Memories of a post-Edsa rallyist

First was the STFAP.  Next was the US bases. I was a third-year student when the issue of the ratification of a new RP-US bases treaty came up. I particularly remembered a very big multi-sectoral mobilization along Kalaw Street participated in by various schools, labor and farmers’ organizations. We were stopped by the police on the way to the US Embassy. It was really just the usual rally for me with my sorority sisters, except for one thing that I only found out after I had graduated from college.  

As the story went, my mom and my grandfather had just come out of the Manila Doctors’ Hospital after a checkup. They watched as the rallyists came marching by and, as my mom curiously gazed upon the white and maroon UP flag, lo and behold — she saw me, her eldest daughter, all bronzed under the sun, marching with a tubao wrapped around my head, and chanting “No to the US bases!”  In shock, she found herself crying. She immediately ran to the nearest payphone to call my dad. Little did she know that my dad, as usual, knew that I was going to be in that rally! It was only much later that she told me about that episode and how her friends would jokingly chide her for influencing me early in life with the anti-Marcos Luneta picnic rallies we used to attend as a family.

Speaking of picnics, rallies stopped being a picnic for me with the US bases issue. Except for that Kalaw rally, all other US bases rallies I attended ended in violent dispersal. I guess violence itself was part and parcel of the crowd control policy.  

It was in March 1991 that UP held the historic Lakbayan, a three-day march from the UP Diliman campus to the Clark Airbase in Pampanga. Never had I walked or marched that far in my entire life.  On foot, we traversed the length of MacArthur Highway, chanting slogans and distributing leaflets under the hot summer sun. On the second day, I had to commute back to Diliman to take a final exam, then return the next day to join the contingent, which had already reached Clark Airbase.

It was there that we were stopped about several hundred meters away from the main gate of the base. At the end of the long, exhausting trip on foot, students simply wanted to place a symbolic closure order at the front gate, but the guards would simply not allow it. And just as the police and the front liners were slugging it out in front, suddenly, big rocks came flying from the sidewalks!  They were thrown by the nearby residents, who were naturally pro-bases! We all ran until we reached MacArthur Highway and, after making sure that everybody was all right, we climbed inside the rented buses that would bring us back home to Diliman.  

My roommates at the Kamia Hall almost did not recognize me when they saw a very bronzed girl limping back into our room!  

But the most emotionally memorable anti-US bases rally for me was the one held near the Sheraton Hotel in Pasay in the summer of 1991. There was an RP-US treaty negotiations meeting held at the Central Bank building and a mobilization was called by UP. At that time, I was taking summer classes for half days and I commuted on my way home to Cavite every day. The schedule was just perfect: I could join the rally after lunch, then go straight home.

We boarded the rented jeepneys and got dropped off at Taft Avenue, near De La Salle University. There were just about a hundred of us. We had just passed by the Rizal Memorial Stadium when the riot police stopped us in front of the Sheraton. And the Central Bank building was still two blocks away!  

Of course, the students were agitated by the very tight security being provided by the riot police. There were a lot of pushing and shoving, with the frat men at the front lines, and, before I knew it, I heard a lot of popping and yellow smoke filled the streets. Teargas!

I ran as fast as I could while the yellow smoke seemed to permeate my eyes and the insides of my skin. It simply burned my skin and eyes! I never felt anything like that before in my life and I was really terrified! I and the other female rallyists then saw a carinderia by the sidewalk and quickly went inside. The first thing we saw was a small gray pail of water and, instinctively, we immediately splashed it against our faces, neck and arms. Whew! Each drop of water felt like heaven!  

The others were not as lucky. Aside from teargas, the riot police also used truncheons and water hoses to disperse the rallyists. Inthe process, a female rallyist was badly hurt. And I well remember the image of a water-drenched fraternity brod carrying her, pieta-style, while walking down the street. That dramatic moment was captured in a black-and-white photo and was later used by the Sandigan para sa Mag-aaral at Sambayanan (SAMASA) in its thematic campaign poster for the next University Student Council (USC) elections in which I ran as university councilor.  

After my first taste of violent dispersal, I told myself that fear would not hold me back from attending rallies again and I vowed to conquer that fear by joining the next round of anti-US bases rally. After two weeks, I found myself joining another Kalaw rally on the way to the US Embassy and, true enough, we were again dispersed by the riot police! Although I felt great fear in my heart, I just held on to my sorority sister, who was also my rally buddy, as we ran as fast as we could, cutting through Luneta Park and passing by Manila City Hall. As we entered the gates of the National Press Club, I just felt so victorious, for I knew that nothing, not even teargas nor truncheons, would make me waver in my conviction to oust the US bases.

The rest is history. On September 16, 1991, I was at the footsteps of the National Museum as the Senate voted to reject the bases treaty with the US. There was not much action, unlike the usual anti-US bases rallies. The mood was actually light and jovial. We all just waited for the Senators to cast and explain their votes. Then, it was all over when Senate President Jovito Salonga announced that the treaty had been defeated. We simply hugged each other and cried.  For that one moment, I was, indeed, very proud to be a Filipino who had taken part in that historic decision to reclaim our independence and pride as a people.  

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