KAHAPAN

 

Nanay appeared happy while taking care of a baby boy my
sister Emma adopted a couple of months ago. We baptized the little boy as
Kijam.

 

As she pushed the baby trolley around with Kijam tucked in,
I can’t help but noticed her sad eyes.

 

After almost an hour of walking around our backyard, she
decided to bring Kijam to rest near the storage area. There I saw her took my
brother’s helmet and wiped the dust off.

 

Nanay is missing our brother Jimmy Boy terribly.

 

Jimmy or Bobong is the fourth sibling and one among the
millions of Filipinos who decided to join the throngs of OFW. He is presently
in Riyadh working in one of the hospitals there.

 

My brother left early this year and it’s his first time to
leave the country. Bobong is a devout Catholic but before he left to work
abroad I bought him several Islamic books from Barns and Nobles in Washington DC so he could use it in an Islamic state.

 

At first he objected saying his intention was to work and
his faith has nothing to do with it. Yet I insisted because laws in the Philippines  differ greatly as we stepped in to foreign lands.

 

Finally he conceded and brought along 2 hardbound books, one
is about the laws and the second is about the faith.

 

Three months in the said country, my brother called up
saying he did the right thing bringing the materials.

 

Oftentimes he called informing us that he along with other
Filipino workers where on fasting and recently everyone in the said country is
observing the Hajj.

 

My mother cried during the first ever call my brother did.

 

Bobong was lamenting about the food, “halos hindi ko
makain.”

 

He missed a lot of things about Filipino foods like “Gata
Nangka” a boiled fresh jackfruit with coconut milk and dried fish, “Sinigang na
Salmon” a one dish soup with Mustasa, Radish, Bell Pepper, Ginger and Lemon
Grass using Salmon as the base protein or native chicken adobo.

 

When my brother was around, he’s the official cook of my
mother. Now as mother inspects the Lemon Grass and the Chili “hindi na gaanong
nagagalaw ang mga sili at tanglad, wala na kasing taga luto.”

 

My mother though married to Catholic still practicing Islam
in the house. She joins us in celebrating Christmas and all other Christian
holidays and feasts.

 

Every Christmas, my brother Bobong would always request me
to buy Crabs, Shrimps and Fish for media noche.

 

If everyone is excited about Ham, Chicken, Spaghetti or
Cheese, in our homes, my brother always prepares the non-traditional menu,
Crabs with heavy sauce made of coconut milk and garlic, marinated Shrimps deep
fried with corn oil coupled with homemade dip made of eggs and black pepper and
fish either broiled or steamed or the common is Sweet and Sour.

 

Bobong is considered my Nanay’s backbone at home after my
father passed away. Other than being the cook, he is also the plumber,
electrician, driver, errand boy, carpenter, mechanic and lot of other menial
and manual chores.

 

When December comes, it’s always Bobong being sought after
for the installation of outdoor Christmas lights, marketing, fixing the sound
systems and in charge of the pyrotechnics.

 

This December for the first time, my mother and the rest of
the family in this compound will be celebrating Christmas without him. We
already got used to my other brother Toto away from us for more than a decade,
but with Bobong it’s different.

 

One time I saw my mother playing the Christmas songs from
the albums of Nat King Cole, Cosby and Andy Williams. Those songs usually
played by Bobong when he was with us last Christmas. She was crying silently.

 

I remember my mother was still maintaining a small store at
her veranda then and to ease my mother, Bobong will play those albums to make
her happy.

 

When I was still frequenting my mother’s house, she kept
blaming the government “dahil kung maganda ang kinabukasan mo dito sa
Pilipinas, hindi na mag-iisip ang marami na umalis, kung meron man — isang
ambisyon na lang yon at hindi magpakahirap para kumita at guminhawa.”

 

My son Kenjo asked why Filipinos have to leave Pilipinas to
work abroad and he asked me if I am interested to leave Philippines.

