Tribeless

I belong to a
generation that ousted two presidents.

I started schooling in 1986. Totally ignorant of the world
around me, my usual day was sleep, eat, go to school, eat, sleep… and so on.

But, I can still remember how envious I was seeing my neighbors wearing yellow
shirts bearing the face of a smart-looking man. They said, they wear joining a
revolution in EDSA. I didn’t mind what they were going to do. I just hoped I
can get one of those shirts.

Months later, I saw the same yellow shirts already worn-out hanging over my
neighbor’s fence. They moved for a new place to live. I don’t think those
shirts were “in” anymore. They were better off as rags. I thought,
all things end up like that. It is only a matter of time.

I didn’t know that I was conceived and borne at a rather disturbing period of
history. My parents used to believe that the Marcos years were one of the best
years for our economy (although they never felt it themselves). I even remember
standing-up in front of class during a debate where I chose to defend martial
law and Marcos. My classmates, and even my teacher, were quite disturbed by my
position. I felt awkward but someone’s got to play the devil’s advocate.
Looking back, I wish that that someone was not me.

As far as I can recall, my grade school years were the years of UFO sightings,
manananggals, constant brownouts, coup d’etat, massacres. Hell, i thought,
what’s new? Martial law or not, darkness remains.

Now that I have become conscious of my
place in society, I see things more differently.

I just attended a liturgical service in the Bantayog ng mga
Bayani. I saw the names of martyrs engraved in a big black marble wall etched
in gold. It inspired me to look back to my own awakening. What was my place
during the Martial law years? Uhm, well, I was just a kid then so my apathy is
excused.

So, I moved on to ask, what’s my place now? Definitely, I do
not want to be a devil’s advocate once more – I’m way over that. But don’t get
me wrong, I do not yearn to be a name in that marble wall (but who knows?). This
time, I choose to wear that worn-out shirt. Although, not the kind with the
face of a politician. I choose to find the light amidst the darkness.

Whenever I get the chance to ride a taxi cab, I usually talk
to the driver to ask his views on current issues. I find it effective since
they are some of the most opinionated people around having the chance to meet
different people while working. Last night, this old taxi driver struck me. His
old face was a good invitation for my curiosity. I asked him the usual
questions. What time he works? How much he earns each day? What his sentiments
are about Gloria? Then, I asked him if he still finds hope for his family. He
urgently replied, “Kung mag-pi-people power.” He was quick and strong in his
answer.

An old man, who had probably seen many uprisings in his
lifetime and seen things unchanged after that, still firmly believes in the
power of a united people. That old man believes there is still hope. Will I
fail him? Will I fail all the others, just as old but as hopeful?

Many governments dread even the slightest idea of a popular
uprising. It makes them insecure of their hold in power. That’s why they
downplay every attempt by the people to launch another people power. They even
arrogantly say that the people are tired of going to the streets, ousting
presidents all the time. Indeed, the people are tired but not of marching to
the streets. Rather, the people are tired of going through people power only
for greedy politicians to take their victory away from them. Now, we learned
our lessons well.

Things change, people
learn. We have our destiny in our hands.

I do not know how to end this. One thing is sure. I am not
tired, nor pessimistic. I will join the people power 4, 5, 6 ‘til infinity. I
know, darkness has no place here.