It was hot summer of 1985, I was going grade three in my elementary years, when an unforgetable experience occurred in our family.
We lived in the mountains of Balingasag, Misamis Oriental. Where I grew up, I played, had memories in my childhood years. And it was fun. I enjoyed our stay in the mountain as a family.
My parents had a farm and a buy and sell store. That's how we lived and survive living in the mountain.
Summer of 1985 came, approaching June and I was turning grade three. Our mama took the three of us, her children to the municipality proper to enroll us there for the next school year because it was not safe and secure in the mountains anymore. The military authorities, and the new people's army (NPA) were active in their battle and conflicts during those times. And so my parents planned to go downtown temporarily until peace and order will take place.
And so we were there at our grandparents house having a few weeks vacation while waiting for the next school year enrollment. Our papa was left, still in the mountain fixing and preparing to follow after us.
One evening, we were surprised to see our papa accompanied by our neighbors, battered, beaten, abused physically and mentally by our military authorities.
So battered that he couldn't even drink a cup of water in his hands. He can't move his arms towards his mouth.
Hematoma’s can be found in his body. A mark of a military boots found on his back. A hematoma in a form of a circle at his chest, that was exactly the opening of an M16 rifle being used to beat his chest.
How about the emotional abuse my father experienced and felt?
Imagine the feeling, a gun pointed right in front of your forehead. How would you feel? You might think, it's the end of everything. Then the officer pulled the trigger right there!
Lo and behold, the bullet cylinder was empty.
A joke?
It was an abuse of authority!
Not all battered, beaten, abused, imprisoned, put to death were guilty. Some were innocent people like my father.
A lesson I got from my parents. Walk away!
They transferred from the mountains to the municipality proper. And never went back.
What if my parents didn't transfer and still live in the mountains?
Maybe! We are revolutionaries now.
I thank God for leading my parents to the right decisions in life.
Today, the three of us their children, we are successful in our fields. Because of that simple act of walking away, putting on the shield and dropping the sword of revenge.
I thank God for my parents.
And God is not finished yet. The best is yet to come!
Photo Credits:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/50826080@N00/15892715615
http://www.flickr.com/photos/99752729@N06/9420983815
http://www.flickr.com/photos/64579635@N06/22575561147
