Chapter 46
Nimuel Acebado awoke to the sound of a clear male voice singing. The Filipino priest rolled over and sat up on the edge of his cot, his feet landing on the impacted ground inside the communal hut he shared with eleven other people.
“Mother of God!” one of the other men in the building muttered. “Why does he have to wail like that and wake everyone up? I thought we made it clear to him there was to be no singing before the morning meal!”
Nimuel shook his head, pushed himself to a standing position and walked to the door of the building. In the pre-dawn light, he saw the outline of a man walking along the edge of the buildings, hands cupped to his ears, continuing his song. The priest stood and listened.
“Ashhadu an la ilaha illa Allah.
Ashadu anna Muhammadan Rasool Allah. Ashadu anna Muhammadan Rasool Allah.
Hayya ‘ala-s-Salah. Hayya ‘ala-s-Salah.
Hayya ‘ala-l-Falah. Hayya ‘ala-l-Falah.
As-salatu Khayrun Minan-nawm. As-salatu Khayrun Minan-nawm.
Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar!
La ilaha illa Allah.”
The last line trailed off as the man disappeared into the forest just beyond the trunks of some recently felled trees.
Nimuel stood for a few more moments, catching a snippet of sound everyone now and then as the singer repeated the verse again. Then, taking a deep breath, he left his hut and walked into the lightening day.
He made his way to a portion of the colony dotted with smaller huts, and began counting as he passed each hut. At fourteen, he stopped, and looked closely at the animal skin covering the entry. The letters “G” and “D” were on either side of a larger letter “T” in the middle. And the symbol of a fish was above and to the right of the initials.
Nimuel knocked on the wood frame of the opening.
“Hello, is that you Father Acebado?” a woman’s voice responded from inside.
“Yes,” the priest said. “My apologies, Gabriela, if I am here too early.”
“Oh, please come in, Father,” the woman said. “The imam’s call to prayer woke us up.”
“As it did me,” Nimuel answered. “But I don’t mean to intrude. I can come back.”
“Please come in,” a man’s voice said. “We’re awake and presentable.”
Nimuel pushed the entry covering aside and stepped in. “Thank you, Diego. Please excuse my interruption. I know this is an inconvenience for you and would gladly store the items in my hut, but…”
Diego interrupted. “The juice and the wafers would be gone within an hour of you setting them down in there. And I’m convinced those men would have no respect for the Hosts, eating them like snacks as fast as they could.”
“I’m afraid you are correct, my friend. I’m thankful you offered to keep them here. I only wish we had a proper tabernacle for the consecrated hosts.” The priest sighed. “To be honest, I wish I had someone I could confirm these are allowed as valid matter for consecration. There are so many things I don’t know about. Is what I am doing considered right and just? Or am I drawing us all into sin through my pride and making decisions without proper authority?”
“Please Father, don’t even think that!” Gabriela quickly said, pushing herself to a standing position. Before she was fully upright, she wobbled, causing Nimuel to quickly step forward and reach out to help steady her.
“Thank you, Father,” she said. “Sometimes I get up too quickly these days and the blood doesn’t seem to catch up.”
“Is it because of the baby?” Nimuel asked.
“I suppose,” Gabriela said. “I don’t have any experts to consult with either, so it’s only a guess that the pregnancy is having the effect. But I do know I feel fine once I’m standing. And if I take my time getting up, there is no problem. That tells me it must be okay. I don’t pretend to be a theologian, Father. And I’m not trying to relate how a first-time mother understanding her pregnancy can explain how us first colonists understand the appropriate way for the sacraments to be administered on this new planet. But I know you are doing everything with sincerity in your heart and a love of Christ in the forefront of your approach. So I am convinced with the ignorance of a simple mind that God is blessing what you are doing and allowing for the Sacrament to be as effective here as it was on Earth.”
“My dear friend, you may not have been trained in a seminary but you speak with the words and the conviction many theologians would be jealous to have,” the priest said. “And how are you feeling lately? We haven’t really talked much in the past four days since the ship from Qom arrived.”
“I’m doing very well, thank you, Nimuel,” Gabriela said with a smile. “Do I look bigger?” she asked, turning sideways.
“Well, I suppose…” the priest stumbled.
“Don’t tease him like that, Gabriela,” Diego said with a chuckle. “Making a priest uncomfortable with fertility questions must be a sin you’ll need to confess.”
“If that were the case,” Fr. Acebado said, “then the secretary at my former parish would have had to see me for confession once a week. She had a certain gleeful look when she would remind me to counsel engaged couples on proper actions prior to marriage. And suggesting that I should ensure the future husband had proper instructions on how to start a family. In any event, you are glowing even more than last week, Gabriela. At this pace, your glow will be so bright that poor Diego won’t be able to sleep due to the amount of light you’ll be giving off by the time the baby arrives.”
