Chapter 1
An uncanny tone pierced the stifling tropical air. A brilliant flash tore the firmament asunder. Then, amidst the blasted debris, a deafening cacophony arose. The sudden arrival of a rocket-propelled grenade was all too apparent. Chilling screams and the acrid smell of burning flesh accompanied the shattering of glass. Smoke billowed from the second-floor balcony of the Intercontinental while a line of tanks cautiously surveyed the scene from the Paseo de Roxas. Swirling overhead in elongated circles WW II vintage warplanes, known as Tora Toras, were bombing Malacanuang Palace. The December sunshine competed with flashes of artillery fire while rebel soldiers took key installations, one after the other.
It was the second day of the coup against the yellow lady, Cory Aquino, who in 1989 was at the zenith of her power and folly. The wish of death had been palpably hanging over this otherwise idyllic paradise for a good many years.From high on verdant hills the fortresses of the privileged and wealthy gazed nonchalantly on the slums of the others below. Priests in their pulpits preached brotherly love, countless unwanted babies made their way into the world, the armies of beggars looked as hopeless as ever and virtually anything could be bought, or arranged, for a price. Yes, for the Philippines, it was almost business-as-usual.
Somehow rising to his feet in the blinding dust, the thirty-something, six-foot tall and slightly muscular Rick Daly strode over the detritus of the balcony and slipped inside the body of the building. He was too dazed to speak. He merely nodded in an inane fashion at every movement or gesture directed his way.After fifty metres or so an immovable obstacle made its existence known. The bar, surprisingly, still boasted intact bottles of whiskey along with surrogate promises. Habit or shock caused Rick to grab the first full bottle and pour a generous portion down his throat.
“Medics!” screamed the officer as the uniformed throng burst up the stairs. Amidst the confusion an arm emblazoned with the Red Cross insignia vainly attempted to relieve Rick of his bottle. “Where I come from people get killed for taking a man’s drink but nobody gives a fuck who runs the country!”
“Puting tao” (white person), the medic mumbled and moved on.Unhurt, Rick made his way out of the scene of chaos and into a bar down the road.
It was another world, although not one with which Rick was entirely unfamiliar. Day was night, a sexual rock beat assaulted the ears and flashes of electronic light broke the darkness. Rick was back home. On the dimly lit stage a dozen nubile princesses gyrated. Flashy smiles, breasts itching to burst out of their skimpy bikini tops and curvaceous thighs all seemed to scream, “Pick me!”Rick’s curly blond hair and azure eyes were a veritable magnet. No sooner had the war-zone survivor ordered a beer and plonked his arse on a stool than one of the brazen hussies catapulted off the stage, landed somehow on the next seat and with her hand stroking his left leg, gazed into his eyes and insisted on announcing her presence.
“Hi,” I’m Maybellene. What’s your name?” Rick answered but before the word had even reached her ears another salvo was fired. “Where you come from? You are very handsome.”
“Australia, sort of,” he replied while checking that his wallet was still there.This girl, having a semblance of decency, grabbed his left hand and pushed it deep into the fluff hiding below the edge of her bikini panty before asking for a ladies’ drink.Rick considered that 150 pisos was a reasonable sacrifice for a bit of quiet. Besides the hot body climbing all over him matched his cold beer nicely. “Why are you girls still here?” he mumbled. “Aren’t you worried about being killed in all this fighting?” Maybellene smiled, adjusting her bikini top to show its occupants to best possible advantage. “The wars of the rich people don’t really interest us. For the poor, surviving each day is a victory. Without money I don’t have a life. So I must dance.”
The continuing explosions were at least three kilometres away so Rick figured she had a point. He cut short Maybellene’s life history by buying her another lady’s drink, having heard enough of the tragedy of her family: aunt in hospital, father murdered while driving a taxi, sister afflicted with a rare and incurable illness. Her hands then promptly took over from where her mouth had left off.The remaining dancers worked even harder on the stage to the strains of Madonna’s ‘Like a Virgin.’ In a desperate attempt to impress the three customers, bras were lowered and panties tugged to expose prize assets.
By nightfall on the second day the coup was going very well. Elite rebel brigades had taken some TV and radio stations with hardly a shot fired while entire companies of government troops had surrendered to their brothers. Cigarette vendors plied their wares to the passing jeepneys, beggars cried poor and shop girls reported for work. Those in the piso economy, if even slightly removed from immediate danger, saw the struggle as being above and entirely separate from them.
