Read an Excerpt from Quintin Pastrana’s Novel ‘Ashura: A Filipino Reckoning’

A synopsis of Ashura: A Filipino Reckoning, from the website of Penguin Southeast Asia:

In a country riven by death and corruption, unlikely companions come together and risk everything to find a little girl with a secret that can bring down the murderers hiding in plain sight. This is a story of three lives, intertwined by fate and circumstance to speak truth to power amidst the growing stain of extrajudicial killings in modern-day Philippines.

Spanning 3 continents, 7 cities, and 12 months, Ashura weaves together a story of interrupted youth, shared identity amidst brazen politics, and the elusive search for justice. The novel traces the invisible thread that binds a growing kinship, navigating between the precipice of death and the threshold of history and love.

The reader is immersed in separate, inner journeys that come together in the bloodstained streets of Metro Manila and Mindanao, the changing corridors of power in Washington, DC, and the darker recesses of Barcelona that lead to an uncertain fate at the International Criminal Court in the Hague. All told, Ashura becomes a shared, unfinished legacy of a benighted nation in search of itself.

The following is an excerpt from Ashura: A Filipino Reckoning, which we are publishing with the kind permission of the author and Penguin Southeast Asia.

Olivia took her seat on the plane. So far, the row was empty, although she was among the first to board. It was a few minutes past 3 a.m. She put on her dark glasses, not just to help her remain incognito but also to get as much shut eye as she could. Trade-offs had been made: The weekend was more pleasurable than restful, but she parallelly had her tentacles working as she ventured into the belly of the beast. She tried to imagine how a plainclothes-person like Lieutenant Benemerito would look, and how different he would be in person compared to the lofty, earnest letter he had written the prosecutor.

He knew what she looked like, which now made her more than slightly uncomfortable, even if he’d already pledged his testimony—and at least this weekend’s allegiance—to their side.

Just as she began to drift off into sleep, she felt a nudge on her shoulder. ‘Atty. Bustamante? I’m sorry to have woken you . . .’

‘Lieutenant.’

‘It’s colonel now, Atty.’

‘Just call me Olivia.’

‘Okay, I’m Francis . . . Better we call each other that, more informal.’

‘I’m assuming it’s because you’ve given me a more familiar alibi to help us down there.’ The passengers began to trickle in through the metal door.

‘Yes.’

‘And that would be?’

‘My mistress . . . Don’t be angry, I don’t have one. Anymore, at least.’ Colonel Benemerito scratched his pomade-slathered head and began to fiddle around with his seatbelt.

‘I suppose . . .’ Olivia was trying not to seethe and found a way to change course or at least the terms of engagement that she hadn’t been briefed on, and then he looked straight into her eyes. ‘This is the only way we are getting in and out of the quarry . . .’ He lowered his voice and began to whisper in her ear, which makes her skin crawl. ‘Magpasalamat nga tayo that the current Mayor is too busy partying to keep the system his father ran here. Let’s be thankful that those kids—from both mothers—are spoiled and careless, even if they’re so much more violent.’

She sensed his judgment being more seasoned and swallowed her tongue. Thirty-six hours of this nightmare, and I don’t have to role play with Mr Suave anymore.

The half-filled flight gave both of them the time to let their arrangement and their drowsiness sink in; more for her, as he seemed the least perturbed by the look of her, let alone the good intentions that had brought them together and the notion that this was part of a noble, broader, if dangerous, gambit he had never imagined he would be part of.

The pilot began to announce their descent into Davao. Benemerito almost sat at attention, held down by the seat belt. This jolted Olivia, who knew that her social clock had already wound down and that she’d need all her play acting guile and wits about her to survive the next several hours. She closed her eyes again to meditate even as her ears popped from the changing air pressure.

The flight attendants, inadvertently wearing the Ukrainian national colours, had started berating passengers behind them for standing to take their baggage from the overhead compartments.

‘Darling, tara na.’ He teased and motioned for her to go ahead of him.

Let’s not be more popish than the pope, was what her stare was trying to tell him, as he winked back then whispered before the next horde of passengers trickled past them.

‘Sorry, just play along, po. Di naman pang FAMAS awards, pero dapat kapani-paniwala. Let me lead the way, and you will be just fine.’

‘Hinay-hinay lang po sana, pero sige. Lubusin na natin.’ As if to tell him: game on or be careful what you wish for, Colonel Frank.

She took his arm, and now he was uncomfortable, his eyes peering from left to right as they walked through the baggage area and were met by his peers.

‘Sergeant Del Callar, Sergeant Petilla, this is Honey.’

OMG. Of all the names. She winced through her sunnies, and offered her hand to both of them.

They entered the Toyota van. Ermm.

'We have to blindfold you dear.’ The Colonel zealously stuck to his schtick.

What the . . . ‘Ano!?’ She started making a fist and got ready to jump out of the still parked van.

Honey, kahit si Misis, kelangan din ganito.’

