NEWS FEATURE

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KIDS MARCHED FOR THEIR RIGHTS

MANILA, Philippines --- Young Berna Cepe, 13, along with around 300 kids and 50 adults, marched her way through Mendiola Street last December 6, careless of the morning heat, stomach empty, mind focused on a sole purpose of being vigilant on issues even older than she is: the fight for human rights.

Waking up as early as four o’clock in the morning, this juvenile Juana prepared herself for the movement led by various activist groups including Gabriela, Parents’ on Children Welfare, Children Rehabilitation Center, Kilusang Magbubukid ng Pilipino and Salinlahi – Alliance for Children’s Concern to name a few, which continue to impart to the present generation the importance of taking a stand and showing ample awareness to the country's present state.

"Gusto kong maging doktor," Berna said when asked of her longest dream, one of the reasons why she never feared whatever comes in her way during the shouts and blandishments of youthful voices, armed with their placards, strengths and nothing else, uncertain to foster feat versus the altar of partisan politics.

"Naiintindihan ng mga bata. Hindi mo na kailangan kumbinsihin. Nakakagulat na sila mismo ang gustong makibaka," said Jert Ranjo-Libang of Gabriela who stressed that among the influence-peddling action of making children this young a part of their protest is that they are already part of the community. "Kung ano ang nararanasan ng kanilang pamilya, nararanasan rin nila," she added.

Ranjo-Libang also said that the main advocacy for conducting the rally was to find justice for those activists who remain to be labeled members of the dreaded National People's Army [NPA] and for those innocent kids being tagged as "child soldiers."

Linda Lubrigar, 34, a public school teacher and mother of four, worries that her family and some others might soon lose their homes due to the threats of demolition in Batasan, Quezon City, where they have been residing for the past three years, thus she joined the campaign and even brought one of her children with her.

"Hindi ako natatakot na kasama ko pa ang anak ko, 'pinaglalaban lang namin ang aming karapatan," she echoed.

Berna should have delivered her speech before the eyes of her attentive audience but she failed to do so, as tears started to well from her curious eyes, illustrating that she really was serious of what she had chosen to do.

"Kinakabahan po ako at nahihiya pero hindi po ako natatakot," she exclaimed when she managed to get her composure.

Harried souls of several ages literally made the street their arena on a match which could even be more lucrative than what Manny Pacquiao has already won. Their battle was definitely not over.

"Kung hindi ngayon, kailan pa ang protesta?" said Ranjo- Libang, a clear manifestation that they are not giving up to the tiresome rounds of freedom expression versus their nemesis amidst the abyss of poverty.

Through their small voices, these children believe that they can punch their way through their dreams by taking part in these kinds of movements creating pictures of ironic reality.###

Skyflakes

The wind blew and for the thousandth time, she tried to sleep while her eyes were pinned on the green wall in front of her, open. And again, she failed to do the trick.She eventually began shaking her head from left to right unconsciously drifting her thoughts miles away from the four corners of room 418, the reality. Did she finally succeed this time? Yes. She managed to let her soul rest while her flesh and blood stayed awake. Another product of late night scifi movie marathon maybe. Or just plain daydreaming.
Soon after her clueless serenity, the four corners seemed to look confused. Then frightened. The professor dropped to her seat nervous. White as the collars of her dress. While the students gathered in circle. One crying. Another talking to someone in the other line. Another in hysteria. Then shouts. Cries. Prayers. And moments later, a siren…
“Her ECG result seemed normal the last time she was here. Maybe she lost track of her diet. Or maybe she didn’t take the norvasc I gave her, “ the man in white sleeves said with full authority.
The woman he was talking to had nothing to say but an effortless smile was pasted on her face. It was a bit gloomy staying at the heart center but this was home to Fiona.
The woman then recognized that it’s ten minutes past three. Not too late for the regular rosary session.
On bended knees, she remained in silence beside the young picture of sickness with which her “Father God” and “Hail Mary” were for.
It’s hard fighting a traitor disease…which for seventeen years have swallowed Fiona’s desires, vices, happiness.
By three forty, the woman had been seated to the same chair she used three years after giving birth to Fiona. Seeing her child battling cardiopulmonary disorders made her resort to One Faith: a caharidamtic organization of which she never thought of getting herself into.
She looked at Fiona from head to toe and during the travel of her eyes, she recognized that the blanket have wrinkled. As if mother’s instincts dictated her to do so, she automatically reached for the cloth and smoothened it, careful not to touch the tube connecting Fiona’s veins to the hanging medication worth her life.
Of all people, why does Fiona have to be chosen of the burden? The woman tried to convince herself that everything shall be fine. In God’s grace.
She was eighteen when she gave birth to Fiona. Fiona is at her twenties now. She could have ended Fiona’s life long before she knew about the baby I her womb. Yet she failed. All because that was what her conscience shouted. How much did she know about conscience by then? She did not deserve it.
The door of the small room creaked and it was open. Two ladies silently entered wearing the saddest of all the masks they could wear.
The woman welcomed them noiselessly getting an armless chair for the shorter one while offering her seat to the other. She struggled recalling their names and she gave up. But her memory was certain that they were the girls who took Fiona at the center two weeks ago when Fiona had a heart attack during their Humanities class.
The two stayed for almost half an hour asking questions which the woman honestly answered. They might be two years younger than Fiona, she thought for she saw traces of non-adulthood and immaturity in their faces.
The basket of fruits the two brought stood still at the table together with some pink and yellowish tablets of hardly recognizable names, a can of Skyflakes and a gallon of mineral water.
At around five o’clock, the two decided to go and the woman had thanked them for the company. She headed them to the door becoming more conscious of her courtesy but somehow her mind told her something which could be not the smartest mode of waving goodbye.
And with the most forgiving eyes and soft voice she asked, “I really appreciate you visiting Fiona, but who are you again?” L.L.