“Thank you Father Acebado,” the expectant mother said, rubbing her stomach. “I hope the glow doesn’t disappear.”
Diego walked over to a table of roughly hewn wooden planks on top of four legs cut from a tree-limb and picked up a wooden box. “Here you go, Father. And be careful with all of the compliments you are giving Gabriela. I’m afraid her head will swell more than her belly if you keep that up.”
Gabriela gently swatted her husband’s shoulder. “Don’t listen to him, Father. You never have to worry about giving a woman too many complements. And we will be joining you as soon as we clean up.”
“Thank you,” The priest said, taking the box from Diego. “Don’t rush on my part. I’ll wait for you, as I don’t imagine there will be others demanding I start the service before you get there.”
Fr. Acebado nodded and left the hut. He walked to a small clearing outside of the village, where a lean-to had been placed and then improved upon to cover a flattened stone surface.
He placed the box on the stone, lifted out a clay pitcher half-full of a liquid, a clay cup, a wooden bowl with a dozen square-shaped bread-like wafers, a smaller bowl with a lid over top, and long piece of fabric cut unevenly along the long edge and tied together along the short edge in fabric knots. All of these he positioned on the stone, then placed the box behind the lean-to covering the makeshift altar. The priest returned to the stone, picked up the fabric, kissed it, unfurled it and placed it around his neck. He then knelt down behind the altar, crossed his hands, and prayed silently.
After a few moments, Diego and Gabreila approached. They stopped in front of the altar, Diego helping his wife to her knees and then kneeling next to her.
After a few more moments, Fr. Acebado stood up, with the couple following his lead. Looking around, he took the larger bowl of bread-like wafers and placed them in the box behind the lean-to.
Returning to the altar, the priest began, “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit”.
“Amen” responded the couple.
“The Lord be with you,” Fr. Acebado continued.
“And with your spirit,” the couple replied.
“Brother and sister, let us acknowledge our sins, and so prepare ourselves to celebrate the sacred mysteries,” the priest said.
The three people continued their familiar and reverent progression through the Roman Catholic Mass, alternating between statement and response, prayers and blessings, until the conclusion.
“Go in peace, glorifying the Lord by your life,” the priest said.
“Thanks be to God!” the husband and wife replied in unison.
The couple bowed towards the altar. Diego went around the small building to bring out the box. Nimuel removed the handmade stole, kissed it and folded it, while Gabriela helped Diego place the remaining items on the altar into the box.
“I’ll carry the box back, Father,” the other man said. “I’ll just put it in our hut and meet you at the gathering space.”
“Thank you, Diego,” the priest responded.
Diego hurried ahead, while the other two began walking towards the center of the village.
“I know I’ve said it before,” Nimuel said to his walking companion, “but I am so thankful to have both of you here. I can’t imagine the strength of faith it would take to say Mass each day without anyone present to be there with me. I’m afraid I may not be able to keep it up.”
“And as we’ve told you, Father, we are so blessed to have you with us,” Gabriela said. “The main concern that Diego and I had coming here was missing out on the Sacraments. We consulted with our parish priest. He called Bishop Reyes who agreed to give us a dispensation on the grounds that we strive to populate this planet with young children to carry on the faith, and to do our best to evangelize. Then to discover that a priest was a part of our group of colonists was a miracle in our eyes.”
The priest looked at the ground and slowly shook his head side-to-side.
“My bishop said my role here was to evangelize as well. I’m afraid we’re not doing a very good job of that,” Fr. Acebado said. “I’ve said Mass over one-hundred and forty times since we arrived. I can only recall a handful of times that anyone besides you two joined us.”
“There was the man who asked you to bless their group that first week before they left to go out on their own,” Gabriela said. “He seemed sincere.”
“Maybe,” the priest said with minimal conviction. “And maybe he saw it as a superstitious hope for good-luck. The others in his group weren’t at all interested in the blessing when he had me come over to their group.”
“Think of all the people you have comforted with the Anointing of the Sick,” Gabriela countered. “As sad as it has been, there are dozens of people who I’m sure left this world knowing they had that special blessing bringing them closer to God in their last hours.”
“But no marriages, no confirmation, no first communion,” Fr. Acebado continued.
“There will be a baptism, Father,” the expectant mother said, patting her stomach. “And in time, you’ll be able to instruct our child for the other sacraments of initiation. And that poor woman from Brazil. What was her name?”
“Brila,” Fr. Acebado answered.
