FEATURE ARTICLE:
by Mia Corazon A. Aureus
They Shall Overcome
Note: This is a commentary on the
seminar “Healing Wounds, Mending Scars: An Echo of the Jakarta
Conference” organized by AFAD and FIND on October 24-27, 2005 at Villa
Valencia, Calamba, Laguna where I served as the documentor.
It was the last day of the four-day
seminar on healing the wounds and mending the scars of the victims of
involuntary disappearances. Under the shelter of the orange-bricked
pavilion, we stood in a half-circle, one hand placed on the other’s
shoulders, and the other hand holding the paintings of the families’
memories of the desaparecidos. Rain was pouring a bit hard that
morning. I thought to myself, the heavens must be crying as well for
the loss of these families. Or these were teardrops of the souls of
their loved ones in heaven (if the desaparecidos have already
died), drenching three of the participants who volunteered to replant
three plants in the garden across us. Co-facilitator Fr. Ben Moraleda
took these plants to explain how involuntary disappearances uproot
families from their normal lives. If not brought back to the earth
soon, these plants would soon wither and die.
I looked around. With their heads
bowed in prayer, wives, mothers, brothers, and children stood there,
weeping silently, holding on to each other, and gathering strength from
one another. I never felt so honored to be in the presence of such
admirable people. Their courage, strength and steadfast faith in God
amazed me! I looked at them. Hard struggles were reflected on every
line on their faces. Their eyes show much of their sadness yet they
managed to stand there alive, not give up, and face life with a hopeful
smile.
Earlier that morning, Manang
Letty visited us in our cottage room. She wanted to say goodbye. In
between hiccups and dabs on her tearful eyes, she thanked FIND and AFAD
for their help and indomitable effort to rally behind their cause to
bring justice for the disappeared. She held on to the hand of head
facilitator Josephine Callejo or Ma’am Jopie as if she didn’t want to
let go. She didn’t want to leave. She didn’t want to go back yet to
Guinobatan in Bicol. She knew she would be coming home to an empty
house haunted by the memories of her children and husband.
Manang1 Leticia
Oxina lost her two sons during the 1980s. Her elder son was ruthlessly
shot while her younger son went missing. It wasn’t long then till her
husband died because of grief. Since then, she has lived a life on her
own. She has searched for her missing son but her efforts were futile.
She still remains troubled by the thoughts of whether her missing son is
still alive or if he has already been killed. She carries a rosary in
her pocket wherever she goes. She said her only prayer was if her
younger son was dead, she hoped he and his older brother are happy and
together in heaven.
I happen to have heard her narrate this
story during a small group sharing. And as her memory jogged back to
those painful moments, she clenched her fist, pounded on the table and
cried very hard. She said she hated December, the time she lost her
children. While the people sing Christmas carols merrily, she curses
the so-called joyous season. If she could only skip this month, she
would be happier.
Stories and similar sentiments surfaced
during the activity. A number of the participants admitted that it hurt
them so much to remember the days when they heard knockings on their
door and uniformed military men forcefully seized their husbands or
sons. They still flinch at the memory of hearing gunshots in the middle
of the night when their husbands were dragged away into the shadows
never to be seen or heard from again. Some shared prophetic dreams of
their missing husbands calling out to them, asking them to unearth them
from where they lay and give them a proper burial.
Years have already passed since these
fateful days. Yet the families recall them as if they just happened
yesterday and they were once again gripped by a sense of powerlessness,
a loss of control. As the military took their loved ones away, they
also robbed the families of their victims a normal life, hopes and
dreams, visions and a meaning in life.
Ronilo Carlo from the Southern Mindanao
Region captured everyone’s feelings in his clay molding of a coffin. He
explained that buried in the casket was his brother. So were his
dreams.
Healing takes a long time to happen for
these people. What most did was lock their bad thoughts in the corner
of their mind. They fear facing their past because it hurts too much to
remember. However, Fr. Ben explained that unlocking these memories
weren’t meant to hurt them but to allow them to heal and move on.
I have read once that the only way for
a person to move on is when they have acknowledged what they feel and
have allowed themselves to go into the lowest depths of their emotion,
to really feel it. Only then can they go back up, to rise again with a
newfound hope to live. By simply locking these memories, they too were
locking themselves up to dwell in the past and be haunted by their
ghosts.
Manang
Alicia Pal from Southern Leyte, I observed was a very meek old woman.
Unlike most of the participants who were rather bubbly and talkative,
she walked around quietly not wanting to be noticed. She often drew
away from people. During group discussions, she would sit at the back.
And when it was her time to share her thoughts, she often couldn’t
finish her story as she gets drowned in tears.
I learned that she lost her sons and
husband way back in 1965. But there she was, old and gray, still
holding on to the time when her husband was seized and her two sons were
pushed over a cliff. She lost all three important people in her life in
just one day.
When she passed by me once, I noticed
she was a bit hunchbacked with age. But I thought she was hunchbacked
more by the sorrows of her heart.
However, towards the last day of the
event, she seemed to have connected more with the people around. Most
of the activities prepared for the event touched more on the heart
rather than the mind. Through the expression of drawings, paintings and
clay moldings, the participants also unburdened themselves of their
hurt. And by sharing the meanings behind these drawn or molded
symbolisms, they realized that other people experienced the same things,
and that they were not alone in this fight to bring justice to their
lost family members. It marked an end to their solitary existence.
They have opened their doors again to the world, to welcome back people
in their lives.
The ultimate goal of the event was to
help the victims accept what has happened through revisiting and
remembering and finally find hope to reconnect once more with society
and continue living.
After the participants shared their
broken dreams on the third day of the seminar, they were asked to create
a lantern by group. These lanterns were designed to represent their
renewed hope and dreams in life. By the end of the day, these lanterns
were lit and hung. Fr. Ben explained that these lanterns symbolize
their regained strength to walk and face adversities. Unlike before,
when they bowed their heads in unspoken surrender, these lanterns were
lit for them to look up once more to the heavens and continue their
fight to survive.
And so, on that rainy Thursday morning,
with hands on one’s shoulder and their dreams tied together, the victims
vowed to overcome their sorrows and replant themselves in society. And
then joining the ends of the half circle to form a whole, united, they
all cry out that they shall live life once more.
Footnote:
1Manang
is a Filipino word used to show respect to an elder woman.
Mia Corazon Aureus is a
Journalism graduate who has dedicated her writing for the causes of
civil society. After three years of working for the urban poor as a
research assistant of the Institute on Church and Social Issues (ICSI),
she now works as the Campaign Officer of AFAD.