 

I told him that Filipinos have to leave the country to work
and earn more so they could provide a better life to their respective families.

 

But not all Filipinos working abroad ended up with a good
story citing several OFW cases returning home either raped, murdered, jailed or
simply dying with mysterious cause.

 

Even if you are abroad say United States, not all of them
really like the job they have. I met several Filipinos during my trip to US and
most of them longed for Philippines,
the people, the community, the environment, relationship, culture.

 

While young Filipino generation in this country adored the
likes of Dennis Trillo and Angel Locsin… second generation Filipinos in United
States still stuck with Sharon Cuneta, Pops Fernandez, Haji Alejandro, Rico
Puno, Vilma Santos and Nora Aunor.

 

A friend (he does not want to publish his name as he is
connected in the government) showed me his collections which he downloaded from
the internet and funny because his collections are more of standard Filipino
music “I am proud of my collection, you’ll never see these albums on music
video shops or malls back in our country.”

 

I explained to my son that even with all the opportunities
to work abroad, I still prefer to be in this country, “dahil gustong-gusto kong
kumain na naka-kamay, gusto ko ang daing at bagoong, gusto ko ng preskong gulay
na kinukuha lang sa likuran ng bahay, gusto kong pawisan araw-araw, gusto kong
makipagtsismisan sa mga kaibigan ko na hindi iniisip ang oras ke nasa coffee
shop kami o sa pamamagitan ng telepono, gusto kong mag-alaga ng boungainvilla,
gumamela, san francisco at iba pang tropical na tanim.”

 

“Higit sa lahat, kung anuman ang laman ng utak ko at kung
anumang lakas meron ang katawan ko, gusto kong gamitin ito dito sa Pilipinas
kahit maliit lang ang kita. Kapag didilim at magpapahinga na tayo, masaya mong
isasara ang mga mata mo dahil sa isang araw na kayod… hindi lamang tiyan ng
pamilya ko ang nagkalaman, kundi may natulungan rin kahit papaano.”

 

I know my son would not understand all what I am telling him
but every time he shares his encounter with me he keeps saying “at least tayo
Mama me bigas sa bahay, yung iba, mamumulot muna ng lata o basura para
magkaroon ng bigas na iluluto.”

 

But Kenjo is insisting why Tito Bobong has to leave when he
has no family to feed, “wala nga siyang asawa at anak.”

 

At my brother’s age 35 and an engineer, he hardly gets good
break in the country though he worked once with the American soldiers in Sulu
but we advised him to resign then because of security reasons.

 

In Riyadh his expertise is needed and paid well but like all other OFW, he has to
sacrifice a lot of things he got used to before so he could get good employment
and better life.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A RECORD YEAR NEVER WITNESSED BEFORE

www.pressemblem.ch

   
GENEVA, PEC, December 17 – According to the Press Emblem Campaign
monitoring system (the PEC Ticking Clock), never before has so many
journalists been killed in one year, the total up to date is 110 as
compared with 96 in 2006 and 68 in 2005.

    Therefore the 2007 year causality figure reflects a marked by a new deterioration for freedom of the press world wide.

    This year’s tally represents a 14 percent increase over the 2006 figure.

   
In total journalists have been killed in 27 countries led by those
killed in Iraq, the most dangerous, for the fifth consecutive year,
with 50 journalists killed this year against 48 last year and at least
250 since the war was launched in Iraq in March 2003.

    The situation in Iraq represents an unprecedented situation of collective slaughter and
punishment of members of the media profession.

   
Somalia comes second to Iraq which witnesses a brutal deterioration in
the security conditions for the profession, 8 journalists killed this
year against one last year.

    Sri Lanka ranks third, seven journalists killed this year against four last year due to the intensity of the civil war.

   
In addition, the continued deterioration is clear in Pakistan where 5
journalists were killed; both Afghanistan and the Philippines have seen
four journalists killed in each country.

    Haiti, Columbia and Mexico flag at the Sixth, seventh and eighth positions with three killed in each country.