“Yes, Brila. Despite what happened, I’m convinced she needed to say her confession,” Gabriela said.
“So, other than you and Diego, everyone else that looks for the blessings of a sacrament is now dead,” Nimuel noted.
His friend paused. “Well, not everyone. What about that man who left the colony that first week?” she asked.
“I appreciate what you are trying to do, Gabriela, but perhaps we should talk about something else for a bit,” Fr. Acebado said.
“I’m sorry, Father. It’s just that I know we all have a role to play here, and I’m convinced your’s is one of the most important. I think that people just aren’t hearing about it. Maybe someone needs to walk around the colony singing about the Mass like that imam does,” she said with a nervous laugh.
“Do you really think so?” the priest asked, looking at his friend.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Gabriela replied. “I guess I was joking. But then again, when that man walks around calling out, I know others hear him. I can hear the couple in the next hut reciting something when his singing comes around. I’m guessing they are praying in response to what he is saying.”
“So you think I should walk around the houses, calling people to Mass?” Fr. Acebado asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe not every day. Maybe once a week to get people’s attention,” Gabriela said. “I was joking when I said it at first, but the more I think about it, the more I think it might help. Especially if people are responding to him. I think we need to draw people in. Even on this planet it seems there is a competition for souls.”
The two friends approached a clearing surrounded by buildings. In the clearing, four people emerged from the largest building, carrying a large animal skin filled with fruits over to an area with posts made from tree branches placed into the ground in rectangular positions. They placed the skin across four of the posts, positioning reinforced holes in the skin over pegs on top of the posts, creating a hammock that hung next to three others filled with food at the proper height for people to grab as they walked by. The four people returned to the fresh food building.
Another two people brought out thin dried strips of meat from a smaller building that had smoke rising from a small hole cut into the roof. These went to a tall table where two other people were cubing the meat and placing them on twigs whittled to a point at one end. A final person was tending a fire watching over skewers that were warming up the smoked game, pulling the first batch of cooked fare from the narrow clay bricks above the fire and replacing them with skewers created by her two colleagues.
Nimuel and Gabriela walked over to a table at the opposite end of the clearing where people were queued. Each person in line pulled a large fresh leaf from a stack on the table, and carried it over to the food hammocks, stacking fruits, nuts and vegetables on their makeshift green plate.
Diego jogged up to the pair. “Do you mind if I join them?” he said to the few people that had queued behind his wife and the priest. They nodded their acceptance and motioned for him to step in line. “Samalat”, Diego replied with a nod.
“So, yesterday I had fruit, nuts and dried kangarat meat for breakfast,” Diego continued, rubbing his hands together. “But this morning, I’m thinking of trying nuts, fruit and some kangarat meat, properly dried. What about you two?”
Gabriela glared at her husband. “I’ve been craving some lumpia or a pancit palabok for weeks! The idea of eating more of that damn dried meat makes me feel more ill than almost any session of morning sickness. So don’t go on about our food like that.”
“What if we tried to make a sinangag with the mushed root and the dried meat?” Diego asked. “All we need is some fresh garlic.”
Gabriela punched her husband in the arm. “Stop it!”
“That actually sounds interesting,” the person behind them chimed in, as they approached the table with the leaf-plates. “I’ve been looking for which animals produce eggs but haven’t found any since we arrived. I don’t know if the animals on this planet don’t lay eggs, or if they just don’t nest anywhere near here.”
“I’m just thankful for the food,” Nimuel said. “I’ve never been a cook, so the fact that someone prepares it for me here is still something I appreciate.”
“But will there be enough food now?” asked the second person that let Diego cut in line. “I mean look at all of these new people that arrived. I don’t really see them contributing yet, and we’ve all been asked to eat less for a bit. Will that be the norm going forward?”
“I think that is one of the main reasons we’ve been asked to remain at the camp after breakfast today,” Diego said. “The Nuevo Bahay Council met with some of the people that are willing to be discussion leaders for the people from Iran so we can coordinate work better starting today. Especially for food collection.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if they just want to sit around and wait for us to collect it and then eat it all for themselves without doing anything to help,” the first person said.
“I’m sure they’ll be contributing equally very soon,” Fr. Acebado responded. “Remember how disoriented we were those first two weeks. I say we give them some time to get acclimated and be good neighbors for now. I’m sure that will benefit everyone in the end.”
The two people didn’t respond to this last comment. They finished loading up their leaf plates and walked away from the trio in front of them.
“I’m thinking they may not agree with you, Nimuel,” Gabriela said. “And I’ve heard more comments like that yesterday than the day before.”
