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BABAI AND THE FIRE DEMON
Copyright By: Rochita Loenen-Ruiz

It was a cold, cold night.   Babai shivered under her blanket.   She could feel the cold, from the tips of her toes to the tips of her ears.

"Whoo...whooo...." went the wind as it swept around the corners of their house.   "Ratatatatat..." like fingers knocking madly at the windowpanes.

Oh, the wind was like a mad woman, howling and screeching in her anger. Babai thought she heard the old pine tree outside her window, creak and groan under the fury of the wind.

"Oh God," she prayed, "please don't let the big pine tree fall on me."

Tears welled up as she imagined the branches piercing through her chest. Already, she could feel the great weight of the big pine bearing down on her.

More tears spilled down her cheeks, lingering uncomfortably in the hollows of her ears, and tangling in her hair. She thought of how sad her parents would feel when they found her flattened under the giant pine tree.

"It isn't fair," she thought to herself.   Everyone seemed to be sound
asleep.   Everyone, except her.

Babai sniffed as more tears fell on her already damp pillow. Why couldn't she fall fast asleep just like her sister, Manang?

Suddenly, the wind stopped.   Babai heard a gentle rushing sound, then a hush settled all around. Babai could hear the house creak and groan, as if settling down to rest. Slowly, she wiggled her toes.   It was so cold.   She shivered, pulling the blanket tightly up and around her ears.

"I wonder what the time is?" she thought. " I wonder if it is almost
morning."

From the bed next to hers, Babai could hear her elder sister, Manang,
mutter something in her sleep. She opened her eyes just a tiny bit, then quickly shut them. Through the curtains, she had seen a giant ball of flaming fire.   It looked like one of the creatures that her cousin Atsi used to tell on cold, windy nights when it was hard to sleep.
Babai thought, " Maybe if I concentrate hard enough, by the time I open my eyes, the fire demon will be gone."
After what seemed like a long, long time, Babai peeked out from under the blankets, but by then, the fire demon, seemed to have grown bigger, and it pulsed angrily at her.   Babai hid her head under the blankets, thinking of all the scary tales that Atsi had told.   She remembered that the fire demons came in the middle of the night, after a mighty storm, to eat up eight year old girls like Babai.

" I mustn't move. I mustn't move. I'll pretend I am not here and so the
fire demon will have to go away."

After a really long time, Babai's neck began to ache, and her legs began to feel itchy and tingly. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she thought of the fire demon and how angry it would be if she moved just the littlest bit.

" Good Morning, Babai."

Her father's voice startled her.   She felt the mattress give a little as
he sat down at the side of her bed.

"Wake up, my daughter."

"Daddy," she whispered, " is the fire demon gone?"

"What fire demon?" she could her the puzzlement in his voice.

" It's a huge fire demon, Daddy!" Tears coursed down her cheeks,
blocking her sight, as she pointed out the window. " It came after the
howling wind, just like Atsi said it would. Oh Daddy, Daddy, it's been
looking at me all the time and now, it wants to eat me up."

" What demon are you talking about?" Her father laughed as she threw herself into his arms.   "Look, look out the window. "

Slowly, Babai turned and looked out the window.

"What do you see?" her father asked.

"Why, it's the sun!"   she cried.

"Yes, the sun has come to wake you up with a merry smile."

"Oh, you beautiful, beautiful sun!"   Cried Babai as she hopped out of bed and ran to the window.

"Isn't it funny that I was so scared of the friendly old sun?" And she
burst into laughter, doing a little dance to celebrate her joy.

==============================

         LAKAY
         Copyright By   Rochita Loenen-Ruiz

Lakay sat at the door of his hut. Looking down, he could see his
daughter-in-law, Maria, working at the loom.   In and out the shuttle
passed, the colors mingled, merged and separated in an intricate dance.
From where he sat, he could see the pattern of the cloth emerging.    In
the distance, the rhythmic beat of the gongs fell into stride with the
thump and swish of the loom. He watched his daughter-in-law as she
concentrated on bringing out the red and yellow patterns.   Soon, she would give birth, and the woven cloth would be worn as a sign of her motherhood.

Lakay sighed, feeling his bones creak in protest when he shifted his
weight. He could remember the days when he used to run down the ladder of the old house to join in the ritual dances to the Spirits. It had been a great honor to dance during the Caniao. But now, his bones creaked and groaned with every move, and his only son refused to take part in the ancient rituals.

Lakay bowed his head, remembering the heated words that fell from the lips of his son.

"No, Father.   Not for tradition's sake, and not even for your sake. I
will never bow my head or offer sacrifices to the evil and ineffectual gods of our past. I have chosen to worship and serve the one true God.   I am not sorry that I cannot worship any other."

Lakay shivered at the memory.   His son's words seemed like a spear flung before the ancient ones.

Why ? Oh why had he never been able to bridge the chasm that seemed to gape wider with the years?

`If only Bugan had lived,' Lakay thought, ' things would have been so
different.'

He saw her again, as he had first seen her.   Slim and browned by the
sun, with stars that seemed to tangle in the shining brown of her eyes and in the jet black straightness of her hair.   She had brought laughter and tenderness into his life.

