What is the 202th IB doing in Pandacan

The text below was forwarded earlier this morning through email, sounding the alarm over the reported presence of military troops in Pandacan, Manila.

The AFP will surely have a lot of explaining to do if the report turns out to be true. What the hell is the 202^th IB—composed of combat-ready soldiers-- doing there? Protecting the oil depot from an imaginary “terrorist” attack? Maybe they just wanted to hold counter-insurgency operations a little closer to Aguinaldo instead of some far-flung barrio, just for the heck of a change? Maybe they were just darn bored with their lives and decided to go on a tour of the city? Maybe the national government is secretly embarking on a cost-cutting program and is using idle AFP troops as extra MMDA personnel?

The answer may be literally nearer to the name Pandacan. No one but the Pandac in the nearby Palace, President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo, will benefit from these military maneuvers in such populated areas. Is GMA's camp so spooked out of President Bush's post-Halloween mid-term electoral fallout that they are using troops to create a net of intimidation against the legal opposition in the cities, before the 2007 elections come around? Is something more vicious being cooked up?

What is reportedly happening in Pandacan, I'm sure, is no different from what has been happening in Mindoro, Tarlac, Pampanga, Batangas, Bulacan, Bicol, Sulu, Samar, and many other places where the killings of activists have multiplied over the past few months. The military in my province have already set up a sona. They called a meeting in the elementary school to be attended by all males above 16 years old. They set up checkpoints at the entry and exit points of the barangay and held base near the highway. They said that they would be staying indefinitely and would be leaving two or three troops per sitio when they finally leave--as if anyone in her right mind was begging for them to remain.

Tanga lang ang magtataka o natutuwa sa paglipana ng militar sa ating mga komunidad. Dapat lamang na managawan ang taumbayan para sa pagpapalayas ng pesteng ahente ng pasismo sa ating mga tahanan. At hindi dapat pumayag ang mga matitinong sundalo na gamitin sila sa ganitong paraan ng gobyerno ni GMA.

Small-time connivers, big-time consequences

The breadth and extent of AFP interference in our communities is bad enough. It also doesn't help that there are absolutely spineless local officials who consent to the militarization of their areas of jurisdiction. Barangay captains, mayors, University officials, congressmen, who have not even dared utter a watery whimper of protest against this back-to-the-1970s state of political repression, irregardless of whether the consequences of their actions may spell out the difference between life or death for targets of military surveillance.

I have no absolutely respect whatsoever for such wimps! Nakakasuklam sila, they only serve as unwitting or intentional accomplices to the state of impunity and political repression that the Arroyo government is forcing down our throats. Their names should be jotted down and barred from holding any public office in the future, not even as a tanod.

Those “public servants” could very well have exercised their responsibilities as supposed “representatives” of their constituents and refused to let the military get away with what they do, with such impunity and brazenness. My brother-in-law recalled that there were other places in their province which the military couldn't infiltrate, precisely because their barangay officials rightly refused to give in to such pressure. Yung isang barangay captain nakipaghamunan ng barilan na lang kung papasok ang AFP sa kanyang teritoryo. Unfortunately, many others do not have the same kind of guts and sense. Others who do, such as Naujan Vice-Mayor Atty. Juvy Magsino or Tarlac city councilor Abel Ladera, are treacherously killed by the same assassins they have protested against.

Walang ipinagkaiba ang mga mga nagbibingi-bingihan at nagbubulag-bulagang opisyales na ito sa walang kwentang Melo Commission at Task Force Usig. Pagkatapos, kapag may pinaslang na naman na miyembro ng ANAKPAWIS o ng BAYAN Muna ng mga armadong naka-motor, kapag may mga dinakip ng mga naka-fatigue, kapag may pinatay na aktibista tulad nina Isaias, Choy, at marami pang iba, iilang lang sila ng ulo at sasabihing wala silang kinalaman sa mga pangyayari, na walang koneksyon ang mga pagpaslang sa paglipana ng militar at ng mga intel sa ating mga komunidad?

---------

Forwarded through email:

May MARTIAL LAW na ba sa Maynila?

