The night before Ramadan

Written on Monday, September 1st, 2008 at 12:41 am | by Rom

They told us that we were in jihad; that the government of the kafir had sworn on the Holy Book that our ancestors’ lands would be returned to us, but that they were now going back on their promise. And we believed them. Our Caliph had torn his shirt in anger as he was telling us of the betrayal, and we felt in our hearts the same kind of anger. What animals were these, we thought, who would take the Holy Book in vain?

In the dark of night, we left our homes and made our way to the Caliph’s camp. There are many trails through the bush, marked by the most ordinary things so that the kafir could see them and not know what they were. An overturned bottle, a discarded pack of cigarettes, a broken branch. We followed these signs through the night until we arrived at the camp. And there, we were greeted as heroes - before we had even picked up a weapon.

When the sun came up, we were in ranks, our faces covered with our long guns by our sides. Someone said a news crew was coming and that we should stand straight and proud. We were mujaheedin, they said, brothers of those who fought in far away places like Afghanistan. I didn’t even know what they fought about in Afghanistan, but just knowing that others had taken this path before me made me feel proud.

As the news camera filmed, I gripped my rifle firmly and I glared at the reporter. I wanted her to feel my anger and my pride.The woman - with her hair wantonly falling over her eyes, and her face shamelessly exposed - had peered deep into my face. I sensed that she wanted to ask me a question but one of Caliph’s lieutenants gently shoved her away. “No talking to the soldiers,” he said. “Just video.”

Later that day, the announcement came. Tomorrow at sunset, the Caliph had ordered, we would raid an armory of the kafir. We would take their guns and their bullets and their boots. I felt like shouting with joy. Finally, we would be able to strike. It could not have come at a better time. Tomorrow, the day before the start of Ramadan, I will also mark my birthday - hopefully I will also get boots that fit right.

The night could not pass quickly enough for me. I lay awake, listening to the sound of coconuts falling to the ground, praying to Allah to favor me during the raid. Eventually I fell asleep, but my sleep was filled with dreams of gunfire and victory. And then, in the mists of my dream, I heard the sound of an angel laughing. I took it as a good omen - a sign from Allah that we would prevail.

But then the laughter slowly became louder - never louder than a whisper, but loud enough to rouse me from my sleep. I could hear shuffling outside my tent, and the hasty mumbled words of a woman I had mistaken for an angel. “Here? Here?”

And then I heard Iqbal answer. “No no. Not him. He doesn’t even shave yet.” The angel laughed - a soft giggling that landed on my chest like some great weight I couldn’t understand.The laughter died away after awhile, to be replaced by moans I could not mistake for anything else. I turned over on my side and tried to get back to sleep.

Before sunrise, before even the call to salat, I was already on my knees reciting the fajr. I only hoped Iqbal would not forget to pray.

…

The raid went bad. They were waiting for us! When we first broke cover, we were cut down by machine gun fire. The sound of the bullets thudding into the ground, and into the trees, and into Iqbal as he stood beside me made me wet my pants. The first chance I got, i ran into a mudhole so that my brothers would not see the dark stain and laugh at me and call me a coward. I tried to fire but my hands were shaking so bad for awhile, I could not even find the trigger.

After hours of fighting, we were told retreat. We tried to melt away into the jungle, but the soldiers came after us with their dogs. What shame! We were running from both infidels and unclean beasts! This was not the way of the mujaheedin, my mind screamed. When I could take it no longer, I stopped running and swung my gun around, the barrel blazing.

The first bullet hit me on the shoulder like a punch. A dull ache, followed by a sharp pain as the hot slug burrowed its way deep into the muscle. I didn’t even feel the others after that. It was like I had lost control of my body. The first hit spun me to the right, then I was spun to the left, and my right knee buckled so that I fell on it, my leg twisted behind my back.

I hit the ground with a softness I could not understand, as though I were falling only very slowly and gently. In the distance, i heard the call to the Fajr. For a second, I could not believe that an entire night had passed. Then the sound of soldiers approaching wrenched my mind back to where I lay waiting for the angels to come, just like the imam said they would. Instead I saw only the muddied boots that I thought would be mine by the end of this day. And instead of the tinkling giggling of angels, I only heard the barking of the dogs and the coarse voices of the soldiers.

“Tangina, ilang taon na’to? La pa atang bulbol to e.”

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About The Author: Rom is the writer behind the blog Smoke. In her own words, "I write better when I smoke. Don't ask me to reduce it to a science."

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16 Responses to “The night before Ramadan”

  1. Ding G. Gagelonia on September 1st, 2008 2:24 am

    Rom,
    You were apparently smoking as you wrote this. Please count me in as a fan po. :)

  2. AdB on September 1st, 2008 3:07 am

    Great yarn! I mean it…

  3. Dean Jorge Bocobo on September 1st, 2008 6:19 am

    Great read, Rom. There will surely be imitators (flaterrers). Do you think we’ll get suicide bombers?

  4. benign0 on September 1st, 2008 10:07 am

    I have a cousin who straight out of PMA was sent on combat duty to Mindanao back in the 70’s.

    One of the very few things he talked about after that experience was that they usually cut off the heads of moros they shot down lest these fallen warriors somehow mustered whatever remaining life they had in them to take a final shot or swing.

    That’s the kind of fearsome reputation these fellas had.

