My mother is an incredibly strong woman, still employed well into her mid-80s. Despite my numerous pleas for her to stop working and enjoy a well-deserved retirement, she remains steadfast in her decision to keep working. She cites boredom, a potential decline in health from inactivity, and her desire to live a long, fulfilling life as the main reasons for her refusal to retire.

This evening, she visited me. These days, I cherish each visit as a precious opportunity to learn more about her past while she is still with us. Tonight, she shared a somber memory from her childhood, one that had been buried deep in her mind. I had heard the story once before from her elder sister many years ago, but the vividness and detail with which my mother recounted it tonight made it feel like I was hearing it for the first time. When it’s mom, I’m all ears.

This is my mother’s short story.

In the months leading up to the end of World War II, my mother was just 7 years old. It was a routine for she and her siblings, along with some cousins and their parents, to go to the farm to harvest rice at least once a week. One morning, they set out on their usual path from home to the rice fields. They were intercepted by a man who warned them that their usual route was unsafe due to militant groups obstructing the path. He directed them to use an alternate route, claiming it would be “much safer,” although it would take a bit longer to reach the rice fields. Little did they know they were being deceived.

As they continued their trek, they approached a courtyard where a group of individuals had gathered in a circle. According to my mother, these people were not from their neighborhood, as my grandparents later explained, yet they were of the same ethnicity and culture and were not any different than they were. As they peered into the center of the circle, they saw that it was stained with blood. Suddenly, a member of their family was pulled into the middle of the circle. The tribe leader began questioning the group, and if anyone responded in a manner that displeased him, the individual in the center would be tormented. They were expected to react appropriately to jokes, sadness, or any other emotional cues given by the tribe leader. Failure to comply resulted in punishment for the person in the center.

Terrified, the family complied. Despite their efforts, my uncle was beheaded in front of them. My mother witnessed everything. The tribe member then picked up the severed head and demanded that the family embrace it. Fearing for their own lives, they obeyed, and afterward, the head was tossed into a nearby well. The tribe finally let the rest of the family go. Suppressing their emotions, they continued on their way to the rice fields as the only way to go. They could not return home because they knew they had the responsibility of feeding their family.

Several years later, my mother discovered from her elders that these people did not belong to the typical tribes of their province; instead, they were members of the headhunting tribes from northern Luzon. You can find more information on this topic here. The speculation as to why they became more active during this period centered around the ongoing war.

Realizing that my mom witnessed these events has deepened my compassion for what she endured as a child. The memory vividly imprinted in my mind evokes sadness, yet I deeply respect the challenges my mom faced in her early life. I now comprehend why she has grown into such a strong person, both emotionally and physically, today.

I hope to share the experience with my children to uphold my mother’s legacy. Despite enduring this harsh memory, she perseveres. She continues to move forward, enjoy life, and inspire others with her resilience. This is what I admire the most about my mother.

An experience that she wants to forget, but remains in memory for a lifetime since childhood.

Although she has not verbally expressed this, it seems that these events taught my mother the invaluable lesson of resilience in the face of adversity. Enduring such challenges highlighted her inner strength and determination to persevere. They shaped her character, teaching her to appreciate life and to empathize with others who face similar hardships. Her experiences underscored the importance of overcoming obstacles and embracing life with courage and hope.

This was 1945…the year World Ward II finally ended.

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