History must not repeat itself

Last week was my late father Maximo V. Soliven’s tenth death anniversary.  He died on the week of Thanksgiving.  After a writing career spanning six decades, writing his column “By the Way” 6 times a week (with one day off on Saturdays) but interrupted for 10 years by martial law, he laid down his pipe which used to give out a sweet aroma of tobacco, packed away his red Olivetti typewriter after his last column and swiftly joined our Creator.

He would have been 87 years old if he were still alive.  In hindsight, I think God saved him from what was to become a more tragic path for our country when in his twilight years, he should have already seen the dawn of a new day for our land, his beloved country.

Oh my, how he loved this country like many of us but when Martial law took over, his dreams and hopes were all but shattered.  He recalls this period in one of his columns as he wrote: It took martial law and cruel imprisonment to make us realize that the Boy (in Ninoy) had become a Man. By a quirk of fate, I was assigned to be his (Ninoy’s) cellmate in the maximum security compound of Fort Bonifacio when we were arrested as “subversives” in September 1972.  Out of the 400 prisoners crammed into the Camp Crame gym, after we had been picked up between midnight and dawn, 11 of us were singled out by name and told by a colonel to step forward. Ninoy had nudged me cheerfully in the ribs and exclaimed in a stage whisper, “Eto na, eto na! Firing squad na tayo.” (This is it, this is it. We’re going to the firing squad). Yet they didn’t shoot us. They trucked us instead to Fort Bonifacio, where they sent a military chaplain to hear our confessions – thus reinforcing our conviction that we were to be executed. Once more, we were disappointed.

All throughout, it was Ninoy, who surely realized he was the number one target, Marcos’ favorite bete noir, the dictator’s pet nemesis, who tried to cheer us all up. The days of captivity stretched into weeks, the weeks into months.  Nobody who has never been in prison can understand that what you suffer from is not simply being caged – you suffer from the uncertainty of it all, and from boredom. You never know when your military jailers, who have the power of life and death over you, will drag you out and shoot you, at any hour of day or night.  After a while, the world outside becomes a memory – you begin to forget that there are streets with people and vehicles in them, and noise, and hustle and bustle, and bright colors and pretty girls. One gray day follows the other and you learn to live from one day to the next.

I feel for the many Filipinos, some of them may be of my dad’s age or some a bit younger or older, who continue to work and toil the land with blood, sweat and tears. They have to bear witness to the painful and frustrating conditions of our land today which was once very beautiful and promising.

Those who have experienced historical events first-hand have passed down the torch as seen during the protest rallies against the Marcos burial. Let us be clear that even with the inaction of government on the protests, seemingly unperturbed amidst the cries for justice, the preservation of our history is strengthened and will be protected from the ill intentions of many politicians who want to change it.

This is not about Marcos vs. Aquino. It is about Marcos and his 20-year rule.  How he led the Filipinos; how he repressed our freedom; how he stole billions of dollars from our country’s treasure chest; and how the family wants us to forget and change the tide of history.

The Marcos burial has divided the nation. It sparked national interest especially from the youth who has finally realized that we must protect our history and make sure it is told correctly.

As Nelson Navarro said in his speech as the keynote speaker at the 2016 PEN (Poets, Essayist and Novelist Association) Annual Conference: Writers of conscience can do no less by becoming sharper witnesses and active participants in the unfolding epic struggles that are pregnant not only with tales of impending doom but also of defiant hopes for the coming of a new world order.

Empowered with true democratic ideas and political movements that have learned and are still learning to stand up to dictators and imperial might, the once- disenfranchised common people and small countries that constitute the majority of the human race will no longer stay silent and servile. Times have changed. More sooner than later, they will take power into their hands by all and whatever means necessary.

As my dad would quip in the past when the country is in turmoil, these past weeks the Filipino spirit has been dampened, our self-confidence crushed under the weight of each revealed inequity, and tales of resurgent graft, corruption, deception and vaulting ambition.

But life must go on. We need to move on. And in moving on we must not also forget that demonstrations and protests are exercises that are part and parcel of a democratic society. We must welcome them and be happy that after a long period of silence our countrymen are showing fervor and patriotism and the youth are out there thinking, analyzing and fighting for what they think and believe is right; for a cause that is intrinsic to our soul as a people. And as hope springs eternal from the youth of our land, there is a promising future for us. I hope that our leaders will not take these mass actions in vain. It is their chance to listen and feel the pulse of the nation.