every season. For now, it's the moment to grieve and remain silent unless you wish to be cursed," his reflection on the matter respecting time-honored and tested tradition.

"Be sure then to catch the first flight tomorrow so you can hug your father first before others would do," she reminded. "Yes, please before putting him in the casket," he earnestly requested.

"God bless then! Take care and I love you, son," she ended putting the telephone back in its cradle.

This Illa Crispe didn't mind listening at all. Even if it takes hours it is only to show she is there listening and showing empathy. What more if it happened in the darkest hour of their journey. This is the moment he needed her most.

"Rainbow after all comes after each storm," ended her reflection.

Must have been too long talking to his mother. This he realized feeling emotionally drained tears continuously dropping profusely again stillness of the night providing comfort and understanding.

. . . . . . . . . . .

What a revelation it has been making his day, Driarco thought dropping back on his bed forcibly dozing off for needed rest. But he didn't. Fixing his gaze to the ceiling, various images played on his mind but can't exactly figure out what precisely happened and who could have done it. With consoling thought the devil perpetuating his death would soon be confused and have his day full once he would be home finally lulling him to sleep. So be it, the wall clock agreed to strike exactly midnight.

It was so far the longest night for Driarco and wished that he would not wake up the rest of the day. But he was forced to rise eventually before an alarm clock whistled time is up. How could he afford to sleep anyway with his head still spinning over the incident? Wasting no time, he hurriedly packed his things up checking all important documents secured before dumping them in the back seat of his Colorado 4X4 pick-up Chevrolet.

Handing his letter to his superior through his ever-loyal driver Nilo, he finally bid adieu to St. Peter Church, his first-ever parish assignment in the suburbs in Kaohsiung, Taiwan.

Soon he passed by Taichung maybe halfway before reaching Taipei's airport. The sun breaking its colorful lights on the horizon reveals beautiful sceneries from vast tracks and verdant rice fields to agricultural industries like piggery and poultry, beautiful bridges, colorful Cinderella-like palaces, and pagodas atop mountains. The cold breeze caressing his face provided him peace and contentment as his car negotiated the well-paved national road.

"Two hours more and I'd be at Taipei's Airport," the thought playing in his mind exciting albeit in a quandary of how to cope with accepting the reality of his father's death arriving home!

. . . . . . . . . . .

(Source – Microsoft Bing. Retrieved 07-01-2022)

Taiwan is smaller than Mindanao in the area. Going there is roughly two hours and twenty-five minutes from Manila to Taipei roughly one hour longer than Cagayan de Oro to Manila route. How it metamorphosed into an advanced Tiger Economy on 1986 catching up defanging and leaving behind Japan, South Korea, and other Tiger Economies few decades later is one of the records. Like the Philippines, the country is so rich with natural resources. Its economy is one of the best in world the leaving behind other developed countries including Mainland China, its erstwhile tormentor and nemesis forcibly driving then Gen. Chiang Kai-shek out from the mainland by the marauding Red

Army of Mao Zedong in 1948 to then Formosa re-christened Taiwan or Republic of China later. Yes, it's ironic that Taiwan can still afford to claim that theirs is the legitimate seat of power and mainland China is merely their satellite. To Beijing however, Taiwan remains their renegade province.

Globalization however would soon catapult other Asian cities into greatness. Singapore is registered on the world's map as an aggressive economic giant under the able and aggressive leadership of Lee Kuan Hew as the most successful beneficiary in 1986. China is another powerhouse foisting to topple USA as the number one world economic power by 2030.

Gone were the days of the role of Big Brothers and corporation in George Orwell's "1984" and "Animal Farm" fame. So, with Aldous Huxley's "Brave New World." These three countries were surely etching their way towards economic dominance. This gauging from their vibrant economies spilling their market economy all over building silk roads all over for easy and fast disposal of their goods and services.

