This is a true Filipino Horror Story.
It happened to me.
In Cotabato.
It was 1974. Martial Law was raging.
I was new to Mindanao, doing theatre. Unlike many artists during that time (there are still many of them today) whose running battle-cry was "Bring theater and the arts to the masses", I was rediscovering with the members of the Sining Kambayoka of the Mindanao State University in Marawi the aesthetics of indigenous art and culture and utilizing them in our productions. One of these was the "Konsiyerto sa Dapithapon”, a showcase of our regular workshops.
Merle Daguinsin, a teacher from Sangley Point Cavite then connected with MSU-Dinaig in Maguindanao, watched one of these improvised shows from our workshops and was so impressed she immediately invited me to conduct a workshop where she was teaching.
In November 1974, I flew to Cotabato from Iligan with Kambayoka workshop facilitators Arthur Casanova, Rudy Galvez, and Nazzir Abbas. The plane, always late, surprisingly arrived early at the Awang Airport in Cotabato. There was no one there to pick us up and not knowing where MSU-Dinaig was, we decided to go straight to Cotabato City for a quick lunch and to get a ride from there to Dinaig. While experiencing my first taste of "pastil," a local meal of rice and shredded chicken wrapped in banana leaves, we learned that the last jeepney ride to Dinaig (a distance of more or less 1 and 1/2 hours) left at 2 pm and we were already running late. Nazzir, who spoke the language, overheard three men conversing at the next table. They had a truck, a six-by-six, and they were heading to Dinaig after eating. We jumped at the opportunity and asked if we could hitchhike to MSU. They so graciously said yes if it was okey for the four of us to stand at back of the open truck. There was no choice, so off to Dinaig we rode with them.
It was then that we realized that Dinaig was going right from the airport while Cotabato was going left so that we were going back from where we started. It was Martial Law and there were military checkpoints in every kilometer, and we stopped at least four times going to the city and expected the same going back. Only it was worse the way back because of the 2 pm restrictions.
In every checkpoint, all seven of us got out of the vehicle and were frisked for any hidden firearm. It was at first amusing but became irritating later. Then we stopped at the checkpoint before the long bridge going to the airport and traversed the bridge at a regular speed going to another checkpoint at the other side where I saw the soldiers smiling and nodding as we approached them. Our truck did not stop and our driver just moved past them. The four of us who were riding at the back panicked when we saw the soldiers point their machine guns and fired at us.
“Para! Para!" I shouted at the top of my lungs as all us ducked on the floor of the moving truck which of course abruptly stopped we almost fell off.
The soldiers angrily accosted us all, frisking us. It seemed the whole platoon came over to investigate, mouthing the usual Martial Law questions.
"Komunista kayo, ano? NPA? Rebelde? Aktibista?"
All four of us were ashen-faced, including the driver and his two companions.
"Teacher ako. Estudyante sila." I got the courage to speak up. "Punta kami sa MSU-Dinaig."
"Uyy, Bai! Tagalog! Dayo!" the soldier shouted in glee pointing at me. "Tiyak spy!"
I mustered the courage to humor him. "Bayot 'ko. May bayot bang spy?"
"Uyy! Si Dolphy! Nagko-comedy!"
He then pointed at Nazzir Abbas who was sporting shoulder-length hair.
"Hoy, ikaw! Kaya ba long-hair ka?"
Nazzir did not move nor utter a word. I knew he was seething with anger inside.
"Artista ko siya sa stage play," I said.
"Jesus Christ, Superstar!," he shouted shockingly looking at how gaunty-looking Nazzir was. I was more shocked at the notion that this nincompoop of a soldier even knew of the popular musical.
"Muslim ako," was all Nazzir could say.
"Saba diha." Arthur whispered to us nervously, as usual preferring to be silent.
At that point, we saw our clothes and underwear flying in air above us as the soldiers were inspecting our bags.
Four of the soldiers simultaneously shouted upon discovery of "something" in our bags.
"May laman," they shouted. "Granada!"
