I’m in the middle of a routinely work when the urge of writing suddenly popped up like an old friend tugging at my back seeking for a little attention. And after months of neglecting my personal journal, here I am trying to jot down bottled-up feelings I attempted to ignore.
I was reading a fiction called “Below The Crying Mountain” by a Filipino author Criselda Yabes about the entangled story of an American mestiza who eloped with a Muslim educated man towards the land of the “Dirty People”; and of Nahla, an ambitious Muslim woman who fell in love with a Christian soldier declared by her people as an enemy. The story revolved in the poverty-stricken and nest of rebellion Sulu. It broke my heart as the story unfolds piece by piece. My heart got even more broken when I opened the television after putting down the book and saw what happened in Basilan which is on the headlines as of speaking moment. It’s as if what I was seeing on TV is a continuation of the book I just finished reading.
There were 19 soldiers who died in the encounter, 6 of them were held captives before they were mercilessly murdered, the news said. I heard the weeping family members airing their sentiments at how their loved ones’ lives were grimly taken. Stories of these national heroes were told and the images of them bidding farewell to their mothers, fathers, wives and kids promising to come back soon quickly flashed in my mind. Just like a scene in a movie accompanied by sobby music on the background. Little did they know, they will return as cold corpses. I can’t help but shed a tear for their loss.
I sympathize with the mothers who lost their sons after decades of nurturing them, protecting them from the harsh rains, feeding and educating them to become better men.
I sympathize with the fathers who worked hard to raise their sons to become perfect gentlemen and good citizens of the nation.
I sympathize with the wives who, after days and weeks and months of patiently waiting at the doorstep, no soldier husband would arrive.
I sympathize with the little sons and daughters who will grow up without a father at their homes.
I sympathize with the nation for losing great men—men who died while serving their motherland.
On the other hand, it hurts me even more that the culprit were Moro rebels. Muslim rebels, the news said. Not Christian rebels because the media knows not of any Christian rebels, only NPA who unknowingly kills and burns acres of lands in other parts of the country. But they’re not on the news. Only the Muslim rebels are the highlights. The bad guys. My people.
There goes the media for their one-sided story, feeding the nation with false information. While we sympathize for the nineteen people who died, did it ever occur to any one of the millions of televiewers the other side of the story? How about those thousands of helpless residents who were displaced in their war-torn areas? They are the real victims in the situation. Do the media even investigate as to why the MILF attacked the AFP camp in the middle of the Peace Talk? For all we know, there must be a reason.
Nineteen were mercilessly murdered as opposed to the thousands who were ripped off from what was left of their lands, from their dreams, from the good future that could be awaiting them. Thousands of mothers and fathers will endlessly hide and protect their children from the bullet rains fired by the national government ammunition. Thousands of children will be deprived of a happy childhood, a better education, and most importantly, deprived to live a meaningful life. Tell me, how does that differ from being killed?
Then there’s the pushing for an all-out war against the MILF, against the Moros, against the Muslims. They want us to perish. Those people pushing such evil idea know better---there’s no victory in war, most especially, evil shall not triumph over the good. My rebel brothers in the South know that too, but why do they push for a Bangsamoro Republic when we can’t even handle ARMM? Let’s admit it, we Moros aren’t even united. We’d get at each other’s throat to gain power to fuel our pride. I believe we’re too ambitious for a Bangsamoro republic. Yes, it will happen, but not now. Let us not be governed by our impulsiveness and blinded by our pride. To quote a character from the book “Below the Crying Mountain”:
“Of course Allah was not on his side. He was not on Allah’s side to begin with…did He ever say, take up arms and follow me? There should have been no turning back for Jolo but it kept on doing so because violence breeds violence.
“..I’d say that of any revolution is to succeed here and now it would be the weapon of tolerance. Only tolerance will bring peace, but no one here, not the Muslims, not the Christians, not this government we’re stuck with, understands the meaning of that word.
“…Omar failed because he was thinking only of himself. He was trying to prove something, seeking vindication because he was a Muslim. He may talk for all he wants about building an independent state for Sulu but I doubt if he knew what it meant to serve Allah.”
In the midst of all these confusing chaos, all we can do as spectators of this reel-like reality is to pray for our leaders to make a decision that is unbiased and beneficial for all. Let us pray for a nation undivided by religion, race and language—a nation so united that people coexist peacefully.
Amen.
There, I just said my piece.
