Accents
Memories that bless and burn
The events narrated hereunder happened 35 years ago during that dark episode in Philippine history when Ferdinand Marcos signed Presidential Decree 1081 or Martial Law on Sept. 21, 1972. It hit my family four days later, recounted in a column of bitter reminiscence:
September 25, 1972, a Monday, the first working day of the week after Ferdinand Marcos had wiped out human rights with a stroke of the pen. My dear Rudy, a Labor Attorney, was typing a decision on a labor dispute in his office when he was "invited" to Fort San Pedro. For a "few" questions, the military said. The invitation lasted for nearly eight months of detention in the stockade.
Detained for almost eight months without charges. Why? These questions I used to ask myself: Because of lawyering services to student demonstrators who pitted guts against the Marcos government? Because he was too loud, in both print and radio, opposing Statehood U.S.A.? Because he was chairman of Masang Propesyonal (Makabayang Samahan ng mga Propesyonal) that sought to elevate the masses through education? Weren't all these within the ambit of freedom of expression? But who was he or anybody at all to reason out with the functionaries of the dictator? Questions that continue to burn in the mind.
For almost eight months, it was a daily routine to bring in food and fresh laundry to the stockade in Fort San Pedro. On off-school Saturdays and Sundays, I came with the four kids in tow - Rose, Roderick, Randy, and Raileen, aged 12, 11, 9, and 7. When the children would ask why their Daddy was detained I would mention love of country and people, explaining some such abstract things as steadfastness to ideals. Ideals. Idealism. Principles. Someday, they would understand, and understanding, they would imbibe.
In the stretch of what seemed interminable days, I drew strength from the detainees' own indomitable will to overcome the uncertainties of the future. During those trying times, there were people who avoided our company, putting on the blinders when we crossed paths. But we didn't lack for kind friends and relatives who extended moral as well as financial support. To them, I am forever grateful.
One of the mementos of detention was Rudy's charcoal portrait by the gifted Totik Diesto, a fellow detainee. Angel, another detainee who was the editor of his school paper, scribbled on the portrait two lines from his poem: "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned/Is it a sin to love your countrymen?" The portrait occupies a permanent place in our bedroom. And to this day, the view from the stockade window — barbed wire fences, dark clouds, and the distant Guimaras hills painted by artist Boy Cabado, another stockade "resident," graces our home. [Boy was a provincial Board Member when this piece was first published in Sept. 1999.]
Despite the years, the picture of my "classmates" comes up clear in the forefront of memory as we trudged along Fort San Pedro lane from the gate to the stockade. There was Rex Hidalgo's mother, my elder Manang whose name I cannot now recall. Her very sad eyes still haunt me. Visiting the brothers Francis and Sammy were beautiful 'Nang Gloria Monfort and her husband and their equally beauteous teenage daughter and the lovely twins, as young as my own youngest child. Smart and statuesque 'Nang Nelly Robles would bring goodies to her son Joe, a standout from afar being the tallest among the detainees. Always a twosome were 'Nang Lilia Arches-Posa and her husband visiting their sons Louie and Benjie
Other mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, friends and relatives also came to visit, but we were the regulars. Maybe someday we will gather for a reunion, and ask ourselves where the sacrifices of our loved ones have led.
Postscript
September 25, 2007—The intervening years wrought changes in our lives. Rudy had been Executive Labor Arbiter of the National Labor Relations Commission, Region VI, and I had been the Editor of some SEAFDEC newsletters. We are both retired after the hard work sending our children to college, now all professionals. Rex Hidalgo's mother is dead and so is 'Nang Lilia Arches-Posa. I heard 'Nang Gloria Monfort is still up and about. All four of us never got to meet within the intervening 35 years as we went about our separate lives. The reunion never materialized. (Comments to lagoc@hargray.com)