Five years ago, I was in Hagonoy, Bulacan. It was my first and last visit to that place.
It was also the first and last time I saw Tatay Manuel Merino, the farmer who was later abducted, along with University of the Philippines students Karen Empeno and Sherlyn Cadapan.
It was the summer break of 2006. I had voluntarily joined the basic mass integration organized by my organization in UP. The first community where I stayed for a week was the unfinished relocation site for the communities that had to be relocated because of the NorthRail project. The houses were not yet finished and many families had set up simple tents. I listened to their stories: about how they had not been consulted and how they had been forcibly evicted from their houses.
The next community that I visited was a fisherfolk area. This was where I met Tatay Manuel, who served as my father during the integration. He told me that he was a farmer, not a fisherman. Quick to notice how puzzled I was by his introduction, he sat beside me and explained that the fish ponds that I was seeing used to be farmlands. But big businessmen decided to convert the land into fish ponds, throwing most of the local farmers our of their jobs. Instead of getting many farmers to plant rice, the land owners needed only one or two persons to manage the fish pond. Among the jobless farmers was Tatay Manuel.
Tatay Manuel also told me that he, along with his family, was once asked by a land owner to guard a fish pond. But the owner offered to pay Tatay Manuel only, to the exclusion of other family members, for a 24-hour job. In addition, all the damage to the fish pond and fish kills would be charged to him even if these were caused by natural disasters.
Then two storms hit Bulacan, killing the fishes and damaging the fish pond. The owner charged all the damage and losses to Tatay Manuel’s family, and demanded that payment be made over a period of five years. From that day, they didn’t receive anything from the owner except for their daily food allowance.
When a fisherfolk organization educated the community on their rights, Tatay Manuel was among the first to ask the pond’s owner for a renegotiation of the terms of his employment. He was also among the first to be fired.
Determined to continue his fight, Tatay Manuel joined the fisherfolk organization and began teaching other fish pond workers.
It was not an easy decision for him. He was forced to put his children under the care of a relative because he did not have a job and could not provide them food. With tears in his eyes, he told me how he had firmly held his children’s hands and explained that he was doing what he did because he didn’t want other people to experience the same fate as their family. He said he knew his children could not understand his reasons, but he hoped that someday they would.
During holidays, he would visit his children in his relative’s house. He told me that his last visit was the saddest moment of his whole life. Even before he could enter the house, his eldest son shouted at him, telling him to leave because they didn’t need him. He begged for understanding, but his son pushed him away. When he fell on the floor, he grabbed his son’s leg and begged him to allow him to explain. His son would not give him the chance.
I cried with Tatay Manuel, and told him that I admired him for firmly believing in his principles, including his love for his family. And I told him that I would stay in Bulacan to educate the fisherfolk. He hugged me.
Circumstances prevented me from keeping my promise, but before I left, Tatay Manuel told me that I must come back to their community. I told him I would in the future.
As I waved goodbye, he told me: “Hindi mawawala ang lungkot ko, pag hindi ka bumalik (My loneliness won’t go away unless you come back).”
Those were the last words I heard from him. One month later, I learned that he had been abducted together with the two UP coeds. A year after that, I read witness’ account on how Tatay Manuel was burned to death.
I cried. And I was angry.
I miss Tatay Manuel. I can still remember how he would prepare my duyan before I went to sleep because I didn’t know how to do it. I remember how he would whistle for the wind to blow when I was sweating in the hot summer night.
In return, I promise to always remember and live by the principles he and I believed in. From the day I learned about how Tatay Manuel died, I committed myself fully to the same principle that he died for: to serve the people regardless of the sacrifices.
Norman N. Tubera, 23, is project manager of the Center for Trade Union and Human Rights.