The Imam of Tawi-Tawi

by Ian Hamilton

  Ava reached into her bag, pulled out her Moleskine notebook, and made notes on Ramirez. Just as she finished and was about to research Tawi-Tawi, she heard the boarding announcement for her flight.

  The plane left ten minutes late. Ava hoped they would make up the time en route, because she had a tight connection in Hong Kong for the flight to Manila. She took out her notebook to review the information she’d gathered about Ramirez, and then just as quickly put it away. She knew the basics and she’d be seeing him soon enough. Instead she scanned the in-flight entertainment system and found a Pang Fai film among a group of classic movies. It was one she’d made at the beginning of her career, when she and the director, Lau Lau, were still a team. Ava was about to select it and then stopped. Did she really want to see a different, younger version of her lover? She had a sudden image in her mind of Fai sprawled naked across the bed, and another of Fai hugging her at the door before she left for the film shoot. Those memories were still warm and she didn’t want to cool them. She opted for A Better Tomorrow, an early Chow Yun-fat gangster movie directed by the legendary John Woo.

  It was past four o’clock when the plane began its descent over the South China Sea into Chek Lap Kok airport. Ava loved the approach over the open water, carpeted by an armada of vessels of all sizes and types going in and out of one of the world’s busiest harbours. Normally she would have been gazing out the window during the landing, but the film had captured her imagination. Despite her concern about landing on time to make her connection, she was hoping she’d be able to see it through to the end.

  China Eastern and Cathay Pacific Airlines were both located in Terminal 1, but Ava still had to go through in-transit passport control and baggage screening. By the time she got to her gate, the flight to Manila was already boarding. She walked past the long, snaking line of economy passengers to the first-class entry point. A few minutes later she was drinking champagne and checking the entertainment listings to see if she could finish the Woo film. No such luck, but The Grandmaster was listed. It was the story of Ip Man, the famous Wing Chun master who had trained Bruce Lee. Tony Leung Chiu-wai played the lead alongside the luminous Zhang Ziyi, who had shot to fame after starring in Ang Lee’s Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. Ava felt almost guilty about watching director Wong Kar-wai’s first martial arts film. She knew she should be thinking about Chang Wang and Senator Miguel Ramirez, but her mind wasn’t fully locked in.

  They landed on time at Ninoy Aquino International Airport. On her previous trip to the Philippines, Tommy Ordonez had sent a government official to meet them at the gate; he had led them past the lines of people waiting to clear Customs and Immigration, personally stamped their passports at an empty booth, and then took them to a waiting limousine. Ava didn’t know what to expect on this trip, but when she got off the plane, she saw a man in a dark suit holding a card with her name on it, and a uniformed man standing next to him.

  “I’m Ava Lee,” she said to the man.

  “I’m Rodrigo. Mr. Chang sent me to drive you to Senator Ramirez’s home,” he said, and then turned to the officer. “This is Inspector Arroyo. He will look after your needs in the airport.”

  “Did you check any bags?” Arroyo asked.

  “No.”

  “Then may I see your passport?”

  Ava took it from her bag and passed it to him. He opened it, pulled a stamp from his shirt pocket, pressed it onto a page, and handed the passport back to her.

  “Welcome to the Philippines,” he said. “There’s a back route we can use to avoid the crowds at Immigration and in the baggage area. It’s a bit longer walk.”

  “It will feel good to stretch my legs,” she said.

  “I’ll take your bags,” Rodrigo said, reaching for them.

  “Just this one,” Ava said, letting go of her Shanghai Tang Double Happiness bag.

  After leading them through a maze of corridors and offices, Inspector Arroyo opened a door that took them outside the terminal. “Your car is about fifty metres down there on the right,” Arroyo said. Rodrigo handed him a thick white envelope.

  The area was crowded with people waiting for buses and taxis. Rodrigo wasn’t especially large, but he was forceful and made good progress through the crowd. Ava tucked in behind him, staying as close as she could. “The car is across the street, in the indoor parking garage reserved for VIPs,” he said as he stopped at a pedestrian crossing that led to the garage entrance. She followed him across the street.

  Rodrigo pressed a key fob as soon as they stepped inside the garage. She saw the front lights of a black BMW come on, and another press opened the trunk. He opened the back door for her, and Ava was soon nestled in the soft leather interior of the luxurious 7 Series model.

  “Mr. Chang asked me to call him when you arrived,” Rodrigo said as he climbed into the driver’s seat. He took a phone from his shirt pocket and hit speed dial. “Ms. Lee is with me,” he said a few seconds later. Then he listened, turned, and passed the phone to her.

  “Welcome to Manila, and thank you for coming,” Chang said.

  “Thank you for making the arrangements at the airport.”

  “It’s something we do only for very special guests.”

  “Uncle, I’m here now. You don’t need to flatter me.”

  “It’s the furthest thing from flattery,” he said. “Now, do you want Rodrigo to take you directly to see the senator, or would you rather check in at the hotel first?”

  “I’d rather meet Ramirez.”

  “Very well, I’ll tell him to take you directly there. In good traffic it should take about half an hour.”

  “We’re moving well so far.”

