Soldado Del Paraiso

Chapter V- El Final

I remember waking up from a dream that had drifted, I couldn't remember it, I was in a native bamboo bed with sheathed with white cloth, I looked at my clothes and I was wearing clean clothes, and then a little girl and what looked like his little brother behind him, biting his thumb both had curly brown hair and a tan look, and the girl had no front teeth

"Mata na," the little girl said with a smile.

"Papang, mata na!" the girl ran out of the bamboo room with her little brother

I tried to get up but I was too weak to stand, I noticed my left shoulder was bandaged with a white cloth underneath it was a leaf.

"Relax, don't move, relax my friend." A man's voice said in Spanish, he was a young man with curly brown hair and scruffed face over a lighted smile.

"Where am I?" I said, in a dazed voice

"Don't worry it's safe here, you're in my wife's village, the people here friendly." The man said while he stood by the bamboo door.

"What happened?" I said

"We found you floating in the ocean, you were there and then you weren't, my father-in-law Bulong, saw you sinking, so he saved you. Don't you remember anything?"

"No. Did you see the others, Manuel the pregnant woman, the child?"

"No,  it was just you.." 

"What...where.."  I said

"Relax... you have to get strong first, then we'll talk." The man said

"What's your name?"  I said

"Juan, Juan Clemente, that's my name." 

I looked out the window of my small room, and saw a native woman laughing by the shade of a tree while she knits a fishnet made of rattan rope, she was given half a fruit by another woman and both exchanged a laugh, Children chased each other around makeshift playgrounds, their laughter echoing off to the wind. Women tended to their chores with practiced efficiency, their vibrant chatter filling the air like birdsong, while men were busy catching fish or worked on their boats, they all looked so happy.

During my unconscious state, the villagers took it upon themselves to tend to my needs. Juan's wife, in particular, tended to my injured shoulder, which she described as "slightly dislocated." Their care and attention, bestowed upon me even as I slept, spoke volumes of  their kindness and compassion.

When I was strong enough, the people made a nippa house for my own. Everything was shared in that village- the simple meal of fish and rice, to the small delicacies like linupak, a  pastlike mixture of banana and sweet potato, Maria would have loved it here. 

It was a small fishing village with around 15 or so houses. White sand stretched out, contrasting vividly with the blue waters that provided their sustenance. Seabirds glided gracefully overhead while palm trees swayed in the gentle sea breeze, weaving a tranquil tapestry of  beauty and human resilience. It was a fleeting moment frozen in time, a sanctuary of serenity amidst the tumult of existence.

One afternoon as I was helping Juan haul his boat , "Why did you desert your post?" He answered with a question "Have you ever met the king?" We both shared a laugh.

Bulong, the man who saved me, was a man of few words and even fewer in Spanish. His body was sculpted by the sea, lean and weathered, a testament to a life spent in its embrace. When my strength returned, he wasted no time, leading me to his humble vessel with a silent nod.

In the quiet expanse of the open water, Bulong communicated with a language all his own. His grunts and gestures spoke volumes, guiding my inexperienced hands with a simplicity born of mastery. With a subtle tilt of his head, he directed me to secure the ropes, his weathered hands demonstrating the art with practiced ease.