After the bombing of Malacanuang, Cory Aquino emerged from under her bed screaming. “Where are my soldiers? How dare these upstarts disturb our lives and our duty? Where are the Americans?”
“Your Excellency,” replied her adjutant, “We are doing the best we can and may I remind you that you yourself demanded not two months ago that the Americans stay out of Filipino affairs.” The yellow lady minced her way to her desk, looking decidedly pale.
The warm flesh of Maybellene and a large handle of cold San Miguel kept Rick focused on more earthy matters. Escapism maybe but it was a very pleasant removal from the dull ache of daily life. The disco lights of The Box Office pulsated for all they were worth, the beat increased in intensity and the girls on show gyrated even harder. Filipinas generally have good breasts, flattish noses and shapely thighs while their butts are less generous than many. Cupping his companion’s now exposed left breast in one hand and nurturing his beer in the other Rick’s mind began to wander.
Beer, girls and most of the good things in life have similarities but subtle differences around this globe, he thought. Savouring differences is one of life’s great joys. Rio, Manila and Bangkok might all be sexy slums but no matter how drunk or debauched you are you always know which one you are in at the time.
Some ten years before Rick had been holidaying in Bangkok.The coffee shop in the Grace Hotel was all it had been cracked up to be; a vast darkish space broken by a dance floor, scattered tables and hundreds of Thai girls who seemed to almost swirl in formation and swoop at every opportunity.A trim waitress showed Rick to a table. “Singha beer or Mekong whisky? Mekong is cheaper.”
“That’s a turnaround,” he mumbled. “Give us a bottle of Mekong and some cola to go with it please.” Fifty baht later and the killer spirit, guaranteed to be less than one month old, arrived.He had only a minute or so to notice that the guys were not circling and eyeballing a static selection of womanhood, as was usually the case in Western bars.The male customers seemed decidedly nonchalant.
A couple of quick drinks and he was getting the feel of the joint.“Excuse me Sir, may I join you?” A pair of dark almond eyes gazed earnestly into his. The eyes belonged to a very stunning and slender lass of around eighteen. Prok Porntit announced herself in a soft manner that, if it did not exactly belie, didn’t do justice to her character. “Certainly, please sit down,” came Rick’s perfunctory answer hiding his natural joy at being approached by one of the most lovely women he had ever seen. It’s difficult to be polite in a sexually charged, hunting zone but in the face of such beauty it occurred naturally.
“Is this your first time in Bangkok?” the smiling Prok inquired in surprisingly good English. “Yes,” answered Rick, “I’m on holiday and have been cruising around the region. I arrived by train from Singapore this morning.” He was determinedly avoiding the “Do you come here often?” line when the girl started talking about herself. “I’m a student at the university and I come here sometimes to mix with foreigners and practice my English.Most of these girls around you are hunting girls trying to support poor families.Once one of them has cornered you no-one else would dare talk to you for fear of trouble.”
“Interesting euphemism,” Rick pondered, “especially for such determined young ladies of the evening.”
“My father’s a very successful businessman,” Prok stated proudly. “I’m lucky. For me this disco world is just for fun. My family is very modern and I can do as I like.” A deliciously wicked thought germinated in Rick’s mind but he didn’t let it show. Her smooth-coloured skin and shoulder-length raven hair offset the girl’s gleaming teeth nicely. “What kind of work do you do?”
“I’m a high-school teacher. It’s a living, just,” Rick mumbled.
“Teaching is a highly respected profession. You must know a lot,” his companion mouthed softly. “Not where I come from,” frowned Rick. “It’s sort of like being a policeman without a gun, surrounded by criminals.”
“May I share your Mekong and Coke?” Prok inquired as she began pouring. “What country are you from?”
“It’s a long story,” replied the mesmerized schoolteacher. “I was born in the States but my father was in the army and we spent eight years in England before ultimately settling in Sydney, Australia.”
“What subject do you teach?” asked the girl. When Rick told her that he taught English her face lit up.
There is something about the Grace. The atmosphere could best be described as ‘instant falling in love.’ Rick felt it, a little in his heart perhaps but certainly in his loins. In a Sydney pub or disco he could only dream about getting to grips with a girl as lovely as this. When reality exceeds your wildest dreams there are no words to describe the joy. Without even noticing the docks, one’s ship has come in. The smoke polluted confines of this meeting point have generated such ecstatic feelings in many thousands of Western hearts over the years.
