An Open Letter
24 August 2008

My reply email was interrupted by a brownout amidst my composing thoughts I wanted to convey to our readers at the Mindanews website besides Luwaran website. Hopefully someone from the editorial box of the national dailies (in particular PDI) will pick as news items warranting some space the legal views of lawyers (like me) who represent MILF as the real Party in interest across the GRP-MILF negotiating table.
The series of full page ADS in PDI 08/22/08 and PD 08/23/08 of former senate president Frank M. Drilon simplify and focus on perceived infringements to the 1987 Constitution. Those two Q & A pages make up powerful arguments for the continuing extension of what I call the “colonisibility status” of the Bangsamoro people, posing the matter of immediate infringement as a danger.

If we think rationally out of the maddening reactive anti-Moro sentiments generated by opinion-editorials and hardly balanced media coverage of the Government-MILF peace process, it makes me reflect the ‘triumph of diplomacy’ in our era of postmodern states. [N. B. this phrase is taken from the title of a book on how the Moro rulers of the Magindanaw sultanate and the Sulu sultanate had survived the era of treaty-making with Spain, an imperial power, and Holland, a commercial power, of the time and the United States up to 1916, when President Woodrow Wilson enunciated seminal ideas of the right to self determination.] Thus, there is no occasion to speak of Balkanization of this ungovernable part of the region.

Now the Country (el Pais)—Las Islas Filipinas—has just awakened to the depth of the Bangsamoro legitimate GRIEVANCES. Instead of killing the ideas—the CAUSE (or SABAB)—embodied in the MOA-AD, the representatives of Government must face up to the Agreed Text as STATECRAFT. It vindicates the JUSTNESS of the ORIGINAL POSITIONS to fix in constitutional construct. Traditional Moro negri (statehood) ‘earned sovereignty’ is encapsulated by the Republic in its present form and structure as an autonomous entity presently in existence before the family of nations since 1946.

Read more…

My Mindanao

If you frequently pass the highways of Mindanao countrysides, you will see many beautiful and quaint old structures and houses standing proud like honor guards in a parade. A magnificent view to behold, a sight that gives respite to every passing weary traveler.

It amazes me how such ancient structures can retain its beauty and still exude the aura of its past grandeur. Even when viewed only in fleeting seconds, these houses never fail to tell me something. In my mind I make up stories about the place, about the people living in that house. Perhaps it is only through our fictional reconstruction of stories about these structures and its habitues shall they be assured of longer existence. Because in most cases, they are faced with the dreadful eventuality of being demolished to give way for modern structures.

I find it saddening and disturbing all together, our proclivity of demolishing old structures in order to build new ones. In Europe and anywhere else in the world they maintain and preserve old structures not only because they serve as aesthetic monuments of anachronism, but for their sense of history and intrensic value as places of abode.

If only we learn to appreciate that houses are silent witnesses to the making of family histories. They are structures that we will always visit when we stroll down memory lane at night. We can no longer re-invent history, but we can preserve our family histories by making sure that our Homes, like those being served and protected by American Home Shield, are maintained to stand the test of time.

My Mindanao, Other Stories

According to Wikipedia, “The writing on the wall” (or sometimes ‘handwriting on the wall’) is an expression that suggests a portent of doom or misfortune.

During our Corregidor trip, we went to the ruins of what once was the Fort Mills Hospital Building. It was here, according to Jibin Arula, that their fateful unit was billeted two months before the Jabidah massacre.

We wandered aimlessly inside the belly of what seemed like the skeletal remains of a giant animal. Inside are dark, cold and damp alcoves and chambers with walls standing as silent witnesses of history. But these walls know how to speak and they tell a story.

In several rooms, we found markings on the wall, graffiti made by men who once had lived here, on earth. I thought that they were just recently scribbled, as the paint appeared to be still prominent, although the dates written on these graffiti were marked four decades ago. A few days later, after our Corregidor trip, I was surprised to find out that old photos of these graffiti were actually used as evidence presented during the Senate hearings on the Jabidah Massacre, forty years ago. As to why those graffiti appeared fresh, as if they were just written two months ago, remains a mystery to me.

