My Spiritual Journey

On Being Spiritual

Spirituality is often associated with religion. It need not be. I believe one can be spiritual without being stuck in religious beliefs or dogmas.

To be spiritual is to journey beyond the self, to step out from one’s comfort zone to become part of something great, noble and uplifting.

It is the passion of having, acting and being faithful to a cause, a vision, a dream to live and to cherish.

It is dwelling in the beautiful, the loveliness and the inspiring side of things.

It is being good, compassionate and caring.

It is understanding and respect for all things living in the planet.

It is about love: thinking, feeling and sharing its abundance to others to make this world a better place to live for everyone.

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       I love to learn so much such that studying for me became a passion, a cause, a pleasurable enterprise to pursue. My life, thus, as a student from college to graduate school was all fun and joy. The voluminous reading and writing assignments and examinations did not intimidate but gave me certain pleasures. Hence, I succeeded in everything I wanted to do as a learner.

I believe in change: I have spent my life working for change to happen beginning with myself and those around me.

I believe that man is basically good. It is the responsibility of those who have been enlightened to help him discover and manifest his goodness.

I was passionate as a political activist because I believe in the cause I was fighting for. I always believe that a better life is for all not just for a segment of society.

I became a practitioner in conflict resolution, in healing broken relationships: I believe that the pursuit for peace begins at home, in organizations, in the immediate community where we belong and must be secured, maintained and expanded from there to the larger society.

I gave the best of my life to teaching and to research and community work because I knew that what I was doing contributed to the fulfilment of the cause I’ve been fighting for life.

I have shared what I have, my life to others because of what I believe and was enriched not diminished by the act. God favours those who favour themselves in the side of compassion.

I was hounded by obstacles and severe difficulties in my journey. Wounded, and hurt, my enemies, nevertheless, had not defeated me.

I made the difference. I am the difference.

Life and Bike

Life is like riding a bicycle

You may lose your balance and

May fall to the ground

 If you stop moving

No matter how careful you may be

You will still one day crash and fall.

Be ready.

No biker worth his salt has not

Scraped his knees and bruised his arms

At one time or another.

Be careful.

The speed that thrills is the speed that kills.

If the downhill run scares,

Walk.

Succumbing to a Scam

If someone offers to double your money in three months’ time or increase it by 200 percent in six months, would you hand him your years of saving to take advantage of the rare opportunity? You are unlikely to do it if you are a sensible person with a critical mind. The offer is too good to be true. No economic or business venture has ever accomplished that feat. Otherwise, banks would not have existed because no one will put their money there.  The claim is experientially and legally impossible to happen. The investment scheme is definitely fraudulent.

 

But not very long ago many in Mindanao and in some other parts of the country had succumbed to this quick money scam  and lost almost everything they had. Government employees lost their big loaned money. Pensioners, their lump sum pensions, farmers their farm lots or farm animals, because they uncritically took the bait. And who would not when the stratagem is so convincing and tempting.  Some distinguished personalities in the community, no less than the chief of police or the mayor who accordingly belonged to the first batch of investors, materialized and testified in the gathering  waving their checks, the returns of their investment, after a period of 3 months , and who are now enthusiastic to reinvest the capital and interest in full. To cap it all they and the new converts were handed outright postdated checks equivalent to the value of their money plus the returns cashable after 90 days. Huge returns-of-investment were advanced to the investors in that manner. Everyone was jubilant but at the end of the day all was holding an empty bag.  Many families were destroyed. As a consequence, many children had to stop their schooling.  The pensioners start begging for food and medicines from their relations or neighbors. Some had died of heart attack or were reported to have committed suicide, unable to bear the devastating weight of the tragedy

 

