There has been a conflict between us and the man who claims to own the two-hectare land where me and some fellow neighbours had built homes a kilometer distance from one another. At least thirty families live there, including mine. My family had been the first to settle down after my Papa inherited the land from his father. The other families who settle down with us are renting occupants ― even my aunts and uncles pay for rent. We have lived there peacefully for thirteen years and now that I'm eighteen, we can't let a mere businessman to suddenly show up and lay claim on our land.
We've fought over it in the court and although the evidences he presented are absurd, he won't get that the court's decision is final ― the land is ours.
"But I have here valid documents to justify my right to take back what really is mine," he demands one day to Mama who had just gone from hanging heavy blankets along the clothesline at the back of our house, and now wiping her hands on her skirt before accepting a red clearbook from the man. It contains the same mostly-photocopied titles as I've seen before. Our neighbours begin to gather on front of our house to witness what will happen.
I stay on a sofa near the door, watching Mama's eyebrow curl up. I kneel so that I can view the businessman from the window. He wears white long-sleeved shirt beneath his grey tuxedo whose button stretch over his plump belly. His belted pants hang very low on his hips, making it seem vulnerable when pulled down.
He walks his shiny black shoes here and there, explaining to Mama his defenses that I've heard too many times before. I roll my eyes. Even as he is supplying Republic Acts blah blah blah, they're monotonous already and irritating to my ears. The people around are frowning.
"Why should you speak of those articles when you're not a lawyer yourself?" Mama says, skimming through the documents in the clearbook.
"That's why I brought my lawyer here."
You could've directed the article-speech to him, I'd like to blurt out. If only Mama wasn't here.
He indicates the tall dark man dressed in proper lawyer suit behind him. When the dark man takes off his hat and his face is seen properly, I gasp silently.
I recognize him!
He used to live in our land. He was known in it for being an elite licensed lawyer. In-demand and sought-after, that's how I describe him. Two years ago, he left his house which remains locked until now. It's only a few walk away from our house. Mama doesn't touch it because the man paid five years rental to it, and he'd been there for only a year.
And now he returns for us to see that he sides with the businessman? Why, the lawyer was the one who defended our right to the land!
"Attorney, explain to the woman."
The lawyer steps forward, ignoring the suspicious whispers coming from our neighbours. "Actual possession under claim of ownership raises a disputable presumption of ownership. The true owner must resort to judicial process for the recovery of the property ―"
"Of which we have dealt already to the court." Mama hides her amusement with her steady-but-firm tone, laying a fist on her waist.
Before I could stop myself, I blurt out, "And don't you know that it is stated in Article three-four-five that the property must be identified and the plaintiff must rely on the strength of his title and not on the weakness of the defendant's claim. But your title is weak and our claim is valid provided with truthful ownership titles we have presented to the court, and so we're favoured more. So why do you push through?"
The lawyer turns his expressionless gaze to me but it's the businessman who spoke. "I have there ―" he points furiously at the red clearbook " ―valid documents that can prove that this land belonged to my ancestors and I have all the rights to claim this."
"The court has already decided for that." Mama closes the clearbook and hands it to him.
The plump man snatches it back, balling his fists. I stiffen. If he does something bad to Mama, I'll be the one to punch him. But he recomposes himself by sighing. "Well Attorney, it seems that we have no choice. I don't usually do this to anyone, yet..." He shrugs. "Present to her the bargain."
Audiences shuffle to have a better look without getting any closer as the lawyer produced from this tuxedo pocket a folded piece of paper. He unfolds it and reaches it to Mama, who accepts it, eyebrow curling up higher. I catch a glimpse of written words boldly imprinted on it.
TWENTY THOUSAND U.S. DOLLARS.
My eyes widen. The person who's in the front-most glimpses what's written on the paper and she gasps, whispering what she have witnessed to those behind her and the message is passed as quickly. I hear whispers of approval that Mama should deal with the bargain. "She could buy us a new land... a larger one!" They seem to say. Indeed. That could also buy everything I ever want!
"Well?" The businessman smiles like a Cheshire cat. "If that's not enough, name your price."
There are awed whispers around. It takes several moments before Mama can react. To our surprise and disappointment, she tears the note to tiny pieces and flings them like confetti before the businessman's eyes. My greedy fantasies are gone instantly.
"I have made it clear that this land cannot be bought," Mama declares, stepping towards the man. "This belongs to us. Not even the world's wealth can take this away from me. Be gone, you miserable old man!" She spreads her left hand furiously.
