THE SEARCH.
Elizabeth (left photo) prepares the personal
belongings of her husband Rogelio and son
Gabriel (top photo) as the search for her abducted love
ones starts.
LEFT PHOTO BY DABET
CASTAÑEDA
Two toothbrushes,
shavers, six pairs of underwear, ointment for arthritis, shampoos and
toothpastes in sachets, pants, shirts and two woven blankets (malong)
fill the brown traveling bag of Elizabeth Bernas-Calubad, 53.
Carrying this bag and
some personal belongings, she traveled six hours from Caluag, Quezon (232
km. south of Manila) on June 22 to search for her husband, Rogelio, and
son, Gabriel in Metro Manila.
Elizabeth hails from
the town of Camarines Sur in the province of Quezon. Her first trip to
Manila was in the 1990s to look for a job. After more than a decade, she
anxiously went back to Manila, to look for her loved ones.
Losing track
Rogelio, 53, and
Gabriel, 29, were reported abducted by six burly men early morning of June
17 in Barangay Bangkuruhan, Calauag, Quezon. A witness account, as
documented by the human rights group Karapatan (Alliance for the
Advancement of Peoples’ Rights), said that father and son were riding a
motorcycle on the way to a relative’s farm in the same village when two
other men on a motorcycle blocked their way and forced the Calubads’
motorcycle to crash to the ground. Meanwhile, four other men alighted from
a dark blue van and took Rogelio with them. Gabriel was made to ride the
abductors’ motorcycle. The Calubads’ motorcycle was left lying on the
ground.
That was the last
that Rogelio and Gabriel were seen.
It was only the next
day, June 18, when Elizabeth knew what transpired in Bangkuruhan village.
“Pero nung hindi pa sila umuuwi nung gabi ng June 17, ihi ako ng ihi
every 30 minutes,” she said. “Hindi na ako mapakali. Text ako ng
text sa kanila hindi sila sumasagot.” (When they failed to come home
on the night of June 17, I was so worries, I kept urinating every 30
minutes. I kept texting them but there was no answer.)
“Kaya pala,”
she then said with sadness painted all over her face. (Then I found out
why.)
The worried Elizabeth
asked the help of village officials, who then accompanied her to the
Calauag Police Station to report the incident. PNP Intelligence Division
officer Nestor Afuen told Elizabeth that another village official turned
over the Calubads’ motorcycle the day before. Elizabeth was able to
identify the motorcycle because of its plate number (EB 8664).
Elizabeth said that
the police officer told her to take the motorcycle with her but she
declined. “Ang hinahanap ko yung mag-ama ko hindi yung motor,” she
recalled telling the police. (I’m looking for my husband and son, not for
the motorcycle.)
From the police
station, Elizabeth and the village officials went to detachment of the 76th
Infantry Battalion of the Phil. Army at Brgy. Biñas and were able to talk
to the detachment commander named Ben Tibano. The group also went to Camp
Villasara of the 417th PPMG located at Brgy. Sta. Maria where
they were able to talk to the public information desk officer. The
military denied they had the Calubads with them.
It was then that
Elizabeth sought the help of Karapatan’s regional chapter where one of its
human rights workers accompanied her to Manila.
In Manila, Elizabeth
and human rights workers searched for the Calubads in the police and
military headquarters in Camps Crame and Aguinaldo in Quezon City and Camp
Olivas in Pampanga (66 km north of Manila).
Revolutionary heritage
In a media statement,
the National Democratic Front of the Philippines (NDFP) recognized Rogelio
Calubad as one of its consultants in the Bicol Region and a JASIG (Joint
Agreement on Security and Immunity Guarantees) holder. As such, the NDFP
said he should have been protected from any form or arrest or abduction.
Revolutionary blood
runs deep in Rogelio, known in the underground movement as Ka Rudy
according to his wife.
Rogelio’s father,
Juanito, and uncle, Rodrigo, were members of the Hukbong Mapagpalaya ng
Bayan (HMB), the guerillas who continued the struggle after World War II.
Their involvement in
armed struggle had cost the brothers their lives. Elizabeth said Juanito
was shot dead by soldiers during Martial Law in 1975, while he was working
in his small farm in the town of Buhi, province of Camarines Sur. Rodrigo
escaped from the soldiers until 1982, when soldiers caught up with him and
also shot him to death in the town of Iriga, in the same province.
These violent deaths,
however, only toughened the next generation of Calubads. Rogelio and his
brother, Cesar, were already young activists when Martial Law was declared
in September 1972.
When Rogelio and
Elizabeth got married in 1975, Elizabeth said her husband was already in
the underground movement.
On Aug. 10, 2005,
elements of the Police Mobile Group (PMG) arrested Cesar in the town of
San Fernando, province of Camarines Sur.
In his own testimony,
Cesar said he was mistaken for his brother Rogelio, whom the police were
after.
On September of the
same year, Elizabeth said some men came to their house in Apad-Lutao
village, Calauag town, Quezon province, supposedly to conduct a census.
Conspicuously, she said the men only asked for her middle name and
surname.
Innocent
It was a puzzle for
Elizabeth why her husband’s abductors also took her son.
Gabriel graduated at
the Mabini Colleges in Daet town, province of Camarines Norte, with a
degree in General Radio Communications Operation. He also took a
certificate course as Radio Technician at Tesda in the town of Labo, same
province. He works as a community technician when unidentified men forced
him to disappear.
Elizabeth describes
her son as a “quiet citizen” who has “no vice.” Therefore, she said
government authorities should have no grudge against him.
