Only able to finish fifth grade in the elementary, Eduardo (name withheld) then sought ways to get him back schooling.
He knows that off school, it would be extremely hard for him to get off the snare of poverty.
Even when he was 20, he still longed to get back to school, and a promise to get him into one, plus a promise of a land to own and a house he can call his own was what got him to complicate his otherwise simple life.
A man born and raised, no, hardened by the harsh realities of depravity and the rigors of trying to help his parents make both ends meet and feed the family of 7, Eduardo still think educating himself will get him a better chance in life.
While school then was just nearby, seeing his siblings work and scour food for the family table was enough for him to temporarily keep school out of mind, to feed the body.
Born from farmer parents who only had two small paddies to work on as the only reliable supply of food for the entire year, the young Eduardo tried to master working on a field so he could help out as extra hand for other farmers.
This he did while envying students whom he would see in their smart uniforms crossing the paddies to the nearby school.
“If only we have a good piece of land,” he mused quite audibly as he fixed his mask, the threat of novel corona virus, a hot topic in the local air lanes.
“As young as 15, I could already farm, but there were also many of us in the village who could do that. If only we have a bigger land to farm, our lives would have improved by then.”
Living in a barangay in Garcia Hernandez, one with a good irrigation system and a nice agricultural extension support, Albert and his brothers have all the help they need. Except the track of land to till.
Then, in their lean hours at the farm, some members of Anakpawis would come to talk to them about their lot.
“They are very convincing, and their issues touched us to the core,” he shared as he was slowly hooked into the snare or the underground movement.
“There were meetings, we listened as speakers talked about social justice, about our deplorable situation and it ignited the spark of idealism that I had as a young man then, he recalled, his bull cap and dark shades betraying the fire that radiated from his eyes.
“First, we were asked to join a mass movement in the city. Then, there was another, and another,” he narrated, clearly drawing a painful memory he has buried among his past.
And as simple as that, Eduardo, along with a few more young men in his village bravely marched in the city, protesting, chanting motherhood statements that made them regular fixtures in rallies here.
“And then, they said we have to be very careful as we have been documented attending rallies. They said soldiers would get to our houses, arrest us and torture our families,” he went on.
For Eduardo and some of the young men in the village, the call of the hills was so strong. So there, they fled to the mountains.
“I was told that with them, I can go to school, get a piece of land and a house, which was already the best dream that I had.”
That promise also incidentally was the same promise they offered to all the young men the New People’s Army, the armed wing of the Communist Party of the Philippines, National Democratic Front (CPP-NDF).
“First, I was just helping them cook, fetch water and do odd jobs,” this as he said it was dangerous as armed men were posted guarding the camp.
A week later, Eduardo, among the youngest at 20 years old, had his first weapon, a .38 caliber pistol. His life as an armed insurgent started.
A few more days and he was married to an M16 rifle, a wife with 31 teats, one he would have to take care of.
“I waited to be told to go back to school, it did not come. Instead, I was put into a platoon doing rounds in the mountains, it was scary, good I am still alive,” he said.
Rebels often clad in black sweatshirts, supply bags on the back, some spare provisions and a rifle, still sown unmistakable fear as they get to their barangay mass base.
“Once, we were 10, all armed and holed in a small hut near a road. Another 10 stayed at the next house, and still another 10 at the house next to it. Then, there was an army patrol team, that stopped at the yard, exchanging banter with the host: an old lady. We were all locked and loaded, all that was needed was for one to get on the trigger and hell would break loose.
“One simple act of aggression we see and am sure many would die there. We were lucky nobody acted wrong.”
After a year of living in the hills, Eduardo thought he was just lucky and it would not be true at all times.
Operation after operation, Eduardo has to struggle to be tough, fending off from what is available in the hills, not really getting the fun from simple life’s joys like taking a bath, because he and his buddy has to be alert all the time.
This, he mused, was not what he dreamt of when he joined the group.