Ano ang dahilan ng pagtigil ng 202th IB ng AFP sa Pandacan?

May apat na araw ng nakatigl ang 2 platoon ng 202th IB ng AFP sa 8 baragay sa Pandacan Manila. Nakafull uniform at nakapangcombat, dala ang mahahaba at matataas na kalibre ng baril ang bitbit ng mga sundalo ng AFP. Ang 8 barangay sa Pandacan na nakadeploy ang mga nasabing sundalo ay sa Brgy 870, 871, 872, 868,866,867 at sa Baranagy Pandacan. Nagmistulang barracks at Headquarters nila ang mga barangay hall? Bakit sila nasa pandacan? Bakit sa pandacan?

Ayon sa mga residente, hindi maipaliwanag ng mga sundalo ang kanilang tungkulin sa pagtigil sa Pandacan. Ayon sa kanila nais daw nilang alamin ang opinion ng mga tao sa pamamalakad ng gobyerno? At tutulong daw sila sa peace and order. Ngunit sa kanilang pagroronda at pagbahay bahay sa umaga at gabi ay itinatanong nila sa mga residente kung meron daw bang mga membro ng Partylist sa nasabing lugar.? Meron day bang mga sumasama sa rally? Meron daw mga aktibista?

Ayon pa sa mga sundalo, Sila daw ay hindi sasangkot sa gulo sa komunidad, dahil police matters daw ito, pero kung kakailanganin ay mapipilitan daw silang makealam? Ano kayang gulo ang sinsabi ng mga sundalo? Sila na ang tanod sa gabi, sila pa ang magpapatupad ng mga serbisyong kinakailangan sa komunidad.

Hinahanap nila ang mga kasapi ng BAYAN MUNA, ANAKPAWIS, GABRIELA at ANAKBAYAN, “ayon sa mga sundalo. Dahil daw ang mga nasabing partylist ay madaling malapitan sa mga problema ng bayan at tumutulong daw sila”. Sa isang ordinaryong tao, madaling maunawaan na ang mga nasabing dahilan {paghahanap sa mga aktibista} ang tunay na pakay ng pagtigil ng mga sundalo sa komunidad.

Pinangunahan ni Major Cabas at Lt. Col Feliciano ang mga sundalo. Sa kanilang mission order sila daw ay mananatili ng dalawang lingo sa komunidad. Matapos daw ay may papalit na sa kanila at maaari daw na manatili hanggang enero ng isang taon? Sadarating na linggo, Nobyembre 12, nagpapatawag sila ng pagpupulong sa mga residente, sa ganap na 8 ng umaga sa bawat nasabing Barangay.

Inaanyayahan namin ang mga kapatid sa MEDIA at mga tagapagtaguyod ng
karapatang pantao na puntahan ang nasabing mga Barangay sa Pandacan anumang oras mula ngayon.

Iyon Pala Ang Ibig Sabihin ng TAG

My very good friend Iris left a comment with the word "TAG" on it. Took some time for a social ignoramus like me to figure out what that actually meant, but now that I've been "tagged" to do so, here's my share of answers to that weird pass-on survey/questionnaire:

Seven things I want to do before I die

1. Write 30 to all the research and book projects I've conceptualized in the bathroom.
2. Know Japan and all of the 7,100 islands of the Philippines like the back of my hand.
3. Do my share in driving really eeevil people outta this planet!
4. Honor thy father and mother.
5. Understand why the world is what it is today.
6. Raise a kid with Gans, and teach him/her all we know.
7. Make art instead of writing about it.

Seven things I cannot do

1. Carry a tune successfully before a massive crowd (but how I wish I could. Oh well).
2. Wear ruffles. NOT in this lifetime!
3. Endure sycophants and know-it-alls. Freaks I can tolerate, pretenders not.
4. Kiss a frog (why should anyone?)
5. Be nice to the nasty denizens of this earth (head-butt and bitch back if ye must!)
6. Kiss ass as a career move, whether literally or figuratively.
7. Go beyond 1^st year college math.

