Three water lilies
We winced from the pain that made us put the book down. “Recollections” compiles 20 short articles on Ferdinand Arceo, who was 21 when gunned down on San Joaquin beach in Iloilo. “Ferdie” who?
“‘Recollections’ vividly reconstructs in memory the image of the young Atenista who died…a hero for the masa he so loved,” the introduction reads in part. “Bien Lumbera” is the unvarnished signature.
Bienvenido Lumbera, national artist and winner of the Ramon Magsaysay Award for Journalism, taught at the University of the Philippines, University of Santo Tomas, Ateneo de Manila, and University of Hawaii. He was detained by the martial law regime.
In July 1973, Ferdie Arceo and companion were mowed down by policemen. Arceo graduated from UP Elementary School and was a college senior at the Ateneo when President Ferdinand Marcos imposed martial law in September 1972. “Curb freedoms to save the republic,” the man said.
That dictatorship stretched for 14 years. Scores vanished in what was trumpeted as the “New Society.” Over 35,000 were tortured, and 70,000 were arbitrarily imprisoned, historian Alfred McCoy notes in a Yale University study.
“The Philippines became a gulag of safe houses where military agents were responsible for acts of unusual brutality,” Amnesty International noted. Before People Power I toppled the dictatorship, extrajudicial killings crested at 3,257. Among the early victims was Ferdie Arceo.
At the Ateneo, Ferdie found himself immersed in protests against a society’s structured injustices. In November 1972, he decided to go underground. He told his parents.
Reggie and Thelma that he needed to live with the poor so he could understand them, “so that I can speak for them.” The Arceos helped him pack his bag.
Life underground is glimpsed from occasional letters that Ferdie sent. One came from where he then lived, on the foothills of the Madia-as mountain range. “Food was getting scarce and the meals were rationed,” he wrote. The day came when there was no food left to share except rice and salt.
“Each one would get a pinch of salt. This time, there was not even enough salt to go around. So, the cook for the day sprinkled salt over the whole pot of rice.”
His letters to his siblings provide a glimpse of what drove someone raised in a comfortable middle-class family to walk barefoot. Clothes never quite dried in the damp mountain barangay:
“Remember that there are no born ‘tuta.’ They are always made… Be on guard that never … should you compromise your ideals and those things we hold dear in our hearts… We must give the best of our talents, time and effort—nothing less.”
“If there is anything of value my Jesuit mentors imparted to me, it is this: hardheadedness, guided by the principle of serving the people wholly and entirely. There are so many tasks that cry out to be done. And we cannot lose a moment to idleness…”
Three accounts in “Recollections” stand out after the Arceos flew to claim their son’s body. An old man came forward carrying a small wreath of leaves and three water lilies. He and his family were recipients of lugaw, coffee, nails and GI sheets from Ferdie…. “They didn’t even know his name.”
“We began to appreciate better what that simple wreath meant when he related an incident: He was poised to trade bolo thrusts with a furious neighbor when Ferdie pacified them. Now, this man with three water lilies weeps: ‘He saved my life.’”
After completing the funeral-parlor details, the Arceos searched for the house of Tatay Crispin and Nanay Charing. In Ferdie’s last letter, he said he’d lodge with them.
“Their house was about four meters by four meters.” There was a trunk and some pillows. They slept on the dirt floor beside the stove. “Nanay Charing got up the two-step ladder and reached for a basket from the rafters. She had kept these for Ferdie’s visit. It had one crab, one green mango, two eggs from her chicken.” As Ferdie wrote: “I am treated like royalty here.”
While the Arceos were waiting for the van from the funeral parlor, the provincial military commander of Antique struck up a conversation. He began: “This is what I say of those children who are disobedient to their parents.” Thelma writes: “Neither my husband nor I said anything.”
“By the way, where was your son studying?” the colonel went on. Reggie: “Ateneo de Manila.” Colonel: “What course was he taking?” Reggie: “Humanities.” Colonel: “And what year was he in?” Reggie: “Fourth year.” Colonel (shrugging his shoulders): “Well, this boy died for his principles.”
In the mid-1980s, the Arceos addressed a memorial service at UP Film Center in Diliman. Reggie said: “Sometime in 1979, we read in the papers that this PC commander was killed somewhere in the Eastern Visayas. My wife and I said to each other: ‘We hope he also died for his principles.’”
A monument dedicated to those slain in the struggle against the Marcos dictatorship was unveiled in Iloilo in September 2004. It is a counterpart to the Bantayog ng mga Bayani Museum, a landscaped memorial in Quezon City honoring those who defied the dictatorship. An Inang Bayan monument has a backdrop of the Wall of Remembrance. There, the names of those who resisted the dictatorship are inscribed.
Imelda Marcos scoffs at these monuments. She insists that the “New Society … saved democracy” and, thus, Filipinos should vote for her son as president come 2016. Never mind that the US Court of Appeals (9th Circuit) slammed Ferdinand Jr. and mother with a $353.6-million contempt judgment. They had tried to smuggle paintings and other artworks still subject to court litigation.
A Bongbong candidacy would not deserve three simple water lilies.
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