As the night wore on and the beat became louder Prok’s allure seemed more urgent.On the dance floor she held Rick tight and he could feel her energy seeking him out. The tenderest of sighs and the teasing touch of gentle fingers spoke their secrets. The Grace never closes but does experience the natural ebb and flow of humanity. An internal chime of three in the morning tends to see great numbers depart to their beds, alone in some cases but more often than not, in pairs.
Summoning the courage, both natural and Mekong-fuelled, Rick looked at his watch and thence into Prok’s eyes. “It’s getting late. Where would you like to go now?”
“With you!” Eighteen or not, the girl exuded a look approaching bewilderment.
“My hotel is only a three star,” stammered Rick, feeling rather stupid, “but let’s go.”
A grinning taxi driver dropped them at the high gates of The Surayami and sped off in a cloud of poisonous fumes. Out of nervousness Rick immediately turned on the TV after opening his door. An attractive girl, a little less alluring than his prize, was advertising the prowess of a laundry detergent, designed for hand washing, that would not only save money but wouldn’t damage the hands of the servants too much.
Hitting the power button on the television and killing its raucous chatter Prok turned to face Rick and removed her shirt.An expression of amazement and admiration flashed across Rick’s face. The disposal of her bra revealed very full, ripe breasts for such a young Asian girl. When she discarded her blue jeans her body was only clothed in beige, bikini briefs.The ceiling fan seemed, for a second, to beat louder in the incessant heat.
Prok kissed the vacationing schoolteacher hard on the mouth, at the same time stripping him of his pedestrian clothing. Gently dragging Rick on to the bed she began to kiss random parts of his body. When Rick removed her panties he was faced with half a dozen black hairs guarding a pink gold mine. With Rick’s onslaught the mine began leaching moisture and as the bodies intertwined, the laundry maid’s worst nightmares were realized. Prok’s finger nails razed Rick’s back as his hands pressed deep into her firm buttocks.Several times in the early morning that tight Thai pussy experienced a happy Western invasion.It was difficult for such sustained lust to break for lunch but normalcy is part of life.
Over a seafood-platter of prawns, oysters and particularly dead lobsters Rick and Prok acted like newly weds. The illustrious Mr. Daly still had two weeks of holidays left and he cold bloodedly calculated that these would be better spent with this goddess than in hunting for other offerings. “Prok, if you would like to and your family don’t mind, how about coming with me to Pattaya for a fortnight?” Rick’s question was answered in the affirmative and it was arranged. A less than elegant bus ride saw the couple arrive in the land of sea and good times.
With the assistance of the Thai girl at his side, Rick found a surprisingly cheap guesthouse not more than two hundred metres from the shore. For a lad from the suburbs of Sydney it was total nirvana – a honeymoon without the downside of getting married. The hot tropical sun oversaw their commerce with peddlers while the soft blue waves cooled their bodies at play.The thatched roof of their cottage with its methodical ceiling fan witnessed countless couplings as the bodies formed, broke and formed again. Just as tiring as teaching but a damn sight more pleasant, Rick pondered while rolling over in his sleep.
One afternoon, after a quick dip in the sea, the ‘newlyweds’ were lying on their bed, the ceiling fan keeping time. Prok hadn’t been secretive about her past. In her fourth year of high school she had been sold the sausage-inspired promise of a good-looking fellow student. After that, with a cooler head, she chose her lovers with more discretion. In the tepid heat of the late afternoon she found the desire to inquire further about her darling’s life.
“Have you had many girlfriends?” the naked Thai girl ventured, hoping not to disturb even the fan. “Nothing to speak of,” answered Rick, wishing to defuse this sort of conversation. His rolling over and snorts failed in their attempt. “You must have had a girlfriend in high school or college!” stated Prok, her proud breasts leaning over her subject.
“I can do better than that! I had a very cute girlfriend in elementary school called Janine. We were both five and it was going swimmingly until she peed her pants and the teacher made her walk round the yard holding her dress up at lunch time. The humiliation just killed it! Later when I was eight and all the other boys went through the girl hating stage, I was the most popular boy in school with up to forty girlfriends who would follow me round. My favourite was Kerry Howell, despite her freckles and her being two years my senior. I actually got to hold her hand once.”
