20. I AM PROUD TO BE A FILIPINO: The People Power Experience

I AM PROUD TO BE A FILIPINO:
The People Power Experience
Troy Alexander G. Miano, DPA

22 February 2008

The book, An Eyewitness History, People Power, the Philippine Revolution of 1986 published by the James B. Reuter, S.J. Foundation in Manila, inspired me to write my personal experience of the Edsa Revolution. I was eleven years old when this historic experience unfolded before my very eyes. Having activist parents paved the way for me to be ever conscious with history.

I Am Proud To Be A Filipino reminisces the past and my personal journey towards being a full blooded Filipino. News on the day to day event from February 22 to 25 were included to update the narrations.

The peaceful Revolution gained respect around the globe. To quote Mr. Bob Simon, anchorman of the CBS News - New York; “This could be as close as the 20th century has come to the storming of Bastille. But what’s remarkable is how little violence there has been. We Americans like to think that we taught Filipinos democracy – well tonight, they’re teaching the world.”

My childhood years were filled with not only playful memories but also with touches of real life stories which would later be a part of our nation’s history. Born almost two years after the declaration of Proclamation No. 1081 on September 21, 1972, local folks branded me as a martial law baby. My parents were young activists before they met in the metropolis. My Mom, while teaching at the La Salette College, was a street parliamentarian in Santiago, Isabela together with 1971 Constitutional Convention Delegate Heherson T. Alvarez (who would later become senator). My Dad was a radio commentator in Calbayog City, Samar, together with his brother Felimon Jr. and his cousin Ricardo P. Avelino, a grandson of Senate President Jose D. Avelino. He was “invited”but was imprisoned instead at Camp Vicente Lim in the capital-town of Catbalogan hours after the implementation of martial rule. He was later released from “istaked” and went to Manila where she met my Mom. As I grew up in this era, I could recall my parents joining a noise barrage on January 17, 1981 right near our rented apartment in Kamias, Quezon City only to realize years later that Proclamation No. 2045 was signed that day ending eight years and four months of martial law in the Philippines.

Then the death of Ninoy Aquino came on August 21, 1983. I was one of the youngsters who lined up in the wake and joined in the funeral march of the fallen martyr. After which, my parents would regularly tag me to Luneta and Ayala Avenue in Makati to grace the impromptu demonstrations of Ninoy’s widow – Cory.

Then there was a snap presidential election. This was my first encounter with a first hand political campaign. I chanted and virtually sang the popular opposition slogans: “Tama na, sobra na, palitan na!” (“Enough is enough, - change them!”) and “Ituloy ang laban ni Ninoy!” (Continue Ninoy’s fight!”). My Mom went home to Cabatuan, Isabela and campaigned hard for the Cory-Doy (Laurel) ticket together with Mr. Gregorio G. Isidro.

After the elections, we went back to Manila. I was confused and afraid why there was mayhem everywhere. Our class in Ateneo attended the wake of former Governor Evelio Javier, Jr. at the Ateneo grounds in Quezon City. Javier was shot dead in the capital town of San Jose de Buenavista on February 11 while protecting the election returns of Antique province. This was the first time I saw my president Cory Aquino dressed in fashionable yellow, the official color of the opposition, who attended the wake and comforted Javier’s wife.

The election result was puzzling for me. There were two victors. My president, who won by a margin of around 800,000 votes as per National Movement for Free Elections (Namfrel) quick count at the La Salle Greenhills in Mandaluyong and the tyrant who won in the so-called “official” tallies tabulated at the Philippine International Convention Center. The bewildering scenario created anarchy. On Sunday, February 16, my Dad and I were one of the millions who attended the huge rally in Luneta. I remember, he even instructed me to lie down face on the ground once I hear gunshots and explosions. The Catholic Bishops Conference of the Philippines’ (CBCP) pastoral letter and Cory called for a peaceful non-violent civil disobedience movement boycotting crony owned media and commercial products.

