Crossing Paths: Tita cory and me

During major events in our lives, former president Corazon Conjuangco-Aquino’s (Tita Cory to many) and mine, our paths have crossed. This she does not know. Today, I join the nation in prayer for her recovery and to wish her and her family strength and courage as she fights her latest challenge: colon cancer. Perhaps now is a good time to share with others why she is close to my heart.

August 21, 1983. My nephews and I drove my sister-in-law Lily See to the Manila International Airport. She was to take the China Airlines flight back to San Francisco via Taipei. Unknown to us, it was the same flight that had brought back political exile ex-Senator Benigno Aquino Jr. After Lily checked in, my nephews went back to their car and I to mine. I noticed the crowd at the airport but didn’t think it was extraordinary. By then, I could not get out of the parking lot: there were many military type jeeps blocking the way. I felt frustrated waiting for the vehicles to move so I could leave. Then I gasped with disbelief when I learned that Ninoy was assassinated right there on the tarmac.

My late husband, Chinben See, bombarded me with questions when I got home: did I hear the shot? Was I questioned? Just a week before that, he had written a column in the Chinese newspaper Orient News about the welcome news of Ninoy coming home and the chance for reconciliation with then President Marcos. Unlike many Tsinoys his age and generation who chose to be apolitical bystanders, Chinben was vocal and insistent about standing up for what was right. He predicted that Ninoy’s assassination would cause the pot to boil over.

It did.

We were among the many who marched from the Aquino home on Times Street to the Sto. Domingo Church where Ninoy’s wake was held. As we got closer to the church, I found myself walking beside the bereaved family. Tita Cory’s daughters were looking at me: I was in black pants and black and white T-shirt. We were in mourning because my mother-in-law had just passed away. It struck me then that the Aquinos might be wondering who I was, so I moved away.

Because we lived near the church, we were among many who went to the wake regularly and quietly to pay our respects. We were also among the multitude that gathered along the length of Quezon Avenue when Ninoy was brought out for the funeral. We didn’t know anyone and we didn’t introduce ourselves. Just like the rest of the people, we raged and grieved privately and silently, and believed strongly that this storm shall not merely pass away.

In 1984 to early 1986, the turmoil over the assassination, the embargo in foreign loans, the bankrupt treasury – all portents of a dying regime – forced Marcos to call for a snap election. We resurrected our old group, Pagkakaisa Sa Pag-unlad, to discuss what we could do in the midst of political unrest and economic collapse and to campaign for Tita Cory.

(Pagkakaisa was organized in 1971 but we had to close shop in 1976 when we learned that the military had put our group under surveillance on suspicion that we were communists. We undertook community development projects and this was considered left-wing by military intelligence.) 

Tsinoys at the time were overwhelmingly pro-Marcos because he had been good to the Tsinoys. After all, he single-handedly enabled Tsinoys to gain Filipino citizenship on the eve of establishing diplomatic relations with the People’s Republic of China. Tsinoys owed him a lot. With Congress suspended, there were no vultures to mulct the community for campaign funds. The grateful community wanted Marcos to win the snap election.

The snap election was one of the most divisive political exercises in which the Tsinoy community became involved. The generation split was obvious: parents voted for Marcos but the younger generation supported Cory. The elders did not believe Marcos could lose. But he did. Cory won the election but lost in the counting. Hence, the seeds of the first People Power Revolution were planted.

Loved ones do not usually remember the exact date a serious illness was diagnosed. But in our case, I do, because it was another memorable date in the life of our nation.

February 22, 1986. We were glued to the radio trying to discern what was happening. Unknown to Chinben, I got the results of his CT scan-guided biopsy and learned the worst: he had primary liver cancer. The ultrasound in January already showed a liver mass but we had hoped it was just hepatitis. I did not have the heart to tell him the devastating news. He was running a fever after staying up so late.

The next day, Feb. 23, he went out to mobilize help for the looming EDSA People Power Revolution. He urged Tsinoys to be part of the revolution: “We should stand with our fellow Filipinos. This is also our fight.” He gave our home phone for those with questions and our address as the drop-off point for donations.

Breastfeeding my four-month-young son, I stayed home to take the calls. Young people told me: “We wanted to go to EDSA but we’re under house arrest. Can you talk to our parents?”

Chinben’s classmates pooled resources for 500 packs of yangchow fried rice from Cathay House Restaurant. I told him he couldn’t bring them to EDSA because millions were there. He opted to go to Channel 4 instead, distributed the packs there, and made further appeals on television. He came home bone tired and was running a fever again. He remembered I was to get his biopsy results and asked about them.