“Cut the crap!” echoed the repartee in superb English. What girlfriends did you sleep with? – You know, penetrate, fuck!” Foreigners tend to use English swear words like they have a ‘use by’ date and the luscious Prok was no exception. Rick tried fake snoring again but within thirty seconds a vicious pinch on his backside alerted him to its failure. “You really want the sad story of the death of my illusions about love do you? It’ll take a while and I would like a coffee.”
Rather than scratching him, Prok amazingly complied. The kettle was on the boil and for a few seconds it seemed that all was right with the world. The coffee materialized. “Well! What girls have you slept with?” Rick coughed and suggested a shot of Mekong in his coffee. Why are women always like this? The thought fleeted across his mind before he grudgingly admitted that he knew the answer. There is some bad karma about being male and we will always be made to pay for it.
As he sipped his hypo coffee and tried to drift away a violent pinch on his family jewels brought him to attention. When all else fails, there is nothing like the truth. If she doesn’t like it too much she’ll just piss off.
“You really want to hear the saga of my sex life, then?” Rick murmured, hoping to be met with a negative silence. Given that Thai girls are renowned for their jealousy this was an extremely vain hope. “Start talking!” A gorgeous naked Thai girl could turn into a vicious interrogator in the twinkling of an eye. Hoping for the best Mr. Daly reverted his memory to when he was just seventeen.
“It was my first year of university and I was struck by the vision of the most beautiful girl I had ever seen; blonde hair, blue eyes, medium height, slim figure and with the greatest pair of legs imaginable. Her name was Brenda and she was one of those born-again Christian types. The cruelty was intense. In my mid-year English exam who should be seated at the next table but this goddess. I think she got an A but I failed and had to re-sit the exam at the end of the year. Amazingly I passed it but the next several years were haunted by this highly sexual and flesh-perfect version of the ultimate Christian girl. Every time she passed me in a corridor or on the campus lawn, or entered a room I died inside. My heart demanded to scream out, ‘I love you!’ but my social insecurity prevented this from actually occurring.”
“You got to screw this girl, didn’t you?” Prok’s jealousy ventured. “I wish,” replied Rick. “I think she liked me in a way but I was never old or big enough for what she needed. I asked her out to the motorcycle races once and I had never heard such a polite laugh of refusal.” Actually sounding a little sympathetic, the still very naked Miss Porntit thrust her breasts forward and inquired further. “You never made it with this chick?” A look made of tears accompanied Rick’s answer. “Just when I had given up I happened to be talking to Brenda on one of the university balconies. We were both studying Shakespearian Tragedies and one of the relevant productions was happening in our city. When the goddess asked if I was going to see it, I deferred an answer. Any red-blooded man would have begged her to accompany him but I just said, ‘Maybe.’ Even now that answer haunts me. What might have been if I’d been able to show more courage?”
“You little virgin!” Prok jumped on Rick again, licking him all over. He’d just about thought he’d gotten away with it when she ceased her sensual kissing. “God! That’s your first broken heart but nothing happened! Get real. I just want to know!”
“Ok. Ok. I’ll cut to the chase. There was this really tall girl, nice and intelligent but guys seemed to ignore her. She was a perfect height for me and gave me some sort of a look when I talked to her about studies and all that. Louise was a stunning well-proportioned blonde, just a couple of inches shorter than me. However she was in second year while I was only a freshman and I just didn’t dare suggest anything. Seven years later I even passed her on the street and when we nodded recognition I still failed to act.”
Prok, quite impatient by this time grabbed Rick’s slumbering member and tweaked it with a vengeance. “When did you get your first fuck? Never mind the missed chances, odd fingerings and heartaches!” Was she a student of sex after all? Rick pondered in between spasms of terror.
“Some seventeen years ago when I was barely eighteen I got lucky, quite by chance you know.”
“What do you mean, by chance?” Prok’s gaze caused Rick to wish that, for once, he were lying alone. “Well, I was trying to sell a motorcycle that I had. I’d put up ads all round the campus. The only reply I received was from this one girl. First she was all over the bike then she was all over me. What more can I say?”
“Details,” squawked Prok. “Describe what happened.”
