The color yellow

MANILA, Philippines - Tie a yellow ribbon ’round the old oak tree, It’s been three long years, Do you still want me?

He came home, after three long years in exile, to an uncertain life. At best, he would be put under house arrest; he could again be thrown into prison; or, at worst, he would meet an assassin’s bullet. He came home anyway, ready for whatever Fate would have in store for him, swept by the tides of destiny, because he believed he could do something for his people that he said were worth dying for. But, after three long years, would they still want him?

Ninoy Aquino did not live to see the resounding “Yes!” in answer to that question. He died without seeing the city bursting forth in yellow ribbons – a hundred, a thousand, then hundreds of thousands of yellow ribbons that said yes, we still want you; that would color the country for the next two and a half years, first to welcome him, then to mourn him, then to remember him, until finally, the yellow ribbons came to mean freedom and democracy fought and regained for the country and the people he gave his life for.

A few days after he was killed, his widow Cory and his children Ballsy, Pinky, Noynoy, Viel, and Kris came home to a sea of yellow. Black may be the traditional color of mourning, but yellow came to be the color of the masses who walked past Ninoy’s casket lying in state at the Sto. Domingo church in Quezon City, yellow the color of the two million people who lined the streets in the largest funeral procession the country had ever seen, and yellow the color of a people longing for freedom from tyranny.

Then yellow became, ironically, the color of courage, as people took to the streets, held rallies, raised banners and placards, rained endless showers of confetti to protest the dictatorship and its abuses.

In the midst of all this was a woman, a most unlikely leader, a genteel and gentle woman whose inner steel belied her housewifely demeanor, whose personal faith gave her the courage to stand up to a dictator and all the resources of the state at his disposal – and win.

Cory Aquino was truly one of a kind – there has never been and probably never will be another like her. She never sought it, never even wanted it, but she was the one destiny called, the only one who could fill the void of leadership that the country needed at that hour. Her presidency was not perfect, but there was no one else who could have been president at that time.

For the past several weeks, as she lay on her hospital bed battling cancer, yellow ribbons again began to sprout all over the land. From the jeepneys in Bacood, Sta. Mesa with ribbons fashioned from yellow grocery bags to yellow ribbons tied to rearview and side mirrors of SUVs and luxury sedans; from trees suddenly sprouting more yellow leaves than green to fences and gates all sunshiny yellow, people from all walks of life stood up to show support, to say to her and to her family, “Hindi ka nag-iisa” as they said to Ninoy over a quarter of a century ago, “Ninoy, hindi ka nag-iisa.”

President Cory once said that she was luckier than Ninoy because she was able to see the overwhelming support manifested by mammoth crowds and all those yellow ribbons. This time around she may not see them, but we tie the yellow ribbons round the trees and posts and from our windows and cars and fences just to stand by her, to tip our hats off to her, and to say thank you, President Cory, for being the best that the Filipino could be.

We join the nation in mourning the passing of President Cory, and we dedicate this issue to her as our humble tribute.