Now, how is the quick money scheme  different from the claim of a presidential aspirant that he could stop corruption,the drug menace  end criminality  in 3-6 month’s time in this country of 110 mjllion people dispersed across a porous archipelago of  1700 islands ?Hardly. Both are empty promises used as a  lure to advance some  covert selfish interest. The latter, of course is a scam of graver magnitude currently surging forward and may yet engulf the country like an unstoppable tsunami wrecking in its wake everything on its path- faith in God or in something noble, trust, friendship, respect for one another, guiding ideals and values  we have held dear since childhood, and the blessings we are enjoying from our fledgling democracy. The  demolition is accelerating thanks to the messianic ambition  of a despotic  provincial warlord feeding on the grievances, impatience and desperation of the people  over a democratic culture that is flawed and a government t accused to be wanting in delivery.

 

Our flirtation with democracy is only half a century old. And we seem to forget that democracy is an organic institution that grows in consideration of the history, culture and tradition of a nation. It is not  something transplanted from one clime to another and immediately grows and bears fruits in the new location nor something  shipped like a pre-fab structure whose components can readily be assembled upon arrival on site and may become functional at once. In operation, democracy is  a participatory work in progress. The US version of democracy which serves as our rough model has been in existence for over three centuries. Yet the Americans continue to struggle to this day streamlining   and correcting its conceptual flaws and  operational glitzes. The entire system is far from complete. At our end, we are apparently becoming a nation of instant coffee.  We just cannot wait and in the process sacrifice quality in favor of something cheap, actually disgusting but in tempting attractive package.

 

Now comes the foul-mouthed change-maker from Davao City.

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The Mayor has never been less transparent about his ambition and intention to change the country according to his own mold through a bloody revolution with himself at the helm.  Even before he officially proclaimed his bid for the presidency he already threw mouthful of hints along the way of what would be expected of him in time to come.

 

If one looks deeper into it, his participation in the current electoral exercise under a system he vehemently condemns as rotten and unreliable is part of the grand strategy to gain more supporters and followers.  If he won the presidential race and got himself installed as president, he would declare Martial Law and establish a revolutionary government   to make true to his promises. That would be revolution from within the system using the resources of the government with some air of legitimacy at that to accomplish his aims. If he lost his bid he would make it appear that he was cheated of victory by his opponents or by the government itself and tap the grievances  of his followers to wage the revolution from the outside.   To prepare for this his camp has been saying he could never lose this election unless cheated by the COMELEC. In this context, his followers would feel they are on moral ground to rise against the Republic. His armed elements are ready for a bloody takeover of government. On line for support are the communists or the NPAs who he allowed  a modus vivendi in Davao,  tolerating, in fact encouraging them  to collect “revolutionary taxes” from businessmen and of which he promised of late key positions in his government, and the Moro secessionists, an attractive local governance package via federalism of which he assured he could easily deliver to them  by abolishing Congress and the Supreme Court and thus preclude delaying legal obstruction..  But, of course, the Armed Forces and the people who still love democracy will not allow this happening sitting down. Hence, there would be civil war - Filipinos killing Filipinos.   Thus, not just 1000 or 100,000 but maybe millions will perish in the establishment of the Duterte regime of peace and security.

All around the country, the pied piper of Hamelin is playing his instrument to the hilt where droves and waves of enchanted victims are responding to his sound like rats driven to the precipice.

It is sad and tragic to be a Filipino nowadays.       

Lake Lanao and the Mindanao Power Crisis

On February 27, 2014, at around 3 a.m., the whole island of Mindanao was swept by a massive unannounced brownout that lasted for hours.

The circuit breaker of Agus I hydroelectric power plant in Baloi, Lanao del Norte, accordingly, tripped, causing power outage that cascaded to Agus 2 and to the other four power plants along the Agus River.  The other power generators in the National Power Corporation (NPC) Network, to include that of the Pulangi River hydropower plant in Maramag, Bukidnon, and the German coal-fired Steag State Power plant in Villanueva, Misamis Oriental, subsequently tripped, too, and went offline. The tripping phenomenon damaged a number of power generators and depleted to very low level the supply of energy.