“She played sort of hard to get at first. I remember tugging at her nightie and her challenging me as to my intentions. I tossed a coin and laughed, ‘Heads I get the nightie and tails I get you.’ The coin miraculously landed ’tails, the nightie was discarded and I began to lose my virginity. When pubic hair touched pubic hair and nothing happened I was introduced to the technicalities of making love. ‘You’ll have to push,’ instructed my more experienced and redheaded sex companion. Push I did and some minutes later I was sure that I had finally discarded every teenage boy’s curse.”
Prok’s breasts seemed to enlarge and her nipples distend. “I knew you were no innocent but you’ve had lots of girls. Who was your second?” Rick, rapidly growing tired of this, described his conquest of, or seduction by, a couple more females who attended his college. “You are certainly a shy one. I’m surprised you ever made it to the Grace,” the girl ventured, flexing her buttocks as she bent to kiss Rick on the neck. “I never really thought about it much,” came the retort. “I was so unpopular in school that I was lucky if I was picked for the Z grade baseball or football team.I guess that I just grew out of it, a bit.”
Happily, at this point, Prok abandoned her questioning and, rubbing her gently furred pubic mound against Rick’s appendage, aroused another round of passion from her subject.Sunset saw the pair dining in true romantic style at a palm-studded, open-air restaurant on the edge of the sea. They passed on the local disco and evening merged into night. Once again they fell asleep in each other’s arms.
The following day was particularly magical and memorable.Prok had woken first and taken a stroll along the seashore. She returned clutching a handful of incandescent shells. By the time Rick rubbed his blurry eyes he was presented with a simple but charming necklace. The two lovers spent the next hours singing in the sea, playing hide and seek in the palms and gazing into each other’s eyes. Forget nirvana, Rick thought to himself, this’ll do me.
That evening, after dinner, they decided to sample Pattaya’s nightlife. The first few bars were of the girlie variety and didn’t impress his Thai nymph. When they arrived at the ‘Thai Heaven,’ a Western style disco favoured by foreigners and party-going locals alike, Prok warmed up. On the dance floor she worked her body into a sweat as the fast beat played and during the slower numbers clung to her man as ivy does to a wall.
At 4 a.m. the schoolteacher and his exotic companion returned to their bungalow. Both were rather inebriated by this time and foregoing the usual ‘honeymoon’ indulgences, fell fast asleep. The sun was already full in the sky when Rick regained consciousness. He sat bolt upright. Next to him where the shapely brown princess should have been, was an empty space.A bad feeling welled up in his gut.“Prok, darling. Where are you?” Only the geckoes clicking as they chased mosquitoes along the walls broke the silence.As his gaze reached the far corner of the room Rick realized that all Prok’s belongings were gone! The door to their room was still locked and there was no sign of any intrusion.
His heart sank. The explanation was as obvious as it was cruel. He’d been deserted. To add insult to injury, Rick discovered that he’d been robbed. His wallet was gone, his emergency cash supply that had been tucked into a money belt and all of his travellers’ cheques.
As Rick flew out from Sukumpang Airport he was a chastened and wiser man. A damaged heart and injured wallet ensured that this was one vacation he would never forget. “What did you do in Thailand, Sir?” a particularly attractive Year 11 girl demanded in only the second class of his time back in the knowledge factory. “Buddhist temples and great experiences such as the Floating Market kept me pretty busy,” smiled the teacher. A low level of sniggering in the class suggested that he was not entirely believed.
The sound of close by gunshots awoke Rick from his delusional sojourn. Maybellene grabbed him in the crotch hard. “The bar is going to close because of trouble,” she indicated. “Quick, give me 800 pisos to pay my bar fine so we can go!”
“What’s this bar fine then? – some kind of girlie tax on foreigners?”
“How long have you been in Manila, two minutes?” shrieked the girl. “If you want me to go with you money has to be paid to the owners of the bar.” Rick had, in fact, been in Manila only three days, but although the lingo was different the financial meaning was the same. A very fast handover of coloured paper saw Maybellene, now fully clothed, and Rick emerge onto the street.
“I don’t think my hotel is currently an option,” muttered Rick pointing to the smoke rising in the distance. “All right, we’ll go to my place,” answered the girl in a hurry, “although it’s a slum compared with where you are accustomed to staying.” In the minute or so while the two of them were standing on the pavement they had managed to catch the attention of a group of shabbily dressed young men. “Hey Joe! Malaki otin and maraming peira. Ang puta ni sayu ay sobra pungit! Fuck you Joe!” Rick didn’t understand the references to having a big dick and a lot of money or the fact that the girl he was with was assumed to be a prostitute, and an ugly one at that. However the ‘Fuck you Joe’ phrase did provoke a reaction. Before he had time to even think about it however Maybellene finalized their escape.