His family had protested against the match, citing the unfavorable signs that appeared during the first three days of their espousal.   Lakay was insistent.   'He had always given the spirits whatever homage and sacrifice was demanded of him. Surely, they would not withdraw their favor from him.'

He soothed Bugan's fears, calling his entire family for a sacrificial
feast to appease the anitos. The Mumbaki had come, muttering dire predictions under his breath. First, the chicken blood was too black, the fat of the pigs, congealed.   If it was not one thing, it was another.   Nevertheless, a sacrifice had been offered ; and, after consuming several skins of rice wine, and with the tinkle of brass coins in his purse, the Mumbaki had bidden the couple to marry and live happily ever after.

Lakay could still remember the happiness that had been theirs in the first years of married life.   True, Bugan had failed to conceive; but, Lakay was satisfied.   he was contented and happy to have her all to himself.
Not so, for his parents.   Anxiously, they urged him to separate from
Bugan.

"The spirits are displeased with you, Lakay.   Do you really think that
the spirits can be bought off with the tinkle of a few coins and the taste of rice wine? Son, listen.   If you continue in this heedless way, you will soon feel the rage of the spirits."

Lakay laughed at their dire prophecies. He was strong and growing even wealthier.   He had no more fear of what the spirits could do to him. Then, in the seventh year of their marriage, Bugan conceived.

Lakay remembered the pride and happiness that filled his heart.   He had been right. The anitos had no power to wield over him. Riches and honor were now his.   Surely, the child Bugan bore would be a son.

As Bugan grew heavy with child, Lakay's early rejoicing gave way to
apprehension. His wife grew weak and listless as her tummy rounded out to its fullness. The baby seemed to eat at her strength, and Lakay watched helplessly as the laughter drained from her eyes.   Frantic with fear, Lakay turned once more to the Mumbaki.

"Call upon the anitos!" He cried.   " I am rich and favored.   I will
offer up whatever the spirits desire."

He had almost paupered himself, offering up the best of his produce,
mindful of his shortcomings to the anitos.   'If only he had not neglected
the spirits... if only he had been careful to pander to them in all
things..."

Ah, but regret was a bitter thing.   Lakay could still feel the pain
eating at his bones.   Thirty years had passed, but still, the pain of
losing her had not lessened one bit.

After nine months, Bugan had borne him a son.   A son who suckled greedily at his mother's breast.   Pale and thin, though she was, she patiently fed him from breasts that were full with nourishing milk.

Watching her wince with pain each time their son took to her breast,
Lakay had felt like raging at the baby, " Stop! You're draining the life
from her!"

Once, in a fit of anguish, he had torn the baby from her breast.   Bugan
had turned on him, her savage stare piercing to the marrow of his bones. He had no recourse but to hand the enraged infant back to her.

Then, he had fled from their hut in a frenzy.   He would not accept his
parents' pronouncements of doom.

"It is her fate.   She must die so that your son may live.   You must
accept the judgment of the Spirits."

"What do you know?" He cried in outrage.   In his heart, Lakay knew that all these was his fault.   'If only, I had not neglected the ancient ones. If only I had offered up a sacrifice on the day of his conception.'

Regrets rang in his head like a beating gong, reminding him that he had failed to be a true worshipper of the spirits, and now this was their
judgment. The baby had been a year old when Bugan died.

What happened then, was a dim memory.   He had wandered in a netherworld, running swift as the deer, eluding the clinging arms of friends and family. He danced before the spirits.   Dancing wildly, the dance of death.   In a madness, he chased her spirit with his own, seeking to bring her back, shouting his remorse to the cruel mists that constantly shrouded her from his sight.

Time passed, he forgot how long.   When he came back to himself, it was to find that ten bitter years had passed, and the ache of his loss had not lessened one bit. His son was now ten years of age.   A slim, sun-browned lad, with a look in his eyes that spoke of a deep, deep hurt and tears that could never be spoken of.

Joseph, they had named him. In his heart, Lakay saw only Bugan, for their son, was her image reborn.

Lakay groaned.   He knew he had failed his son. During the years, while he wandered in his grieving madness, Lakay's family had slowly embraced a faith of love and forgiveness.   A man who had once been a Mumbaki, told them of a mighty God, whose power was greater than that of the anitos. This God had sent his only son to be the only sacrifice that man would need so he would be free from the power of the evil ones for all time.

Lakay tried to understand this new faith, but its simplicity confounded
him. He could not understand why this new God would allow his only son to die.   Surely, he was not so loving or so just.

Lakay thought of his only son, Joseph. Ah, his was a truer
love. Not for anything would he allow his son's life to be sacrificed. The Mumbaki spoke so, only because he had never married, and so he could not understand the love that was a father's love for an only son of a beloved wife. Lakay began to offer up the ancient sacrifices, currying favor with the spirits, begging them for favor on behalf of his only son.

As Lakay's son grew into manhood, a tenuous bond was forged between them. Lakay sighed, wishing that the gap between them would one day be bridged.
If only his son would return to the ancient ways.   Lakay had a wealth of
knowledge and experience that he could teach.