From then on, the power situation of the entire island has not returned to normal. To date, many of the power generators within the NPC power complex are still undergoing repairs and thus are unable to operate fully. This accounts for the deficit of some 300 MW of electric supply in the entire island. Thus, a punishing rotational brownout that lasts from 7 – 10 hours a day is now experienced everywhere. Needless to say, the power outage has inconvenienced everyone. It is hurting business most, causing a loss estimated at P30M/hour.

But as to what really caused the mother of all brownouts on February 27, 2014, no one until now has a categorical explanation.

Some old theories in previous years’ brownouts were again circulating to explain things. One explanation that has angered many is that the current power situation is artificially designed to spike the power privatization plan of government. Related to this is the nagging suspicion that the long power outage is a machination to advance the interest and profits of private power players. 

There was also this claim that the Mindanao-wide brownout resulted from the toppling of a tower of a major power distribution line in Abaga, Baloi, Lanao del Norte.  The military shrugged this off. The NPC asserted, on the other hand,  that there was no sabotage of any kind; what happened was just, accordingly, a technical glitch and that everything will return to normal in due time. 

But even a technical problem could be triggered by something. And what is normal for years in the Mindanao power situation is the endless recurring brownout.

Indeed, the yearly recurring brownouts have already become a part of our life in Mindanao. These brownouts are predictably occurring in the summer season, a fact which apparently escapes the attention, or is taken for granted by critics.  It is obvious that the hot blistering weather has something to do with it, particularly to the physical condition of Lake Lanao, the main source of water that runs the power generators of the Agus Hydropower Plant Complex, the primary power producer in Mindanao. 

The Agus Hydropower Plant Complex has six cascading power plants that snake from the mouth of Lake Lanao in Marawi City down to Maria Cristina Falls in Iligan City. The cascading design for this power complex was intended to make an efficient use of the water resource from the Lake. In this set-up, water used by the upstream power plants is reused by those downstream.

The six hydroelectric power plants along Agus River have a total power-generating capacity of 700 MW supplying 40.31 percent of the current power needs in Mindanao. However, most of the power plants are already antiquated.  The oldest plant, Agus VI, with an aggregate installed capacity of 200 MW, was built in 1953 during the time of President Quirino. It is now 61 years old, a way past its 30 productive years. The newest plant in the complex began operation in 1992.

Given its generally antiquated infrastructure, the Agus power plant complex is susceptible to technical glitches and is presumed to generate power far below its generating potential. It was reported that the NPC will rehabilitate the two aged generators of Agus VI. It would accordingly take 30 months to do it at a cost of P2.6B. The repair may yet worsen the power supply in Mindanao if no compensatory move is made to cover the curtailed supply.

It does not help that the Pulangi Hydropower Plant in the NPC power network in Maramag, Bukidnon, could only deliver electricity at 60 MW out of its installed 255 MW generating capacity after the 27 February 2014 power fiasco. Moreover, the Pulangi River is also drying up, thanks to the unabated illegal logging in its watershed.

Meanwhile, the sorry technical condition of the Agus power plants is aggravated by the diminished supply of water from Lake Lanao. This gets worse in the summer months, and the prospect of el niῆo just frightens everyone. Some power plants are forced to shut down every time the water in the lake drops to critical low level to avoid damage to their hydroelectric turbines. The advent of climate change and global warming may yet worsen the lake situation not just in summer but year round.

Indeed, many observers have noted the declining water level and discharge capacity of the lake over the years. This disturbing phenomenon is attributed to uncontrolled timber poaching and the encroachment of farming activities in the lake watershed. The illegal activities cause soil erosion and corresponding siltation of the lake, affecting not just the operation of the hydroelectric plants but the agriculture and other livelihoods along the lake as well, and the way of life of the Meranao community.