“So have I”, said the priest. “But we’re all God’s children and we’re now here together. I’m so hopeful we don’t have to be so divisive here on this planet as so many people were back on Earth. This is a chance in so many ways to start over again to follow God’s commands and the example Jesus set for us.”
“Let’s grab a rock while it’s still available,” Diego said, motioning his head towards a half-dozen large boulders in front of a phalanx of buildings. “You should sit and rest, Gabriela, before it’s time for work.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more,” his wife replied.
They weaved their way through the growing crowd to find the stones were all being used by people.
One woman looked at them as they approached, and she got up from her sitting position on the boulder.
“Here, Gabi, sit down on this one,” the woman said. “I’m jealous of you, but not so jealous to make you stand while you are pregnant. Maybe you can share your secret, since it’s still not happening for me.”
“Thank you, Nina,” Gabriela said, her cheeks darkening slightly. “No secret, really. You just,… do it, you know? And then if it’s meant to be, it’ll happen.”
“Maybe you just need to practice more,” Diego offered with a grin. “I was talking with Tommy and I told him…”
A shout interrupted Diego’s sentence.
“Hey you!” one of the Filipino villagers shouted, pointing to an Iranian man focusing on making his way through the crowd without losing the food from his leaf plate. “You’re the one singing his head off in the morning, aren’t you!”
The man being called out had to stop walking when the crowd no longer moved to let him pass. His focus switched from watching his footing and balancing his leaf-plate to notice that everyone was staring at him.
“I’m talking to you!” the Filipino man shouted out again.
This time, the new arrival turned to see where the shouting was coming from, and saw the stranger pointing at him.
“So now you’re willing to be silent when you’re surrounded by people who are awake?” the angry man said, walking towards the new arrival.
Fr. Acebado also started toward the man. “Basilio, he probably doesn’t understand you. I’m sure he means no offense by not responding.”
The new arrival gave a worried look at both men converging on him.
“If he’s got a voice to drone on before sunrise, he can use it now that the sun is finally shining,” the angry man replied, stopping in front of the new arrival.
“متاسفم. من متوجه نمیشم چی میگی.” the new arrival said.
“I asked you a question, camel man! Are you the one waking everyone up in the morning?” Basilio said, shoving the other man’s shoulder.
The new arrival took a step back and flung his arms out to catch his balance. The leaf plate and its contents went spilling to the ground.
Fr. Acebado arrived in time to put a hand out and catch the new arrival between the shoulder blades, preventing him from falling backwards.
Basilio began approaching and the priest quickly stepped between the two men. “Basilio, please! This man means you no harm. You don’t know who he is and he can’t understand you, so there is no need for confrontation.”
“If he doesn’t want confrontation, then tell him to shut up before sunrise,” Basilio said. “I’m sure he’s the one, since I’ve seen him walking around the village wailing away around midday and later in the afternoon.”
“And if it is him, then he is leading people in prayer,” Fr. Acebado responded. “That is an activity more people should try, I feel.”
Basilio tried to step around the priest, who deftly moved with him, keeping himself between the aggressor and the new arrival.
“Just tell him to shut up,” Basilio said, waving his arm at the man, and walked away.
After ensuring Basilio wasn’t returning, Fr. Acebado turned around to the new arrival. The man’s muscles were still tense. The priest held out his own leaf-plate of food, still in his hand.
The man relaxed, took the food and said “Muchas gracias.”
Nimuel’s eyebrows raised. “¿Tu hablas español?”
“Si. Yo hablo algo,” the man replied in Spanish. “I was hoping you might speak it as well, since I think many people speak that language in the Philippines. My name is Hisham Raḥmān.”
“I’m pleased to meet you, Hisham Raḥmān. I am Nimuel Acebado,” the priest said, extending his left hand.
Hisham returned the handshake with his free hand.
“And how did you learn Spanish?” Nimuel asked.
“I went to Spain to study the books from the royal library of the Caliphate of Cordoba,” Hisham said.
“You were a history teacher on Earth?” Nimuel asked.
“No, I am an Imam,” Hisham responded. “I was looking for original writings from Fatima bint Yahya al-Maghami as part of my fiqh studies. The community there was so very welcoming that I stayed and was invited to preach at a local mosque in Cordoba, where I stayed for three years.”
I should have guessed you were an imam!” Fr. Acebado laughed. “I am a priest. Welcome to Nova!”
“Thank you. And maybe I should have guessed that you were a priest, since you, um, since you stopped that man from hurting me,” the imam said.
“I don’t think Basilio really would have hurt you,” Fr. Acebado said. “He is worried about his future and probably doesn’t feel in control of his current situation. And with the arrival of your boat, he doesn’t understand the new people.”
