The White Handkerchief

By Maugan P. Mosaid

 

After graduating from the primary grades, my parents enrolled me to the public central elementary school in the poblacion. For the first time, I saw the so-called outside civilization where houses were so close to one other. I had tasted a cold sweet tasting bottled liquid which they call lemonade. Everything was so new to me. I thought from the first day of class that I will be out of place as I imagined that most of them were brighter than me. By the end of the year, I was among the top five in class.

Months and years passed and everything around me seems to be moving and changing fast. I was also learning fast to adapt to the so-called civilization. When I was in first year high school in a private sectarian school I could enroll on my own. I don’t want my mother to go with me everytime I enroll. I wanted to prove to her that I was maturing fast to adolescence.

 

I felt that I was already a young man even in my third year in high school. I had learned to feel ‘crush’ every-time I see my ‘beautiful girl’. I wanted to court her but I had a problem. I feared the moment that she would turn me down because I was a Moro. I also feared the day that my mother would know that I was courting a ‘kafir ’ (infidel, as they call a non-Muslim) because it was taboo that time. Until late 1960s, marriage between individuals of different religious affiliations was not tolerated by the Muslim culture in our place.

But I was seriously falling for my beautiful girl. And so I wanted to test the waters, so to speak. I wanted to find out her initial reactions. I gathered all the energy that I could muster but my knees would tremble and no words would come out of my mouth. This must be the real love at first sight! After several attempts, it was all the same. There was only one thing that I was progressing through in terms of level of confidence and that I was beginning to feel that the feeling was mutual. She would no longer turn down my invitations for snacks at the canteen. And so we were talking to each other on topics of mutual interest except about ‘love’.

Finally, I said the words and expressed how much I love her and she turned around without saying anything. Until we went out of the refreshment parlor she refused to say a word and would not look at me. I must have offended her, so I thought. I don’t want to ask for forgiveness neither would I follow up what I said earlier. Maybe it was just good that I had expressed what I feel for her. Maybe time will decide in my favor.

In school, she would try everything to avoid me. I wanted to look at her; she’s the apple of my eyes. I would try anything to corner her until I did finally corner her. Without much ado, I asked for forgiveness and went back to my old trick to regain her confidence. Several months passed and I was steadfast at winning her heart. “There is no rocky hill to a man with an iron will”. These words from an old sage were all I need to keep me going.

True enough, time was on my side. In our fourth year in high school, it was different altogether. Did the summer vacation made us long for each other? May be so. At last, my diligence finally paid for me. Several weeks before graduation, I heard from her what I had always longed for: a verbal confirmation that the feeling of love was mutual. And so I heard the sweetest words: “yes, I love you too!” What a beautiful world it was for the two of us.

And then, it was graduation day. More than the apprehension that her parents and mine would know about our relationship and the consequences that would follow, the fear of being separated from each other was a dreadful scenario I would not even dare to imagine. She knew that I could not continue to college and I knew that she would be studying in Manila.

The following day, immediately after graduation, I looked for her. I gathered all the guts I could muster to go to their house. That was the only place I would certainly find her. And so I went to their house and she met me at the gate. We agreed not to mention anything about our relationship so her parents would not sense anything. We were cracking jokes so we would feel happy and comfortable but the fear of being separated was enormous. What else can we do? Finally, we agreed to give each other small tokens that would keep us reminded of each other. We agreed to exchange white handkerchiefs. In school white handkerchief was a must for every student. It was checked every morning during flag ceremony.

We were together the whole day and really enjoyed each other’s company. As the sun was setting, she begged that I would dine with them in the house which her mother duly seconded. I had already lunched with them and I felt that it was already too much to stay until dinnertime. And so I begged off to just go, saying, that I still had to go home to the barrio, even if I knew that it was no longer possible. The last jeep must have left at 5:00 p.m. We promised to write each other – something that I would diligently check at the Post Office on market days (Thursdays).

In the beginning, we used to exchange letters. She was doing good in her studies in Manila while I was back to my old ways in the barrio: playing with playmates, pasturing the work animals, gathering firewood and helping in our tobacco and corn farms.

Months and years passed and this time, I would no longer receive letters from her. In short, our communication was cut. I deserve this, I sighed to myself. I was not going to school; there are boys in Manila who are certainly more good-looking (and good smelling too!); what will she get from me?

In the year 2000, the first grand alumni homecoming in the high school where we graduated from was held. The first person I was expecting to see was my ‘beautiful girl’, my high school sweetheart. I really came earlier to check on everyone arriving to make sure that I would not miss her. The thrill of seeing her after a long, long time was still there but this time it was more for curiosity’s sake. I was already 14 years married and I was sure that she must have married also.

Many had already arrived but she was not one of them. Not being able to hold anymore, I asked our classmates. One of them said, “you still did not know that Linda died of leukemia a few years back?” For a moment I was dumbfounded. “My God, everything in this world will certainly have its own ending,” I murmured. But why should death occur even at the wrong time? My hands slowly drifted inside my pocket to reach out for the white handkerchief. I remember that I had brought it with me. It was already having some stain but to me it was still so white as the intention that was associated with it was so pure. I felt that I was melting down at that very moment but I managed to keep my calm. I was unanimously chosen as the Guest Speaker from our batch. I was the next speaker and so I had to keep my composure. As I went up the stage, I used the white handkerchief to wipe some sweat in my face and maybe some tears disguised as sweat.

 

After the speech, my classmates told me that it was so passionate and eloquently delivered. I knew from the start that it should come out that way and quite naturally. I couldn’t be more affected and I was delivering that speech like I was cursing someone I don’t know and saying: “Why must it happen this way?”