Lake Lanao was declared by then President Corazon Aquino as a watershed reservation in 26 February 1992 through Presidential Proclamation 871 to ensure protection of forest cover and water yield for the hydropower plants, irrigation and domestic use. 

The proclamation was followed by Memorandum Order 412 dated 25 March 1992 creating the Lake Lanao Watershed Protection and Development Council to implement the proclamation, headed no less than the DENR Secretary and with such members as the NPC President, MSU President, ARMM Governor, and the Chair of the NGO, Save Lake Lanao Movement (SALAM), among others. The only accomplishment, however, of the Council was in coming up with the Lake Lanao Development Integrated Plan in 2003. It failed its mandate and has not arrested the degradation of the Lake and its environs.

Lake Lanao faces a dry future. If nothing is aggressively done to save and seriously protect the lake, Mindanao will continue to grope in the dark in years to come.

Elections, Corruption and Poverty

To aspire for an elective post in this country is to plunge into a very expensive enterprise. The higher the position sought the greater is the expense to incur. So much money is needed to run and, much more, to win a campaign.

In its study of the 2004 and 2007 elections, Pera’t Pulitika (PAP) came out with the following estimates of the campaign expenses for the major electoral posts in the land, namely: Presidential campaign, P2.5B – P5B; senatorial campaign, P150M -P500M; congressional campaign, P3M –P100M; gubernatorial campaign, P5M –P150M; and mayoralty campaign, P1M-P100M. 

Take note that these ground estimates transcend the campaign spending caps set by law which is P10/registered voter for presidential positions (president and vice president) and P3/registered voter for all the rest of the positions, the total amount of which may differ on the size of each constituency. In other words, with a voting population of 52M, a presidential aspirant is allowed by law to
spend only P500M plus P250M from party contribution (P5/registered voter) or a total of P750M. At P3/registered voter, a senatorial aspirant is only permitted to spend P150M. 

But look how much the current senatorial candidates spend for their TV and print campaign ads alone during the first 60 days of the campaign period. The top 10 spenders are: Enrile, Juan Jr. P151, 182, 897; Ejercito, Joseph Victor , P137, 089, 387; Angara, Juan, P85, 512, 805; Binay, Nancy, P82, 763, 773; Poe, Grace, P74, 688, 473; Cayetano, Alan Peter, P74, 485, 513; Madrigal, Ma. Ana, P66, 678, 039; Aquino, Paulo, P56, 257, 150; Legarda, Loren, P46, 953, 296; and Gordon, Richard, P45, 673, 257.

Add the expenses for campaign sorties and for campaign materials, such as  streamers, posters, leaflets, and other hand-outs (and to buy votes directly and indirectly!), the total election investment is staggering.

Although the regulations on campaign spending are unrealistic and never strictly monitored and controlled by the COMELEC, they have been imposed supposedly to level the playing field
for candidates. The fact remains, however, that the cost of running for a political position is very prohibitive. And from the look of it, only the economic elite have actually the opportunity to participate and have the biggest chance to win elective positions in government.

The political race naturally spawns fund raising activities from various sources and in different forms the dire consequences of which may subvert and frustrate the national will. 

Politicians dip their fingers into sources of funds other than from their own pockets. For incumbents, funds may come from the coffers of the government through the like of the notorious fertilizer anomaly in the past and through pork barrels and over-priced and sub-standard public infra projects that materialize few months before the elections season.

Contributions to the campaign kitty may also be solicited from big business, lobbyists, gambling and drug lords, and from big-time smugglers. It is also no accident that a year or so before and during elections, bank robberies, carnappings, kidnappings and other criminal fundraising activities become very pronounced in different parts of the country.

Our kind of political election evidently does not serve the purpose for which it is undertaken, that is, to produce democratic and socially responsive leaders and lawmakers to steer the sustainable development of the country. Instead, our elections have become the mother of all corruptions that prostitutes our morals and values. The entire exercise has become a nasty business where people trade their souls for some economic incentives. Thus decision makings are compromised and governance is sacrificed in the altar of payback development.

