“BNARIL
C ISAIAS. PATAY NA.” I received this text message from a friend
at 10:30 p.m. on April 28 and slumped into numb shock. The air-conditioning
in the fast food chain that humid night sunk into a sickening chill.
Isaias was gone, the dissident exile from Mindoro who tirelessly
trekked around in his cap, rubber slippers, and hunched, lean frame.
Isaias, who risked sojourns throughout numerous sites of struggle,
armed only with a guitar, the strongest of principles, and the humblest
of words.
Isaias Manano Jr., Secretary-General of Anakpawis-Mindoro Oriental,
would have turned 24 last Sunday, May 16. He was shot dead allegedly
by soldiers while walking home on the evening of April 28, making
him the 74th member of progressive peoples’ organizations to
be murdered in the Southern Tagalog region since Jan. 27, 2001.
This is a tribute to a friend, activist, and an iskolar at anak
ng bayan, whose principles shall prevail in the conviction and practice
of all those bereaved by his loss.
Principled worker
I first met Jun - Isaias Drummond Caraig Manano, Jr.- during a
month-long fact-finding mission (FFM) in April 2002, which combed
communities along Mindoro Oriental’s interiors to document
human rights violations against peasant leaders by military troops.
I returned to Mindoro three years later for his wake and an inquiry
into his death. There, recollections of the activist we knew and
respected poured in. Graduating from Jose J. Leido Memorial National
High School in Calapan in 1997, Isaias took up Computer Engineering
for one semester at a state university in Batangas. Returning to
Mindoro, he finished a two-year vocational course and worked full-time.
Few of his friends and family realized then that their soft-spoken,
mild-mannered Jun would later dedicate himself to the fiercest of
advocacies.
Many believe that Isaias’ politicization was a logical consequence
of his experiences. Working at a photo studio in Cavite, at a foreign
pretzels franchise as a crew member, and at SM Manila as baggage
attendant, Isaias saw how his co-workers were subjected to unfair
labor practices and unfair treatment from the management.
Even then, bias for the oppressed guided his actions. At SM, Isaias
figured in a heated argument with his supervisor over the unfair
treatment of a co-worker. The latter threatened to fire him if he
continued to assert his side. Isaias resigned on the spot, unflinching,
in front of his boss’s face.
“Oust Erap” Baby
Back in Mindoro, Isaias joined progressive organizations. From
1998, leaders of the Student Christian Movement (SCM) and the Kalipunan
ng Kristiyanong Kabataan sa Pilipinas (KKKP) remember him as one
of the local hosts during immersion programs with Mangyan and peasant
families. He was also a church youth leader of the United Church
of Christ in the Philippines (UCCP).
In 1999, during the Estrada presidency, national unrest escalated
after weekly oil price hikes, the Visiting Forces Agreement ratification,
low wages, and deregulated educational system. Like others during
those days of disquiet, Isaias started to immerse himself in the
militancy of the peoples’ movement. He was among those who
actively campaigned for Estrada’s ouster in the provinces,
way before resistance welled up along EDSA. Isaias was there when
militant Mindoreños staged “Peoples’ Camps”
against Estrada in front of the provincial capitol in Calapan, during
the last quarter of 2000.
Afterward, Isaias’ involvement as an organizer deepened as
chairperson of Anakbayan’s Mindoro Oriental chapter. He headed
the local cultural group, Kwerdas ng Bayan, as its secretary-general
after his friend and its former secretary-general Erwin Bacarra
was killed by elements of the 2nd Scout Ranger on Aug. 1, 2001,
in the nearby district of Naujan.
Initial exits
As the political and economic situation of the province worsened,
Isaias decided to forgo school and work as a full-time activist.
This did not sit well with his parents. Isaias frequently debated
with his father, a UCCP pastor and a spiritual adviser to the provincial
governor. His mother, Erlinda, a teacher, offered to support his
studies to dissuade him.