There was no sleep that night as we consoled and comforted each other. Tita Cory had just lost her husband. I was about to lose mine, to an equally deadly foe.

On Feb. 25, 1986, as the nation celebrated the triumph of people’s democracy, we grieved over the doctor’s opinion that Chinben had four months to live, at most. I nursed him at home knowing the sight of our four-month-young son and nine-year-old daughter would boost his will to live. Doctors warned that Chinben would not live to see his son’s first birthday. But he did, and lived two more months after that. He had lived for 10 more precious months. We raced not against time but for more time, each day more precious than the last.

Even as he fought death, Chinben continued to give lectures and speeches before Chinese schools and organizations about the need to help Tita Cory rebuild our nation from the ashes.

The lead organizations in the Tsinoy community were just too skeptical and paranoid to be politically proactive at that time. Chinben soon weakened and finally passed on on November 29, 1986. But the legacy of his dedication to the cause of mainstream society, and the Tsinoy community in which he played a vital role, had to be perpetuated.

We had our first encounter with the Cory government during her first few months in power. The Presidential Management Staff wrote a very negative report about the Tsinoy community. We had to correct it and submit our version. This incident made it clear to us that it was vitally important to revive our organization formally.

On Aug. 28, 1987, Kaisa Para Sa Kaunlaran was launched at the National Press Club. Again, a monumental event in Tita Cory’s life sliced across ours: it was the day Gringo Honasan launched his bloodiest coup yet against her administration.

It was literally and figuratively a baptism of fire for the core of Kaisa members. It reinforced our feeling that the nation needed us even more. The fire of idealism and the ardent desire to make a difference were inspired by Ninoy’s martyrdom. And now, his widow was under siege for trying to salvage the country. We could do no less. It was a memorable founding anniversary.

In 1989, at about the lowest ebb in Tita Cory’s governance when she was being besieged on all fronts by military coup, political enemies and detractors, I collected one folder full of articles (in Chinese) my friends had published in Chinese newspapers about her. I summarized key points in those articles to lift her spirits up. We told her Tsinoys are among her most steadfast supporters. I gave that folder to Dr. Elfren Cruz, director of her Presidential Management Staff.

Fast forward to 1995. We invited Tita Cory to break the ground for the Kaisa Heritage Center. Deedee Siytanco, her spokesperson, told me that Tita Cory usually did not attend groundbreaking ceremonies because sometimes projects fail to materialize. But she made an exception for us. We did not disappoint her. On Jan. 19, 1999, we inaugurated the Kaisa Heritage Center and opened Bahay Tsinoy – Museum of the Chinese in Philippine life, again with Tita Cory as the guest of honor. She said she did not expect the building and museum would be on such a grand scale.

She saw her portrait, with her resplendent in red, prominently displayed in the Museum with those of Manila Archbishop Jaime Cardinal Sin and Chief Justice Claudio Teehankee as exemplars of Filipinos of Chinese descent.

The occasion was most important to me personally because the dream of putting up the Kaisa Heritage Center was my late husband’s deathbed wish. From his sickbed, he wrote down the whole concept in his frail handwriting.

In the midst of our own Kaisa activities, I had been very active as part of the organizing committees for the anniversary of Ninoy’s martyrdom, for the anti-cha cha campaigns and for Kompil II. I believe Tita Cory has also been impresssed with Kaisa because in 2003, she once more agreed to open the new extension of Bahay Tsinoy, The Tsinoys in Nation Building Hall. Then in 2006, Tita Cory wrote the foreword to my coffee table book Tsinoy – the Story of the Chinese in Philippine Life. I gave her one copy but she bought 10 more to give away to close friends.

Last year, Kaisa produced a musicale celebrating our 20th anniversary. We invited Tita Cory to come but she was abroad. The play recounted the story of the Chinese in Philippine life in song and drama. Since Tita Cory could not come, I was asked to play her part in the scene during which people celebrated her presidency and the restoration of democracy. Although it was a brief stage appearance, I was told it was a convincing one because of my resemblance to Tita Cory. People have often commented how the two of us, and the late Tita Betty Go Belmonte, founder of The STAR, look alike. We three have short hair and wear glasses.

Yes, Tita Cory has been a significant part of my life. Our paths have shared common junctions many, many times. To me, she has become a symbol of resilience and democracy. This is her legacy, and it is imprinted in the hearts and minds of all the people whose lives she has touched.  

God willing, there will be many more encounters that will enrich both our lives.