She quickly hailed a passing jeepney and the pair clambered on.“What were those guys saying?” he asked. “They were certainly angry about something but why did they call me Joe?” A schoolgirl sitting opposite them failed to stifle a serious giggle. Maybellene thought that she had better educate this simple foreigner. “A cultural given of this country says that all white people are Americans and are very rich. You can explain all you like that you might be neither but nobody wants to listen.” A few more sniggers from the schoolgirl and polite amusement from the other passengers saw the entire subject descend into silence. After what seemed an eternity and four pisos, they alighted at what appeared to Rick to be little more than a renovated rubbish dump.
The jeepney had been forced to take a more circuitous route than usual in order to avoid being caught up in the fighting. A journey of less than an hour had taken closer to two. However long the ride was, it wasn’t sufficient to bridge the gap between Rick’s expectations and what he found. Maybellene took him by the hand and led him past open sewers, an abundance of scattered rubbish, and crowds of young folk with dubious intentions along a muddy pathway through the brick-a-brack of life in all its gory colour. If the girl hadn’t been good looking the very smell of the surroundings would have caused Rick to turn tail and run. This was not exactly the playground of the good life.
They traversed a long plank over an expansive and putrid puddle, ascended a couple of steps and entered into a two-room wooden shanty. The small anteroom that greeted them served as a meagre cooking area and mini lounge. It was almost sunset and a slanting flicker of light pointed to the room at the back with its small wooden bed and bedraggled mosquito net.
Maybellene gestured to Rick to sit down in one of two rattan chairs and poured two glasses of rum and cola. Perched on a bare table in the sparsely furnished space was a tiny transistor radio. “Although I don’t care much about it,” she said, “You might want to hear some news of the coup.” Her guest turned the device on and began to flip stations.
“This is New Philippines radio announcing the successful takeover of large portions of the capital along with many provincial centres. Our brothers and sisters are rallying to our cause.” Rick found another station with a different slant. “Radio 3BQ Manila, the voice of the nation, reports that the serious disturbance begun by a small band of renegade soldiers is rapidly being contained. We expect the unrest to be swiftly resolved.”The broadcast then went dead leaving only the sound of crackling.
The skyline in two directions, the nearest being about fifteen kilometres away, offered a surreal setting of the sun with the usual red and gold being augmented by the smoky black of unresolved strife. “I hope the new government is a little more friendly to foreigners,” laughed Rick. Maybellene then cooked some rice and served it with dried fish. It wasn’t the tastiest meal he had ever enjoyed but he wasn’t going to say anything.
After the dinner, the bargirl took Rick by the hand and led him into the second room with its little wooden bed and mosquito net. She didn’t speak. She just slipped out of her blue floral dress and discarded a rather worn brassiere. Her white panties offset her dusky skin and she looked every inch the temptress. Rick quickly disrobed and embraced her, kissing her full on the mouth. She pulled him onto the hard bed and slipped her cotton briefs down her legs and gently dropped them on the floor. Her badge of womanhood sported a modest amount of thick black hair that formed an almost perfect triangle.Maybellene’s slender body was taut and muscular, the product of countless hours of dancing. With only a modicum of preliminary teasing she pushed Rick onto his back, took hold of his erect appendage and guided it into her moist hole.
Their lovemaking seemed to last for hours until, out of a sated and pleasurable exhaustion they both slipped into unconsciousness. By this time an ominous full moon had made its appearance in the blackened sky. Less than twenty kilometres away a rebel-armoured column had surrounded the Channel 4 television station.A supporting infantry unit was throwing small arms fire at the second floor of the administration building.
A white flag waved violently from one of the windows and the shooting stopped. “We wish to surrender!” a voice urgently shouted over a megaphone. Within ten minutes an entire company of loyal troops had filed out of the building and entrusted themselves to their rebellious comrades.
While the prisoners and their new comrades were fraternizing Captain Enrico Vere spoke rapidly into his radio. “Colonel Honasan, we’ve taken the TV station with no casualties as the other side surrendered without a fight. What should we do with the prisoners?” Honasan, from his mobile headquarters, snapped back, “Use your brains man! Quickly interview each of them and then integrate their entire unit with our forces. Obviously, if they didn’t fight, they agree with our cause.”