It was the usual “Kilroy was here” type of graffiti, but what makes it unusual or can give you goose bumps was that they were names of some of those who perished during the Jabidah Massacre and perhaps these graffiti were even written by them. Most of the dates recorded on the walls was January 1968. By the time they were writing these graffiti, they still did not have any idea of what awaited them, two months hence.

Some of them might have even felt proud that their names found their way to the walls of a historical place like Corregidor. Perhaps they were contemplating that it would be a source of pride for them, when someday family members or friends might be able to visit this place and see their names on these walls. Indeed, under a different circumstance, their names are now made known and recorded.

My Mindanao

Seldom does a situation occur when history comes back and looks you in the face. This rare oppurtunity happened to me a week ago on the island of Corregidor. Our office was leading the rite of unveiling the commemorative marker of the Jabidah Massacre that happened in Corregidor back in March 18, 1968.

During our preparation for the event, the idea of inviting the lone survivor of that infamous massacre, Mr. Jibin Arula to grace the unveiling ceremony excited us all. But we feared that such exciting idea might turn out to be next to impossible. We never thought that it would materialize until the Mindanao Peoples Caucus found Mr. Jibin Arula and invited him to join their Caravan for Peace starting from Mindanao going all the way to Corregidor. Jibin accepted the invitation. So after forty years, Jibin Arula returned to Corregidor. And I was there when history was remade.

A young Jibin Arula being interviewed by the late Sen. Benigno Aquino in 1968. Inset photo, Jibin Arula back in Corregidor in 2008

During my College days, we have read and learned about what happened in Corregidor in 1968. My understanding of that event and its ensuing effect was even more emphasized and given deeper context in the radical milieu where I became part of during my youth in the early 80s’. We know the story about the lone survivor Jibin Arula, and how he survived. But again the tale of the Jabidah Massacre and that of Jibin Arula became stories told and retold a thousand times with varying tones and on different versions. Some of it too romanticized, others too fantastic and the rest simply lack luster like its a news report you get to read everyday. Last week, all those stories I heard before came to rest. Now I have listened to the tale of the Jabidah Massacre, as recounted by its lone survivor Mr. Jibin Arula himself, and on the very spot where it all happened.

Who could have thought, that in my lifetime I had met a character of history, in the flesh. This is one story that I’d love to tell the young when I get older.

(Photo taken from the documentary slideshow entitled “Tan-aw Mindanaw: Journey Across Time,” produced and published by the Philippine Center for Photojournalism, September 2002)

My Mindanao

Everybody knows Corregidor Island as a historic spot. Everybody knows that in this island hundreds of our gallant heroes stood their ground and died defending our country from the invading forces of Japan during World War II. Because of this historical circumstance, Corregidor Island is now a Tourist spot - a place for people to go on a memorial pilgrimage in honor of those who died heroically for our country.

But how many of us remember that on this same island, forty years ago, about two dozen Moro Youth were summarily executed by forces of the Philippine Government? This incident is now known to history as the infamous “Jabidah Massacre.”

In Brief, the Jabidah Massacre was a result of a bungled covert operation. In 1968, then President Marcos made a covert plan, codenamed OPERATION MERDEKA (Freedom), aimed at infiltrating Sabah, Malaysia to sow chaos and organize the locals of the island for an eventual invasion of Philippine forces to reclaim Sabah from Malaysia. Sabah was historically part of the Sultanate of Sulu.

A select unit of AFP officers gathered a number of Moro youth from Sulu and Tawi-Tawi to a secret military training in Corregidor. Without them knowing their mission, these Moro youth thought that they were trained for some other purpose. But after learning about their real mission, they protested and refused to follow the mission. They would not want to take part in destroying the lives of people many of whom are their relatives. Marcos and his butchers knew only of one solution that will keep this botched mission from leaking out. Batch after batch, the young Moro trainees were mercilessly slaughtered at Kindley Field , an abandoned airstrip in the island of Corregidor. Had it not for a lone survivor who was able to tell the world about the massacre, the incident would have remained unknown. This single incident sparked the resurgence of the Moro liberation movement in the 70’s. And the rest is history.
Read more…

My Mindanao