Inhuman: Maguindanao Massacre

Breaking a news of ones death to someone very close is utterly awkward and seemed inappropriate. That was exactly the atmosphere the first time an announcer got the first report of the massacre in Maguindanao, which is part of Mindanao. Just a matter of minutes after the broadcast, the wife of a certain journalist that was mentioned to have been among the victims called in and inquired for her husband. Since the incident was already aired, there was no point denying the matter on air. When she was told the truth, at once, her voice trembled and cracked into uncontrollable sobs. She was completely overwhelmed with her emotion -- an incredible sorrow that would even penetrate deep into the hearts of the listeners. At that moment, for her, it was like the world was going to end.

During my childhood until I graduated high school, Mindanao was already considered as one of the torbulent areas in the Philippines. And, at that time, the country was under the reign of President Ferdinand Marcos. The situation, however, might be true in other places, but not in my home town they called "Labason" in the province of Zamboanga del Norte.

The only hair-raising occassion that I had to run for my life was a pre-arranged training in which I really thought the rebels had already been there in our school campus:

I was an elementary student then, perhaps, 10 years old. In our town, news had spread that rebels had planned to attack our school. As a pre-cautionary measure, all of us were given trainings and lectures on what to do if the rebels would actually come. We did a lot of crawling just like a lizard, propelled by our elbows and knees and must lay flat on the ground to avoid being hit by the bullets. Running was strictly not recommended -- too dangerous, according to them. A specific warning of an eventual attack would be the successive ringing of the bell, we were told. With all those trainings and tensions, I was still doubtful that the rebels would actually come.

But, one day, in school, the teacher had just started the class, and everybody was paying attention to her, when suddenly the continuous ringing of the bell sounded in the air. At first, nobody seemed to move, just listening, but after we were relieved from the shock, like lightning everybody streams out of the door in a rush and ran as fast as we could. I saw young elementary students scampered all over the place, ranning towards every direction. To my fright even though I knew I had lost one of my slippers, but I didn't dare to pick it up, I kept on running for my life instead. I had just ran a short distance, but I was already pretty much exhausted. The road I would suppose to take was now jammed with students that I had to deviate across the muddy rice feilds until I finally reach the road leading to my home.

Later that day, we learned that it was just a mock attack to determine how elementary students would actually behave in such an event. Indeed, there was real danger, for in that stampede, I forgot as anybody else to perform any of the pre-cautionary measures we were supposed to observe. Being panic strickened, we forgot the safety rules that could have led to a disaster.