Day 1 – February 22, Saturday. At past ten in the evening, I was waiting for my Dad to fetch me after my participation in the stage zarzuela “Kuwentong Baboy” at the Ateneo Children’s Theatre. It was already past midnight and I was the only one left in the grade school campus and the security personnel brought me to the guard house in gate 2. I noticed that the two guards were listening attentively to their mini radio cassette. Moments later, my Dad arrived and conversed with the guards. The three men looked very worried which made me curious and began asking what was going on. Instead of heading home, we went to the house of Bienvenido C. Teoco (who would later become vice governor of Samar) in Alta Vista along Katipunan Road. Calbayognon activists were gathered as they assessed the situation. I overheard that Defense Minister Juan Ponce Enrile (who would later become Senate President) and Armed Forces Deputy Chief of Staff and Philippine Constabulary Chief, Lieutenant General Fidel V. Ramos (who would later become the twelfth president of the Philippines) defected from the government and were seeking refuge at Camps Crame and Aguinaldo in Edsa (Epifanio delos Santos Avenue). Frankly, I didn’t care much about the defection for I thought it’s just one of the many commotions created by the recent elections.

I had heard and read in the news later that Enrile and Ramos broke away from the Marcos regime. They said they were not out to seize power but rather, to return it to the people in the person of Cory Aquino, whom they recognize as the rightfully elected president. Manila Archbishop Jaime Cardinal Sin responded to the plea of the two rebel leaders for people’s support through Radio Veritas anchored by June Keithly. The religious started to arrive at the two camps. The people barricaded the area and later prayed and conducted an endless vigil.

Day 2 – February 23, Sunday. I tagged along with my Dad, relatives and neighbors in Galas in Quezon City who went to Edsa. We reached the Cubao-Edsa intersection and walked our way to Ortigas Avenue. We witnessed people cutting trees and barricading them in the middle of the highway. Other boulders and even vehicles were used to block the road. My uncle, who was a visual artist and was indulged in the t-shirt printing business, started lay-outing and printing nationalistic quotes and designs at the sidewalks of Edsa to immortalize the situation.

Before we left home, my parents were debating on who would go first to Edsa. My Dad didn’t like the idea of joining the rally together. He feared of what would happen to us, their children, in case both of them were killed in a possible pandemonium. They agreed to alternately join the rally with me. I never felt fatigue though my foot was killing me. I enjoyed the scenario of so many people not realizing that I was in a very dangerous situation. The kundiman, Bayan Ko, was regularly sang. The murmur of prayers from different sects can be heard everywhere. Statues of the Blessed Virgin Mary were a normal fixture in all angles of Edsa. Metro Manila’s main thoroughfare virtually became a big marketplace where drinks, street food, cheap clothing, caps, visors, yellow pins and ribbons, cushion Laban signs and other souvenirs can be bought. There was food everywhere as donations poured and the chow was distributed in all directions. A person taking pictures was a very regular scene as many wanted to have a souvenir of history in the making. My maternal grandfather, Rafael M. Gozum, Sr. (the first elected municipal mayor of our town) who happened to be in Manila, was lost in the mammoth crowd and we learned later that he dozed off and slept inside a public utility jeepney parked near the walls of Camp Crame. Before darkness came, we headed for home.

As I learned later, armed men destroyed the Radio Veritas transmitter. The station shifted to its standby transmitter but did not last long. Veritas was the only link between the people of the metropolis and the countryside giving coverage of what was happening in Edsa. People kept coming in Edsa by the tens of thousands forming human barricades. Sunday masses were held on the highway. The marine contingent of tanks and Armored Personnel Carriers (APC) headed by General Artemio Tadiar arrived and threatened to fire but the people stood their ground. With priests and nuns at the lead, the throng recited the rosary, offered the soldiers candies, cigarettes and flowers and persuaded them to join the revolution. Reviving their engines, the soldiers edged their war machines forward, but the people would not retreat. A number placed their bodies in the direct path of the tanks and pressed themselves against the metal plates. The marines backed down without firing a single shot.