    Maybe reality is a bit more anti-climactic than reputations… ;)

  5. cvj on September 1st, 2008 10:16 am

    Thanks for that input Benign0, so our side also cuts off heads?

  6. Dean Jorge Bocobo on September 1st, 2008 10:26 am

    benign0 story is apocryphal, surely. Never heard of Filipino soldiers doing that. Baka bola lang?

  7. Dean Jorge Bocobo on September 1st, 2008 10:30 am

    It’s not only Islam that teaches unalterable faith in certain principles. Democracy does too… I’m not worried about “brave” Moros…the .45 took care of that, and they have no monopoly on courage and dedication. Ask Ariel Querubin. But female suicide bombers being forced into the gruesome task by having their families hostaged has been reported or surmised.

  8. cvj on September 1st, 2008 11:01 am

    DJB, speaking of ‘desired effects’, if that PMA graduate cousin-of-Benign0 cutting off Moro heads story is true, that would be inconvenient for your narrative. You can of course argue that the Philippine military just did those things as a precautionary measure to save lives.

  9. cvj on September 1st, 2008 11:19 am

    As for female suicide bombers, i agree that it is a threat. As a preventive measure, i think public spaces (like malls) should disallow loose-fitting clothing. Females should wear only tight-fitting clothing. Faces should always be uncovered (which means no dark glasses.) Bags and carry-ons should be transparent. Seriously.

  10. benign0 on September 1st, 2008 11:40 am

    Never heard of Filipino soldiers doing that. Baka bola lang?

    That’s up to you to decide Dean. I’ve never heard of things like that happening outside of my cousin’s story either. Though, being Filipino myself, I am quite familiar with the deeply-ingrained instinct in me not to take a fellow Pinoy’s word at face value, so I’ll allow you that.

    Also, read and understand my comment again.

    I’m not saying that moros have a monopoly on ‘courage’. I believe the word I used was ‘fearsome’, and not ‘courage’. The difference becomes relevant when you start to distinguish between religious zealotry and military professionalism as different motivators that determine the quality of soldiery.

    Religious zealotry has the ability to send untrained peasants into battle with arms thrashing pitifully and volleys of automatic fire being sprayed wastefully. Professional military training on the other hand trains warriors to aim their weapons with a (relatively) cool head before firing.

    Whereas professional soldiers see themselves as military assets (which ends when they are effectively disarmed OR killed by the enemy), untrained jihadists see themselves as nothing more than human ammunition whose role ends only when they themselves are destroyed (armed or not) — which is why they are able to continue running at you with arms thrashing even after they have been effectively rendered useless as soldiers (i.e. disarmed or incapacitated).

  11. cvj on September 1st, 2008 2:02 pm

    Religious zealotry has the ability to send untrained peasants into battle with arms thrashing pitifully and volleys of automatic fire being sprayed wastefully. Professional military training on the other hand trains warriors to aim their weapons with a (relatively) cool head before firing. - Benign0

    The above sounds like stereotypical thinking. I don’t think suicidal charges are a feature of ‘religious zealotry’. The Chinese communists were famous for their ‘human wave’ attacks during the Korean War. The Soviets also resorted to similar battlefield tactics during the Battle of Stalingrad. You also have the Japanese Imperial Army charging headlong into the Filipino defenders while they shout ‘Banzai!’.

  12. Dean Jorge Bocobo on September 1st, 2008 2:42 pm

    cvj,
    You are Master of Satire. I like it! But I am afraid there is no real defense against female or male suicide bombers. It is the apex of guerilla technology empowered as it is by either zealotry (which is unfortunately of diminishing supply by definition and rare in any case), or by blackmail, through which an unlimited supply is assured. As weapons of always-intentional collateral damage and mass destruction, they are unstoppable once launched, in my opinion.

    As for Filipino soldiers beheading Moros to make sure they are dead, as opposed to a clean (and safer at a distance) shot with pistol or rifle, it would certainly be “inconvenient” to any black and white fairy tale for adults about peace and war.

    But from a literary pov I take the story as Benign0 further explicates it. Possibly a flourish of his cuzz to emphasize their fear of treachery from wounded fearsome enemies (I stand corrected there, Ben).

    But, cvj, do you know what it takes to hack off a human being’s head with your bare hands? (I don’t, really) but i’ve seen video and we do know it happened at least 16 times last year in Basilan and Patikul.

    Something evil walks there that makes it possible to do this sort of thing. It better not be in the Armed Forces because it would not only be my “narrative” that ought to suffer some “desired effects”.

  13. Dean Jorge Bocobo on September 1st, 2008 2:57 pm

    If not for the collateral damage I would wholeheartedly support suicide bombing for its spectacular implementation of evolution by natural deselection. But here is a macabre thought. The Moro insurgents can’t possibly be serious UNTIL they do suicide bombings, starting with their commanders like Bravo and Ombra Kato.

  14. Nick on September 1st, 2008 6:39 pm

    Rom, welcome back into the fray, this was an interesting read, a struggle for an understanding of the thinking of these individuals..

    Again, on a side note, thank you for the ulcers produced by your previous article.. FV writers are keeping me on my toes, keeping me honest, and well, I must thank you.. this goes the same to Patricio too.. I’m growing old by leaps and bounds now..

  15. cocoy on September 2nd, 2008 7:48 am

    wow. this is awesome, rom!

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