Seven things that attract me to both a boy and a girl

1. Brains and sense. Why we can't have more of these types still beats me.
2. That beautiful but elusive human quality called kindness.
3. Frank, honest, and witty banter.
4. Commitment to work (A bit ho-hum but very crucial in the long run)
5. A keen sense of social justice.
6. Shared quirks (like a fondness for cats, booksales, disarray, and puns)
7. An honest, straightforward gaze (sounds funny, but there are indeed people who exhibit this quality, chinky-eyed people included)

Seven things that I say most often

1. Shne!
2. %^*$&$*(%£)%)%*&ng (insert name of government official here) , sana kunin na siya ni Lord.
3. Pa-edit nga!
4. Kelan ang deadline nyan? (Sabay kakamot sa ulo)
5. First thing in the morning: £$%*! (Insert time) na!
6. Hayup ka talaga! (to our dachshund, Pitoy)
7. Ayan, buhay pa naman (in response to the question, kamusta ka na?)

Seven books I love to read (for the nth time)

1. The Book of Embraces, by Eduardo Galeano
2. Venceremos, by Ernesto Guevarra (my copy illegally confiscated by some shitty post office official. May he be afflicted with egg-sized boils for the rest of his corrupt and hopefully short life!)
3. Foucault's Pendulum, by Umberto Eco
4. Art and Lies by Jeanette Winterson
5. Snow Country, by Yasunari Kawabata
6. The Painted Word, by Tom Wolfe (ya, the guy makes more sense than most art writers)
7. Little Women, by Louisa May Alcott (first full-length book my mom gave me as a kid, made a real impression ever since)

Seven movies I could watch over and over again
(not necessarily favorites, but only those I won’t tire of watching)

1. Orapronobis (the thin line between art and reality)
2. The Never-Ending Story (20 years after first watching it I can still hear its theme song in my head and dream about having Falcor for a pet, hehe)
3. Hotel Rwanda (a tribute to unexpected heroes and how shitty the UN and the US can get)
4. Azumi (will not lead you to the meaning of life but can keep you fully-awake on 8-hour bus trips, I guarantee)
5. Amelie (until it loses its novelty)
6. Life is Beautiful (it really is)
7. (Anything from Studio Ghibli!)

Seven people I'm tagging to do this survey

None. The darned chain ends with me!

Bagong post, lumang sulatin

After losing most of my back files to (now) non-functional floppy disks and house-hopping, I tried 'googling' (aba! verb na pala ito!), hoping to locate previous articles and art reviews I couldn't find copies of (archiving has recently become a pastime).

Some offhand results: old reviews of shows by Pete Jimenez, Rock Drilon, Briccio Santos, and Pete Daroy in the PDI, circa 2003. Art for Oust's Sake, an article for Bulatlat which I thoroughly enjoyed doing. And a review of Displaying Filipinos way back in 1998.

Also found the text of a tribute to Anakpawis Mindoro Oriental Secretary-General Isaias Manano Jr., who was murdered by assassins on April 28, 2004. Isaias, a dear friend, was among the first Anakpawis leaders to have been killed under the Arroyo administration during the 2004 elections. Th statistics have risen to atrocious highs since then; rarely does it sink in that the victims were real people with hopes, dreams and stories to tell.

Of Dissidents, Déjà vu and the DOJ

There was a forum on the ‘Cuban Five’ held a few days ago at UP Manila sponsored by Amistad, the Philippine-Cuban Friendship society. After rushing around QC the entire morning and afternoon, we figured that we could make it to the activity and went to attend.

I don’t know why, but entering the CAS Building in UP Manila for the first time suddenly filled me with saccharine distaste and dread. Maybe because of its startling nearness to the Department of Justice (both in terms of proximity, architectural structure and design motifs), which certain odious, ethically-unstable and morally-bankrupt mammals are known to inhabit on weekdays, office hours mostly (yuch!).

Maybe all had to do with the architectural history of the Padre Faura compound, where UP Manila, the PGH and the DOJ all are. But it was an eerie perception nonetheless: stepping into the cramped CAS Building and feeling as if I had been transported into the bowels of the Justice Secretary’s fiefdom just a stone’s throw or a bakod away. A few months back, after a picket in front of the DOJ to protest the political harassment against Ka Bel, I spent a few minutes inside the DOJ building to look for an acquaintance, secretly hoping that I wouldn’t come across my favorite character, a certain antiquated loony, there.

