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My Martial Law Story
(& A Tribute to Friends)

(Paper delivered at the 6th James O'Brien SJ Memorial Lecture Series,

"Remembering the Martial Law Years in the Bicol Region, 

Ateneo de Naga University [via Zoom])

I WAS assigned the rather broad topic of “Militarization and Student Activism,” with the parenthetical, “(This will include violations of human rights and all the abuses under Marcos's Leadership.)” And this comes under the overall theme of this conference, which, as we know, is “Remembering Martial Law Years in the Bicol Region.”

 

All this, of course, has a lot to do with memory, the favorite topic of fictionists and poets, and maybe not so much activists. But I guess we were activists in one form or another during these martial law years. Unless we were supporters or beneficiaries of martial law. Of this, later. That brings us to the other aspects of the discussion, which, as specified in our invitation, are: Militarization and Student Activism: [Their] Impact on Education and Culture; Socio-Economic Impact of Martial Law; Lessons Learned, and What Can Be Done.

 

That’s lot to discuss, indeed. But again, as we all know, martial law had such broad-ranging effect on our lives. Now, I think, that’s where the themes coalesce, where activists are also poets and poets activists.  

 

So, what is my personal experience of martial law?

 

Let me get ahead of myself and state that I was a “minor” activist in that I was a courier for my more “hardened” activities friends. Meaning, these are my friends or classmates who have decided to join the armed struggle in the rural areas and highlands of Bikol, and who visited the towns to recruit, to take some rest, or to meet with other activists. My job was mainly to look for safehouses for my friends. I did not do this alone, of course, but with the help of other “minor” activists. We scoured the town―my hometown Daraga, specifically― for such shelters and our activist friends moved in and out of the town with our help. It was quite a delicate job but not as “heavy” as fighting in the mountains.

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Other than my being courier and scout, I had a special skill that was quite useful during these times. I was a student writer. I edited the school organ of my college, the Divine Word College operated by the SVD in Legazpi City. Societas Verbo Divini, and again even my priest mentors had a lot to do with words or language, divine or socialist perhaps. My hometown was Daraga, but Legazpi, the city contiguous with my town, and where my school was located, I considered my second hometown. They were virtual twins; they shared a lot, including the natives who became town, city, or provincial officials; they exchanged more than goods, economics, gossip. So, I came from Daraga, I was educated in Legazpi City, my mother belonged to an old Daraga family, my father was a native of Naga City. I was a true-blue Bikolano.

 

When I was in high school our student organ was called The Dove. An innocuous name, apparently, but symbolic of divine wisdom, the Paraclete. When I was in college, I inherited from my seniors, which included the writers Toy Llaguno and Raffi Banzuela, the college paper called Outspeak. As you will notice, that is an obvious graduation in the use of language. Or in fact, it was another incarnation of the Word.

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TheJames O'Brien SJ Library Ateneo de Naga University

This is the other part of my being a minor activist. I wrote my first manifestoes during this period. I had written a rather interesting review of the first studio edition (not Broadway) of Jesus Christ Superstar, but a manifesto against the suspension of the Writ of Habeas Corpus was a different story altogether. We could publish a review of an artistic production in Outspeak, but not the manifesto: We had to mimeograph it clandestinely using the parish church’s Gestetner machine, to be distributed to church goers and the general populace. Clandestinely, of course. One was legitimate, the other had to be pamphleteered away. 

 

As editor of the college paper, and having established some network of campus writers during the College Editors Guild (CEGP) press conference here in Naga City. In this conference I fraternized made longtime friendships with ADNU Pillars editors and writers, among whom were Junio “Jun” Ragragio, Chito Irigo, Willy Trinidad, Romeo Cruz, and Val Fajardo (+). By then, I could call for an organizational meeting of campus writers right there in the office of Outspeak. Which we did. We were mapping out our actions against the Marcos regime, and the anticipated declaration of martial law. We are able to gather quite a handful of student writerS, maybe two dozens. Our activist friends were quite impressed. Among the “hardened” activists talking to me then were Junio “Jun” Ragragio, Bert “Buboy” David, Roberto “Obet” Ador, and some others I could not remember. They were all now carrying the “Ka” appellation before their names, as Ka Obet or Ka Buboy. Jun belonged to the organization Khi Rho, and Obet and Buboy to SDK, I think. That’s Samahan ng Demokratikong Kabataan, the youth arm or offshoot of Kabataang Makabayan (KM). Our keynote speaker at the CEGP conference was the handsome firebrand, Tony Tagamolila.

You will recognize the names. But something happened on the way to forum. And it was no caper of Buster Keaton. An Ajax (the activist term for government agent) was able to get hold of the attendance sheet at the student writers meeting we organized at Divine Word. Or in plain language, he (or she) stole it. We could not do much to retrieve it or to change plans because of whatever risk there was with missing attendance sheet. We had to get on with our business. And then the inevitable happened. There was a wave of arrests and my friend, the late Rogelio Get Alim, playwright and actor, and myself, were arrested in our respective campuses. Get was a college boy in Aquinas University. On the gate of DWC facing the side of the provincial Capitol, I was unceremoniously “picked up” by a sargeant and asked to sit with him in a tricycle or motorized pedicab, and whisked away to Regan Barracks, to the detention center close to the office of the Provincial Commander.

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