Sadly, the citizens have lost the moral ascendancy to criticize or demand anything from the government because they are, in the first place, greatly responsible in putting the wrong people there.

So long as corruption is embedded in our electoral process, our government will remain inefficient and ineffective in the delivery of public services. Consequently, the people will remain marginalized and dehumanized. And the cycle of poverty and corruption goes on and on to eternity.

Indeed, we badly need a new system in the choice of our leaders to make our democracy more rational and functional, effective and meaningful.

A Journey to Uncertainty: Towards the October 1972 Marawi Uprising and Beyond

23 September 1972. It was a bright Sunday morning. The sun was already up and biting at 6:30 am. Yet everyone was still wallowing in the comfort of a deep weekend slumber. I decided to stroll solo from the MSU Bongao campus down the stretch of Datu Halun beach to a distance of some 2 km away. The beach was cool and a little dark as it was tightly wrapped by the ubiquitous shadows of huge Bitaog and Talisay trees that dotted its shoreline. The sea was also exceedingly calm and was almost foreboding in its silence. I waded to the waters outside the shadows of trees and, at chest deep, allowed myself to float, to relax, and to meditate on the pristine, enchanting beauty of my marine surrounding.

A lazy humming sound of a DC plane from a distance interrupted my reflection. The plane was apparently approaching Sanga-Sanga Airport in another island some 12 km from the Bongao campus of MSU Sulu College of Technology and Oceanography (SCTO).

At around 9 am, I traced my way back to the MSU Panel Locks faculty dormitory on campus. What I saw when I reached the place distressed me: fully-armed Philippine Air Force personnel in their grey overall were everywhere. Although they maintained a decent distance from the dormitory and staff houses, their presence was definitely threatening.

The scene in my room was equally disturbing. My locker was in chaos; all my books, reading materials and notes were gone. No one was in the dorm to explain the situation. I looked around outside the building and saw the dorm tenants in a nearby staff cottage, apprehensive and sullen, all ears to the radio set. As I approached them, the baritone voice of President Ferdinand Marcos cracked the air: he was justifying the declaration of Martial Law throughout the country made two days earlier. I supposed it was a replay of an earlier announcement.

So that was it. The dorm occupants were alerted by the neighbours on the declaration of Martial Law before the arrival of the Air Force assault personnel. The lady faculty members rushed to my room, force-opened my locker, hauled all my books and reading materials and buried them to a location that even to date has never been disclosed to me. The little red book of Mao, the nationalist essays of Renato Constantino, the speeches of Recto and Tañada, including the relatively harmless but provocative Atlas Shrugged of Ayn Rand, the Little Prince of de Exupery, and the history, sociology and English textbooks I borrowed from the campus library were put to rest under the ground inside a tall tin biscuit can. My disappearance early that morning alarmed the ladies. They thought the military had kidnapped and detained me. Thus, they had to hide the “evidences” against my person.

Mass Resignation. By Monday, the campus was bereft of students as classes were suspended indefinitely. The suspension of classes added to the uncertainties and anxieties of everyone. The rumour mill began grinding and circulating information about the termination of teachers and closure of some state colleges and universities that had served as the breeding ground of political activists and communists. The tense atmosphere on campus somehow relaxed when, with nothing to do because of the suspension of classes, we started engaging in small talks the Air Force personnel who kept watch on us. They were surprised to know that we spoke Cebuano, Tagalog and Ilongo and soon became friendly to us. In a short while, they reduced in number and eventually faded without our notice.

Classes resumed after a week of suspension. The spirit of the faculty and staff soared up as a result, only to dive on a tailspin when after a few days talks circulated that all employees of the government were directed by Malacañang to resign. By the second week of October 1972, the information from the rumour mill turned out to be true: Following instruction from Malacañang, then MSU President Tamano issued a memorandum order enjoining everyone in the University to file or submit his/her courtesy resignation. MSU-SCTO Dir. Santiago, who flew to Marawi some few days after the declaration of Martial Law, instructed me to bring all the resignation papers from MSU-SCTO to MSU Marawi.