Day 3 – February 24, Monday. I was informed that we have no classes. Naturally, I would have been happy for kids like me usually pray for typhoons and a hundred more reasons not to have classes especially on a Monday. Instead, I was a bit nervous and was very eager as well when my Dad brought me to Edsa again. After some photo shots near Camp Crame, Dad and I went home. Upon reaching the apartment, Mom left for Edsa to offer her patriotic duties.

In the news, people got hold of radio station DZRJ after midnight. Keeping the location secret, they called it DZRB or Radio Bandido. Early in the morning, rumors swept the street barricades that Marcos had left the country. People erupted in joy but later found that the news was false. Marcos appeared live on government television to say that he was in control. The live telecast was cut short as the rebel forces took the government Channel 4 exactly when Marcos was on air. The historic first telecast of the liberated Channel 4 was done at one in the afternoon.

Monday was a day of major defections. The commander of the 15th Strike Wing, Colonel Antonio Sotelo and 16 combat ready pilots landed one by one inside Camp Crame amid instant jubilation. They later fired at various points around Malacañang as a warning, destroyed the three presidential helicopters in Villamor Airbase and provided air cover to the rebels who took Channel 4. Aside from the gunships, the defections included the 3rd Marine Brigade Commander Rodolfo Biazon (who would later become senator) who came from Davao City with 600 of his men and staff officers as the crowd disturbance control unit of the Marines who were ordered to assault Camp Crame at dawn this day. By afternoon, General Ramos claimed that over 50 percent of the armed forces had shift to the rebel’s side.

Day 4 – February 25, Tuesday. I woke up early and expected that we won’t be having classes. I asked my neighbors if they would be heading for Edsa so I could join them. I believed that the enormous gathering of people will not subside unless President Marcos leaves. But my parents decided that we stay home and just listen to our small radios for updates. Dad was thinking that Marcos was already furious and that he would shift on dispersing the crowd in the worst possible manner. My Dad was wrong for the miracle of the Blessed Virgin Mary hovered around Edsa and tamed the tyrant and his dogs.

News came that Corazon C. Aquino was sworn in as the eleventh president of the Philippines at Club Filipino in Greenhills, San Juan before Justice Claudio Teehankee. Marcos held his own live TV inauguration in Malacañang but went off the air as rebel soldiers had taken over the transmitter tower of Channels 2, 9 & 13. Deprived of television, Marcos had finally lost control.

Early in the evening, news came that the Marcos family have left the palace. My Dad, Mom and an uncle together with our neighbors hurriedly dressed up and walked our way from Balic-Balic to Nagtahan. We were like sardines in a can as we inched our way through J.P. Laurel Street going to Malacañang. As the road widened past St. Jude Church we had pictures with marine soldiers one of which where I posed on top of a tank. People were jubilant and were jumping around while others were full of tears of joy. As we reached the palace grounds, rebel soldiers with yellow arm bands cordoned the area because of news that booby traps and land mines were positioned by the loyalists before they left. It was about midnight when we rested under an old tree within the palace grounds where the Imelda collection of orchids was situated. Tired and weary, I fell asleep on my Mom’s lap. Later, my Dad carried me as we headed for home. We passed by the historic Mendiola Bridge (now Don Chino Roces Bridge) where many protests, marches and demonstrations were held during the Marcos era. I awoke and took time to cut barb wires for souvenirs.

In the books that were later published, I learned that Marcos attempted to negotiate with Enrile offering to share power with him in a provisional government but the latter declined the offer. Marcos turned to his U.S. allies but was told “to cut, and cut cleanly.” He then requested Enrile for a safe passage for his family. At nine in the evening, U.S. helicopters transported the Marcos party from Malacañang to Clark Airbase in Pampanga. The next day, they headed for Guam then to Hawaii.

Marcos’ relinquish of power made the Filipinos regain not only their liberty but their pride, not only freedom but dignity, not only honor but the respect of other men. The death of former Senator Benigno S. Aquino, Jr. in 1983 woke up the Filipino in me while the People Power Revolution of 1986 made me more a Filipino. I am proud to be a Filipino.