Anyway, we managed to make it in time for the forum, catching the first few minutes of a documentary on the five Cuban nationals arrested in Florida in 1998 and convicted by the US federal court in Miami on more than 20 counts, facing life sentences. For monitoring the movements of exiled groups suspected of carrying out US-sponsored terrorist activities which have killed around three thousand Cubans, the Cuban Five were subjected to a year and a half in solitary confinement while the trial was ongoing and are now jailed in total isolation from the world. But in Cuba and in other countries, thousands of people are clamoring for their release and hailing the five men as heroes for their motherland.

The appalling judicial spectacles in the case of the Cuban Five in the US were all too familiar, hit too close to home: after an Appeals Court in Georgia unanimously overturned the Miami court’s ruling convicting the Five, its plenary inexplicably and suddenly issued a reconsideration of its finding August last year. This indefinitely extends the Five’s unjust detention—definitely an unwelcome development since they have already spent around eight years alone in jail to date.

Suddenly, the US court’s flipflop painfully reminded me of Ka Crispin Beltran’s legal quest for liberty under the Arroyo dictatorship, the prospects of gaining a just and prompt resolution seem to be equivalent to winning the Sweepstakes jackpot thrice in a row (in short: asa ka pa!).

Take this: a day after the declaration of a ‘State of Emergency’, Ka Bel is accosted by fully-armed police and ‘invited for questioning’ to the Camp Crame. There, he is arrested and detained using an antiquated and void 21-year old warrant (normally you’d think that such a document would have more historical than utilitarian value). Absolutely absurd! His lawyers prepare to haul him out of jail. Then, in the middle of the night, Ka Bel is brought to a QC court where charges of sedition are to be filed against him. His lawyers patiently point out that Ka Bel as a congressman has immunity from arrest in such cases, so please quit the pathetic charade and set him free. The police don’t, and keep him in solitary detention instead. Then, Ka Bel is ‘invited for a medical check-up at the PNP Hospital’ but is brought to the CIDG instead where this time and against his will, (tadaa!!!) DOJ prosecutors hold another “inquest” where rebellion charges concocted out of thin air are used to further justify his arrest and detention. Given a chance, maybe the DOJ would have also accused Ka Bel of killing Jose Rizal and Andres Bonifacio.

Mga loko talaga. Kung ako lang ang tatanungin, hindi na dapat sineryoso yang DOJ at ang PNP. If it were only that easy to just snub their existence and simply consign them to the dumping grounds and garbage impactors of history for being such freaks! But the sad reality is that the state is in a position to use coercive force. It’s not a simple case of deciding to ‘make patol’ or not (as GMA would say in her colegiala Tagalog), or saying ‘deeeal’ or ‘no deeeeeal!’ (complete with Kris Aquino’s hand gestures) and walking out of the studio, chin held up high. Ka Bel’s in jail for eight months and counting, his captors from the PNP, DOJ and the Palace aren’t.

If it were only that easy to say that Ka Bel’s illegal arrest and arbitrary detention will eventually be vindicated by the courts. The legal battle for Ka Bel’s freedom, unfortunately, only showcases how dysfunctional the Philippine justice system can get under the Arroyo (or any other anti-people) administration. Some notes during the past eight months of Ka Bel’s continuing ordeal: The first judge junks the rebellion charge against the Batasan 5 and allows Ka Bel’s much-needed transfer to a hospital, and is suspiciously asked by the DOJ to inhibit herself from the case. The case is raffled off to a second judge who, in a three-sentence order and in undue haste, affirms that there is probable cause in Ka Bel’s case and issues the equivalent of a retroactive warrant of arrest—then suddenly inhibits from the case when Ka Bel’s lawyers indignantly protest the ruling. The third judge reverses first judge’s decision and consolidates Ka Bel’s case with that of the Batasan 6. The fourth judge only adds another rubber stamp to Ka Bel’s detention by denying the Motion for Reconsideration on second judge’s decision on probable cause.