From Bongao to Marawi. With the resignation letters of MSU-SCTO personnel towed inside a milk carton, I took the boat JK Bab from Bongao to Zamboanga on 16 October evening. I checked in at old Astoria, a wooden hotel near Plaza Pershing, Zamboanga City on the 18^th and bought my ticket for a one-way plane ride to Iligan (Baloi Airport) via Cotabato City (Awang Airport).

On the 19^th, the military personnel at the Zamboanga City airport held me up for questioning for over an hour. I was then sporting a long hair, almost shoulder length and was unshaved. The interrogators asked so many questions about the box of resignation papers. I had my Travel Order with me but my school ID and my residence certificate did not have my photo. (There was no photo shop in Bongao at that time). My identity was at question. At any rate, my name did not seem to appear in their Order of Battle (OB). The public address system was already advising me to board the plane. The military let me go on the condition that I have to shave and have my hair cut in Cotabato before taking the flight to Iligan. I was also directed to show them a university ID upon my return to Zamboanga City.

I was finally allowed to board the plane for Cotabato, the last to do after a delay of like eternity. I spent overnight in Cotabato City in a hotel that was overflowing with endlessly moving uniformed men.

20 October 1972. Clean-shaved and sporting a new haircut, I took my flight to Baloi Airport the following morning.

I was at MSU Marawi campus at about 2 pm. I reported immediately to Dir Santiago in the office of President Mauyag Tamano where my return trip to Bongao was facilitated. The MSU Bongao Cashier, Tolentino “Suang” Go, who was with the late Fructuoso Escudero, the Dean of the SCTO College of Fisheries, gave me my travel money. I knew Lito Vizcara, the SCTO Engineer, was with them but was not around at that time. They would leave for Iligan at 6 o’clock the following morning on their return trip to Bongao via Cotabato-Zamboanga

At 4 pm, VP Manaros Boransing arrived in the office from downtown Marawi and was disturbed to see me and Cora-Banno Santiago, the summa cum laude wife SCTO Dir. Fred Santiago. Accordingly, Cora’s name and mine were in the OB of the Military in Lanao – all honour graduates of MSU and known campus activists were in the OB. He reported that Dave Tauli, Fred Apugan, Edwin Bael and some others were rounded up earlier and were already detained at Camp Amai Pakpak. I was advised to hide for the night at the cottage of Fisheries Dean Domiciano Villaluz and would leave the campus for Iligan after breakfast with the Santiagos the following day.

I cosseted myself that night listening to favourite stereo music in the cottage of DK Villaluz whose lone occupant was the late Benjie Ladrera, a faculty of the College of Fisheries. Dean Villaluz had stayed in Naawan doing research and supervising the construction of the laboratories, the shrimp hatchery facilities, the guest house and the fishponds of what would be known later as the Institute of Fisheries Research and Development (IFRD), the forerunner of MSU Naawan.

21 October 1972. Brought my luggage at 6:30 am to the assembly area (the Miravite Residence where the Santiagos were having their coffee) for the early trip to Iligan. I proceeded to the cafeteria to eat my breakfast. I supposed the Santiagos spent the night in the nearby cottage of Engr. Orlando Yu.

At about 7am as I walked back to the Miravites from the cafe, bursts of fire erupted in downtown Marawi. People started rushing near the old gym to get a vantage position in observing what was happening down below. We could, of course, only see light smoke and the scampering fog. The exchange of fire continued. Then a familiar face approached and whispered to me: The revolution against Marcos has begun. The rebels have already assaulted Camp Amai Pakpak and a special force will soon occupy the campus.

