Scars of an All-Out War

The stories do not end with the deaths and disappearances. Beyond the names and faces of the victims are the equally tragic stories of their families who are left to face not only the loss or absence of their loved ones but also a life permanently scarred and a shattered family longing to be whole again.

BY DABET CASTAÑEDA

Bulatlat

PART 1: Breaking Ties, Wounding Lives

A bamboo sofa, a center table with a vase full of plastic flowers, a few kitchen utensils and traces of blood on the ground are all that's left inside the house of 37-year-old Precy Guevarra in Barangay San Jose Malino, Mexico town in Pampanga, 71 kms north of Manila.

Precy and her three teenaged boys have not gone home since her husband, Arnel, was shot at close range by hooded-men around 10:30 p.m. of July 21.

Precy said her husband's assailants were actually looking for her father-in-law, Conrado, a peasant leader in their village who lived at the house across that of Precy's. Since the assailants could not find the older Guevarra, they instead forcibly entered Precy's home and killed her husband in front of her and her children.

"Hindi namin maintindihan bakit ginawa nila ito sa amin," (I can’t understand why they did this to us.) was all that Precy could say while begging off from the interview. "Sana maintindihan nyo po, masakit pa sa amin ang nangyari. Ayaw na sana namin ikwento nang ikwento para makalimutan na namin," (I hope you understand, the pain is still there.  We prefer not to tell the story over and over again to enable us to forget.)  she said.

This reporter was entertained by Precy and some of Arnel's relatives under a mango tree, just beside a deep well pump and a shed that used to be a pig pen.

Precy and her sons are not the only family of victims who have left home after a death destroyed their household. Jennifer Barbas and her six children also left their home in Sta. Rita, Samar after the murder of her husband, 30-year old Alrico, and her 10-year old son, Jeric, on July 3, 2005. Recently, 25-year old Joan Abellera and her three young children abandoned their home in Barangay Parista, Lupao in the province of Nueva Ecija after her husband, Rodel, was abducted allegedly by soldiers on July 31.

Yet, as the killings and disappearances all over the country continue, the number of families of victims of human rights violations who have been forced to leave their homes likewise increases.

Estranged from home

For a normal family, home is a sanctuary, Prof. Sarah Raymundo of the University of the Philippines-Sociology Department said in an interview. "The home is not just a physical structure but it is perceived to be the safest place for an individual," she said. However, when something violent happens inside this sanctuary, the house becomes a strange place. "For the family, it's not the same house anymore," the sociologist said.

It is after the funeral that the real mourning sets in, Raymundo said. "Pagkatapos ng libing, wala nang nakikiramay. Dito nararamdaman ng pamilya na wala na yung mahal nila sa buhay," (After the burial, the daily visits of people expressing their sympathies and condolences stop. That is the time when the family feels the loss of their loved one.)  she explained.

No time to mourn

The family also feels betrayed, Raymundo added. "The tendency is for them to withdraw from the community because they do not want to relive the violence they experienced."

In cases where the family is also being hunted after the violent incident, the family would not have the time to mourn properly, Raymundo said.

This was the case of Jennifer and her children who had to leave their native place in Samar and had to hide from one place to another because the killers of her husband tried to trace them. "Kasi ayaw nila kami magsumbong,"(They do not want us to report the incident.) Jennifer said in an interview.

Jennifer said that she strongly believes that soldiers were behind the murders of her husband, Alrico, and their 10-year old child, Jeric.

For a year and a half before Alrico’s murder, soldiers who she only knew by the names "Gabuay," "Gatdula," and "Delio," rented her husband's tricycle every time the soldiers would go to nightspots in Tacloban City in Leyte. She said the soldiers paid her husband P100 to P150 ($1.95 - $2.92 at an exchange rate of $1=P51.38) a night.

Jennifer was not at home when her loved ones were murdered but it was her second son, Alrico Jr., who witnessed the incident. 

For Jennifer, running away from soldiers was not a walk in the park. After the five-day wake, the entire family left for Cebu, and later had to transfer to a convent in Tacloban City. Their final stop was here in Manila where they have taken refuge in an undisclosed place.

Shattered lives

Suffering from goiter, Precy seemed very tired even as it was only 12 noon. Bulatlat later learned from a relative that Precy had just arrived from selling fruits and vegetables in nearby villages.  She rode a tricycle driven by her eldest son.

That was their only source of living, Precy later said, "Ito lang ang naiwan sa amin ng aking asawa." (This was the only thing left to us by my husband.) She related that they buy the goods to sell from a market in Angeles, Pampanga as early as 1 a.m.

When asked if her children could be interviewed, Precy said it was not possible because they were not around. Her eldest son had transferred to a relative in a neighboring village while the other two boys lived with other relatives in the area. Precy would just sit down under the mango tree after she had sold the day's merchandise. She said she would sometimes go home to her parents who lived in the next village or sleep with her in-laws. "Kung saan na lang ako abutan ng gabi, dun na ako matutulog basta may kasamang kamag-anak," she said, "Halos hindi na kami magkitang mag-iina." (I sleep where the night catches me for as long as I am with relatives.  My children and I seldom see each other.)

The latest update from the human rights group Karapatan (Alliance for the Advancement of People's Rights) shows that the number of killings has reached 730 while 181 persons have been abducted and remain missing.

But the travails of Precy and the wives, relatives and children of those killed and abducted illustrate that the violations do not start and end when the victim is killed or abducted. The pain being felt by the victims' families goes on for years after the tragedy.

 Adoption

For Joan and Jennifer, their hardships did not end when they left home. Their dire circumstances have forced them to ask  relatives and orphanages to care for their children.

Joan's husband was abducted together with his mother, Tessie. The mother and son are still missing.  Their relatives have done the rounds of  military camps, hospitals, morgues, funeral parlors and every site where bodies have been found. While searching for her husband, Joan said, she, at first, brought her children along. "Pero nahirapan na rin ako lalo na dito," (But it was difficult especially with this infant.) she said referring to her eight-month old child.

As a consequence, she had to leave her four-year old child with her sister in Laguna, south of Manila, while her five-year old son now lives with another relative in Valenzuela, north of Manila. The two young kids were about to enter pre-school but it would have to wait till next year.

Jennifer's six children had to be separated from her as well. She had to leave her three older children with her sister while the other three were brought to an orphanage. Jennifer herself lives in a women's crisis center where she serves as volunteer.

"Malungkot, mahirap," (It is lonely and hard.) Jennifer said to describe her family's situation.

Both Joan and Jennifer admitted they were forced to part with their children because they had lost their means of livelihood after the loss of their husbands.

In a patriarchal society like the Philippines, Raymundo said, the two women's predicament is common to most poor families in the countryside. The man is usually the breadwinner while the wife is left to take care of the home and the children. “Widows feel alone and disempowered by the loss of their husbands. Ironically, because of their deep love for their children, they are forced to give them away in the hope of giving them a better life," she said.  

However, these women hope that their separation from their children is only temporary. "Magkakasama din kami balang araw, pag may ibubuhay na ako sa kanila," (We will be together again as a family when I already have the means to support them.) Joan said.

Asked if she could still endure being away from her children, "Mahirap man, pero…," (It is difficult but…) Jennifer said, before she excused herself for she could no longer hold back her tears. Bulatlat