        A red tomato smashes on the side of the businessman's head. He whirls around, demanding, "Who did that?" More tomatoes follow, aiming mostly at him. People boo and throw insults at him but it seems that they avoid staining the lawyer's tuxedo. I lean half of my body outside the window as the businessman hurries away, followed by the mob. I giggle. I fail to notice that the lawyer doesn't follow his client.
        "You're a remarkable person, even for a young law student like you," he says, smiling faintly but darkly. I am too busy mulling over his words to notice that he's walking away. I gaze at the far edge of our land where a black limousine once parked, now screeching away.




        Two weeks later, we have to leave our land.



       Two days after the businessman last visited us, the lawyer returns to the house he rents. He closes the door and remains the windows shut. He goes out the house in morning, locks it the whole day, and returning very deep at night ― I can tell because the sound of car engine deactivated and activated some distance away from our house wakes me up at night, though by morning I don't see any vehicle rode by the lawyer. He seems to be walking all his way to his work.
       Three days after the lawyer returned to his house, a letter from the court arrives to Mama. She nervously tears the envelope open and skims to what was written on it.
       For the next three days she arranges appointments with a lawyer Papa has hired, and appeals to the court, and it is on the fourth day that the judge hammers his order, declaring, "A rightful decision of this court is made in the name of God the Creator ― the land goes to the plaintiff..." The rest is lost to me because I cannot believe what I hear. The businessman smiles broadly while his lawyer gazes at me disturbingly.
       Before I could stop it, a protest burst free. "Bribery!" I punch the table and straighten to my feet. "You bribing maniac... how could you believe him? This was the same court where we have appealed and we won. And now you take that back?" Beside me, Mama touches my arm but I shove it away so that I can go to the aisle and walk towards the judge's throne. "Don't you know that according to Republic Act― hey!" Two security guards restrain me and drag me backwards. I see that Mama would've wanted to help me but she can't even move a nerve as she stares after me.
       As the double doors enclose on front of me, I hear the judge say, "Dismiss!"
            The next day, a black limousine pulls over on front of our house. The businessman steps out, wearing his broad grin that makes my blood boil. Mama has left for the market, so Papa is the one who entertains the guest without inviting him inside.
       "What do you want?"
       "For you to leave this place immediately," the businessman replies, amused. "You must not forget ― I am this land's new and rightful owner."
       Papa frowns. "Are you?"
       "Sure enough. I want this land cleared up of people and poultry. You may bring your things or leave them here. It's up to you. I'll bring my bulldozers to rid of this place from filthy habitats. If I see you here when I come back, I'll use force."
       If it wasn't for the armed bodyguard standing before the limousine, I'd have reached for the businessman's necktie and pull it tight around his neck until his eyes bulge. Papa does not reply. The businessman climbs into his limousine followed by his bodyguard, and the limousine drives away.
            


       During the four days which the businessman has given us for due, Mama hires several trucks while Papa assists in helping our neighbours load their household things onto the trucks. We're going to move to my uncle's land which will be ten miles ride from here. It's only half an hectare huge but it'll be more convenient than nothing. I think.
            The night before the moving, we sleep in our house for the last time, feeling its floor beneath thin blankets on which we laid our sleeping place. I can't sleep, thinking of the businessman's lawyer. He did not move his things into the trucks, let alone put any of his things outside his house. He locked himself in it when the trucks came.



       Now is the day of our leaving.
       This land is where I grew up into what I am now. I sigh as I gaze at the empty houses from the roof of our house where I sit. The second batch of trucks which we'll occupy later on is arriving one by one, piling up behind the first batch of trucks, already children rush to climb onto them.
       I use a ladder to climb down from the roof to the outside of our house. Papa steps out of the door, heads down so he doesn't notice me. He turns his back, locking the door with a huge key. When he turns around, there's a surprised look on his face.
       In a tone higher than usual he asks, "Why son, weren't you with Mama?"
       "I was a while ago but I'd like to have the scent of our land into my nose. Our rice plantation, Papa. It'll be harvest next month. Shan't we wait for it?"
       He shakes his head sadly. "We'll have to plant another one in your uncle's land, don't worry." He puts his hand across my shoulders and leads me to the boundary of our land overlooking a wide rice plantation. There are speckles of gold among the green plants, indicating their ripening. "I send you to elite schools with these, son. Only these, the blood and sweat of me and our fellows!" His gaze travels over the plantation. "We're not wealthy. Mama and I didn't grow up to such family. But we want to give you the only wealth we can inherit you― education." Then he quotes, "A little knowledge makes a man conceited; a lot makes him humble."