I ran to the Miravites and inform them of what the firing was all about. Dr. Quiterio F. Miravite (QFM), the Vice President for Academic Affairs, showed no apprehension. Instead he requested me to accompany him to the growing crowd near the gym. While observing there, a rushing jeepney with MSU security guards stopped in front us. One shouted to the crowd of mostly students to disperse and go back to the dormitory because the rebels were about to attack the campus.

The announcement immediately agitated QFM.

“The Ambassador,” he said. “We need to secure the Ambassador.”

“What Ambassador, Sir?” I asked.

“The Japanese Ambassador, Toshio Urabe. Let’s go to the Summit Inn.”

I collected my luggage from the Miravite’s and deposited it back at the Villaluz cottage which was only some 50 meters away from the Summit Inn. The Summit Inn was the official residence of the MSU President and had a few rooms for visiting dignitaries.

At the Summit Inn VP Manaros Boransing was in huddle with President Mauyag Tamano discussing security and evacuation plan for the Japanese Ambassador. QFM and Fred Santiago joined them. The ambassador was sitting nearby, calm and silent, already informed of the situation. He was totally occupied with his own thoughts. He had only two khaki-uniformed escorts who were always within his sight, each sporting an old M16 rifle. His guards were also deep in their thought. No MSU security guards were deployed in the area apparently to avoid attention and hide the presence of the ambassador that way. Of course, the MSU security guards at that time could only be counted with one’s fingers.

The planning exercise hit snags in the absence of information. The communication line to the outside world (via telegram) was already cut. Even the campus local telephone system was already silenced. No one knew the extent of territory under rebel control. Nor the state of the government forces in the area. After some hours, unconfirmed information started to filter into the Summit Inn: That the Pantar marine detachment was wiped out by the rebels and the bridge was already destroyed and rendered impassable; that the MSU cafeteria vehicle on marketing errand to Iligan was commandeered by the rebels and all passengers, rebels and cafeteria staff alike, were killed in a barrage of fire as it approached Camp Amai Pakpak; and that prominent Christian families in Marawi were witch-hunted, and some were captured and killed by the rebels. These unconfirmed reports only compounded the planning of security and evacuation, not only of the Japanese ambassador but also of the university constituents. No definite plan could be made.

One thing was certain: DXSO, the campus radio station was already taken over by the rebels and was used as the mouthpiece of the rebellion, instigating and encouraging the Maranaos in the lake communities to take up arms against the dictator Marcos regime. The propagandists were prominent Maranao students, Ibz M and Ali L.

10 AM. A squad of armed men were inching towards the Summit Inn. VP Boransing saw them first and asked me:

“Do you know them?”

“About half are familiar. The lead guy was my former classmate in Philosophy 40, Guimba P (GP)”

“Good. Find out what they want. Try any means to stop them from coming here.”

That was my first real mission in life. Obviously the rebels were not aware of a potential hostage in the Summit Inn that would attract international attention. My task was to avoid them from knowing it. I met the rebels some 50 meters away from the Summit Inn. GP was quick to recognize me and called me by my nickname.

“Is this now for real?” I asked him gesturing my hands to their old assorted weapons that included a tummy gun.

GP only smiled and said nothing.

“VP Boransing is in the Summit Inn with President Tamano,” I explained. “He wants me to convey to you that the ladies there are terribly scared and are getting nervous over this uprising. So if you please, don’t go there anymore. If you have any message to the President I am instructed to deliver it to him.”

“We just want to ask permission and clearance from the President to partake of the food at the cafeteria.”

“Please wait.”

The rebels’ act of asking permission to eat at the cafeteria amused me.

I conferred immediately with VP Naro Boransing on the request and was given the go signal.

“The President granted your request. Your men may eat in the cafeteria as long as there is food there for everyone. His request is for you to help maintain order in the place.”

Thus, at lunch time, the fully armed young rebels were in the cafeteria. When some of them broke the line to get their share, the students started to boo them. They retreated with their arms and returned to the queue.