Ka Bel’s lawyers are now planning to bring the case up to the Supreme Court. Ka Bel also recently filed a case at the Ombudsman against his captors, but I’m not getting my hopes high in the aftermath of the Ombudswoman’s lutong macao ruling on the controversial Mega-Pacific deal.

All throughout these developments, the DOJ and its prosecutors have done absolutely nothing to ensure the dispensation of due process, or even humanitarian consideration. It has adjudged Ka Bel guilty even in the presence of incontrovertible evidence proving otherwise. It has filed charge after charge, no matter how fabricated, just to ensure that Ka Bel stays in jail. It has called for a “speedy trial”, at a time when the Batasan 6 have appealed to suspend the hearings, as the Supreme Court said. It has even coldly opposed Ka Bel’s appeal to be transferred to a REAL hospital (the PNP Hospital being nothing but a glorified first aid kit) for urgent medical treatment.

The details of their detention and their legal struggles for liberty are sordid and appalling enough, but this has not, in any way, broken the morale or the fighting spirits of political prisoners such as the Cuban Five and of Ka Bel. They may be on different sides of the globe, but they share the same dream that another world is possible: a world where imperialist domination shall cease to be, where resources and services may be more equitably distributed among the people and among countries, where people will be able to live out their full potential as human beings and not be tied down to problems as basic as hunger and survival. They have a clear perspective of what they are struggling for, and will not easily bow to the repressive mechanisms of the colluding powers-that-be.

-----------------------

Speaking of Cuba, Granma International recently published a short article by Gabriel Garcia Marquez (yes, of the One Hundred Years of Solitude fame) entitled The Fidel Castro Whom I Know. By all means, log on now to Granma’s site and do read the work, it’s an extraordinary, awe-inspiring and intimate profile of the Fidel Castro whom you and I on this side of the impoverished world do not know.

Some excerpts:

“HIS devotion to the word. His power of seduction. He goes to seek out problems where they are. The impetus of inspiration is very much part of his style. Books reflect the breadth of his tastes very well. He stopped smoking to have the moral authority to combat tobacco addiction. He likes to prepare food recipes with a kind of scientific fervor. He keeps himself in excellent physical condition with various hours of gymnastics daily and frequent swimming. Invincible patience. Ironclad discipline. The force of his imagination stretches him to the unforeseen. As important as learning to work is to learn how to rest…”

“…He has the habit of firing rapid questions….[that] he makes in instantaneous bursts until discovering the whys and wherefores of the whys and wherefores of the final whys and wherefores. When a visitor from Latin America gave him a hasty figure on the rice consumption of his compatriots, he made his mental calculations and said: “How odd, each person eats four pounds of rice per day.” His masterly tactic is to ask about things that he knows, to confirm his information. And in certain cases to measure the caliber of his interlocutor, and deal with him/her accordingly…”

“…When he talks with people in the street, his conversation regains the expressiveness and crude frankness of genuine affection. They call him: Fidel. They surround him without risks, they address him informally, they argue with him, they contradict him, they claim him, with a channel of immediate transmission from which the truth gushes forth. It is then that one discovers the unusual human being that the reflection of his own image does not let us see. This is the Fidel Castro that I believe I know. A man of austere habits and insatiable illusions, with an old-fashioned formal education of cautious words and subdued tones and incapable of conceiving any idea that is not colossal…

“…He dreams that his scientists will find the final cure for cancer and has created a foreign policy of world reach in an island that is 84 times smaller than that of his principal enemy. He has the conviction that the greatest achievement of human beings is the solid training of their conscience and that moral incentives, more than material ones, are capable of changing the world and driving history.”

Collegian Under Assault

I spent a substantial portion of my college life writing and editing for the Philippine Collegian. If only for sentimental reasons, being in Kule yielded experiences that I wouldn’t have traded for anything else in the world: having late-night meaning-of-life conversations, interviewing all sorts of people, documenting events in Diliman and beyond, negotiating a libel case, and engaging in confrontations of all types and intensities. Colleagues who I worked with until the crack of dawn became my closest friends or comrades—Mykel, Raffy, Boom, Iris, Faj, Jordan, Charlie, and all. And it was in the course of doing research for articles and finding speakers for the Kule’s weekly EDs (educational discussions) where I met my husband.