  “I imagine you’re still at the airport and in the restricted traffic area. The moment you reach the main street, it may change.”

  Ava saw a bank of rear lights in the near distance. “I think I see what you mean,” she said.

  “I’ll call the senator and let him know you’re on the way. I would appreciate it if you phone me after the meeting.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “Thank you. Please pass the phone back to Rodrigo so I can tell him what the plan is.”

  A moment later, Rodrigo put down the phone and focused on the road ahead, which was jam-packed with jeepneys, buses, taxis, cars, and motorcycles.

  “This isn’t so bad,” Rodrigo said several times during the first forty-five minutes of crawling. “In the morning and evening rush hours — we call them ‘crash hours’ — it would have taken twice as long to get this far.”

  It wasn’t until she saw the first signs for Forbes Park that Ava believed they were making any progress at all. She knew of the neighbourhood. It was the wealthiest in Manila and one of the richest in Asia. The car went past the Manila Polo Club and turned right and then left onto Flame Tree Road. Despite everything she knew about Forbes Park, she found herself gawking at the huge houses, some the size of hotels, and all of them walled and gated. “Quite the street,” she said.

  “There’s more money here than in the entire province I come from,” Rodrigo said.

  He made a slight right turn and brought the car to a halt in front of a steel gate between three-metre-high brick walls. He opened the window, leaned out, and said, “Eight, six, five, four” into the intercom. After a ten-second wait, the gate started to open. Rodrigo drove through, wound his way around a circular driveway, and parked the car in front of the double doors of a sprawling one-storey brick house. The house was partially floodlit, and Ava saw that it had a red tile roof and enormous windows on either side of the doors. It looked welcoming rather than imposing.

  “I’ll wait for you,” Rodrigo said. “Mr. Chang wants me to drive you to the Peninsula when you and the senator have concluded your business.”

  “Thank you,” Ava said as she stepped out of the car. She took a moment to look at the house and then heard a noi
se behind her. She turned to see two heavily armed security guards leaning against the brick wall. She hadn’t seen them from the car, but their presence didn’t surprise her. Security was important in the Philippines. Banks, malls, hotels, and private residences often hired armed guards. She turned again when she heard the front door open. A tall, slender man wearing a white barong nodded at her and said, “Come in.”

  Ava held out her hand when she reached the door. Ramirez shook it almost cautiously. When she stepped into the house, she felt the rush of air conditioning.

  “Thank you for coming,” he said.

  She knew from his website that he was sixty. His hair was thick and black, with a few streaks of grey above the ears, and his skin was taut and nearly wrinkle-free. He had an air of reserve and sophistication. He’s the kind of man who makes you conscious of your use of language and grammar, Ava thought.

  “Chang Wang can be persuasive,” she said.

  “I am very aware of that,” he said, and smiled. “Come, we’ll go to the back patio to talk.”

  She followed him across a white marble floor, past a grand piano, heavily upholstered furniture, wooden coffee and end tables with elaborately carved legs, and a series of original oil paintings of landscapes. The glass-enclosed patio was furnished with two separate sets of bamboo sofas and chairs. A bottle of water, a bucket of ice, and two glasses sat on a coffee table between two of the chairs. Ramirez motioned for her to sit.

  “You have a beautiful home,” she said.

  “I worked for it.”

  “I’m sure that makes it all the more satisfying,” she said, taken aback by his brusque response.

  “My name is Ramirez, not Lopez or Marcos or Aquino or Cojuangco. I wasn’t born into a dynasty that secured my political and financial future.”

  “Maybe you’re beginning to build your own dynasty.”

  “I have no children and no family worth mentioning.” He pointed to the water. “Is this all right or would you prefer something else?”

  “It’s fine.”

  Ramirez poured two glasses and then sat back with his hands folded on his chest. He looked across the table at her, his eyes half-closed as if he were sleepy. “You aren’t at all what I expected,” he said.

  “Pardon?”

  “Chang Wang said that he and Tommy Ordonez have tremendous respect for you. He said you have done some remarkable things for them,” Ramirez said. “I have known both those men for more than twenty years. They are people who demand respect and rarely extend it. I find it hard to imagine what you could have done to generate so much admiration.”

  “It wasn’t something I did alone, but even if it were, I’m not at liberty to discuss it,” she said. “I was led to believe that Uncle Chang gave you some idea of what we did.”

  “Only in the most general way, and I apologize if I sound rude. It’s just that I’m a bit surprised,” he said. “Chang didn’t tell me much about you personally, and he certainly didn’t mention how young you are. I expected someone closer to middle age, a wealthy businesswoman in a Chanel suit with coiffed hair.”

  “I’m older than I look,” she said. “There is no business relationship between them and me, and my reason for being here is Chang’s request that I do him a favour.”

  “I know,” Ramirez said. “But I have to say that if the request to meet with you hadn’t come directly from Chang Wang and hadn’t been as forceful as it was, I would have been reluctant to even chat with you on the phone.”

  “Why?” Ava said.

  “I didn’t expect that they would take the information I gave them to an outside party so quickly,” he said. “I thought they would use someone from inside their organization.”

  “But here I am,” Ava said. She took a sip of water, then leaned back in the chair and crossed her legs.

