It was August 21, 1983.
I knew Ninoy was coming home, but I didn't know it was to be that day. Days before I saw the yellow ribbons tied along parts of EDSA. I heard it from an uncle and drew whatever information about it from the Marcos newspapers. The significance I knew little about. I remember Ninoy from a telecast way back in 1978. Followed by a noise barrage. But now, being a freshman in college that seemed to be an eternity ago.
"He was shot!", "They killed him!" That was what Lola Engga told my mother. Immediately after that, Mama enforced a lock down. All five of us, my sisters and brother were not allowed to go out. We tried watching TV but around 6:00 pm, there was a brownout. Nothing to do and nothing to watch. All we could do was watch from our windows and look at the darkness that descended. What we didn't fully realize was that a different and sinister darkness was already enveloping the land since 1972. We waited for electricity to return, but it didn't get restored that night.
Little did I know that the world has taken a turn, things are happening that affects me even to this day.
It was August 21, 1983.
When We Were Punks II
Pare, brownout din sa inyo?
The first words upon seeing my classmates on Aug. 22, 1983. Jojo D. was quiet only giving out his trademark half smile, half smirk. Vallar was still incoherent whenever he would relate his take on the situation. Roxas said that he caught a 1 hour window when they had power and Gen. Abadilla kept recounting on TV that his father was a "gorilla" instead of a guerilla. Clearly, us students were unaware on what will be transpiring and what we should do.
Aside from a glimmer on what our Social Studies textbook said about the "Days of Disquiet and Nights of Rage", we were Martial Law babies. We didn't know the story of the First Quarter Storm. Of the terrific battles at Mendiola Bridge, of the desperate struggle wherein the Palace Gates were breached, of the counterattack by the then Presidential Security Battalion firing Thompson submachineguns on the ground to repel the students. No we were not aware. Barely past kindergaten when democracy was snuffed out by Presidential Proclamation 1081. Having been subjected to Junior Citizen and Current Events Digest during our elementary and high school days. We were just clueless on what to do and even what to feel. But we can still sing "May bagong silang, may bago nang buhay, bagong bansa, bagong dangal sa Bagong Lipunan. Nagbabago ang Lahat, tungo sa pag-unlad at ating itanghal Bagong Lipunan..." But some would add "... madaling araw ay nagnanakaw ng manok sa kulungan. Nagising ang may-ari. Binato ng kawali! May bagong silang, may bago nang buhay...."
Such were the only forms of defiance to Martial Law that we knew back then. We didn't want to be like Ariel Ureta who was made to uproot grass at Camp Crame and bicycle the whole day "Sa Ikauunlad ng Bayan, Bisikleta (instead of Disiplina) ang Kailangan". Oh yes we heard those stories when we were little kids. Actually, I guess it replaced the aswang and kapre stories.
But we didn't know. But slowly and quietly, we remembered. They banned video games, they banned Voltes V and Mazinger Z and now they killed Ninoy too! Although fewer than our baby boomer elders, Generation X started to stir, yes we are Martial Law Babies, but the blood of Bonifacio, Rizal, Del Pilar, Mabini and heroes and martyrs also flowed in our veins. Yes, the nation is awakening. Apres moi, les deluge! After a week, a massive funeral procession transpired. Cuenca told me as the procession passed us by "Pare, this is a Turning Point".
The Sleeper Has Awakened!