Isaias refused this offer to continue school through mainstream
means, preferring the formal and practical pedagogy of the mass
movement. “Mas marami na akong natuturuan at naisasapraktika”
(I am able to teach more people and put into practice), he said.
“Unti-unti siyang nagpapaliwanag sa pamilya,” (He was
slowly teaching us), his mother describes how Isaias tried to make
them understand why he chose this life of struggle. She noted how
the brown leather shoes gave way to dust-coated slippers, how his
shirts would be obscured in the heap of ukay clothes he requested
for the Mangyans he visited, how his eyes began to harbor deep shadows,
reflective of the deeper change within. Only the caps he wore since
college remained.
Isaias eventually left his family and Mindoro -- a pained separation
for one who tried his best to be a supportive son and brother despite
the constraints of time and security. As it was out of the question
to come home, Isaias’ mother often had to clandestinely visit
him wherever he was.
Throughout his sojourns, however, Isaias never wavered in his love
for family and friends, for his girlfriend Ida, for his comrades
and the masses. In a letter dated June July 9, 2002, he writes to
his parents and siblings:
“Tandaan niyo na mahal na mahal ko kayo. Walang araw na hindi
ko kayo naaalala, kung kamusta na ang kalagayan ninyo. Nakikita
ko ang mga kaklase ko noon dito; ang iba ay nakatapos na ng kurso
nila. Naisip ko, iba-ibang paraan ang pagtulong sa pamilya, iba
nga lang ang aking paraan na tinahak: pagtulong sa bayan. Wala akong
ibang maipagmamalaki sa katayuan ko kundi ang pamilya natin, pamilyang
mulat sa kalagayan ng lipunan. Huwag kayong mag-alala, hindi ko
nakakalimutan si Kristo...Ang buong buhay ko ay alay sa inyo, sa
Bayan at sa Diyos.”
(Remember how much I love you. No day passes without me wondering
how you are faring. I see my classmates here; some of them have
finished college. I realized there are different ways of helping
your family and the means I chose is different – by helping
the people. I am proud of my family, a family that is aware and
responsive to what’s happening in society. Do not worry about
me, I have not forgotten Christ… My whole life is dedicated
to you, the people, and God.)
Eventually, his mother learned to accept, understand, and support
Isaias’ chosen path. “Doon siya maligaya at kailangan.
Pinili niya iyon at nagpapasalamat ako na nagpaalam siya ng mahusay”
(That is where he was happy and needed He chose that path and I
am grateful that he bid us farewell properly), she said.
Cultural worker
It was at this point in his life as an activist when I first met
him in 2002. Not only was he a patient listener and counselor. As
a cultural worker, left-handed Isaias could sing, play the guitar,
compose songs, and draw. Whenever the FFM conducted psychosocial
therapy sessions for children in distant barrios, Isaias was ready
with a smile and an arsenal of songs. Between area visits, he and
others would break into jamming sessions, singing about the people’s
struggle and cracking jokes.
I recall Isaias’ fondness for progressive films, even mainstream
productions one could utilize to interpret Philippine social realities.
“Napanood nyo na ba ang ‘Braveheart’? (Have you seen
Braveheart), he once asked. Not having watched this 1995 Mel Gibson
film (which some say inspired Chechnyan freedom fighters, too),
he narrated William Wallace’s life, the commoner-revolutionary
who sought to overthrow the prevailing feudal system in Europe.
Wallace’s execution in 1305 inspired his people to rise up
victoriously against their oppressors. Much to my amusement then,
Isaias reenacted the sequence of Wallace’s death, where executioners
exhorted him to retract and beg for mercy to save his life. Isaias
had his own “version” of how Wallace resisted and died,
valiantly shouting the word “Freeeeedooooom!”. It was
a film he would repeatedly and admiringly talk about, not because
of its technical merits, but because it was reflective of the struggle
he and many others waged.