The cafeteria marketing team failed to return and the supply of food in the café dwindled to very low level. The same was also obtaining in all the boarding houses on campus. At dinner time, the food ration was reduced to one small slice of bangus with hardly a cup of rice. At the Villaluz cottage we harvested and cooked banana (sab-a) to supplement our diminishing food intake.

As the day rolled to darkness, uncertainty and fear gripped the residents. But nothing phenomenal happened that evening. There was intermittent firing but nothing more.

Fruc Escudero and company had just crossed Pantar Bridge when they heard a deafening explosion and a barrage of fire behind them. They never looked back and went on full speed down to Iligan City. In Iligan they heard that the rebels had destroyed Pantar Bridge, overrun Camp Amai Pakpak and had taken over the MSU campus. Wild talks started to conflagrate the City of Iligan - of the pillage and destruction of the MSU campus, the rape and killing of students and other residents. Nong Fruc and company were totally devastated. They believed that the Santiagos and I were among the victims of the mayhem. What they thought and what they heard in Iligan they also communicated by wire to Bongao without any validation. There was no opportunity and means to validate anything anyway. Thus, friends and dear ones in Bongao cried and gnashed their teeth over the untimely departure of our souls.

22 October 1972. Food supply was getting so low. The coop was ransacked the evening before by either a group of hungry students or by the equally hungry rebels. I did not anymore go to the café knowing that there was hardly anything to eat. We again cooked sab-a which, with ginamos, served as our breakfast, lunch and dinner in the cottage.

Some older men started strutting in the street with their homemade firearms.

Tension mounted as rumour of reinforcement from Camp Evangelista started to filter into the campus.

At about 10 or so in the evening, the military reinforcement finally arrived. It was like Marawi was celebrating the New Year. The explosions were so loud and in luxurious abandon and the bullets created sparkles and arching lights in the sky. Our view of the panorama from the Villaluz cottage was halted by the approaching rumblings of steel and machine gun fire. We rushed inside the cottage, switched off the lights, and dropped and kissed the floor. There was shouting and running outside. Tsak, tsak, tsak, tsak... That was the sound of the bullets that found their marks in the trunks of the bananas behind the cottage. A deafening silence followed thereafter that lasted through the long dark night.

23 October 1972. The military made a clearing operation on campus early in the morning. DXSO was silent and dead. At the Summit Inn, some women helped us in camouflaging Ambassador Urabe. He was wrapped in a malong and other decorative Meranao clothing, and was secured inside an armoured military vehicle. The Santiagos and I took the Ford pickup of the College of Fisheries Naawan Marine Laboratory. At about 10:00 am, the exodus began. The long line of public and private conveyances and military trucks started snaking down the road to Iligan City. All were filled to the brim with a hodgepodge of anxious campus passengers. The movement was rather slow as the military had to continuously clear the path ahead.

We arrived in Iligan at past 12 noon. The atmosphere was in tumultuous joy of thanksgiving. People lined the streets clapping, shouting and crying. I learned that many parents from all over Mindanao had assembled in Iligan to get information on the plight of their children. It was a grand happy reunion of sort of parents and students. The city park teemed with joyful mankind. Relief food materialized from nowhere at no time at all.

Meanwhile, we proceeded to Naawan. Dean D.K. Villaluz, with teary eyes, hugged each one of us tightly praising God for our survival. He immediately ordered his men to prepare lechon and cook for early dinner to celebrate our new life.

Postlude. I was back in Bongao in about a week’s time. I was welcomed like a hero, like a war survivor, by acquaintances and friends. Everybody wanted to hear my story. My girlfriend burst into a muted cry when we were finally left alone in the evening of my arrival. She pinched me hard (apparently to assure herself that I was not really a ghost of myself) to a point that I almost screamed in excruciating pain. Then she hugged, kissed and hugged and kissed me to no end.

In a little while, she became my wife.