“Yes Sir.” Captain Vere’s detachment was a hundred stronger within the hour.
In some parts of the capital resistance was somewhat more spirited and soldiers died on both sides. Yet very few of the military men, or the general population for that matter, had any great love for President Cory. Her glory days when the so-called ‘People Power’ revolution swept her to power over the 3,000 abandoned pairs of shoes belonging to Imelda Marcos were long over. This woman, who came from one of the richest and hence presumably most corrupt families in the entire country, claimed a false humility when she took office.
“I am but a humble housewife,” she’d said. “I will try to learn the art of governance in order to help the Filipino people.” While it is true that the new president kept some priests busy with her regular confessions and constant need for reassurance she was hardly a normal housewife. Notwithstanding the fact that her husband had been dead some three years by the time of the People Power revolution she had never washed a dish in her entire life.Very seldom does a mere housewife lay claim to a hundred personal servants and thousands of hectares of lands, in addition to an abundance of the green stuff.
As dawn emerged on the third day Colonel ‘Gringo’ Honasan was feeling emboldened and confident. The yellow lady, in contrast, was demonstrating an alternating habit for prayer and bursts of abuse at her staff for failing the Filipino people in their hour of need. As advance rebel units came within ten kilometres of her palace her converse with God included reference to the Americans and their airfield at Clark. Gone were all nationalistic thoughts demanding their absence from Philippine politics.Cory, although not a great fan of telephones, spent more than two hours on the instrument.
“General Ramos, what can we do now?”
“Mrs. Aquino, our forces are assuming defensive positions around the remaining key strategic points and all we have to do is hold. As you should know, if a coup attempt does not entirely succeed within a matter of days it swiftly dies a natural death.”
“It’s looking like we will be overrun within another day or so,” the pale lady replied. “I’m not too worried,” smiled General Ramos. “We have one more ace to play yet!”
Maybellene awoke before Rick. The unbridled noise of her three-year-old son Filippe caused her to raise her head. “Putang inay mo! Get back to bed now!” The irony of calling her son’s mother a prostitute was lost on her. Her temporary lover left the Land of Nod when he smelled the stench of sardines and rice. “Breakfast!” The dance-floor contortionist fancied herself an ideal cook and homemaker. Grudgingly, her lover of the previous night performed the necessary social rights of passage forcing the offered victuals down his throat.
“Thanks for the food, you’re a talented girl Maybellene.” Rick chewed with that slow, deadly munch of one undergoing a great ordeal. “You spoke in the bar of your family but you live alone. Where are they?”
“In the province,” answered the girl. “I’m from Quezon, about 150 kilometres south of here. It’s considered a dangerous area you know. After the death of my father I came to Manila to work as a maid so I could send money home but a maid’s salary couldn’t even support me properly, let alone my family.” On seeing Filippe Rick inquired as to his care when Maybellene was working. “He goes to a neighbour’s house,” she said. “Knowing I was here she must have let him in during the early morning.”
Rick continued his reluctant chewing, not wanting to get further into the subject “Why did you come to Manila? You don’t look like a tourist.”
“I’m on my way to Cebu to set up a business; furniture manufacture and export. The opportunities there are very promising.” The girl laughed. So many of her customers had spoken of grandiose plans and ideas. “What did you do in Australia?” she inquired. “I was a high school teacher until a few years ago and since then I have had several jobs, including security and being a salesman.”
“Sounds to me like a step down on the ladder,” Maybellene commented. You didn’t like teaching?” Rick mumbled a few comments about it not being brilliant for his health and promptly changed the subject.
His instant paramour politely offered him a coffee to wash down his breakfast and served it to him on the ramshackle excuse for a porch.To his surprise, the obnoxious youths gathered around were not paying any attention to him. They were all staring at the sky. A Tora Tora fighter had just completed a bombing run on Malacanuang and was climbing into the soft clouds. The explosion was as brilliant as it was loud. The Tora Tora had been vaporized. A sonic boom echoed over the enthralled onlookers below and the silver flash of an F16 flying at low level seared across the sky. The Americans had intervened.