“He should think about how we are reacting to our arrival on this planet,” Hisham said. “I can guarantee nearly everyone from Qom is more worried, more afraid, and more confused than he is.”
The priest nodded but didn’t say anything in response.
“Does everyone in the Philippines speak Spanish?” Hisham asked, changing the subject.
“No, not so much any more,” Nimuel answered. “I would guess it is between ten and fifteen percent of the population now.”
“So how did you learn?” the new arrival asked.
“I studied Spanish as part of Filipino history, taking classes in secondary school, college and keeping up with it after graduation,” Fr. Acebado explained. “The bishop recommends we are somewhat fluent in three languages. Tagalog is expected for our daily work in the parish. Latin for church teachings and universal church communication with other Catholic clergy and fluent staff around the globe, and a third language for people we may occasionally interact with in our diocese. I have no interest in English, I am not able to learn Mandarin, and told myself there might be enough visitors from Spain, Mexico or South America to make Spanish worth the effort. And now I’m glad I did.”
“Is there a colony nearby from one of those countries?” Hisham asked.
“We did encounter someone from Brazil, but she only spoke Portuguese. And I’ve not been to that colony yet. I am more interested in working with the people here, ” Nimuel shared.
“So you have a large community of Catholics in this colony?” Hisham wondered.
The priest paused, his eyes focusing on nothing in particular.
“Are you ok, sir?” Hisham asked with a concerned tone.
Fr. Acebado shook his head slightly, clearing out his thoughts. “I’m sorry. Your questions made me think about my current situation in an entirely new way I wasn’t expecting.”
“Oh?!” the new arrival said?
“Yes!” the priest said. “The whole time since I’ve arrived, I’ve been focused on my own survival. I talk about being a priest, but I realized I’m not truly evangelizing the way I should be. There are two people, dear friends of mine, who are very dedicated to their faith. But I am embarrassed to say that I do not have anyone else attending the Mass other than my friends. When you asked me that question about the other colonies, it made me realize I shouldn’t be waiting for people to come to me. I should be going out to them, searching for them and reminding them of their faith and that they should be praising God and joining together in following his way here on this planet.”
The imam smiled slightly. “So after we have met for less than ten minutes, we will already be in competition for the people’s souls.”
Fr. Acebado focused again on his conversation. “Yes, we will be in competition, my new friend, but less with each other than you might imagine. As difficult as it was on Earth to bring people to church, it is even harder here. Many of those that said they believed on Earth are now saying God would not have forced us here if he cared for us. And even more have now started worshiping this planet, creating a religion they feel is based on what the aliens described, with the planet being a more important being than us humans. So the competition is less about Christianity versus Islam, and more so about God versus atheism or eco-worship.”
“Allah is good!” Hisham said. “It is sad to say that on Earth, many who claim to be believers have fallen away from true practice. I was hoping people would be more open to returning to faith practices here, since there would be less to pull them in other directions. But perhaps that will not be.”
“You have inspired me, Imam Hisham,” Fr. Acebado said. “We can fulfill our calling. And, yes, we can make this a competition for souls. But not against each other. You can be the person I share with in relation to returning people to their faith. And I will be your confidant. God will be the winner and unbelief will be the loser! I must find Gabriela and Diego and share this good news!”
Without waiting for any reply, the priest left the new arrival from Iran standing there, still holding his handful of breakfast, unsure of how the conversation just ended.
Two days later, on the day the local Filipino colony had agreed would be their local Sunday, just after sunrise, a new voice was heard singing as its owner walked through the colony.
Rorate, cæli, desuper, et nubes pluant iustum:
aperiatur terra, et germinet Salvatorem.
Caeli enarrant gloriam Dei
et opera manuum eius annuntiat firmamentum.
Gloria Patri, et Filio, et Spiritui Sancto,
Sicut erat in principio, et nunc, et semper, et in sæcula sæculorum. Amen.
Then, after a brief pause, the voice continued.
Papuri sa Diyos sa kaitaasan at sa lupa ay kapayaapaan
Sa mga taong kinalulugdan Niya
Pinupuri ka namin, Dinarangal ka namin
Sinasamba ka namin, Ipinagbubunyi ka namin
Pinasasalamatan Ka namin dahil sa dakila mong angking kapurihan…
Hisham Raḥmān stepped out from behind one of the buildings to see who was singing. He gave a very broad smile when he saw the owner of the voice.
Fr. Acebado returned the smile and waved, then continued on his walk, pausing between songs to invite people to attend Mass at the outdoor chapel, announcing the gathering in both Tagalog and Latin.