   
The tally continues: Nepal, the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC),
Eritrea, and India and Guatemala: two journalists killed in each
country.

    During 2006 Mexico was one of the most dangerous
places for journalists with eight journalists killed. This year’s PEC
monitoring of the situation shows an improvement in the situation.

   
One journalist was killed in each of the following countries: Honduras,
Uzbekistan, Salvador, Burma/Myanmar, United States, Paraguay, Gaza,
Zimbabwe, Russia, Peru, Brazil, Ghana and Turkey.

    It is clear that the majority of journalists killed were killed in conflict zones: Iraq,

Sri Lanka, Somalia and Afghanistan.

    69 journalists of the total of 110 killed in 2007 were killed in those four dangerous conflict zones.

   
PEC Secretary-General Blaise Lempen noted that the increase in the
number of victims among journalists is directly linked to the coverage
of major conflict marked by grave human rights violations of major
dimensions.

    In other situations, journalists were targeted
because of their political opinion, or because their coverage, the
living example is that of Russian journalist Anna Politkovskaia killed
last year in October 2006, and others like Hrant Dink killed January 19
this year in Istanbul, Turkey, Edward Chikombo killed one April 2007 in
Zimbabwe, Francois Latour on 23 May, 2007 in Port-au Prince (Haiti),
Serge Maheshe, of Radio Okapi, on 13 June, 2007 in Bukavu, the DRC, and
the Japanese reporter Kenji Nagai, on 27 September 2007 in Rangoun
during the peaceful demonstrations that were followed by a brutal
crackdown.

   
In order to face this increasing deterioration in the security
situation surrounding the media profession, the PEC has launched a
global campaign on a draft international convention for the protection
of journalists in conflict zones, civil unrest and other situations.

     The PEC has sent out the draft convention to representatives of UN member states in Geneva.

   
PEC President Hedayat Abdel Nabi stressed that this draft convention, a
wide ranging exercise prepared by the PEC Board, could be the basis of
improved national legislation and could expand to include other matters
like wage, insurance and housing rights.

   
Those are issues, she added, that gravely affect the human security of
freelance journalists and are real issues in developing countries.

   
“When ratified, the draft Convention, shall stand as a tribute to all
journalists and media workers under attack, who are directly or
indirectly targeted, and are part of the news for sometime then
forgotten,” added Abdel Nabi.

    The PEC President noted that
this draft when adopted will be a token gift for those journalists who
have risked their lives, their families and their sacred profession to
uncover the truth, to ensure that victims are reached, and to guarantee
freedom of opinion and expression.

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Thirteen year old Johnny Cumayas Magsanay is weaving a huge
basket using “uway” or rattan as if there’s no tomorrow.

 

Despite the cold mist coming from a developing thick fog
that gradually settling over the mountaintop, Johnny is sweating profusely yet
oblivious to the surroundings.

 

He pulls one straw of rattan “uway” then knot it over into a
circular motion and pushes it to the loosely weaved rim.

The way he weaves caught my attention… it’s like he’s
following a certain motion or beat out from music only familiar to him.

 

Johnny got destructed when I sat behind him. Reading his
facial expression I sensed that he didn’t like intrusion that may distract him
from doing his works.

 

I told him to go on with what he’s doing and ignore my
presence as I was trying to catch the best shot for my photos… the way he is
weaving a basket.

 

With that mindless of the occasional flashes, Johnny
continued his work.

 

Soon as he’s done with his basket, I started asking question
why he’s so engrossed with his work.

 

“Apas kug oras aron makakita ko sa Christmas Tree (I am
trying to finish my work on time so I can see the Christmas Tree),” Johnny said
sheepishly.

 

As visitor and been used to seeing different Christmas trees
with different adornment I was really startled with his answer.

 

What’s with that Christmas tree, a huge branch cut out from
a Jackfruit tree and coated with white paint?

