The Cross, The Merchant, The Slave
Retelling Magellan
500 years ago, in April 1521, a port city in the central Philippines participated in Christian baptisms, burials, and daily Masses for the first time in the archipelago. Here’s an imagined perspective from a real Southeast Asian mainlander whom the Europeans called “The Moorish Merchant from Ciama.” The following is built on firsthand European accounts, as well as other historical and anthropological data.
Two pieces of wood cast a shadow over the dirt. One tall piece planted on the center of a platform, with the other shorter piece nailed to it horizontally. Bính mumbled the name of it under his breath: “Cross.” And then, “Cristóbal” …his new Christian name. Cristóbal. Half the town had just crowded before this object of worship for a good portion of the morning, and now Bính stared up at it contemplating its meaning as the crowd began to relax, having watched the Christian priest walk away solemnly.
Rousing himself, Bính meandered a few steps around the plaza to stretch his legs after so much kneeling. The crowd was slowly thinning, but the rayas, datus, and Kristyanos were lingering together and exchanging friendly gestures. He spied Henrique among them, still the only interpreter for both sides. Standing between a Cebu datu and a Christian captain, Henrique seemed to wear the same skin as one man, and the same clothes as the other.
Most of the market stalls in sight were covered and unoccupied, as their owners were either still returning from Mass, or taking a break from the impending heat of the late morning. But close by Bính saw a stand full of bright green coconuts next to a boy sitting on a low stool. One knee was propped up to his chest and he stared idly at the datus and captains while swinging a peacock feather between his fingers. Walking over, Bính waved a hand to get the boy’s attention and muttered a greeting in Malay, “Selamat pagi,” before pointing at the goods and asking in Cebuano to purchase one coconut on credit, “Kúhà usa tilambù.”
The boy blinked at him, stood up, and then simply held out one hand and stared at him. Before Bính could repeat himself, an older man came from the other side of the stall and yelled at the boy in a dialect Bính didn’t quite recognize, then apologized to Bính in Cebuano.
But now Bính was watching the group of captains and datus finally moving away from the Cross and starting to walk uphill. Henrique trailed behind them. Bính turned his head back towards the coconut seller who was now gesturing and offering to cut the coconut for him to drink out of. Bính answered with a quick nod just in time to wave Henrique down before he’d passed by.
“Henrique, my Kristyano brother! Would you share a coconut to drink with me?” The boy at the stand was now kneeling on the ground and pulling a bolo from his side to cut open one end of the fruit.
“Cristóbal, cómo estás,” Henrique replied. He then called to one of the Christians walking ahead, “Señor caballero…” followed by more Spanish words that Bính couldn’t discern. He had heard that one addressed the same way before — he was the inquisitive one, Antonio the Caballero, who asked a lot of questions about local words.
Taking a seat on the edge of the platform under the Cross, Bính adjusted his loose silk robe and gestured for Henrique to join him. He tried to imitate the Christian greeting, “Komo Ostas!” and continued in Malay, “Antonio enjoys his time around Tupas, have you noticed? Tupas entertained him in his house when you first came. He had his girls play gongs from China and dance with the Caballero. Those instruments are very expensive to these people, yet I heard that the he hardly noticed them…because he couldn’t stop staring at the girls!” Bính laughed. “Are the women here really so different from the ones in their homelands?” By now the boy from the stand brought over the opened coconut. Bính took it and drank, keeping an eye on Henrique.
Henrique nodded his head, apparently unsurprised. “Where they’re from, it’s a sin for a woman to show her chest,” he said dryly.
“Oh, is that one of the ten sins?” Bính asked, trying to remember the Christian lessons imparted on him by the Captain-General.
“Well, there are actually more than ten sins. There are Ten chief Commandments, but… there are many other actions which may be sins…” Seeing Bính lean in attentively, the Captain-General’s slave continued, “The men are tempted by it… Seeing their bodies — The girls allowing the men to see their bodies; that likely breaks the sixth Commandment. Or the ninth… regarding jealousy of other men’s wives… or even the tenth, regarding property.
“I see…” Bính furrowed his brow. “It’s not something they’re used to. They’re tempted by its rarity, hmm?”
Henrique nodded and seemed to sigh, “That’s what drives men all the way across the world.” And he looked up towards the sky.
“The women?” Bính laughed and slapped his knee.
Henrique only smiled lightly. “I mean the rarity,” he said, meeting Bính’s gaze again.
Collecting himself, Bính replied, “Ah yes. I know this better than most people would. I’m a trader after all; it is my trade — and my privilege! — to recognize the value in every little thing that a man would buy or barter. And every little person.”
Henrique seemed to lean his head in the most polite nod, but he turned his eyes away and stared at someone or something in the distance. Bính could tell this smart servant had been listening well.