Dissident exile
On May 28, 2002, barely a month after that FFM, Bayan Muna coordinator
Choy Napoles was killed in broad daylight by paramilitary elements
under the Army’s 204th Brigade in Calapan City. By June, Isaias
and many other Mindoro-based activists were forced to flee the island
for security purposes, becoming internal refugees like the ones
they have helped since 2001.
Exile did not deter Isaias. He attended press conferences and assisted
other internal refugees at the reservation where they temporarily
stayed in. He continued his cultural work by organizing the group
APLAYA, or Artistang Pangkultura ng Mamamalakaya sa Timog Katagalugan.
Isaias knew that the politics governing mainstream media would
not allow enough democratic space to fully expose the grim realities
they witnessed, and resisted against this by his own testimonies.
He went around the UP Diliman campus with other internal refugees
and members of the student council, conducting room-to-room discussions
on Mindoro’s military-instigated human rights violations at
the buildings of the Art and Sciences, Math, and College of Social
Work and Community Development (CSWCD). They dropped by the Collegian
office whenever they held pickets in front of the nearby Department
of Agriculture. At the CSWCD, Isaias was an educator of social realities,
whether as a guide during community immersions, or as a lecturer
during classes and educational discussions.
But far beyond Diliman, Isaias engaged in grassroots community
organizing in provinces where he was needed most. Like his parents,
Isaias proved to be a competent educator and advocate in his chosen
field. Attending to peasants, urban poor, fisherfolk and national
minorities throughout Mindoro Oriental, Romblon, and Batangas, Isaias
soon became a teacher to countless people.
I did not see Isaias often then, usually only during funerals at
that. On April 21, 2003, human rights leader Eden Marcellana and
peasant leader Eddie Gumanoy were abducted and killed by suspected
military agents in Naujan. Again, we saw Isaias at the UP Chapel
where they lay in state, in a wake filled with hundreds of mourners.
I last saw Isaias before the nationwide Oct. 18 protest against
Bush’s state visit. Rallyists from the Southern Tagalog region
arrived and set up camp in the lot behind Vinzon's Hall. The Vinzon's
building administrator previously banned the rallyists from using
its facilities, even its comfort rooms.
Ironic, how almost 500 people slept on damp newspapers or plastic
that night, while beside, the newly-renovated College of Business
Administration stood empty, its spaces devoid of occupants. Vinzon's
Hall, usually open to marginalized groups, had heavily-armed police
personnel standing sentinel at the lobby, as if guarding against
a grand heist. Isaias was scrounging for beddings for the older
protesters, now shivering from the damp earth and the rain.
“Tol, baka may mattress kaming pwedeng hiramin para sa kanila”
(Do you have a mattress we can borrow for them), he requested, weariness
in his voice. Since the police refused to let him inside Vinzons
Hall, we dragged the Kule’s foam mattress four storeys down
to them. Isaias tapped us warmly, clutching the faded blue mat as
he hurriedly trudged back into the damp, dim lot. That was the last
time I would ever see him alive.
The next morning, we woke up late at the Collegian office to see
the mattress stacked neatly beside us, quietly returned at the crack
of dawn. Four storeys down, Vinzons Hall was surrounded by hundreds
of protestors, ready for the long march ahead, red flags waving
in the wind.
Ominous events
What happened to Isaias during the last few months of his life
blurs after the tragedies occurring with alarming regularity. On
Feb. 13, Naujan Vice-Mayor and Bayan Muna member Atty. Juvy Magsino
and Leyma Fortu were murdered, reportedly by Army elements in Mindoro
Oriental while on their way home.
Isaias was one of those who went back to Mindoro that summer, despite
the “occupational hazards” of being an organizer there,
despite the certainty of harm trailing him. There, he campaigned
for the national elections as the secretary-general of the local
chapter of the party-list group Anakpawis (AP), and addressed problems
of the agricultural sector as acting secretary-general of the peasant
group Kasama-MO.