I saw their Christmas tree lying quite abandoned at their
multi-purpose center and from the sight of it “it’s the most ordinary among the
trees I have seen in my entire life.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Although I kept to myself those sorts of sharp criticisms -
I probed more from Johnny the why’s of it all.

 

I learned that Johnny is already in grade four at the New Tuburan Primary School.

At his
age he admitted that he has to stop schooling to give way to other siblings
“aron maka-eskwela mi tanan (so that all of us could go to school).”

 

At 13, Johnny manifested the child in him where he shared
that he never experienced Christmas celebration whether in school, at home or
in their community.

Not even the usual stuff youngsters are doing when December
15 comes, the caroling.

 

“Dili mi makapag-aginaldo diri kay wa may suga, gas ra man
dili man tanan kapalit ug gas (We cannot go on caroling because we don’t have
light here, just kerosene lamp but not all here could afford to buy gas for
kerosene lamp).”

 

For him seeing for the first time a Christmas tree standing
proudly in their village hall adorned with tinsels made of cut-outs from glossy
magazines and Star Apple dried leaves coupled with 1,000 blinking bulbs “is
already a big deal and meaningful.”

 

“

Karun

lang dunay ing-ana
nga Christmas tree (Its our first time to have that Christmas tree),” Johnny
adds.

 

Although he told me that he witnessed different Christmas
trees and yuletide decorations in the past – (that is!) whenever he’s granted
by his parents Julian and Dionisia to accompany them to Tigbao town to sell
their farm produce at dawn.

 

Since they are seven siblings, they have to take turns as
everyone wanted to join their parents just to have a glimpse of the town either
at night or at dawn.

 

“Apan lahi ilang pasko sa amohang pasko, amo gyud ni (But
theirs is different from ours, its our Christmas),” Johnny said.

 

With the official lighting of a Christmas tree, Johnny and
the rest of the villagers trooped and crowded their hall for once in a year
ceremonial lighting of a tree.

 

For the history of New Tuburan “it’s the first time,” and
for the villagers who witnessed this occasion, “it’s a new and a meaningful
Christmas for them.”

 

For kids, deep in their hearts they like to say Thank You
for whoever sponsored the light and I don’t want to raise the chairs of my
friends Mimi, Karl and Maa’m Tetchie but their effort to spread out technology such
as solar panels to remote inner villages is a way to spread out good joys for
kids and teeners like Johnny.

 

 

 

 

 

It takes only a bullet to snatch away life or dreams of an
individual.

 

I met a guy two weeks ago. He looks nice and friendly, in
fact he possesses a good personality though quite fair looking and young.

 

I met him during our coverage when Manny Pacquiao visited
the

Don

Basilio

Navarro

Hospital

inside the
Western Mindanao Command. He was then together with Philippine Army Commanding
General Alexander Yano.

 

I am one of the two journalists ahead of the throng and
managed to get a good position for photos and interviews when suddenly I bumped
to a patient on a wheelchair.

 

The supposed good view for him, I intentionally covered it.

 

“Pasyente lang kayo, and here I am ordered to cover the
Pacquiao visit (which is really against my will).”

 

I looked back and saw him trying to push his wheelchair so
he could take a video shot from his cellular phone, “tawa lang ako,” thinking
“bakit ba kayo magpapakaloko ke Pacquiao eh ang pawis at ebak niyan pareho lang
sa amoy ninyo.”

 

The usual “mean Julie” ignored the looks on their faces.

 

In a matter of 30 minutes everything is over and Pacquiao is
leaving then.

 

Suddenly I caught on cam a facial expression in one of the
wounded soldiers and I saw in his face a “sort of pain or frustration?”

 

“Bakit parang frustrated ka?” was my question then he
replied saying “akala namin magkakamay siya sa amin, yun lang pala.”

 

As I was trying to beat deadlines, again I bumped to that
damned wheelchair and the same person looking at me apparently in pain.

 

I apologized for my carelessness and he said it was fine.

