IKALABING-APAT NA KABANATA tr. CHAPTER 14
Ang Pagdadalang-tao at ang mga Kristiyano
The Pregnancy and the Christians
DIWA
News is spreading through the neighboring villages. People who speak a different language are spreading the word of "God." I do not understand what these people intend for people like us. But one thing is certain, they have plans that are not good.
The air was thick with whispers and unease as I walked through the narrow paths of our village. The sun was setting, casting long shadows that seemed to echo the growing fear among our people. The elders gathered in small circles, their faces etched with worry, while the younger ones exchanged anxious glances.
I made my way to our home, where Rajah Maisog awaited me. His expression was grave, his eyes reflecting the weight of the news that had reached us. "Diwa," he began, his voice low and steady, "the time has come for us to understand these strangers and their intentions."
I nodded, feeling a mix of determination and apprehension. "What do you want me to do, Rajah?"
"You must continue your studies with Babaylan Lakan," he replied. "But more importantly, you must learn about these Kristiyanos and their beliefs. We need to know if they pose a threat to our way of life."
With a sense of purpose, I returned to my lessons. Babaylan Lakan, ever wise and perceptive, sensed my distraction. "What troubles you, child?" she asked, her voice gentle yet probing.
I shared with her the news of the Kristiyanos and their god, Hesus. She listened intently, her eyes narrowing as she processed the information. "This is indeed troubling," she said finally. "But knowledge is our greatest weapon. We must learn about them, their beliefs, and their intentions."
Days turned into weeks as I delved deeper into my studies. Babaylan Lakan taught me not only the ways of our people but also how to observe and understand those who were different. I learned to read the subtle cues in their language, their gestures, and their actions.
One evening, as I sat by the fire, a stranger approached our village. He was a Kristiyano, his skin pale and his clothes foreign. The villagers watched him with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. He spoke in a language I had only begun to understand, but his gestures were clear—he came in peace.
He was tall and striking, with dark hair that contrasted sharply with his fair skin. His eyes held a mysterious depth, a blend of sorrow and hope that made it hard to look away. He moved with a grace that seemed out of place in our rugged village, and yet, there was something undeniably captivating about him, maybe because he looked different to us.
Rajah Maisog stepped forward, his presence commanding respect. "What brings you to our village?" he asked, his voice calm but firm.
The stranger bowed slightly, a gesture of respect. "I come to share the word of our God," he said, his accent thick but understandable. "We believe in one true God, Hesus, who offers salvation to all."
The Rajah listened, his expression unreadable. "And what do you seek in return?"
The stranger shook his head. "We seek only to share our faith and bring peace."
I watched the exchange, my mind racing. Was this man sincere, or was there more to his visit than he revealed? As the Rajah continued to question him, I realized that understanding these Kristiyanos was more complex than I had imagined.
After the stranger left, Rajah Maisog turned to me. "Diwa, you must continue to learn from them. We need to know if their intentions are true or if they hide a darker purpose."
I nodded, feeling the weight of responsibility on my shoulders. The world was changing, and our village stood at a crossroads. With Babaylan Lakan's guidance and the Rajah's trust, I was determined to uncover the truth and protect our people from whatever lay ahead.
The following days were filled with a strange mixture of routine and anticipation. I spent my mornings with Babaylan Lakan, learning the ancient scripts and the stories of our ancestors. In the afternoons, I ventured into the village, listening to the whispers of the people and observing the Kristiyanos who had begun to frequent our markets.
One day, while at the palengke, I noticed a group of Kristiyanos speaking animatedly among themselves. I edged closer, trying to catch snippets of their conversation. They spoke of building a place of worship, a church, where they could gather and pray. The idea of a new structure in our village, dedicated to a foreign god, unsettled me.
Later that evening, I shared my observations with Rajah Maisog. He listened carefully, his face thoughtful. "We must tread carefully, Diwa," he said. "Their beliefs are different, but we must not let fear cloud our judgment. Continue to learn from them, but also be vigilant."
His words echoed in my mind as I lay in bed that night. The Kristiyanos were here to stay, and their presence would inevitably change our village. It was up to me to ensure that this change did not come at the cost of our traditions and way of life.
As the days passed, I found myself feeling increasingly tired and nauseous. At first, I dismissed it as stress from the growing tension in the village. But when the symptoms persisted, I sought the counsel of Babaylan Lakan. She examined me with a knowing smile and announced the news that would change everything.
"Diwa, you are with child," she said gently, her eyes sparkling with joy.
The news spread quickly through the village, bringing a rare moment of celebration amidst the uncertainty. Rajah Maisog was elated, his usual stoic demeanor giving way to a rare display of emotion. He held me close, his eyes filled with a mixture of pride and tenderness.
"Diwa," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, "you have given me the greatest gift."
That night, as the village quieted and the stars shone brightly overhead, Rajah Maisog and I found solace in each other's arms. He kissed me softly, his lips lingering on mine with a tenderness that spoke of his deep love and devotion. His hands, calloused from years of battle and leadership, touched me with a gentleness that belied his strength.
"Rest, my love," he murmured, his fingers tracing delicate patterns on my skin. "You and our child are my world now."
I closed my eyes, feeling the warmth of his embrace and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. In that moment, all the worries and uncertainties seemed to fade away, replaced by a profound sense of peace and contentment.
As the days turned into weeks, the presence of the Kristiyanos became more pronounced. They continued to speak of their god, Hesus, and their plans to build a church. The villagers were divided—some were curious, while others were wary of the changes these strangers might bring.
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the village, the mysterious Kristiyano stranger approached our home. Rajah Maisog and I were sitting outside, enjoying the cool evening breeze.
"Rajah Maisog, Diwa," he greeted us with a respectful bow. "May I speak with you?"
Rajah Maisog nodded, his expression guarded. "What do you wish to discuss?"
The stranger's eyes, deep and enigmatic, met mine for a brief moment before he turned to the Rajah. "I understand that change can be unsettling, but we seek only to share our faith and bring peace. We wish to build a place where we can gather and worship, a church that will stand as a symbol of unity and hope."
Rajah Maisog studied the stranger intently, his gaze unwavering. "Your words are noble, but actions speak louder. We will allow you to build your church, but know this—we will be watching closely. Any threat to our people or our way of life will not be tolerated."
The stranger bowed again, a look of genuine gratitude on his face. "Thank you, Rajah Maisog. You have my word that we come in peace."
I stared at the man, my brow furrowed. I had a bad feeling about him; there was something strange about him that I couldn't quite place, but I knew it wasn't good.
I looked up at the Rajah. Just like me, I know that he suspects this stranger as well.
What are these people really planning?
Especially now that I am pregnant.
When the man left, I remained deep in thought.
I have my own plans.
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