The events leading to his death are suspect, ominous, pointing
to a single perpetrator. After Presidential Security Adviser Norberto
Gonzales claimed last April that six progressive parties, including
Anakpawis, are “communist fronts,” a renewed slew of killings
and harassment in different regions swiftly followed.
After several cases that week, including the murder of AP-MO coordinator
Edwin Mascariñas, Isaias and 60 other members of a fact-finding
mission set off for Roxas, MO on April 16. There, they were severely
harassed and illegally detained by around 20 armed men. Isaias,
usually maintaining a low profile, was among those who faced the
military to negotiate for their release.
On April 18, the 204th Brigade again blocked the caravan of Anakpawis-ST
chapter in Victoria, where soldiers reportedly took pictures and
videos of them. Shortly after, Army troops were looking for Isaias
in the nearby Naujan town. The night before his death, a suspicious
man, with the same built as his killer, was seen peeping inside
his house shortly after midnight.
The day he was killed, Isaias was preparing for a peasant conference
aiming to campaign for a PhP15 per kilo increase in palay prices.
He and Anakpawis officer Guillermo Coz were in Pachoca, leaving
the house of Calapan mayoralty candidate Bodgie Ignacio, when they
noticed a man trailing them.
Coz heard a shot and Isaias’ cry out in pain. A bullet hit
Isaias in the back and exited through his stomach, causing him to
fall on the ground. The still unidentified assailant fired more
shots at Coz, who fortunately escaped. He then approached Isaias,
who was still shouting in pain, and fired a second shot at his temple.
Peoples’ martyr
It was with immense sadness and rage that family, friends and comrades
laid Isais to rest at the local cemetery on May 3. The proximity
and intensity of loss hits back hard – again – whenever
I write that Mindoro is not just a haven of tourist-infested beaches
and guileless seas, whenever we say that it is among the saddest
of islands in this archipelago of distress and disturbances.
It is a grave injustice to let his death pass by, serenely. It
was painful enough having to look calmly at the police’s photographs
of his body at the site, bloodied and lifeless, still wearing the
familiar cap. It was excruciating to note how the manner in which
Isaias was killed was suspiciously similar to all those who died
before. Unjust, how, for all these valiant activists who dared face
the enemy straight in the eye, to be killed so treacherously, without
a fair fight.
It was infinitely harder to swallow AFP’s Col. Fernando Mesa
statements, shrugging off circumstantial evidence of the military’s
involvement as merely “judgmental.” The military is innocent?
The 204th IB did not have a hand in this killing? That is an immense,
unforgivable lie. As if the four years of systematic bloodshed never
happened. As if Isaias Manano, Choy Napoles, Erwin Bacarra, Juvy
Magsino, Eden Marcellana, Leyma Fortu, Manuela and Expedito Albarillo,
Eddie Gumanoy, Bong Ternida, Nicanor delos Santos, the entire litany
of 62 principled people murdered were random “accidents”.
As if the military never had a mercenary history of being used to
quell the just dissent of a society in crisis, which all these people
dedicated their lives to.
In retrospect, Isaias’s tragic and untimely death can never
be truncated from that of the rest. These are the “terrorists”
the state unjustly sanctions the killings of, whom groups wishing
to remain in power conspire against. Any semblance of justice for
our “Jun” necessarily entails the continuity of the struggles
all of them stood and died for.
“Nay, dumami ho ang mga anak ninyo” (Mother, your children
are multiplying), Isaias used to tell his mother whenever his comrades
visited their home, a remark that takes on another significance
with his passing. I wager that our friend persists whenever and
wherever we who remain resolve to rebel against silence and seek
retribution for all the blood shed. Wherever we struggle for an
era where people are no longer silenced for their principles, because
the truths they speak make puppets tremble, because their hands,
like that of brave Isaias, can create the fiercest of signs.