I immediately knew what they meant. The Sining Kambayoka at the time had an "ex-deal" with Beautifont, the leading beauty products then through Merlito "Len" Santos. In exchange for publicity (we regularly appeared in newspapers and magazines through press releases sent to "society" editors), Beautifont gave each Kambayoka member, male or female, a set of makeup kit and perfume. For the boys, it was Lord Wally with a wooden package shaped like a grenade.
The soldiers got to keep them in lieu of our freedom.
We arrived at MSU-Dinaig before dusk. I told Merle Daguinsin about the incident and in a hushed voice she told us to just keep it to ourselves.
"Martial Law," she said. "Sila ang boss."
There was no hotel in town and the four of us were billeted at the spacious house of the Mayor of Dinaig, Datu Odin Sinsuat, who I thought looked like Onassis of Greece. He was a gracious man, very accommodating, and took pride of the gains of Martial Law.
"Disiplina ang kailangan para umasenso ang bayan," he told me as if it were an effective mantra. I kept my mouth shut which of course surprised me.
The three-day workshop at MSU-Dinaig was so successful the Culminating Showcase was done at the town plaza where all the barangays had representatives coming to watch. I remember being asked to give a number and had the chutzpah to sing "Till Tomorrow" by Don Maclean accompanying myself with a guitar borrowed from Merle Daguinsin's student.
We were all scheduled to leave MSU-Dinaig on November 30, 1974. Rudy Galvez opted to go to Davao to visit his family while Nazzir Abbas decided to take a land trip to Malabang, Lanao del Sur. Only Arthur Casanova and I were left to shop for native baskets and beautiful double-knit mats and fish traps and Maguindanao malongs spending almost everything from the honoraria we got from the workshop. We were lucky it was market day.
After lunch that day, Merle Daguinsin and her co-teachers accompanied us to Awang Airport in Cotabato. The checkpoints going there were as horrible as before but would pale in comparison to the horror that happened at the airport when we finally got there. Arthur and I were booked for the 3 pm PAL Flight to Iligan and we were there before the check-in counters closed. As we checked in, I noticed our check-in items which we painstakingly chose at the market from the other products and paid good money for were just being thrown around carelessly as if they were cheap goods ready to be discarded. That got my goat.
"Careful! I paid good money for those," I shouted. I must have projected my voice so well (aktor-aktoran kasi) that everything seemed to stand still and there was a moment of intense silence. Then a couple of burly soldiers who must be at least in their early 30s, several years older than I was, just swooped at me and pushed me to the floor.
"Yawa! Kinsa 'tong ingliserong komunista?" the bigger one said. His voice was nearly as loud as mine, he must have trained under either Severino Montano or Rolando Tinio.
"Aaaw! Oouch!" I was shocked and hurt.
"Aguy! Pati aray iniingles!" the other one said cocking his revolver.
"Alam n'yong masakit 'yun," I hissed back.
"Tama na, Frank," it was Arthur. "Huwag kang sagot nang sagot."
By this time people at the airport were milling around us. Merle Daguinsin and the other MSU-Dinaig teachers were crying and asking the other soldiers to intercede.
"Tama na po. Please, bisita namin 'yan!"
"Walang bisi-bisita kung walang disiplina!" they barked back.
"I.D.?" the one with the gun shouted.
I scampered for my ID from my pockets and showed them.
"Agay! At taga-MSU Main Campus pala. Komunista nga," the first soldier declared.
"Hijacker ka, ano?," the other one said. "Saan mo dadalhin ang eroplano, kay Mao Tsi Tung?"
The other soldiers were also by then already ransacking my bags and the checked-in items.
Merle and the other teachers had no choice but to cry.
"Hubad!" both soldiers have their guns now pointed at me. There was silence. I looked at the soldier who said, "Hubad sabi!"
People around gasped.
"I am not joking you know," the soldier said in a heavily accepted voice with every single syllable pronounced as if to say, "Akala mo ikaw lang ang marunong mag-Ingles."
"Hubad!"
I nervously took off my shirt.
"All passengers bound for Iligan may board now at Gate 1" was announced.
I caught Arthur's eyes looking at me frightened as hell. There was nothing I could do but signal him to go ahead. Merle and the other teachers howled louder as Arthur left. I thought I heard him say, "Bahala kayo kay Frank."
"Flight ko 'yun," I heard myself saying.