       "So we're leaving."
       He sighs, squeezing my shoulder. "As soon as possible."
       "One day Papa when I become a prominent lawyer I'll defend what really is ours."
       A silence is shared between us for a moment as the sun's orange warmth creeps to our skin. We turn our backs to it, trailing our long way past the empty houses, empty eatery, empty poultry, and towards the truck last in line parked by the road. My uncle, aunt and three cousins are aboard, playing some mental games that produces peals of laughter from them. Mama is there too, joining the fun. Last night I heard her sobbing beside me. I don't know if that's what she still feels inside.
       Papa climbs onto the truck and offers a hand to help me up. I am about to reach for it but I remember something. "Just a moment, Papa!" I say excitedly, dashing back the way we'd come.
       "Be quick son!" he calls after me. "The driver shall arrive in twenty minutes or so."
       I intend at first to feel again the final warmth of sun shining over our land but a thought flashes across my mind. I go back several steps from the boundary, stopping on front of a door, its paint fading. This is the rented house of the businessman's lawyer.
       Or it was.
       He left that morning when I was about to climb the ladder to the roof, bringing a suitcase. He looked up and greeted me but I scowled at him. My neighbours passing by greeted him and asked where he was going. "Spa," he replied with a smile. Then he was gone.
      It was him whom I wanted to be, and now it is him whom I hate. Or is this bitterness? I feel betrayed by him and yet the people don't see that. How could he turn against us after he'd won the first case regarding our land?
      I pause, thinking about it. Maybe it's just a lawyer's job to defend his clients whether it's right or wrong. Now I'm thinking if I'd be like this someday.
      The door opens when I turn the knob. I glance side to side to check if anyone is nearby, then I step inside to the darkness. I don't mean to trespass or anything, but the lawyer's house is the only house in our land that I have never been in. I'm curious what a prominent lawyer like him have inside his house. Since this is my last day on this land, the lawyer would perhaps forgive me for intruding.
      Not sure.
      I step further inside with the brightness of outside lighting a little of the house's floor. Abruptly the door closes with a thud behind me. I panic for a moment because this place has a creepy feel in it although I've been in places darker than this. I quickly grope for the switch and press it on. Instead of usual white light, the fluorescent lamp gives off dark violet glow― almost black. And it illuminates nightmares worse than any man could imagine.
      Walls are covered with assortments of picture frames mostly of horned people with bat wings and wolf fangs. Some have animal heads and human bodies, or vice versa. The sight is so horrible that in lighting like this, their eyes seem to glow orange, glittering in darkish delight. My vision swims until it seems to me that the pictures are smiling sinisterly, baring their teeth. When my eyes travel the other direction, my heart misses thousand of beats.
      On front of me is an altar. Not the usual holy one that I see adored with fragrant flowers during Sunday Mass, but entirely the opposite of it.
      Demonic little action figures carrying spears are standing over the figures of angels. But the angels are broken ― some with wings, halo... and even heads. Scarlet liquid that represents blood glows like neon under the light. Behind the altar, the sight that steals all my breath away is a huge realistic picture framed with thorns of withered stems of rose plant. The picture is the face of a demon grinning so sinisterly at me ― his eyes are like glowing coals but with visible black circles on the middle as pupils. He wears hood over his head with his horns standing mightily on his head. He is scarfed with small serpents entwining to one another, eating broken fleshes of... humans?
      At the bottom of the picture frame is a booklet with a single word printed boldly on its cover― PRAYERS. I shakily reach for it, flapping the pages. The prayers are about passing tests, board examinations, and license tests. There is also a prayer about winning every cases he holds at court.
      All of these are addressed to demon god.
      When I reach the final entry of that booklet, I read about a prayer to make the court go in favour of the businessman with my parents' justifications and evidences becoming absurd. I clutch the booklet in a mixture of fury and terror. He has been "praying" all the time for his achievements?
      But he's been so kind and gentle and generous! I look up at him... I adore him! I'm tricked. What I've seen in this place offends me greatly. I'm very disappointed and dismayed and... scared.
      Oh God Almighty, I've made a terrible mistake...
      The door creaks open and I whirl around. I hastily return the booklet to its place and I sink into the shadows as the lawyer steps inside, removing his tuxedo and flinging it to the nearest chair.
      "Have I left the lights open?" I hear him say to himself.
      I take the advantage of his back turned to me to sneak out of his house and into the brightness of outside that temporarily dazes me. I resume my way towards the trucks, never looking back the way I'd come.