I had my share of political awakenings through Kule. It was here, in Solidaridad and in CEGP where we worked with other student papers struggling against repression, harassment, technical deficiencies, and financial difficulties. Through Kule, we met activists such as Donato Continente, now free after being unjustly jailed on false charges for over fifteen years.

For all the locking of horns that being committed entails, being in Kule eventually made me realize how sweet and precious it was to be able to freely fight for the right principles. And how imperative it was to protect that freedom at all costs.

Which is why I was flabbergasted, if only for a few seconds, to hear from a staffer during the September 21 rally how that the UP administration has blocked Kule from printing its issues for over a month already. Unbelievable. Never in recent history has the Kule been ever subjected to such outright and actual financial hostaging by the administration.The fact that the Kule’s funds are now being witheld against the will of this year’s editorial board only speaks of the blunt and blatant coercion being employed by University officials.

Up to this writing, the administration reportedly refuses to disburse the Kule’s printing funds. From being among the three weekly student papers circulated throughout the Philippines, this year’s Kule has been confined to merely uploading updates on its website and e-group. A few days back, its writers began reading aloud their articles in the AS Lobby, in the absence of an actual printed issue. I’m not sure if Kule has resorted to DIY publishing as a peryodikit, but wouldn’t be surprised if it does so soon. For all the trouble they’ve been through for the past few weeks, it’s admirable for the present Kule staff to be fighting for their right to remain free.

Never would I consent to the Collegian being manacled like a slave. And, I hope, neither do you. Fight for freedom and autonomy, support the campaign at www.philippinecollegian.net.

33 Daw (sfx: evil laugh)

You Are 33 Years Old

Under 12: You are a kid at heart. You still have an optimistic life view - and you look at the world with awe. 13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world. 20-29: You are a twentysomething at heart. You feel excited about what's to come... love, work, and new experiences. 30-39: You are a thirtysomething at heart. You've had a taste of success and true love, but you want more! 40+: You are a mature adult. You've been through most of the ups and downs of life already. Now you get to sit back and relax.

What Age Do You Act?

Incarcerated But Undaunted

(published in www.bulatlat.com)

Crispin Beltran, 73 years old and hypertensive, could be mistaken for an ordinary senior citizen confined at the Philippine Heart Center (PHC) for Asia in Quezon City. But having two armed Philippine National Police (PNP) personnel stationed outside his room and their companions prowling the nearby corridors shows otherwise.

Beltran, veteran labor leader turned parliamentarian, will be spending his fourth month of detention under police custody at the Room 429 of this hospital. To date, he has already spent two months at the PHC, two months at the General Hospital of Camp Crame, and one week in solitary imprisonment since his arrest by the PNP last February 25. Yet Beltran, or Ka Bel (Comrade Bel) as he is more popularly known, generally remains undaunted, knowing that these days only signify a lull before the storm.

At Camp Crame

Inside Ka Bel’s room, it is impossible not to be reminded of the political crisis. Stickers bearing the slogan Free Ka Bel Now! End political harassment! are all over the room. Decorating the bare walls is a black-and-white poster with the six party-list representatives from Bayan Muna (People First), Anakpawis (Toiling Masses) and Gabriela Women’s Party (GWP). Hung next to his bedside are two canvas ‘bibs’, with the words P125, Ipaglaban! (Fight for a P125 [legislated wage increase for workers]) and Cha-Cha, Ibasura! (Junk Charter Change!).

These are the same issues that Ka Bel has been advocating as Anakpawis party-list representative before being arrested without a warrant by the PNP on February 25, 2006, a day after President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo declared a state of national emergency through Presidential Proclamation (PP) 1017.

PP 1017 was later declared unconstitutional by the Supreme Court of the Philippines. But Beltran continues to be detained under false and fabricated charges of inciting to rebellion—a charge that the Department of Justice (DOJ) also slapped against at least 51 other individuals, including Beltran's colleagues from the progressive party-list bloc in the House of Representatives.

