I cried on the commute to school today. It is both beautiful and sad that the conditions of the Philippines create and kill so many vibrant leaders. The struggle for national liberation gives meaning and purpose to both life and death.
I’ve been thinking about different kasamas in my life and in the homeland who have taught me lessons, starting from when I was new and young in the movement to now being in a position where I am helping others develop. (ah, that still feels weird to regard myself as a leader.) Araw-araw sa pilipinas may extrajudicial killings ng mga ordinaryong mamamayan: mga mahihirap, magsasaka, liders ng unyon, aktibista, human rights defenders, journalists, dissenters. Many of the kasamas we’ve met on our exposure trips and visits are being arrested or accused of trumped-up charges in order to silence their dissent.
Many of our kasamas experience loss and death even as they fight and organize to prevent more deaths. I met many kasamas whose daughters paid the ultimate sacrifice in the struggle. I met many kasamas whose husbands had passed away within weeks of my visit.
In between their vibrant guiding of me through their communities with high spirits and jokes, I’d see them pause. Shoulders slumped, eyes faraway, energy suddenly sapped. “Kasama... ok ka lang? Kamusta...” they’d confide in me how much it hurt to live, to know they’d never hear their husband’s booming voice or watch him play with their young children. Then the play-by-play of how they died, how they were able to hear their last breaths before their chests finally stopped rising. They’d always end the conversation by commenting on “how much work still needed to be done.”
In a way, I could tell it was their way of coping. And I was glad to see folks in their collectives support their healing and making intentional efforts to never leave these kasamas to themselves. It was these strong women leaders, still standing and pushing thru their grief and sorrow, that brought me to tears today. Their faces, videos of actions, and statements remind me that I am so very far away.
I recognize that I am coping by throwing myself into tasks and meetings. I’m game and inspired, but I do admit it is a bit of a productive distraction from the intensity of my thoughts and memories. I am grateful that my position as organizational development requires me to reach out and work collectively with others. A kasama told me yesterday that they were the same way until they fell into depression six months later. God.
how do I fight my subjective feeling of it being temporary? how do i stay present and enthusiastic about my current conditions? especially when I know there’s a realistic path back. I hope this month of mass work with the vibrant, creative, energetic, kalokang youtsss grounds me. I have to remember that the role I am fulfilling is a parallel path to the collective goal we wish to reach.