It was never the same again after Taiwan set a blistering pace in developing its economy carving niche as one of the world's best and fastest. Their foreign reserve is just too high indicating how to spend away their salaries are the problem not how to earn. It's the premium they have reaped after investing so much of their resources in their economy specially agriculture. But it was not all easy especially after the US through Gen. Douglas Mc Arthur provided them a windfall of financial assistance rebuilding and rehabilitating their tattered economy brought about by chaos and destruction of war. But known for their celebrated work ethics they rose up from the grave and after taking everything in stride with no non-sense approach development, is now enjoying all the best world could offer sending their children to the best schools in Europe and US.

But how exactly they did? This is what Fr. Driarco likes best. Looking back on the picture taken at Land Reform Training Institute in Taipei, his thought wanders. "Whatever happened to those batchmates from twenty-six participating nations after the training?"

(Roughly 2 months training at LRTI, Taipei on Rural and Urban Development with many others from 26 countries throughout the world. Picture saved from the file. 06-25-2022)

All he could think of was how to lobby optimum use of the land like Taiwan arriving home. "I would start it in whatever way I could converting idle lands into rice fields in between bridges making them productive. Planting rice in vacant spaces in Cities could follow suit" he quipped.

"That's the best way of greening our cities. It doesn't only contribute to the country's economy but also enhanced our Tourism Industry."

How to do that remains actually to be seen given the skewed strategy of the government converting instead prime agricultural lands into subdivisions only Real Estate Developer getting richer each day.

Fr. Driarco spelled out categorical imperatives of the sure-fire formula of successful Agrarian Reform based Taiwan's experience.

First, no non-sense Agrarian Reform starting with land consolidation and titling. Sorry but no Stock-Distribution-Option scheme or any subtle insertion of partial agrarian reform clause favoring the oligarchs characterizing implementation of Cory Aquino's Comprehensive Agrarian Reform or CARP in the Philippines. Farmers were given directly the land they could manage mostly one hectare but not over three hectares. Implementation was strictly monitored. Those doing monkey business have their faces splashed the following day in newspapers of general circulations. The reason is how could they afford to pay their commitment to the US if they are not doing their homework right. All is told, Taiwan would soon become successful becoming the Mecca of Agrarian Reform in the world. People all over the world sent by their government would study how they did it and hopefully replicate program in their respective countries. This Driarco learned as one participant to 54in the Regular Session of Agrarian Reform and Rural Development earlier among others from 26 other countries worldwide imbuing greater sense of understanding of how and what it takes to have e sure-fire booming agrarian reform program.

Absolutely no incidence of poverty as the government uses all available lands there is for agricultural development. Thus, from Taipei to Kaohsiung, farmlands are seen all over. There are just no vacant spaces as farms were developed side by side with big and tall skyscrapers. Yes, in villages, towns, and cities! No mercy that rice paddies are even seen along the left and right portion of the bridges serving as a movable feast in Driarco's eyes passing by.

"And where you can find fresh fishes taken straight from fishponds before putting them in an aquarium for breakfast, lunch whatever."

. . . . . . . . . . . .

Ironically, Taiwan is situated in a typhoon belt area. Yet they have shown they could manage. How? By simply consolidating first the area – uprooting undesirable materials before putting topsoil and planting rice and then constructing huge concrete like drums octopuses serving as water breakers A result vast track of lands secured for good harvest as water simply cascades the way to catching basins before being flooded back to sea without ever destroying beautifully crafted rice fields along the bridges. Twenty-four hours economy, no traffic jam, effective tax collection – name it and Taiwan are showing how to manage them all benefit taxpayers payers. And here's what every government employee wish happening to them but don't at the end of each payday. Forty-five percent of their salary is saved no matter how much they spent! Simply amazing. Yes, indeed but they did it their way.

"That we have so many resources than Taiwan and yet have not fully exploited them is the irony. True indeed that ours is a far fertile island but how appalling that we have not developed them," the thought lingering on his mind.

" It's because we need men and women who have fertile hearts and minds to make them productive. Wasted opportunity translated to bad politics. That is the real culprit back there at home," Driarco considered as he boarded Taiwan's 300 Airbus for Manila. "What a journey it has been," the young priest thought as he aboard the China Airbus bound for Manila excited to be back home after missionary work in Taiwan.

. . . . . . . . . . .