Photo by Ranch M. Ramas
Even amidst the sweat, the smoke,
and all the noise around me, I continue on, persevering and pushing through the
clusters of people to go deeper, deeper into the crowd. Angry and indignant
voices are all around me, and yet I still feel my voice chanting back, echoing
their cries of anguish and need for justice.
It’s Tuesday, and it would have
continued to just be Tuesday, were it not for the crimes against the
people and the country.
Now?
Now, Tuesday is the hopeful
culmination of the Philippines’ voice.
I arrived later than usual, the soreness in my body from the last three days have started to catch up, but I still strived to come here. My pregnant wife, bless her heart, gave me pandesal to snack on, which is unceremoniously squished into my pants pocket, as I recall her making me promise to eat it and be careful. I quietly chuckle to myself, as the image of a hopeful pickpocket only finding squashed bread in my pocket fills my thoughts. Although truth be told, I don’t think anyone is here to continue on with crimes.
After all, the dawn of a new day and
whatnot.
I spot familiar faces even as I
struggled against the crowds, flashes of family, friends, neighbors, and
strangers in my vision before they disappeared, just as quick as they came. I
could only imagine their own feelings of discomfort mixed in with hope, and I
prayed that none of them suffered through personal pain leading to this day.
But then again, the entire nation
was in pain, for more than a decade in fact, and it was a now or never
situation.
I see people start to raise their
flags and amazement goes through my body as I wondered how they even
managed to bring such large items with them amidst the crowd. Nevertheless,
pride swells in me as I see painted faces and printed words decorating the
view, flags raised high calling for the end of a dictatorship.
I raise my head towards the sky,
my eyes squinting against the harsh rays as I look around, watching the
colorful banners being proudly waved. The flags and tarpaulins
have only doubled in number with me agreeing wholeheartedly with the
sentiments written on them.
Katarungan Para Sa Lahat ng
Biktima ng Martial Law!
Justice for Ninoy!
Justice for All Victims of Political
Repression!
And of course, a myriad of
Philippine flags among others, a constant reminder of who we’re truly doing
this for. For the nation itself, for ourselves, and most of all, for the
generations to come. But just as pride swells up in my chest as I join their
chants, a shout knocked me out of my reverie.
"Pulis!" Someone cried
out, and I can sense the flash of fear from everyone, rippling through the
crowd, myself included. However, even as I feel the push of the crowd fighting
against the police, the fear is soon replaced by determination and indignation.
It was also as if everyone, all at the same time, collectively decided to stand
our ground and remain firm. I see a few people falter, but I can’t blame them;
the horrors of what the militia has done are no secret to us.
But twice, thrice, and even more,
more people remain where they are, not wanting to back down, not now, not ever.
And then, I saw the soldiers and
the policemen start raising flags of their own; pale, stark, white flags are
lifted as they turn their backs on the same corrupt
government that gave them too much power in the first place. Did it come from a
genuine change of heart? A sense of self-preservation? I choose not to judge and better late than never. Nevertheless, I ease myself to feel comfort in
being with my fellow countrymen once again.
A few more hours passed, and even
the sweltering heat and the arrival of the police at the venue weren’t enough to
drag us down. In fact, even as I mingle and cry out along with the crowd,
allowing myself to follow with the flow of people, I think even more
Filipinos have joined us and my chest again balloons with pride. Even in the
face of fear and transgressions, I like to think that the sun is still on our
side as proud as the symbol on the Philippine flag. I pretend as if even in
the bright sky, hidden away, the stars are also raining their blessings on us; an accompaniment to the sun, a presentation of the three islands of the
country also coming together.
From the bits and pieces I hear,
there’s been a sort of back-and-forth inaugurations? Talks on who’s going to continue
the presidency in the country. I try not to laugh bitterly. Isn’t the
number of people enough as proof of who we don’t want? But then again, democracy
left this country as quick as a bullet even before, so I hold little faith in
the government but all my devotion to my countrymen remain firmly as we continue our
protest.
Another burst of energy goes
through the crowd and I didn’t even notice how far along I’ve managed to
shuffle myself into the crowd, and for how long this had been going on. I wipe the sweat from my brow and take a final
look around. A flurry of emotions takes over me as I see anger, pain,
indignation, sadness, and determination on the faces of the people around me,
but not an ounce of joy is seen. I briefly wonder if this was all worth it? How
can something that feels right have no amount of joy tied into it?
But then, my hands brushed against
the squished pandesal in my pocket and my mind flashes to memories of
my wife, our unborn child, and the generations to come. Not only my own
family, but the entire nation's bloodline is dependent on this
protest and how the people come together.
And I can’t help but feel a small
flip of hope in my chest as any trace of doubt disappears.