 

So back up my story about frustrated wounded soldiers, I
asked few question on this wheelchair guy.

 

“Anong pakiramdam nakita mo nang personal si Pacman?”

 

Wheelchair soldier said “malungkot, hindi ko man lang siya
naka-usap.”

 

So I pursued the question why he wanted to talk with Pacman.

“Gusto ko kasing humingi ng tulong mam, kailangan ko kasi ng
kanyang suporta.”

 

Seizing his disposition, I was wondering what sort of help
does this wheelchair boy needs.

 

He is young, quite healthy in my standard.

 

“Kailangan ko kasi mam ng supply ng diaper, paralyzed na po
ako mula dibdib hanggang paa,” says the wheelchair guy who introduced himself
as Private First Class Joemar Laureles of the 63^rd Infantry
Battalion based in

Samar

.

 

“Ha? Yang lagay mo yan?….” didn’t finished what I wanted
to say.

 

Laureles said he got wounded in one of the encounters in

Samar

last December 2006 and he’s been paralyzed for
about a year now.

 

A bullet stuck to his spinal cord though he wanted it remove
“sabi ng doctor pag tinanggal ang bala sa spine ko dapat tanggapin kung ano man
ang maging resulta,” where he will definitely end up as vegetable.

 

His mother who was with him was crying telling me that its
so difficult to support even diapers for Joemar as he is being relied by other
younger sisters for their education.

 

“Byuda na po ako mam,” says the mother “at siya lang ang
inaasahan namin para makatapos ang mga kapatid niya.”

 

Joemar is supporting her three young sisters even if he’s
been sort of a bed patient for quite sometime.

 

He was hoping to air his request to Pacman for a steady
supply of diapers but failed since I was covering his view where supposedly
he’ll openly declare his wishes to him.

 

Other than diapers, Joemar also wanted his buddies of the 63^rd
IB to pay him a visit or simply make their presence felt to him.

 

 

 

 

May isang linggo ko nang natanggap ang statement ni Ruel
Munasque, pero hindi ko agad pinatulan dahil sa reservation na nararamdaman ko.

 

Hindi ko siya kilala at ni minsan hindi ko pa siya
na-interview kaya wala akong interest na gawan ng article ito for INQUIRER’s
consumption.

 

Kaya lang three days ago, nag-ingay ulit ang issue ng Amparo
Writ at muling nakatanggap ako ng statement mula sa kampo ni Munasque.

 

Binasa ko ang statement at medyo nakakaloka ang kanyang
overstated at pagka-grandiosong pahayag (see the statement).

 

Kaya tuloy takot akong pumasok sa mga simbahan o kapilya
kasi baka mamura ko ang mga pari o kung sinuman ang nagsesermon lalung lalo na
kung ganyang klase o tono ng pananalita ang gagamitin.

 

Sige na nga! Sabihin na natin na siya ay isang ordinaryong
church leader ng komunidad pero hanep sa pananalita si Ruel eh kung pakinggan
mo naman siyang magsalita (in person ha) di naman ganyan ang kanyang tono.

 

Pakiramdam ko may ilang grupo ang gumagawa ng kanyang
statement

sana

naman maging patas tayo.

 

Para

kay Munasque kung
gusto mong labanan ang katiwalian sa gobyerno dapat simulan natin ito sa
palibot, hindi sa taas mula pababa. Dapat mula sa baba pataas, unless me pagka
David ka sa kwentong David and Goliath.

 

We journalists wanted to find out more about truth, kung baga,
pag tinalupan mo ang isang prutas, tiyakin mo na makikita mo ang gusto mong
makita at hindi taliwas sa gusto mong masilayan.

 

Pasalamat tayo dahil me Amparo Writ na pwedeng mag pressure
sa military na ilabas ang sinumang dinukot o kinuha nila.

 

Pero sa tulad ni Munasque na niyakap ang kakaibang daan
upang magkaroon ng katuparan ang kanyang

plano

sa buhay, walang masama kung aminin na isang kang pulang rebelde.