Beltran was the only one among the six who was caught and detained at Camp Crame. Despite suffering from hypertension and a minor stroke two years ago, Ka Bel was forcibly detained in an isolated cell at Camp Crame and subjected to a sham inquest proceeding a day after.

At first, the PNP jailed Ka Bel at the Custodial Center of Camp Crame for a week, treating him like a high-profile criminal. He was confined in a solitary cell: a bare rectangular space measuring around 2 meters by 4 meters with steel bars on one end. Fully-armed police personnel guarded the hallways, and food was served tied up in little plastic bags, he said.

“Kung ano ang sitwasyon ko noong 1982 ay ganoon din ngayong 2006,” (My situation in 1982 is the same as now in 2006.) Ka Bel recalled of that period of incarceration at the Custodial Center.

Beltran was jailed and tortured as a political prisoner under Martial Law, along with the late Kilusang Mayo Uno (KMU or May First Movement) Chairperson Felixberto “Ka Bert” Olalia, in Camp Crame in 1982. Ka Bel eventually escaped from prison and fled the city, while Ka Bert eventually succumbed to a heart attack while in prison. The rebellion charges filed against Beltran were eventually dropped by the Aquino administration after Pres. Ferdinand Marcos was overthrown by People Power in 1986.

A detention cell

Despite his resolve to remain strong, Ka Bel experiences recurring nightmares about being tortured again and even assassinated while in the Custodial Center.

This contributed to the further deterioration of the 73-year old solon’s health. By March 2, Ka Bel's dangerously high blood pressure levels compelled the police to transfer him to the camp's General Hospital—not much of a difference, in retrospect, as the place did not have adequate medical facilities or services.

The transfer did little to lessen his agitated state. Nonchalant and inconsistent medical services forced them to double-check his health, Beltran's nightmares about being assassinated while in police custody continued, and sudden incursions by police clad in full battle gear into his room kept him in a state of red alert and worry, he said. Reporters were also barred from visiting his room.

“This is not a hospital, this is a detention cell,” Ka Bel and his family members said.

“Sa PNP General Hospital, wala akong panahon para mag-relax. Palaging okupado ang isipan at apprehensive kami sa mga guwardiya, dahil nasa bituka kami ng kaaway,” ( I do not have time to relax while at the PNP General Hospital. My mind is always occupied and we are apprehensive of the guards. We are right inside the enemy’s territory.) Beltran said.

To keep him distracted, Ka Bel's family and staff began bringing him newspapers and documents for him to read. An old typewriter and pad paper were brought into the room, where he would compose letters to friends and colleagues and statements to media about various issues. A laptop belonging to one of his kids was also brought in, as Ka Bel wanted to learn how to use a computer.

Change of scenery

On April 24, the Makati Regional Trial Court finally granted Beltran permission to transfer to the Heart Center for humanitarian reasons, despite the objections of the PNP and the DOJ. After nearly two days of waiting, Ka Bel was finally transferred to Room 429 of the PHC.

The transfer to the Heart Center was a change of scenery for Ka Bel. There, he was finally able to undergo a battery of much-needed medical tests, monitoring and rest.

It was also there where Ka Bel spent his first Labor Day away from the traditional street demonstrations in Manila. As a former chairperson of the KMU, the largest militant labor center in the Philippines, Beltran registered a “perfect attendance” at all Labor Day rallies since People Power 1 in 1986. His frustration and sadness over this year’s absence was somewhat eased by a fellow patient's celebration of her birthday party on May 1, in the adjoining room, he recalled.

Deprived of the right to go home, Ka Bel's family and 27 grandchildren regularly attend to him at the hospital, bringing fruits and running small errands for their Lolo Di (Grandfather Di). On weekends, his grandchildren cuddle up on Ka Bel's bed to watch cartoon reruns and sports matches on TV.

During the long afternoons, Ka Bel avidly watches boxing, his favorite sport, on television. His love for the sport is such that even his family and visitors find it hard to distract him from glancing at the blow-by-blow matches every now and then.