The younger Calubad
has an only child who, Elizabeth said, has gone sick with diarrhea since
Gabriel went missing.
Torture
“Sana nakakayanan
ng aking mag-ama ang tortyur,” Elizabeth said during this interview.
(I hope my husband and son are able to take the torture.)
Since she strongly
believes only the military would have the motive of abducting the two,
Elizabeth feels they are being tortured by their abductors. She found out
her brother-in-law, Cesar, was heavily tortured while in detention from
August to December last year.
But the pain of
searching for a loved one who disappeared without a trace is itself a
lengthy torture to the victims’ family, Elizabeth admits. “Mabuti sana
kung nalaman ko na patay na sila. Hindi na sana ako maghahanap,” she
said. (Knowing that they are dead is better than looking in vain.)
Although she said she
was used to not seeing his husband for long periods of time because of his
work in the underground movement, Elizabeth said his disappearance now is
different because of the pain that it brings to their family.
“Noon alam ko na
naglilingkod sya para sa bayan. Panatag ang loob ko dahil alam ko may
laban sya,” she said. “Pero ngayon, nangangamba ako dahil maaari
syang i-salvage. Maaaring hindi ko na sya makita.” (I feel better
knowing that he is in his place of work, where he could defend himself.
But now, I’m worried that he might have been killed, and I may never see
him again.)
“Sa ginagawa
nilang pagtatago sa kanila, tinanggalan din nila kami ng karapatan na
malaman kung nasaan sila,” she said holding back her tears. (The
abductors who are hiding them have also violated our right to know where
they are.)
Without a
trace
The phenomenon of the
desaparecidos or victims of enforced disappearances shocked the
world mid-1970s when around 6,000 to 24,000 individuals were reported
disappeared in Argentina under a military dictatorship. The practice of
enforced disappearance persisted in other countries where struggles for
social justice pursued.
In
Columbia, the nongovernmental Association for the Families of the Detained
and Disappeared (ASFADDES) documented 7,000 forced disappearances
nationwide through 2003; the accelerated rate for 2002 and 2003 was nearly
five disappearances per day.
Mothers of the disappeared of
Algeria made their first public demonstration in September 1997 for
visiting foreigners to protest 3,000 people who have disappeared in police
or military custody
In Bosnia, 10,701
individuals have been reported missing since 1995. The number includes
570 women, as well as more than 1,000 infants and children. Majority of
the disappeared had been possibly killed in mass executions and buried in
mass graves.
An
estimated 30,000 to 60,000 people disappeared in Sri Lanka between 1988
and 1991.
Since
the twelve-year civil war between the US-backed army and left-wing
guerrillas ended in 1992 in El Salvador, about 700 guerillas and civilians
are still believed to be missing.
A
report by the Hondurian government in 1993 said major human rights
violations were committed in Honduras in the 1980s, such as the forced
disappearance of 184 people for political-ideological reasons by the
state's repressive forces in conjunction with the U.S.’ Central
Intelligence Agency (CIA).
In the
Philippines, the Families of Victims of Involuntary Disappearances (FIND)
documented 855 cases of enforced disappearances under the Marcos
dictatorship (1972-1986). Of these, 596 are still missing, 127 were found
dead and 132 surfaced alive.
The
biggest number of reported cases of enforced disappearances was during the
six-year term of post-dictator president Corazon Cojuangco-Aquino who
declared an “all-out war” against communist rebels. Of the 820 people
reported missing, 612 have been documented. Of that number, 407 are still
missing, 108 surfaced alive and 97 were found dead.
There
were 87 reported disappearances under the term of President Fidel Ramos,
while 58 cases were reported under the three-year term of Joseph Estrada.
In more
than six years of the Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo administration, 176 have
been reported missing. The latest victim is Emerito Lipio, 41, a
provincial coordinator of the Pinagkaisang Samahan ng mga Tsuper at
Operator Nationwide (PISTON) in Bulacan (52 km north of Manila) and a
member of its national council.
Karapatan blames the heightened incidence of enforced disappearance to
Macapagal-Arroyo’s declaration of an “all-out war” against the underground
and legal Left forces. The beleaguered president, who is facing a second
impeachment when the 14th Congress opens in July, recently
turned down formal peace negotiations with the NDFP, a united front
organization led by the Communists Party of the Philippines (CPP).
In the
last six months, Karapatan documents show that 54 have been reported
missing. Of this number, 38 were from Central Luzon, one of the “priority
areas” of the government’s Oplan Bantay Laya (OBL), the counter insurgency
program of the Macapagal-Arroyo administration. This is also where the
president’s supposed henchman, Maj. Gen. Jovito Palparan heads the army.
Palparan has been charged of numerous human rights violation cases since
2001. He is said to be responsible for 25 cases of enforced disappearances
in Eastern Visayas when he headed the 8th Infantry Division
from February to September 2005.
Never over
“Dinala
ko ang mga ito tuwing lalakad kami para hanapin sila para pag nakita ko
sila ibibigay ko agad,” Elizabeth said as she fixed Rogelio and
Gabriel’s personal belongings into the brown bag. She said the only things
that the two brought with them when they were abducted were two hammers,
two axes, one saw and a mobile phone. (I always bring these with me in my
search, so that I could give it to them when I find them.)
Unlike
other families of victims of enforced disappearances, Elizabeth has not
gone to hospitals, morgues or funerals. She is uncertain how long her
search will take and how long Rogelio and Gabriel’s personal belongings
will wait inside the traveling bag.
“Hindi
ako naniniwalang patay na sila,” she said adding that she was
determined to search for her loved ones. (I don’t believe that they are
dead.) Bulatlat
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