Ninoy Aquino on my mind

When Cory Aquino was buying a memorial plot for her husband, she did not care for the private and secluded areas where the mausoleums of the elite were, saying even then that Ninoy had to be where people could easily visit.

Thus, every commemoration of Ninoy Aquino’s assassination on Aug. 21, people from all walks of life feel free to pay their respects to the martyred hero who came home from his US exile to continue the fight against the dictatorship. And why do people garbed in yellow continue to come on their own, even years (34 on Monday) after?

It is to express gratitude to the man whose violent death roused a citizenry to anger, becoming the impetus toward regaining democracy in the country. It is to express solidarity with those who marched in the streets and succeeded in toppling a dictatorship. It is to gain strength in the company of fellow freedom fighters who know too well that the struggle continues to preserve the gains in 1983 and in the 1986 Edsa Revolution. On a more personal level, it is to show Ninoy’s descendants how appreciated he is, and that he will not be forgotten.

I ought to know, because these very same sentiments send me to Manila Memorial Park each year and occasionally to the airport that bears his name, where he was shot dead and where there is an annual wreath laying. Along with nameless and countless others, my family has personally benefited from Ninoy’s martyrdom that offered a glimpse of possible liberation from a dictatorship—so how can I not be grateful? (One brother had a price on his head and was an exile for years, and another was picked up by the military from our house the night martial law was enforced.)

That Aug. 21 has been observed as a national holiday since 2004 thankfully provides an opportunity for the youth to know a little more about Ninoy other than the name of the airport and the pensive image on the P500 bill along that of former president Cory. The day is also a chance to relive his life and times, making history come alive through the retelling and the remembering of aspects of his life.

As the most outspoken and prominent critic of the Marcos dictatorship, it was not surprising that Ninoy was the first “enemy of the state” arrested when martial law was declared. He endured eight years of solitary detention and once poignantly described the emptiness and desolation he experienced: “…I did not see the moon and the stars.” The dictator Ferdinand Marcos thought that the gregarious and outspoken senator would be silenced if he were kept distant from his family and constituents. Ironically, and fortunately for the country, Ninoy turned more eloquent when stripped of the trappings of power to which he was accustomed.

Sentenced to death by firing squad after a trial by a military tribunal—a kangaroo court, he described it—he ended up an exile in the United States where he was allowed to seek treatment after a heart attack. He continued to be an outspoken critic of the dictatorship abroad, despite the restrictions his release carried. Justifying this with typical wit, he said: “A pact with the devil is no pact at all. My goal is to restore freedom to my people.”

It was that resolve that brought him home in a white suit and a bulletproof vest, carrying a passport bearing the name Marcial Bonifacio (for martial law and Fort Bonifacio, where he was detained)—and to his violent death. He was not afraid of what awaited him, either back to solitary confinement or the prospect of house arrest. To the idea of being killed upon his arrival, Ninoy’s proud words were: “If they had not recalled Rizal and shot him, he would have ended his life as a mere exile. He would be nothing in our history…. If they make the mistake of killing me or shooting me, they will make me a hero, and they will lose and I will win.”

There was no silencing Ninoy Aquino, then and even now when his death speaks volumes that inspire.

Neni Sta. Romana Cruz (nenisrcruz@ gmail.com) is chair of the National Book Development Board and a member of the Eggie Apostol Foundation.