Excerpts from Biting the Big Apple
A Memoir by Marivir R. Montebon
Editor’s Note: Remembering Martial Law in the Philippines, declared by Pres. Ferdinand Marcos on September 21, 1972, brings back horrific memories of death and treachery. Never again to Martial Law, never again to the stifling of precious freedoms.
I finished Psychology in 1988, two years after the EDSA uprising, which showcased to the world that a dictator can be toppled peacefully by throngs of people against tanks and cannons. Marcos and his family sought refuge in the US, and the Philippines remained chaotic, more dangerous, plunging in greater material poverty.
It was easier to blame one solid dictator for one’s economic and political woes, but the wounds of the past continue to hurt and impoverish us. Looking within, the issues are not just political in my country. It is cultural, so personal, and so deeply rooted, often times forgotten causes of a social malaise.
My political awakening came at the time I entered college at the University of San Carlos, taking up BS Business Administration and later shifting to BS Psychology, because I had been horrified at balancing numbers on work sheets.
Senator Benigno Aquino was assassinated in August 1983, my first semester in USC. Never before then have I realized how chaotic my country was and that it was on the brink of another social upheaval.
I took the qualifying tests (written and interview) of the newly opened student publication, the Today’s Carolinian. Of the 200 applicants, I was one of the 20 who passed.
My becoming a campus journalist led to my political awakening. Looking back, it was to me the best and worst of times. Best because becoming a writer and student leader honed the disciplined and persistent character that I now possess. And worst, because I saw how repressive both government and the school administration could become, and how both could imperil my life and future.
At that time, I had already been the eccentric person that I am today. I wore high heeled shoes during political rallies. My friends had to wait for me before we all left for rallies, because I needed more time to apply eyeliner before shouting, “Ibagsak ang Diktadurang Marcos!” It was me who popularized “struggle with glamour,” much to the humor of all my friends on the streets or picket lines. Suffice it to say, I never dropped my being a sucker for good clothes in the midst of heightened political heat in my country.
From being a Dean’s Lister to a Blacklister, I sure had the best time of my life in college. The most painful of the physical atrocities I experienced was being hit in the back by a strong surge of water from the fireman’s truck together with other student rallyists. I went to the boardinghouse of a friend to borrow dry clothes because I had clear restrictions from my father from joining anti-Marcos rallies. The most dreadful of these experiences was when my dad told me that he will withdraw my daily allowance if I insisted on joining rallies; that very same afternoon, to my horror, he saw me marching on the street in my school uniform. In high heels, of course. I was grounded and given no allowance for a week. My friends joked that I was on PDA: no, they did not mean Marcos’ Preventive Detention Action; rather, it was Parental Detention Action for me.
I decided to finish my course, at any rate, despite the overwhelming realization that the Philippine educational system was not designed to propel the economy to great heights and enhance the Filipino culture with unity and progress.
In retrospect, those were really hard times. I had friends who died or were kidnapped in the political journey, and I will always hold them in high respect in my heart despite the limitations and excesses of the political movement.
I said to myself I will finish the course that I chose to take, to keep my word to my parents, who were breaking their backs to send me and my three younger siblings to school. If I had my way, I would have shifted to Journalism from Business Administration. But my father discouraged me to do that, saying that journalists will only end up being killed.
I did not insist, but instead made a detour to Psychology, which was interesting and non-threatening like accounting. So I finished college with the youthful, feisty idealism that made me believe Philippine education was so out of touch it needed to be rethought.
Years later, when the fervor of youth had gone down, I realized my college degree had some purpose in life too.
I finished Psychology in 1988, two years after the EDSA uprising, which showcased to the world that a dictator can be toppled peacefully by throngs of people against tanks and cannons. Marcos and his family sought refuge in the US, and the Philippines remained chaotic, more dangerous, plunging in greater material poverty.
In my youth, I realized it was easier to blame one solid dictator for one’s economic and political woes, but the wounds of the past continue to hurt and impoverish us. Looking within, the issues are not just political in my country. It is cultural, so personal, and so deeply rooted, often times forgotten causes of a social malaise that dates back to how our national hero, Dr. Jose Rizal, aptly describes as a social cancer.
The answers are complex and they don’t come as a quick fix for an ailing, nevertheless happy country, like the Philippines.
It is clear to see how lacking in visionary leadership the Philippines is. For a country so abundant in natural resources, there is no excuse for material poverty. But there isn’t any foresight or creativity and willfulness to use these resources for the greater good. The overwhelming inequities and injustice in my country is a result of a mindset of selfishness and resignation. I suppose this is brought about by the long colonial years under Spain and America, we have lost much of our good selves to the masters of our fate.
Most leaders operate on selfish interests and greed. And the responsibility goes to the Filipinos who allow these kinds of leaders to thrive and who see themselves as victims and are resigned to the fate of nothingness.
As a people, Filipinos need to break through the ‘victim’ culture and not limit ourselves to the short term economic relief such as getting food into the table on a daily basis or enjoying the consummables from the balikbayan boxes sent by nostalgic family members outside the country. We need to have foresight and faith in ourselves. We need to have a common philosophy of progress, as individuals and as a nation. I believe we have to invest in useful education to propel our economic independence (go back to making productive our lands and natural resources) and try to balance this employment streak (getting a job mindset) with being creative and entrepreneurial. That’s my take on economic independence and self-respect.
(Photo by UPI.com)
Biting the Big Apple: Memoirs of a Journalist Turned Immigrant is available on amazon.com
Suggested reads:
http://justcliqit.com/martial-law-babe/
http://justcliqit.com/hello-again-martial-law/
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