“And you, my Christian brother, are no little thing. There’s rarity in a slave who’s well-traveled. Men from Malacca came to your home and took you back across the strait. You learned their ways. Men from Christian countries came to your old master’s home and took you across the ocean back to theirs. And you learned their ways. And the more that they come here, the more value there is in you.”
Bính watched Henrique continue to stare off in silence, not even deigning to give his usual servile headnod. Bính offered the man the freshly-cut coconut, holding it to his chest. Henrique looked down at it, then back at Bính. Then he gave a nod, took the coconut in both hands, and swallowed a drink from it. Bính still had his attention, it seemed.
“No one has ever seen more value in me than Master Fernão,” Henrique said, almost passionately. “No one has ever given me more worth than he has. Even before he showed me the world — the WHOLE world, he taught me the way the world is… Every man — every person, every child, even every creature serves a master.”
He pointed at a dog sitting under a raised house that sat up as a man climbed down the ladder. “That dog serves that man. That man serves the Raya Humabon — Don Carlos, as we good Christians call him now. If he lived in the next town over, he might serve a different man who in turn serves Humabon. Humabon serves no Raya above him, but his life: his clothes, his musical gongs, his …his serving dishes! …he owes to a relationship with the Raya of China. The Emperor of China. …I serve Master Fernão. He serves the Holy Emperor of Rome, the true Don Carlos. And just like your Don Carlos is far better off than the other rayas simply by swearing service to their Don Carlos… there is no better man for me to serve than Master Fernão Magalhães.” Henrique handed back the coconut.
Bính admired the servant’s passion. And he felt accomplished for being the one to bring it out of him. After a few moments, Bính said softly, “I have a master myself. I said I am a trader, but from another perspective I am a trader’s slave. Staying here when my ship left for my home was not so much my own choice — my choice was only to obey my master. I am here in Sugbo, attending to Don-Raya-Carlos-Humabon for the sake of my master. I am here calling myself Cristóbal. I know what it is to accept that the course of your life — all the rest of your years — has been chosen for you. Your Portuguese Captain was a wise man when he chose to serve Don Carlos of Spain.”
Henrique had fallen to silence again, still looking away. Yet Bính felt his point was heard. He waited out the silence by taking another drink.
“My Master ordered,” Henrique said suddenly, “…before we left Spain, that I will serve him for life. For his life. When he passes on to the next life, I will be a free man. He will even pay me an inheritance.”
“So when the Captain-General dies, little Henrique from Sumatra will be a free man.” Bính laughed, “and rich!” and raised his arms in mock celebration. “…In Spain?”
Henrique nodded, still avoiding Bính’s gaze. “I will have a house in Sevilla… Then I can buy my own boat and fish to feed only myself …Or maybe I won’t live there. I could choose to walk far from the sea. I could walk until I see men holding shovels…”
Bính did not understand, but he didn’t care to go deeper into the slave’s daydream. He took another drink from the coconut and asked, “would you ever go back to your home if you had the chance?” Seeing Henrique’s brow furrow just slightly, he added, “your first home, the island Sumatra.”
“It might not be on our route. Malacca City certainly won’t be…”
Seeing his coconut was drained and the conversation had also nearly run dry, Bính sighed quietly and stood up. “You know, my friend… the datus don’t serve the rayas. All the datus and all the rayas fight and compete amongst each other — even raid amongst each other… Maybe our side of the world works differently than theirs.”
Henrique, stared up at the merchant, looking into his eyes in silence.
After a long moment, the man looked down and nodded his head politely, like a well-behaved servant.
This is part 8 of Retelling Magellan’s Philippines
Next chapter: “Blackfish”
Previous chapter: “Moonlight and Firelight”
- The Moorish Merchant of Ciama was baptized as some variation of “Christopher” alongside the “Raia Humabon” of “Zzubu,” now known as either Cebu City on the island of Cebu, or as the Sugbo district within Cebu city.
- “Ciama” may refer to Siam, or it may refer to Champa. In today’s geography, the Moorish Merchant may have been Thai, Cambodian, or Vietnamese. Being a traveling trader, he shared a common language with Henrique: Malay.
- Where European chronicler Antonio Pigafetta (the Caballero, or Le Chevalier Anthoyne Pigaphette) used the title “Raia,” I am here using the spelling “Raya.” Whereas “Raja” or “Rajah” is a common spelling in English, [Rye-uh] is closer to the Spanish pronunciation of ra-ja ]ra-ha] than [raw-jaw]. Also the recent Disney movie “Raya and the Last Dragon” makes the title all the more recognizable, and this is certainly no coincidence. Especially considering that the dragon Sisu’s longer name is “Sisu Datu,” like another SE Asian leader title seen in the Philippines: “datu.”