 

Di ba kapag sumuong tayo sa isang bagay, handa nating
pangatawanan ang anumang pagsubok na haharapin, kahit buhay isusugal.

 

Kaya nung natanggap ko ang ilang dokumento isang araw
madakip si Munasque, alam kong naduwag siya sa kanyang prinsipyo.

 

Pamilya, kaibigan at sino pa man nasa paligid nito ay
naduwag rin.

 

Kaya kung anuman ang ipinaglalaban ni Ruel, tiyak akong
karamihan sa mga kasamahan nuon ay naduwag din.

 

 

Rowel
Moñasque AKA ELIAS Political Instructor and Deputy secretary FC KARA, WMRPC
operating in Zamboanga del Sur received medical treatment at TABAK station
Hospital in the morning of October 25 2007. He was one of those wounded during
encounter with the elements of 53IB and 5IB, 1ID, PA at Sitio Litan,
Poblacion
Tigbao ZDS in the afternoon of October
19, 2007.

 

Serve the
People: a Mustard Seed

by: Ruel
Muñasque

 

Two weeks
before I was abducted, I just read a news article about the alarming and
increasing figures of extra-judicial killing, enforced disappearances and other
brutal human rights violations across the land. Under the blessings of “Oplan
Bantay Laya” of the US-Arroyo regime, the Armed Forces of the

Philippines

conducted a massive campaign to “neutralize” their targets. The main objective
of this new counter-insurgency campaign is to end the historical communist
revolutionary movement in the country. Sounds new but it is the same classical
method of a fascist reactionary government to defend this decadent social
system. Most of the victims have been organizers, members and leaders of legal
parliamentary struggle to uphold the basic civil rights of our people. As
peasant organizers, we planned to conduct a massive education campaign and
awareness program in our covered areas considering the fact that peasants are
among those affected by the issue of human rights violations. Together with my colleagues,
we designed a comprehensive human rights campaign where the main objective is
to expose and oppose the worsening militarization in the countrysides of
Zamboanga del Sur.

 

Unfortunately,
on October 24, 2007 around 10:00 o’clock while I was on my way to

Pagadian

City

, the bloodthirsty mercenaries of
the US-Arroyo regime abducted me. I could not forget those fascist faces aiming
their guns on me and my fellow peasant organizer who traveled with me that
night. They searched our body and took away our wallets, cellular phones and
other belongings. They blind folded, handcuffed and brought us to a place for
investigations. From almost midnight at 11:00 p.m. until 8:00 a.m. the next day
of October 25 I was subjected to the anguish of tactical interrogation and a
series of psychological torture.

 

“Serve the
People!”, this patriotic pledge echoed in my mind that night while I was in the
hands of my captors. “Is this my journey?,” I asked myself as the cold wind
that night embracesd my soul and slowly I felt fear deep inside my heart. I
knew that service to the very least of our brethren means sacrifice and
unconditional commitment and dedication. My mind searched the truth in our
cause for social transformation and genuine development for the grassroots that
we should always be willing to face all chances and obstacles along the way. “I
have seen comrades in this cause losing their families, friends and loved ones
and even others have valiantly sacrificed their own lives for the cause.”

 

That night,
I have come to realize that I am one of the victims of 181 desaparecidos in our
country and I felt like I was being buried alive. There was no way out and I
must face it because this is my chosen path to “serve the people.”

 

Servanthood
was to be just an ideal theme for our young people’s activities in the church. We
tried to live at the concept of true service to the very least of our people
that Jesus himself set as an example. Sometimes, service was a very popular
theme in our church advocacies to bring the good news to the people. But the
good news somehow cannot be heard for it is not good news to the people without
social justice and if these bloody crimes of extra-judicial killings, enforced
disappearances, harassments, torture and illegal arrests, whose common victims
were peasants, workers, and other progressive sectors, remain unresolved.