Seeing a chance to escape, he accordingly left his weapons to the group and asked to take a short leave from the mountain lair, to go to his parents during their town fiesta.
That same day, he escaped to his brother in Cagayan de Oro, and then to Misamis Oriental, if only to get away from the rebels, and the military intelligence operatives who were always on his heels.
“I was helping tend a store in Cogon market, when an familiar face came up and asked how much for a grated coconut. I knew I saw that face before, I panicked.”
“I found a good excuse and fled off to Misamis again.”
Months passed and he realized he could not hide any longer. He returned to his home in Garcia Hernandez, always afraid that he could be arrested. Or killed. But he has to do that.
“I could not sleep well, I would be always ready to jump and flee every time I sense danger,” Eduardo, who eventually got his conscience catching up on him confessed.
Seeing that life in the lowlands, no matter how hard, was a life more pleasant than a in the hills, Eduardo, slowly learned things school may not immediately tell.
By 2019, Eduardo finally surrendered to the army authorities and begged to be kept safe from the rebels who may look for him.
With the government now, he heard how authorities assured of a better life for rebel returnees.
But, opting to be free from the communist bond has for Eduardo, some takebacks.
Living far away from the rebels and his family, he was left now without a source of livelihood. He would have to find a way to survive and be productive.
In, came the Department of Social Welfare and Development in Central Visayas which had him into its livelihood assistance program.
The DSWD pooled some P1.6 million in financial and livelihood aid to rebel returnees, according to Bohol DSWD authorities.
Eduardo was among the 25 former rebels in Central Visayas who heeded to the call to end local communist armed conflicts got into the program, finally giving up the fight for the lost cause.
The government has promised a package of social integration packages through the DSWD, for former rebels.
Getting P6K from the government, Eduardo, who opted to stay away from his home town, started a pig fattening business, one that allows him a meager income for his personal supplies.
While in the halfway house, he also joined over a hundred former rebels, soldiers and town folks getting free training from the government’s technical training institute.
“To make our chances of getting more reliable livelihood, 25 of us joined Masonry and Carpentry training offered by the Technical Education and Skills Development Authority,” illustrating his newfound hope.
“Wives of other rebel returnees also trained in cooking and bread and pastry, to get new skills and maybe use them to live permanently on hardwork,” he added.
A few months later, with the government’s enhanced comprehensive local integration program (E-CLIP), Eduardo has seen a much better future.
“Having qualified in the program, rebel returnees get safety and security guarantees, gest relocation support and an immediate financial assistance of P15,000 for mobilization while applying for the ECLIP,” according to Elma Grace Remonde, Civil Military Operations Officer and one of Eduardo’s military caretakers in Bohol.
“Such,” the official said, “is expressed in the ECLIP joint MC.”
While in the interim and while he was staying in a halfway house while applying for the program, the returnee also has P7K in reintegration assistance given to the unit which takes care of the applicant while in the safe house.
“I gave a little bit of money to my parents, they are sick and I am now helping them buy medicines,” he shared as he grabbed a broom and washed the pigpen where three piglets form part of his opted livelihood from the government’s livelihood assistance package.
In between these tasks, he also takes care of a nearby duck pen, one which has some month-old ducklings, a hatchling corral and some layers.
“I like it here, much more than surviving on the fear of people,” he said.
How does a future look for Eduardo?
“Slowly but surely, I’ll heap on skills for a decent working man, find a job that can feed a wife and kids, help my family and the government,” he bared.
Looking out to a wide expanse of rice fields here in a place far from home, Eduardo doesn’t have to be wary now. When he used to take long alternative routes that cross a rice field where he is exposed to some military scouts looking for them, now he can only wish he could strike a deal with land-owners for him to till a patch, and usher in him the resolve to finally bask in the warmth of democracy.
He may have missed basic school, but the 38 years old kanhi rebelde (KR) is now kauban sa reporma, looking out for ways to be useful to a society that is now more than resolved to end a war where the poor are always the victims. (rahc/PIA-7/Bohol)
No comments:
Post a Comment