
VIEW FROM THE TOP. The site of the Maguindanao massacre, viewed from the other end of the road, is reminiscent of a shrine where people flock to, hoping for some sort of miracle. Jerrie Abella
GENERAL SANTOS CITY -- The road to Maguindanao from General Santos City has become bumpier, the houses fewer, and the fear for one's life more apparent. To an outsider, it seems that the road to Maguindanao has become "less traveled." For some, the word "Maguindanao" sparks fear. After all, the province, one of the poorest in the country, was the setting of arguably the most numbing crime in Philippine history. On November 23, 2009, Maguindanao made headlines across the globe when 57 members of a convoy were massacred in broad daylight. They were shot one by one and their bodies dumped in a hastily prepared pit. The 57 victims included a local official's family and supporters, and 32 journalists.
'Motorcade of memory' On Tuesday, exactly a year after the massacre, journalists and victims' relatives, in a similar convoy of 15 vehicles, retraced the victims' route before they were mercilessly killed. Maguindanao Governor Esmael Mangudadatu had a separate convoy of 50 vehicles. With him in his fifty-car motorcade were Justice Secretary Leila de Lima and Presidential Adviser on the Peace Process Teresita Deles.
"Siguro mas marami pa sa kanila 'yung escort nilang militar (It seemed they have more military escorts than participants)," a local journalist remarked. On November 23 last year, the relatives of Mangudadatu were on their way to file his certificate of candidacy for Maguindanao governor when they were ambushed and killed in a hilly area. Mangudadatu, the vice-mayor of Buluan town at the time of the massacre, eventually won the gubernatorial race in the May 10, 2010 polls. The 57 people who were killed and buried in a mass grave in Ampatuan town included Mangudadatu's wife, his two sisters, as well as journalists, lawyers, aides, and motorists who were witnesses or were mistakenly identified as part of the convoy. On Tuesday, a year after the massacre, convoy participants gathered in Koronadal City in South Cotabato, a two-hour drive away from Sitio Masalay, Ampatuan town in Maguindanao, the site of the killings. The convoy participants wanted to retrace their loved ones' route to their brutal death, and reach the massacre site at around the same hour that the victims reportedly started to be killed one by one. According to the
testimonies of witnesses, the victims started to be harassed at around 10:00 a.m. on November 23 last year. The actual killing reportedly happened between 10: 30-11:30 a.m. However, glitches along the way and unforeseen circumstances delayed the start of the much anticipated "motorcade of memory" on Tuesday. The convoy of relatives, journalists, and government officials left Koronadal at around 9:00 a.m. and arrived at the massacre site in Sitio Masalay at around 11:00 a.m. For the most part, the two-hour trip was quiet. There was no heavy traffic at any segment of the long and seemingly endless road. Along the way, the convoy passed by roads dotted with banners calling for justice for the victims. Nobody seemed to mind that the banners stood side by side with the promotional materials of restaurants and business establishments announcing sales or discounts. From time to time, media photographers took snapshots of scenes along the road -- people going about their daily tasks along with police and military personnel in full battle gear and banners calling for justice for the Maguindanao massacre victims. However, a deafening silence prevailed as soon as the convoy reached a military checkpoint â the ninth we had passed from Koronadal â right at the boundary of Maguindanao. The soldiers let us pass upon seeing the number "9" sticker posted on the van's windshield, indicating that the passengers included relatives of the victims and media workers.
Ground zero As soon as we entered Maguindanao province, the roads became bumpier, the bamboo shacks fewer, and the fear for one's own life, as it were, became more apparent. Suddenly, at a 10th checkpoint, the vehicles stopped. "Ito na ba yun? (Is this the place?)" a photojournalist asked. "Oo (yes)" was the monosyllabic response of a broadsheet writer who was normally "fierce," irritable, and chatty. It was at that 10th checkpoint where exactly a year ago the ill-fated convoy was halted by armed men. The 58 victims were led to a nearby hilltop and massacred in broad daylight. After they were shot one by one, their bodies were dumped in a hastily prepared pit. So far, 57 bodies have been recovered but that of the 58th victim still hasn't been found. Near the checkpoint was a sign that read "MNLF camp 1 km" (Moro National Liberation Front camp 1 kilometer). The sign had an arrow pointing upward the hill. There was a solitary bamboo shack nearby. A carabao was grazing in the endless field of green. The signs of life, however, were not an assurance of safety.
Attempt to scare off people? On Sunday, two days before the Ampatuan massacre anniversary, an explosion rocked Shariff Aguak Central School in Maguindanao province wounding two civilians. The explosion was likely the work of those âtrying to scare off people expected to flock at the massacre site to the first year anniversary commemoration of the Maguindanao massacre," De Lima said. According to a report by Maj. Gen. Anthony Alcantara of the Philippine Armyâs 6th Infantry Division, one of those injured was the wife of a local official. The blast was likely from an improvised explosive device or IED, the report said.
No space to walk on Sitio Masalay, where the killings happened, is a relatively small place. With 65 vehicles and 3,000 participants in the commemoration of the victims' death anniversary, there was hardly space to walk on. Still, the people walked, some bearing flowers or banners with the names and pictures of their loved ones. One wonders what the relatives of the victims could be thinking as they walked one kilometer from the checkpoint to the actual site of the killings. The grief, it seemed, was unbearable. At the first of three mass graves where the bodies of the victims were dumped, the relatives wept, probably tormented by the thought of what their loved ones had gone through just before they died.
Stories of despair and hope The sister of journalist Rey Perisco of "Periodico Ini" was among the first to arrive at the site. She had with her a framed picture of her brother smiling taken during better days. She told GMA News how hard it was to accept the truth that her brother has passed on. She consoles herself with the thought that her brother had to sacrifice himself to help pave the way for the better life for the people of Maguindanao. Then the aging mother of McDelbert Arriola, of UNTV in General Santos, sobbing, writhed in pain as she offered flowers and candles for her deceased son. Long after the video stopped rolling and the cameras ceased flashing, she stayed by one of the mass graves, weeping uncontrollably. The family of Reynaldo Momay was there in Sitio Masalay too. He was the "58th" and still missing victim of the massacre, a photojournalist from Tacurong City's Midland Review. Momay's family members wore orange shirts as they sought justice for him. They were also seeking the retrieval of his remains because only his dentures have been recovered so far. His only daughter, Ma. Reynafe Momay-Castillo, was weeping, and a woman from Mangudadatu's group told her, "Mag-file kayo ng writ of amparo (File a writ of amparo)." The writ of amparo is a remedy available to any person whose right to life, liberty, and security has been violated or is threatened. The writ covers existing extralegal killings and enforced disappearances or threats. The story of Maguindanao is not only of despair but also of hope. It is a story of clinging to the power of faith and imagination, when all else seemed to have failed. Reynafe and the rest of the relatives staged the motorcade, not only to dramatize their plight, but to remind the government that on the fateful day of November 23, 2009, over 50 people were senselessly killed. The motorcade was a reminder it could happen again on another day, to other hapless victims. The motorcade's message was clear: Remember what happened on November 23 last year to ensure that a similar act of violence will never happen again.
â VVP, GMANews.TV