When Rick had finished his coffee, Maybellene announced that she was going to do some shopping before reporting to work. As a gesture of politeness she gave him her address scrawled on a scrap of paper and escorted him to the road. He hailed a taxi and, after checking with the driver, proceeded back to the Intercontinental.
The damage was still highly visible but the hotel appeared to be operating almost normally. Rick took his key, went to his room to shower and change and re-emerged on the lobby level to take his customary place at one of the bars.
“Bourbon and Coke please.” The bartender was relatively quick to oblige since Rick was the only customer. “What on earth is with this country?” Rick simply couldn’t help himself. “It’s like a volcanic landscape,” replied the bartender as he placed his customer’s drink before him. “Every now and then there is an eruption, some excitement and minor changes in the layout of the place. However, nothing ever really changes here.The cultural mores and some of the perversities in this country are more intransigent than logic itself. Why do you think so many Filipinos will sell their souls to get out of the joint?”
“I understand that Marcos was stealing the place blind and that Cory is some kind of super rich idiot but isn’t Gringo Honasan’s coup designed to make fundamental and positive changes? Could I have another bourbon and Coke?”
The drink materialized along with some more expert opinion. “Sure, the rebels have a good point about the way this country is going from bad to worse. Nevertheless the main reason Colonel Honasan has resorted to this coup like the failed one in ’87 is because he was passed over when Cory took power. After being moderately instrumental in the propulsion of Mrs. Aquino into the presidency during the People Power thing Gringo was really pissed off when he didn’t receive any reward. Our tradition of utang na loob (moral debt) dictated that he should have been promoted. All the other leaders who sided with the yellow lady were offered good government jobs and promotions.”
“Don’t people believe in their causes and goals?” inquired Rick between sips. The bartender enlightened him further. “All business and politics is personal in the Philippines. Revolutions and the most extreme social upheavals are never really about replacing undesirable conditions with better ones or bad ideas with improvements. They are, in essence, about replacing one bunch of feeders at the public trough with another. Whether we are talking about a barangay or local government election, presidential poll or an actual civil war the primary motivations are always the same. Besides, running for office is such a dangerous exercise here, the successful candidates probably feel they’ve earned the right to steal.”
The clock behind the bar showed 3.45 p.m. when a newsflash came over the radio. The bartender turned up the volume. “Loyal troops have, in the past hour, retaken two television stations and pushed the rebel forces onto the defensive. Her Excellency President Aquino will now make an address.”
“Filipino citizens, your armed forces have courageously and unfailingly resisted the coup attempt by some rogue elements. Many of the rebels have returned to their barracks and surrendered. The remainder have been surrounded in two locations in the capital. It is only a matter of time before order is fully restored. Our democracy remains safe.”
“I notice that she didn’t mention the Americans,” commented Rick. “Early this morning I witnessed an F 16 shoot down a rebel propeller fighter. It must have been an American plane as the Philippine military doesn’t have any contemporary jets.”
“What do you expect?” came the reply from across the counter. “Even Cory is enough of a politician to avoid making the mistake of giving any credit to a not-so-popular foreign power.”
If he was concerned about the prospects for his business plans Rick didn’t show it.After dining in the lobby coffee shop he took a short stroll around the streets adjoining the hotel. Gunfire could still be heard in the distance so he didn’t venture far.
People were simply going about their daily business. A barbershop’s rotating pole advertised more than just haircuts, a group of office workers were drinking beer in an outdoor café and jeepneys were passing up and down with their polyglot cargoes of schoolgirls, labourers on their way home and housewives with parcels. As he was about to turn back to the Intercontinental Rick spotted an absolutely stunning girl making her way down the opposite pavement.She must have been around twenty years old, was tall for a Filipina and possessed long black hair framing her smooth olive face. This spectre of loveliness walked with the assurance of the knowingly beautiful. Her crisp and starched white uniform dazzled in the late-afternoon light and highlighted the natural tan of her skin. Everything about her was in perfect order. In short, she was dressed up like a pox doctor’s clerk. Suddenly, she stopped, turned her head to one side and spat comprehensively into the street. The tiny putrescent puddle contrasted strongly with the studied aplomb of its all-too-recent owner, suggesting all manner of disease and decay.
By lunch time the next day the coup was over. Many of the officers and men involved were now in custody and rebel forces in various provincial capitals had surrendered without a shot fired. The ringleader, Gringo Honasan had seemingly melted into the ether. Rick was now able to continue his journey to Cebu.