 

Yes, that
night I felt like a mustard seed that can move mountains. For me it is not just
a streak of fashion printed in our shirts but it is a pledge of undying, unconditional
love to our toiling people. The people who are in bondage under this demonic
social order.

 

 

Hope in
the grave!

 

From
October 24, until November 5, 2007 I had sleepless nights and indigestion.
Maybe it was because of mental stress due to the relentless mental torture,
psychological threats and tactical interrogation I am facing almost every day.

 

Because I was
abducted by the composite units of the 53rd IB, Military Intelligence Battalion
and Military Intelligence Group - ISAFP my tactical interrogation lasted long
because each unit will conducted separate interrogations everyday. They forced
me in a subtle way to sign an affidavit of voluntary surrender and they took pictures
with those planted and fabricated documents and a grenade with me. I felt so
humiliated and helpless…but I could not move nor I could speak the truth.

 

“Counting
days in those four gray walls inside the outpost of MIB in TABAK division
Philippine Army just like lying in my own grave.”

 

During
those days of lament, I was hopeless and tired of waiting for help. Sometimes one’s
commitment, faith, and endurance will be put to the test. Pressure and threats
were always there puncturing my soul And I heard no help inside my cold grave.

With their menacing presence, I could not help but be intimidated, they have
controlled my life, my freedom and dictates even my soul to let go of my
principles. Slowly, they pushed me to the edge.

 

“They forced
me to choose my own fate inside my grave…will I cooperate with them, go to jail
or be executed? It was a choice that would lead to my fate in this journey. I
knew that in anyone of choices, I was still a captive and there was still no
way I can be freed…”

 

Well it
would be better to “play the game” they wanted, the game of the devil was the
only choice left. A hopeless choice I was able to grab onto in a hopeless
situation where no one was there to lend a hand except by me. I was just too afraid
of my death and afraid of losing my loved ones if I did not cooperate with
them. But I didn’t want to see these criminals persecuting the people and
celebrating their evil plans at the expense of many innocent lives who just
wanted to serve for the realization of our dreams. A dream for a just and
social order where justice, peace and equality reigns.

 

Then, I
remember His verses in the Bible which says, “the Lord is my shepherd I shall
not want. He maketh me lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside the
still waters. He restoreth my soul, He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness
for his name sake, Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I
will fear no evil: for though art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort
me”. Righteousness conquers evil and I should fear neither demons nor death.

 

When I
talked to my sister on the phone, a glimmer of hope shone upon me. It was  hope that gave me courage to fight for what I
believe is for the good of our people. However, it was not easy as expected;
still there was fear and anxiety inside. Slowly, the fire started burning especially
when I knew that my family, colleagues, friends, and fellow believers were fighting
for my freedom.

 

On
November 7, 2007, I was “resurrected from the grave” when I saw my sisters,
brother-in-law, friends, lawyers, and colleagues inside the courtroom. A
miracle happened in my life after the fierce battle in the court had awakened
my soul! A battle that I myself must decide in front of my fascist abductors
who have been waiting for the fulfillment of their dirty tricks. However, the prayers
and the strength of the people who have supported me in this journey– from my
family and from our colleagues– have lighted the fire in my heart thus
empowering me to cross the borderline of liberty and death and fight for my
freedom. Even death could not separate me from the love of our people and the
love of God.

 

Being a
victim of enforced disappearance is like lying dead in my enemy’s grave. And
being freed through the Writ of Amparo is like a resurrection and redemption.
Yes, It is a miracle because the Writ of Amparo took effect on the day that I was
also taken.

 

As I
walked through the hallway of my freedom with my angels surrounding me, A bible
verse echoed in my mind that captured my heart and led me bursting into
tears…Luke 4:18…“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, He hath anointed me to
bring the gospel to the poor. He hath sent me to heal the hopeless hearted, To
preach freedom for the captives and oppressed, To bright light for those who
were blind and to set liberty to them that are bruised.” Amen…

 

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