Down to equal rights for spouse and mistress—Gotta love this guy—Olivia shook her head and settled down, folded her dark glasses into the bag, which she was now holding closer to her torso, wrapping it tightly with her arms as Frank began to blindfold her.

She feigned sleep. She was drowsy, not fully over her jetlag, but the rest of her senses were on high alert. Her estimate was that they had been on the road for just a little under three hours. The roads were relatively straight for the most part, then curving. There was chatter in Bisaya, which she could barely decipher; their voices were benign enough, if not with the usual sexist undertones.

Olivia was lulled by what she sensed to be the cooler temperature outside, unless the driver has adjusted the air conditioning. She could feel the road had narrowed, becoming rough, as the vehicle moved more slowly, unsteadily, passengers bobbing up and down, the laughter silenced.

Then, it stopped. She heard the door slide open, until it clicked to lock.

Game on. She smiled as she removed it without complaint and peered through the door to see the lush greenery and side of the mountain laced with mist with a trail that led below. An empty van with a dark-skinned driver wearing a taqiyah had parked next to them.

She wanted to follow but was asked to stay inside the container van house that looked like a makeshift rest house or motel, if one were more inquisitive or even perceptive.

Her eyes wandered down the trail that led to the ravine.

Olivia moved inside as the men disappear down the trail , bringing with them a retinue of locals carrying what looked like a heavy roll of tarp and other equipment.

They had been gone for over an hour, and the midday sun was piercing through the framed windows of the steel boudoir. Olivia had fallen lightly asleep, but her paranoia and the sun’s rays had woken her and made her rush outside.

Olivia followed the gravel-strewn trail, which gradually descended, then steeply curved downwards. The wind began to howl through the vines growing on the crevices and verdant side of the mountain that stretched far above her eyesight, shrouded in fog nearer to the summit.

She followed the trail until it evened out, and her senses were welcomed by a yawning entrance, seemingly man-made, about the height of two basketball players stacked on top of each other and wider than a luxury hotel’s driveway.

However, any semblance of opulence was more than overcome by that unmistakable stench wafting from the entrance, assaulting her nostrils and her lungs within seconds as she fainted.

‘Darling, gising na. Di ka ba makapaghintay sa akin? Colonel Benemerito teasingly, woke her up then picked her up off the ground and started carrying her tiny frame, like a little girl, up the trail and into the waiting van.

He waited until the van door slid shut. And the other van had gone ahead.

‘We found her . . . Here, put this on.’

She was going to refuse the blindfold the second time, but this time, his hands contained one of those industrial PPE face masks.

‘You’ll thank me.’ He passed one to the driver, who promptly wore it as he saw two men bring a thicker, rolled tarpaulin resembling a gigantic joint, smelling of freshly poured gasoline. They passed the right side of the van until they opened the back door of the van and lay whatever remained of Aina Basman in the empty space between them.

A thousand questions and permutations went through her head—how could the Colonel’s and her alibis hold up that easily? How was it that this man had worked clandestinely with the organization that wrote them all the way to the Hague and still be a key cog in the Davao Death Squad without him being ratted out? How easy was it to find her victim among the hundreds, if not thousands of bodies buried in that legendary labyrinth and quarry? How would they make it past the checkpoints, and where would they dispose of the body?

She was too nauseous during the ride down due to the stench her mask could not keep out. She had to trust that the next known and scheduled part of the journey would hold the answers to her questions, while she tried to recover.

By the time she came to, they had passed the city limits and clutches of Davao and were treading the hills of Cotabato. Their phone signals had been restored. She had four missed calls from one number. She showed it to the colonel.

‘One of us. She’s waiting. Tawagin mo na.’

Olivia rang the number back.

‘Dr Fortunata speaking. Are you close by?’

She looked at Benemerito. He raised four fingers and made a hole with the other hand.

‘Just under an hour.’ Olivia force-slid the window open to stop herself from throwing up but did so anyway. The driver just sped up anyway, his own window rolled down and drove through the oncoming rain to wash the vomit off the side of the van before it reached the government hospital on the border of the capital.

‘This is as far as I can bring you Olivia, errr, Atty Bustamante.’ Colonel Benemerito saluted her. ‘We can go back to who we were. Am so sorry if I made you feel disrespected in any way.’

‘Para sa bayan. [For the nation]. You have been a true officer and a gentleman.’ She meant it.

‘Godspeed and stay safe. I’ll be in touch through Dean Melvin if we need anything.’

He smiled before he closed the door and looked wearily ahead—that return journey to cover his tracks and put on the masks again until his old masters would finally be brought down.

‘I’ll take her from here.’ A woman, shorter and stockier than her with a buzz cut and a lab gown propped up by motorcycle boots, yelled at the orderlies as she barged through the door of the basement to receive the remains and lay them out on the forensics table.

‘I want to be there when you find out.’ Olivia said.