  “Yes, here you are.” He nodded, looked thoughtful, and then leaned forward. “Tell me, Ms. Lee, what do you know about growing pineapples?”

  ( 6 )

  Ava shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “I know nothing about growing pineapples. Why don’t you explain it to me.”

  “Pineapples aren’t difficult to grow,” Ramirez said. “They don’t need much water. They don’t need a lot of soil, because they don’t have a large root system. They like heat and there can never be too much sun for them. You can, of course, regulate their supply of water and other nutrients and you can improve the quality of the soil, but they’ll grow even if you do none of those things.”

  “From what I’ve read, you were certainly in the business long enough to know.”

  “I’m still in it,” he said. “I’m a silent partner in several very large plantations on Mindanao.”

  “I understand you’re in partnership with the Ordonez organization.”

  “That’s right.”

  “But why silent?”

  “It would have raised some ill-informed questions if it had been known that the minister of agriculture was an investor in those plantations — and that a current senator is a major shareholder.”

  “What specifically would be the problem?”

  “Not many products are grown in this country without subsidies or other forms of government assistance. The plantations got only their fair share, but still, how would it have looked?”

  “I can understand how public perception could be skewed. Have your plantations done well?”

  “The Philippines is now one of the world’s main exporters of pineapples, and Mindanao represents ninety percent of the production. Our plantations are among the most productive in Mindanao. Their combined output makes us by far the leading exporting company, and we’re very profitable.”

  “I see,” Ava said, at a loss as to where the conversation was going.

  “Like I said, pineapples are easy to grow. It takes eighteen to twenty months to get a first crop, and after that it’s every fifteen months like clockwork. The challenge is to find the labour. Unlike many other fruits and vegetables, pineapple production doesn’t lend itself to automation. You need human labour, and there is a direct correlation between the amount of work you invest and the eventual volume of pineapples you produce. Fortunately, Mindanao has a large labour pool that we’ve able to tap into.”

  “At reasonable rates, I assume.”

  “We pay what the law requires.”

  “Of course.”

  “But even then, the plantations aren’t without labour disputes and other external challenges.”

  “You said you’re profitable, so obviously you’ve overcome the challenges.”

  “Not entirely on our own. We required some assistance.”

  “From whom?” she asked.

  Ramirez paused and then reached for the bottle of water. He topped up her glass, did the same for his own, and took several sips before placing the glass back on the table. “We were helped by the Muslim Brotherhood of Mindanao.”

  “I don’t know them.”

  “Then I presume you also don’t know that much about our country’s struggles in that region.”

  “I understand that there is a large Muslim population in the southern Philippines that wanted to separate. I also know there was terrorist activity, but I thought things had calmed down.”

  “The word ‘large’ is relative. Our country has a population of close to one hundred million, and eighty-six percent of it is Roman Catholic. There are about four million Muslims, but they’re nearly all in the south. The entire Mindanao region is twenty percent Muslim, but there are four provinces within the region — Sulu, Basilan, Maguindanao, and Tawi-Tawi — where Muslims form the majority,” Ramirez said. “The Muslims have been living in that region for more than five hundred years and have been fighting for the right to govern themselves for every one of those years, until 1989. They fought everyone who tried to control them — the Spanish, the Americans, the Ja
panese, and, most lately, us.

  “We finally reached a peace settlement when the first government I was part of — Corazon Aquino’s — passed into law the Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao Act. It gave the Muslims considerable independence and self-government but kept them inside the bigger Philippine tent.”

  “So it’s calmer now?” Ava said.

  “Yes, though it hasn’t stopped all the agitation and extremism. There are still organizations — Abu Sayyaf, Jemaah Islamiyah, the New People’s Army, the Moro Islamic Liberation Front — that want more or even complete independence. But they’re much smaller and relatively insignificant compared to the Brotherhood. During the most difficult years in the south, the Brotherhood was our largest, smartest, and most determined opponent. Getting them onside made the autonomy agreement possible. Without them as part of the solution, it would never have happened.”

  “You sound as if you respect them.”

  “That’s because I do. They fought us with dedication and perseverance. They didn’t kill innocent civilians. They didn’t kidnap Westerners, hold them ransom, and then murder them like Abu Sayyaf did, and still does. When our government finally tried to reach an accommodation in the south, they were the main negotiators on the other side. During that process I met some of their leaders and we got to know each other. In fact, I became friends with some of them.”

  “I don’t quite understand what this has to do with the pineapple business,” Ava said.

  “Given the proper set of conditions, the business is highly profitable. Tommy and Chang wanted to get into it and came to me for advice. I told them I thought Mindanao had the right mix of labour, climate, and land to become a major growing area. We agreed to try to nurture the industry there, but we didn’t start until the agreement on autonomy was reached. It would have been too dangerous before that, and even after, there were still issues.” He reached for his water, finished it, and poured a third glassful. “We had workers who thought they deserved a larger wage and called numerous wildcat strikes. Truck drivers were offloading and selling our goods ten or twenty kilometres from the plantations. There were people who couldn’t accept the deal with the government and who burned private property as a way of making a political point.”