They Wrote, They Chose

Two journalists are among the country’s hundreds of political prisoners. Although there is the likelihood that they would be released soon, they’re not so hot on it. "We will remain prisoners as long as society is unchanged," they say.

By Shirley Nuevo and Rhea delos Santos , Ibon Features

LUCENA CITY -- Every morning for the past eight months, 24- year-old Gregorio Alemania rises from his makeshift bed and lines up to the kitchen. A man with a stiff face gives him a cup of cold rice and a piece of uncooked tuyo (dried fish). He goes back to his cell, fries the  tuyo along with cold rice. The rest of his day is spent reading, thinking, talking to his inmates, mostly ordinary peasants charged of petty crimes.

In the female correctional at the other end of the Quezon provincial  jail, Nancy Cabug, 43, passes her time reading books or conversing  with other female inmates, teaching them proper hygiene.

For more than eight months now, Greg and Nancy, both journalists at  one point of their lives, have been living what others would surely  consider a loathsome daily routine inside the Quezon Provincial Jail.  Fortunately for Greg and Nancy, their agony inside prison is about to end anytime soon.

Greg and Nancy are among the 49 political detainees ordered for  release by President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo as part of the new  regime's "healing process" and confidence-building measures and  prelude to the reopening of peace talks with the communist National  Democratic Front (NDF).

Capture

Greg and Nancy were caught by military operatives in a raid on a  suspected rebel camp in the hinterlands of Camarines Sur in June last year.

Greg was a mass communication student at the University of the  Philippines. He used to write for the Philippine Collegian and was a  member of the College Editors' Guild of the Philippines.

Greg went to Camarines Sur last April on an exposure program to write on the living conditions of peasants. Living with the peasants was an experience, especially for a budding journalist like Greg.

Nancy, on the other hand, went to Camarines Sur a month earlier. A veteran  journalist in Bicol, Nancy was in fact gathering data for a book she  was writing. "I was interested in writing about the situation of the country, including the internal conflict in the countryside," she  said.

After a few weeks of living with the peasants, some members of the  New People's Army (NPA) in the area requested the two to write some  paperwork for them.

On June 7, Nancy and Greg were in a makeshift hut when soldiers from  the 31st Infantry Battalion swooped down on them. Later on, they would find out  that five had been killed and six others had been wounded in the raid. One of  those hurt was Florenda Piñon, who was pregnant with a six-month-old  baby. Her baby died.

Nancy was first to be captured. She was made to admit that she was a  ranking officer of the revolutionary group. "I didn't even have a gun  with me. I told them we were there as noncombatants because we were  invited," she said.

"The military was demanding a lot of answers and was forcing me to  admit I was an NPA. I thought they would not let me live," she said.

Nancy was brought to a military camp in Tagkawayan, Quezon, where she  underwent three nights of rigorous tactical interrogation. A  diabetic, the military also deprived Nancy of her medication.

Meanwhile, Greg was brought to Tagkawayan a few hours after Nancy. He  was also interrogated for three straight nights by three sets of  military officials. "It was mental anguish," Greg recalled.

During the interrogations, the military kept insisting that Nancy and  Greg were high-ranking officers of the NPA. But they believed the military were only "packaging" them as such to secure promotions from  AFP Chief Angelo Reyes. This became clear when the soldiers arranged  a press conference two nights after their capture where they were  presented as big catch.

The military also took Nancy to the South Luzon Command and Camp  Aguinaldo to answer more questions.

When the military continued to grill them on the fourth night, Nancy  complained of exhaustion. But she stood firm and demanded a lawyer to  represent her.

Nancy and Greg were then charged with rebellion and taken to the Quezon  Provincial Jail in Lucena City to await the result of their case.

Life In Prison

As both prepare for their upcoming release from prison, Greg and  Nancy told Ibon Features the lessons they learned from their eight- month stay inside the provincial jail.

Greg and Nancy consider themselves lucky as other political prisoners are charged or have been convicted of common crimes.

"We were accorded `celebrity status' here," Greg said smiling.  Because of the nature of their case and the `NPA officers-image'  instilled by the military, Greg half-jokingly said the other inmates  had second thoughts about messing with them.

"We got away with the initiation. The other prisoners treated us with  respect, perhaps because most of the prisoners here also came from  peasant families so they understand what Nancy and I are advocating  for."

Greg disclosed that he was also first adamant to reveal the nature of  their case to his inmates. "But later on, I realized I shouldn't be  afraid. After all, we all are victims of a sluggish and oppressive  justice system."

Because many prisoners respect them, both were offered vantage  positions. Nancy was elected mayora (in-charge) of the women's  brigade, also inside the Quezon provincial jail. "Many of my fellow inmates consult their cases with me and ask me for advice," she  revealed.

Greg, meanwhile, appreciated the respect he got even from gang members. Some of his inmates asked him to be the leader of their cell brigade, which he politely refused. 

Light moments in prison, said Greg, is when prisoners watch on television international women's volleyball games, or when they  watched Estrada's lawyers and senators make a mockery of the  impeachment trial.

"The loneliest part is when we are about to sleep at night. We talk  and wonder among ourselves when we'll be free again," Greg said.

Realizations

In the process of trying to get used to the kind of life inside  prison, Greg and Nancy learned many things.

In prison, Nancy said she learned to have more courage. "I can't  afford to be depressed because they're (other prisoners) all  depressed," she said half-jokingly.

Greg realized how the prison resembles real life outside its walls as  a great eye-opener. "The prison is like a microcosm of society. Life  here is an everyday economic struggle. Every peso counts here, and  while we learn to value each peso, we learn to value each other," he  stressed.

Both have also come to experience harsh realities in prison. "My  concept of prison is that it is an instrument to correct or reprimand  wrong-doings. But whenever I see and experience double-standard  prison rules or how some prison guards perpetuate abuse that also  happen in the real life outside -- everything just strengthens my  convictions further. That there is indeed an internal conflict happening in society has become more undeniable for me," Nancy  commented.

Pending Freedom

While Nancy and Greg view the ordered release of 49 political  prisoners as a positive development, they were still unsatisfied.  Both see the act as Arroyo's effort to raise "good girl  points."

"The news is positive for us, but our call remains. The government  should release all political detainees," Greg said. "If the release  process is staggard, we just hope that the 49 prisoners won't be the  last batch to be released."

When asked about their plans after release, both told Ibon Features  they do not want to pin their hopes yet on it. "Unless we see the release order, we won't make (concrete) plans yet," he stressed.

Nancy said: "At least the administration recognizes that  there are political prisoners, unlike in Ramos' term when Renato de  Villa announced there were none. But the Arroyo administration's  sincerity remains to be seen."

De Villa served as chief-of-staff of the Armed Forces of the  Philippines under the Ramos administration. Now, de Villa is the  executive secretary of the Arroyo government, a post which places him  in power to screen and select political prisoners to be released.

"We may be leaving this prison soon all right, but as long as the  fundamental problems in our society remain unresolved, we will still  consider ourselves imprisoned," Nancy reiterated. #