Ka Bel's family time is occasionally interrupted as visitors from all walks of life drop by during hospital hours: legal counsels and human rights lawyers, activists, congressional staff, religious leaders, fellow solons and government officials, labor and peasant leaders, foreign visitors, writers, students, and—somewhat ironically--people seeking medical assistance.

Virtual office

Ka Bel has been kept immobile by his detention, but strives to keep his body and mind strong. Although he devotes an hour each morning for a few rounds of push-ups and stretching exercises along the hospital corridors, Ka Bel said that is still a far cry from his previous dawn “work-outs” of planting vegetables at home as a practicing farmer before going to Congress in the morning.

“Dito [sa ospital], hindi ako gaanong pinapawisan,” (Here in the hospital, I do not sweat a lot from working out.) Ka Bel said, obviously missing the small plot of soil and vegetables he has carefully tended for months.

Nowadays, Ka Bel is usually clad in the PHC's standard hospital gown and slippers. But he quickly dons a red Anakpawis cap with a small Congressional seal, whenever visitors arrive.

This hospital room has also turned into a virtual office. Ka Bel spends his extra time poring over newspapers and books, as he used to during breaks at the House of Representatives. He keeps a can full of pens and pencils beside him, to underline important passages in news stories and quotes.

Barred from attending events ordinary citizens are free to go to, Ka Bel keeps himself updated on the political and economic developments of the day by constantly monitoring the news. Stationed next to his medicines are stacks of documents and reading materials: newspapers, congressional reports, legal documents and books. A small television is kept on for most of the day, and Ka Bel's trusty old radio set is occasionally turned on in order to monitor radio reports.

Prevented from visiting his constituents, the people have taken it upon themselves to go to Ka Bel. Pickets, masses, and group visits are frequently held outside the hospital, the largest to date being a 200-strong strong contingent of peasants from Central Luzon and Southern Tagalog last week.

The hospital room is also turning to be a virtual library. A voracious reader, Ka Bel also finished reading several books while in detention. He barely finished with John Perkins' Confessions of an Economic Hit Man and the handbook Health for the People published by the Council for Health and Development, when he picked up Dante Simbulan's The Modern Principalia and Ibon Foundation's Empty Promises, Empty Stomachs.

Visitors also drop by to give him reading materials. The copies of The Poverty of Memory: Essays on History and Empire (by Red Constantino) and Renato Constantino: A Life Revisited (Rosalinda Pineda-Ofreneo), for instance, are gifts. Outside the room, Ka Bel's custodians are also occasionally seen reading pocketbooks to fight boredom.

Raging against complacency

Despite the lull he experiences in between court hearings, one can sense fire burning inside Ka Bel's calm exterior, especially at this time of intense human rights violations against activists.

“Gusto kong makaganti,” (I want to get even.) he said whenever he hears of more extrajudicial killings of activists, many of whom he has known personally.

At times, sadness and anger overwhelms him whenever visitors and comrades arrive to share stories. Ka Bel's voice breaks, and he temporarily excuses himself for a few minutes inside the comfort room.

Yet the veteran labor leader finds inspiration in the fact that younger mass leaders of progressive organizations continue to remain undaunted and militant despite intensifying political repression.

“They are generally dedicated. Hindi sila natatakot,” (They are not afraid.) Ka Bel said of this younger generation of leaders, perhaps seeing in them the qualities he possessed as a trade union leader decades ago.

Among other things, Ka Bel is now looking forward to critiquing President Arroyo's upcoming State of the Nation Address (SONA) as Congress resumes the remainder of its sessions this July.

“GMA will be drumming up the false gains of her labor export policy and development councils. She will be reiterating her so-called God-given qualities for the Presidency and brag about her non-existent accomplishments, which is so insensitive in the midst of so much landlessness and poverty among the people,” Ka Bel said.

The Arroyo administration may have temporarily prevented Ka Bel from fulfilling his duties as a duly-elected party-list representative of the toiling masses. But from the looks of it, this temporary spate of political repression has affirmed Crispin Beltran's resolve to prepare for a longer fight ahead. Ka Bel may have been slightly immobilized by his arrest and incarceration, but he remains unbent and unbound, remembering how periods such as these have always signified the lull before the coming storm.

Photo above by Jes Aznar