‘Suit yourself.’ Dr Fortunata disappeared through the doors. Olivia took a deep breath, put her mask back on, and followed her in.

After an interminable set of minutes, the remains were laid out. There was barely any flesh left on the arms and the torso, the body cavity lay open, the pelvis lay bare. The only traces of her being Fatimah’s mother were her long, curly hair.

‘Look at this.’ Dr Fortunata beckoned.

Olivia had already surrendered to the fear that a five-year old corpse would bear little information.

‘The bullet entered her here, right where the traces of semen exited. I’ve already tested for traces of gunpowder, and their parched swimmers, but this shattering of the pubic bone, and the grazing of the pelvis, the fragments should be somewhere in the area where the spleen was.

‘Colonel Benemerito said he heard nothing less than gunshots right? They’ll be in there somewhere.’

‘This all looks legit, doctora.’ Olivia tried to preface her concerns but began to feel the doctor’s eyes bore into hers, hearing her words and tone.

‘But is this too late. Will whatever’s left hold up in court?’ She needed to play the devil’s advocate, a term she found too apropos this time.

‘Let’s not even talk about my credentials as amicus curiae for the other major cases—this certainly isn’t my first rodeo . . .’ She paused and tried to bite her tongue.

‘I take it this isn’t a cat-pissing contest and you’re either really tired or genuinely concerned about this all being admissible or we’re just running on fumes here . . .

‘As I see it—and I’ve seen it all—we’ve been given a few gifts here: First, the limestone in that cave midway up Apo did its best as a natural embalmer. Second, we do have her dental records to match—courtesy of the Novaleses, one of whom you may know from law school.’

Olivia didn’t bother to confirm that she had once dated him; perhaps she knew, nothing seemed to escape her.

‘The fact that he’s running and actually stands a chance against the old man, from what my sources on the ground whisper, already tells you something . . .

‘And finally, we have the matter of the shattered pelvic area—the bullet fragments may still show up on my second pass. All these fuckers have as an alibi is that the sheer, collective magnitude of their small dick energy on her pubic bone made this medico-legal phenomenon, this physiologicaltrauma possible.’

That forced a smile on both their faces and took the tension down a few welcome notches.

Dr Fortunata took Olivia’s hand, almost brusquely, and began to lead her out of the examination room.

‘You’ve seen quite enough. You know where this is heading.’

‘Do I, doctor?’ Olivia sat down, took her mask off to breathe, and started to throw up.

‘Let me make this easy for everyone involved so I can finish up here and send the Full Monty to your superiors.’

She took a swig from a white flask and stared intently. ‘We are going to fill in the blanks as to how Aina Basman was murdered, then raped, then shot at, then raped again by these monsters. Now, thanks to one of them continuing to see the light and being a damn good actor for his old friends, in about six hours, we’ll get to prove that with full certification from yours truly.’

Dr Fortunata placed her gloved hands on her hips. ‘Olivia, still with me?’

She was wiping her mouth full of bile and tried to look up.

‘My colleagues and I, working fucking pro bono, have seen it all. But just when you think nothing can ever get to you after the hundreds of autopsies—the fresher and more gruesome they come, the more terrifyingly real— nothing prepares you for when you construct a story out of this. Even before you walked in here, we already knew, didn’t we?’

‘Is there anything else I can do?’ Olivia was finally able to put together a coherent sentence and an earnest offer.

‘Honestly, I could have saved you an extra two hours by meeting you in our Gen San facilities, which is more modern and had easier security. . . But guess why we’re all the way here on the other side of Mindanao?’

Olivia dumped her mask into the metal can and responded, ‘Because we need to properly bury her after.’

‘Bravo. Even the Navy Seals gave Bin Laden a proper burial after they laid waste to him. And, for the bonus round, drumroll please . . . Not only do you get a trip back first thing tomorrow after the ceremony, which has to be done before dawn but the man you’re looking for will also perform the ritual. And he is now willing to speak truth to power, to you and before the court you represent.’

‘Imam Ali? Oh my God . . . But . . .’ Olivia tried to scramble out of her chair.

‘He’ll be waiting for you outside and can even tell you more about the young man who brought the little girl in.

Please handle with care.’

Olivia felt a lump on her throat and nodded.

‘Thank you, Dr Fortunata . . . this country, the prosecutor owes you a tremendous debt.’

‘Let me get to work. Then, you do the rest: help send all traces of Aina’s being back to her Creator, find her daughter, and let her avenge her mother in your court . . . Once that’s all done, and I’m still in the Hague post-trial, we can make nice and thank each other over a drink: hopefully, we get the bitch as well and we’ll celebrate that, too.’

Olivia managed to smile and exit through the swinging doors, back into the waiting room where a frail, bearded, wizened man propped himself up with his cane and walked toward her to meet her halfway in the hall.

‘Assalamu alaikum. It is you; we’ve been waiting,

Alhamdulilah.’