WE PERCEIVE this as a place where the better society locks up its
meddling menaces. Its population ranges from petty thieves, swindlers
to arsonists, murderers, kidnappers, crime lords and more. The mere
thought of being in here can make me go crazy. The night before,
I had been assigned to go there and interview political prisoners.
Here goes fear.
Earl, Jheck, and I decided to meet at the Bilibid’s facade.
I was the last one to arrive, and they were already waiting for
me together with Imelda Continente, a member of Karapatan, and wife
of Donato Continente, one of the detainees.
The security was very tight. Tough prison guards surrounded the
compound in which we were about to enter. We were thoroughly searched
three times, and to successfully bring contraband, it must be well
hidden beneath your skin. If I did not hear the chit chat of Ate
Imelda and the other guards, I would not know that we were going
to enter the Maximum Security Compound.
After lots of searching and all other safety-precaution procedures,
which assures we were 100 percent clean and we would not cause a
stir inside the compound, we got our visitor’s stamps and finally
got the chance to go inside.
New World Order
Once we reached the compound’s gate, there was a sort of a
welcoming party for us. One inmate took our hands and shook it;
cheerfully calling Earl Cesar Montano and me an action star popular
before my birth (I did not recognize what he called me).
It was a big surprise, as I expected a different greeting--a very
different one.
Not only that. A little rain fell when we were in the compound.
And as if one surprise was not enough, men with umbrellas escorted
us to our destination. I even chatted with the one with the umbrella
beside me, and asked the one with me about a commotion in the chapel
(though I knew all along what there was--a program of some sort).
We arrived at the gate of the political prisoners’ building
(they were segregated from the other prisoners), so we thanked the
men with the umbrellas, and then later saw that Ate Imelda was giving
them some coins. Now I know it was their way of saying, "Namamasko
po."
The building we were in had its own gate, and the place, according
to the prisoners themselves, was like a students' dormitory. It
had nine rooms, a receiving area for guests, a kitchen and a backyard
full of chickens and turkeys. The good thing is that they are the
only ones who inhabit the building. They also cook their food at
their kitchen. They just harness their ingredients at the NBP’s
main kitchen.
We found a couple of them already sitting in the receiving area,
and they were all ready for our arrival. The three of us (Jheck,
Earl and me) asked for a few minutes to talk. We first planned our
main questions in the backyard and also the game plan we will be
using so that both sides will be able to freely open up for better
understanding.
All of us were nervous. We foresee these people as very intelligent
individuals who purposely contradicted the government’s ideology.
They were political threats locked up to prevent them from meddling
with the administration. I just crossed my fingers.
Round One
Beforehand, we had a wrong definition of the term "political
prisoner." Political prisoners, we used to believe, are those
advocating dissenting political views. They are not necessarily
politicians. Although this contradicts a provision in the Geneva
Convention, which the Philippines signed to uphold, that the people
may choose any ideology they please, these people are still cooped
up for as little as six years to a lifetime
or even worse, until their death sentence.
In the political prisoner’s quarters, there are currently
16 men, mostly farmers and workers, accused of practicing opposing
ideology. The ones who served the most were captured as early as
the Marcos regime.
Our courts sent them to Bilibid with charges such as homicide,
robbery, kidnapping, and illegal possession of firearms, though
in their case, being political prisoners, not one was convicted
with subversion, sedition, and rebellion. These have been the cry
of the political prisoners. They have been charged of common crimes
(i.e. murder, kidnapping, etc), which wrongly associate them with
other convicted criminals. According to Mr. Continente, who answered
most of our questions, they seem to be no more than mere law offenders
when ruled with common crimes.
Also, in 1994, former Commissioner Sedfrey Ordoñez said,
“Wala nang political prisoners pero may nakakulong dahil sa
kanilang pampulitikang paniniwala," which was deeply objected
to by the political detainees.
Hope
Is there remaining hope for freedom for these individuals?
In 1991, there were 60 political prisoners in the New Bilibid Prison.
This was reduced to 30 in 1992, due to a hunger strike by the political
detainees themselves that led to reviews of their cases that either
result in freedom or lowering of sentences. Presently, human rights
movements and other non-government organizations, such as Karapatan
and Selda, help the political prisoners in appealing for the review
of the cases.
Round Two
The three of us slowed down in asking questions, which the 16 noticed.
They persuaded us to have lunch first. Thanks to their good food,
we were recharged, and quickly got back to action.
The questions in the second part of the interview were alighter
than the previous ones. So far we learned that they were updated
with the current events, be they in the social, political or national
aspect. Of course, they express their thanks to the magical powers
of the television and those who sponsor to pay their monthly bills.
Earl, Jheck and I were surprised as they were more updated on ABS-CBN’s
telenovelas, and they said that missing a single episode of one
series would immediately paint frowns in their faces.
We got to know their pasttime too, which one was making handicrafts
such as bookmarks, picture holders, cigarette holders, pencil cases
and others. They sell these to visitors, which serve as souvenirs.
We bought some stuff ourselves. Some air was also cleared, for instance
our misconception that NBP was a very riotous place, which according
to them was wrong. In fact,“Isang riot lang sa isang taon…"
One detainee even said, “Mas l igtas pa nga kami dito kaysa
sa labas. Marami kaming bodyguards."
Goodbyes
Our conversation had to end because it was already 3 p.m., when
all visitors must vacate the premises. The political prisoners took
us to a short tour of the Maximum Security compound. It was like
a small barangay,
together with the stores, billiard halls, basketball courts, tennis
courts, churches (ranging from every religion in the Philippines)
and even houses. Although the presence of gangs was at hand, being
in the Maximum Secu ritycompound wasn’t that nerve-wrecking.--now
I know.
Back outside, in my world, it seems like I’ve entered some
two-dimensional time warp or something. I am once again braving
the odds of living. And I’ve realized that not all prisoners
are society’s menaces. Maybe to some they are. But fighting
for the interest of the greater population is a cause not to be
neglected. They chose not to be passive and be awake in events taking
place in their stimuli.
I have learned many things in our little journey. And these things
encourage me to write more. But not just pour inkblots; rather write
with dignity for the interest of the majority.