" Father?"   His daughter-in-law's gentle voice brought him out of his
reverie. "Did you want something?"

"No, Maria.   I was just thinking."

"Ah.   Sometimes, I dream of what will be and of what has been."   Her smile soothed him with its gentleness.

"Where is my son?" He asked her.

"Joseph went with Pastor Namolngo to ask about a Bible School they plan to open in Go'hang."

"Oh?" Lakay felt as if a hand had squeezed his heart. "Why would Joseph go there?"

"I think he wants to be a Pastor, Father." The gentleness in her tone,
told him that she was aware of the shock he felt at hearing these words.

He drew a deep breath, watching her as she rose slowly from the loom to stretch her back. Her stomach was fully rounded now.   Her time of birth would soon be here. "Watch your step..." she looked up and saw the anxiety in his gaze.

"Don't worry, father," she reassured him, "I go to the hospital for a
regular check and Dr. Ruiz says that I am doing very well. He says that I will have a son."

"Has the Mumbaki been to see you?" Lakay asked. "You should tell Joseph that it is time to offer up sacrifices to pacify the anitos."

"Oh father," she turned to him, and gentle laughter was in her smile, "The God that Joseph and I serve is far greater than the anitos. Joseph and I , we do not fear. We prayed together, asking God for this baby. I know that God will take care of us."
"Still.... a sacrifice to pacify the ancient ones..." Lakay's voice
trailed off.

Would the sacrifices help, he wondered.   His mind drifted back to another time, when he offered up countless pigs, chickens and produce in the hopes of gaining once more the lost favor of the spirits.   He had beggared himself, sacrificing all to the relentless demands of the ancient ones. Still, Bugan had died.   Could it be that his son's God was more powerful than those that Lakay knew and worshipped?

Pastor Namolngo was the key. Pastor Namolngo, who once was a great high priest of the spirits.   Would he know the answers that Lakay was looking for?   Lakay had spoken only once, to the former mumbaki.   In the years when Lakay had wandered in his grief, the former mumbaki had become a mentor and teacher to his son, Joseph. Lakay was a jealous father, and he was quick to notice the special bond that existed between the former mumbaki and his only son.

"Ahhh," he sighed to himself, feeling his old bones creak under his
weight, "but, Pastor Namolngo must also be feeling the weight of his
age... and Joseph was a young man, eager and willing...." He frowned to himself, moving restlessly so that the bamboo creaked warningly under his feet.

He listened to the thump and swish of his daughter-in-law's loom, hearing at the same time the beat of the gongs in the distance, remembering other times when the gongs had called and his son refused to answer.

"Father, if only you would listen and believe as I do.   You don't have to
live in fear of the anitos any longer.   Christ came to set us free from
fear. He is the true God, and he came to give us freedom to worship him out of love and not out of fear."

"And what of the spirits and the sacrifices that must be made to appease them?"

"God wants no other sacrifice, father.   Christ became all the sacrifice
we will ever need.   All you have to do is just believe and yield fully to
him."   Lakay heard the earnestness in his son's voice, but he could not leave his fears behind.

They had spent many evenings repeating similar conversations. Lakay's guilt would not let him yield to his son's pleadings.

"Why?" he questioned," if God is so good, why didn't he save your mother's life? Why did he allow her to die?"

He recalled the raw pain in his son's eyes whenever he flung the question at him. He remembered his son's patient answers and the gentleness in the sinewy arms that embraced him.

"Father, I wish you would believe as I do.   Mother didn't have to die..."

"She didn't have to!" He had knocked away his son's embrace, caught in the wildness of remembered grief. "You killed her!"

How he regretted the words the instant he said them.

"I'm sorry, father.   I just can't worship or join in the rituals of old,
as you want me to. I just can't.   Try to understand."

Lakay could hear the longing in his son's voice. He could feel the hurt
he could not see.... He should have turned and embraced his son, but he had turned away, caught in a grief he could not explain.

Tongalit-tongalit-tongalit, came the sound of the gong.   Lakay could see the Caniao party crossing the bridge.   He tried to identify the dancers. There was old Diagon, Lakan, Inong, Pat-ay, there were other men, younger men whom he could not recognize. He watched them pass, their faces contorted into grimaces, their feet and bodies moving to the sound of the relentless gong.

The rhythm of the gong surged inside him, and Lakay stood slowly,
stretching out his arms, his hands flapping at the wind.   The joints of
his shoulders groaned in protest and with shoulders drooping, he sat down.

What was the use of offering up dances and sacrifices to spirits who
constantly wreaked havoc in his life?   What judgment could they possibly pass on him now that they had taken from him the only precious thing in his life ?

His daughter-in-law's confidence seemed to echo in his ears. "God is
greater than the anitos..."

Lakay closed his eyes, listening to the sound of the gongs as they drew farther and farther away.   If Bugan were alive, what would she say about this faith her son embraced?

A light breeze blew around his shoulders and the heady scent of newly
harvested rice wafted to him on the breeze, he could feel the warmth of the sun's rays on his upturned face; reaching out his hand, he touched wind and laughed in the sunlight....

Terms:

Mumbaki: witchdoctor
Anitos: spirits

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