"Ano ka, sinusuwerti? Hubad sabi!" the soldier was beyond himself and logic. "Hubad lahat!"
He poked his revolver on my forehead.
I slowly took off my pair of Levis.
"Yabang! Levis-Levis ka, komunista naman!"
I was down kneeling on the cemented floor at the center of the 3 pm crowd only in my briefs.
It would be a most unflattering way to go.
"Ano 'yan - brief? Galing sa PX? Hubarin 'yan!"
There was nary a sound as I pulled down my underwear but before I could completely take them off -- Datu Odin Sinsuat came faster than lightning, slapped the two soldiers in their faces, confiscated their guns, and at the top of his command shouted, "Yawa! Bilat inamo! Bisita ko 'yan! Edukado!"
"Komunista. Walang discipline," the first soldier tried reasoning out.
He got his second punch from the good mayor.
"Hindi mo ba nakikita? Bayot 'to," Datu Odin Sinsuat declared emphatically. Then turned to me and gently said, "Pasaylo, Frank. Pag-ilis na. Maiiwan ka ng flight mo."
I grabbed my clothes and in a flash, put them on, and before running to the gate, I turned to Datu Odin Sinsuat and said, "Shukran!" He wasn't the small and lanky old man that I thought he was. He stood much, much taller than the burly soldiers who by then looked like insignificant cultist kowtowing to their god.
Merle and the teachers were profusely waving their hands. I could only wave back and say "Thank you."
I saw the PAL plane door closing as I ran to it shouting, "Wait! Wait!"
The stewardess who was by the door recognized me as the harassed passenger and waited. She just wryly smiled at me when I boarded and sat at the first empty seat I found trying to look where Arthur was.
The plane started moving as the stewardess showed how to use the equipment for emergency. I tried standing to see where Arthur was. He was nowhere. I shuddered. I asked the stewardess where this plane was heading. She said, "Zamboanga."
"No, no!" I finally found my voice I shouted, "I'm bound for Iligan!"
The stewardess froze and entered the cockpit. The other passengers looked at me with all the compassion they could give.
The plane turned around and brought me back to the tarmac. As I got off that plane bound for Zamboanga, I saw the other plane, my plane, at a stop with the stairs still out and the stewardess waving at me from the door.
In a flash, I was in the plane with all the passengers looking at me dumbfounded with Arthur pointing at my seat next to him.
I sat there without saying a word, put my seat belt on. Arthur asked curiously, "Anong nangyari?"
I did not reply. I just unabashedly cried.
That plane was unable to land at the Iligan Airport due to heavy fog and instead landed at the Cagayan de Oro Airport. Arthur and I did not have enough cash to travel back to Marawi and besides, the last trip from CDO to Iligan then was 4 pm. Martial Law restrictions. We sought our friend Raul Balan for help and he so graciously took us in, feted us at their family-owned Chicken House Restaurant with Pepep Gannon, Margie Torre, Nanneth and Imo Roa and Nene Pabayo (Eleanor Pabayo Benitez). The next day Raul even sponsored our bus fare and allowance for the way back to MSU- Marawi.
That unlucky day did not stop there. Midway from Cagayan de Oro to Iligan, two bridges were down Arthur and I with the other bus passengers had to cross those two rivers by a single log connecting the ends.
But we all managed.
Postscript:
When my personal rescuer and hero, the Mayor of Dinaig, Maguindanao passed, Dinaig was renamed Datu Odin Sinsuat and might as well be. He was a great man, my hero. This progressive town in Maguindanao is currently in the news lately because of the flashflood and landslides caused by Typhoon Paeng. The theatre life there is bustling under the leadership of Thallasah Torres-Alava, a pioneering Kambayoka member.
Merle Daguinsin continued to be a Kambayoka supporter until her untimely death in the hands of her student, the one who lent me the guitar I accompanied myself with in singing Don Maclean's "Till Tomorrow" at the plaza. I have no news about Nazzir Abbas and Rudy Galvez. Raul Balan is gone. Arthur is now Chairman of KWF.
I have become a regular visitor of Cotabato City.
This personal story is one of the reasons why people in power should not be given more, even the small fries like those abusive soldiers.
Happy Halloween.
01 November 2022