By the riverbank, prayers to ‘Ina’
As the sun retreated from the horizon, her pagoda came to light. It was indeed majestic for people from all walks of life to become equal as devotees of “Ina,” Our Lady of Peñafrancia. By the riverbank, there was faith, love and hope.
Being a Bicolano child, sooner or later I am led to travel to Naga City to pay homage to Ina. It has been a tradition in my family, as in many others. I was about five or six years old when I first accompanied my grandparents on a three-hour trip to Ina’s home, once known as Nueva Caceres, to witness the final course of the Peñafrancia festival. I can still remember the first time that I came to feel Ina’s loving presence.
By the riverbank, my eyes marveled at the people who were waiting, just like me, to see Ina return to her permanent residence in the Basilica Minore through the fluvial procession. They were all waving white towels and shouting “Viva la Virgen (Long Live the Virgin)!” As the voyadores, or male devotees of Ina who man the boats supporting the pagoda, started painting the Naga River with an array of colors, the cheering and prayers became louder. Ina was finally in sight and the air was electric — in itself a miracle.
When September arrives, Bicolanos all over the country always look forward to the monthlong celebration of the devotion to Ina. It all begins with the traslacion, a process of moving Ina from the basilica to Naga Metropolitan Cathedral for the nine days of prayer. This gives a chance for devotees to touch her image before the return to the basilica. The faithful, as well as the tourists, the merchants, and the plain curious flood the streets of Naga as the celebration moves onward.
By the riverbank, throughout my years of devotion to Ina, I have prayed for good health and for my personal intentions. I have whispered pleas for her to grant me high grades or victory in competitions. I have brought my palms together and closed my eyes in prayer, and also lighted candles to guide Ina’s way back to the basilica.
I have been with other people beseeching Ina for their own miracles—for an illness to be cured, for a job to be found, for the return of lost loved ones, all of which are demanded in the form of prayers. There are also those who swear to a lifelong panata, or an avowed devotion to Ina, in return for a big favor they are seeking. Many reasons draw these people to Ina, but the force that binds them together is the heart of faith, and her call.
This year it was different for me.
By the riverbank, I closed my eyes and thought of my nation first. Never have I imagined that I would witness bloodshed among my fellow Filipinos. The war in Marawi is a battle for control and dominance, not for freedom. Bullets have been fired and bombs detonated, but what are we getting?
We consider being an archipelago divided by culture, language and religion the reason for mishaps and disputes with our brothers and sisters in Mindanao. Fear has crippled our people as lives, property and hope are lost in Marawi. The once dynamic city has become barren ground drenched with blood.
By the riverbank, I prayed for my people. Our ruthless government continues to “protect” us by means of murdering its constituents whom it has invariably labelled drug users and pushers. The body count rises almost nightly, with the police constantly saying that the victim(s) resisted their decent approach (“nanlaban”).
No one knows what a dimly lit street might hold. Perhaps a bunch of drug users or police officers waiting to brand you as one. I prayed for the safety of all the innocents threatened by the ways of our authorities. I prayed that humanity and justice would remain in my country.
By the riverbank, I whispered a silent message for the youth. I remembered Kian delos Santos and Carl Arnaiz, and the many others killed by this flawed justice system. I expressed hope that the dreams of Filipino children would not be shattered just like Kian’s or Carl’s were, and that they would be able to go on to live their carefree lives.
The ruthless campaign to cleanse our streets of illegal drugs is painting a picture in the minds of our children that war is inevitable, when in fact it is not. To transform the Philippines into a “utopia” is an impossibility shrouded by killings, fascism and a make-believe democracy. A better world is not being created for the next generation. What is being created is a battlefield with traps for the young that their own predecessors have planted.
By the riverbank, Ina was there again, the light from her pagoda reflecting on the surface of the river. Ina is always there—by the riverbank, in the basilica, in the hearts of not only Bicolanos but also of other Filipinos.
This year by the riverbank, I prayed that Ina would hear my voice, and that she would turn her merciful eyes toward our country and her children.
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Floriane T. Taruc, 16, of Camarines Norte, is a senior high school student of Ateneo de Naga University (STEM SC15).
