“Hey, please take care,” he said as he planted a kiss on the cheek of his girlfriend.
“Of course I will,” she handed him a lunch box. “Here, I cooked something for you. I know you’re going to miss me.”
“You shouldn’t have, I’ve already eaten.”
He smiled, and took the lunch box. He knew he was going to miss her. He gave her a big hug before he rode the jeep. The ride was going to last for four hours, and it was going to be dead boring. There was nothing to see except for trees in this rural area. He had been contemplating about his life these days. Going to Mindanao was a choice out of nowhere. He didn’t really know why he studied in UP just to be miles away from his family, writing for his country.
He thought his butt was growing numb. His legs were having cramps already. “Are we there yet?” he thought to himself. Yet he really didn’t care. He needed the money for his family, and he would go anywhere just to get a news story. Then he thought about his girlfriend, Serah. Her face was appearing in his head for the rest of the trip. It really wasn’t a mistake that he had gone in this place where he was a stranger. He wouldn’t have met her if it wasn’t for this choice.
Abruptly, the jeep stopped moving. “Thank God,” he thought. He twisted his neck to take a look outside. They were in the middle of a rocky road surrounded by trees. He got the feeling that this wasn’t the place yet. There were only trees, and a road track of dust. There were armed men, more or less a hundred of them. He suddenly felt fear and curiosity at the same time. This could be the perfect news, but he wasn’t in a good position to start with.
“Everyone, get off the jeep,” said one of them. “Get off the jeep now!” Several gunshots in the air followed.
One by one, the passengers went down with hands held up high. He was holding the lunchbox. He didn’t know what was happening. “We’re going to be safe. We’re going to be safe,” he said to himself, like a silent litany. The armed men made them all line up. Again, he heard a ripple of gunshots, and blood splashed in every one of those shots. They blasted the head of the man next to him. Then his body budged. He was shot a number of times, like all the others. This time, he really went numb after he felt the pain. He fell on his knees, and then his face was on the ground. He kept looking at the lunch box just beside his face. It was open, chicken and rice scattered on the ground. She cooked Adobo for him, he had smelled it; how he wished he had eaten it. She cooks the best food ever. After a second or two, he passed out.
Laughter was heard from the armed men. They were having fun, like it was all just a game. They ruled this place called Maguindanao. They had guns, and they had power. They shot everyone as if there was no tomorrow, as if there would never be a payback time.
On November 23, 2009, the Maguindanao (Ampatuan) Massacre happened. It was noted as the single deadliest event for journalists in history by the Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ). It happened just because of a challenge of candidacy in Elections 2010. Fifty-seven people died, twenty-eight were journalists. And this gave way for the Philippines to be called the second most dangerous country for journalists in the world.
Journalists were killed. Women were shot on their sex organs. They all lay dead on the ground. Their helpless bodies were thrown in a deep pit. They were covered with soil. It was like the perfect way to make sandwich. Then, the next ingredients were the vehicles, thrown in just after their bodies. Again, it was covered with soil. The last bodies were thrown in again. And finally, a thick layer of soil. Yes, it was just like a sandwich.
References:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maguindanao_massacre
“Kung Paano Gumawa ng Sandwich” by John Levi Masuli; UP Baguio Outcrop November 2009 Issue
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