The MNLF sniper who recognized me

The police facility near the fighting was crowded with newly captured MNLF rebels, a few of them over 60 years old, some of them bleeding from bullet wounds.

They smelled of sweat and gun powder, their hands blackened, their faces burnt dark brown.

That's where I saw him: a heavy-set man with mop-like hair and huge hands, seated in a corner of the room, fast asleep, his head leaning on a makeshift blackboard where a list of names of known hostages were written.

His handcuffed hands were swollen from burns and cuts, his thick fingers, scarred, calloused, and bruised. His right arm had a bandaged wound. His skin, a deep, dark olive brown, was covered by a patina of soot, rendering his skin an ashen grey. His wore faded camouflage pants. A serene expression marked the sleeping man.

A police official sidled next to me and whispered with unmasked awe, "That's the Santa Catalina sniper," referring to the barangay where the most intense fighting had been waged since the rebels entered the city on September 9.

The man must have heard us for he suddenly opened his eyes and stared in our direction. His eyes were like glowing coals, smouldering with the fire of purpose.

I was told this man was one of the most relentless MNLF snipers, preventing soldiers from advancing towards rebel positions along Lustre Street, the scene of some of the fiercest combat.

For days, the rebel snipers held their positions, on top of buildings and inside attics, shooting out of windows. This man did not surrender. He was cornered by government troops after he ran out of bullets.

A flicker of recognition crossed the man's face and he broke into a wide, almost sheepish smile. It was like watching a chameleon, a killer turning into someone's goofy uncle.

We had seen each other before, not in Zamboanga but in the jungles of Sulu. "I know you," I tell him. He nods and cracks an even bigger smile.

"Tausug," he replies.

"Bitan-ag?" I ask, referring to MNLF Commander Ustadz Habir Malik's old stronghold in Panamao, Sulu that I visited almost ten years ago.

He nods again. I try to prod him for more information but the only word he utters is “Tausug.” So he was with Malik again in Zamboanga City. Malik is believed to be the leader of the rebels occupying several neighborhoods and holding dozens of hostages in the heart of the city.

Incredible odds

One of the thoughts that had been burning in my mind in the past days was the seeming disregard of the MNLF fighters of the odds stacked against them.

Government troop estimates number 5000 in the conflict area while intelligence reports pegged rebels at around 180 armed men, and that was before the 52 dead gunmen reported by a military spokesman.

Considering what they were up against, what made these men follow Commander Malik to the gates of hell?

I get an answer from a captured nineteen-year-old sniper named Udab from Talipao, Sulu.

He tells me they were promised ten thousand pesos to attend a supposedly planned MNLF flag-raising at the Zamboanga City Hall. Most of them did not have guns when they came to Zamboanga. On Monday, just before the planned march, they were issued firearms somewhere in Barangay Santa Barbara.

In the past week, the military had been circulating news about the death of Commander Malik, perhaps in an effort to dampen the morale of the remaining MNLF fighters. But Udab shakes his head when I try to confirm the death of the senior MNLF commander. He tells me he last saw Malik Friday night.

"It is God's will that he is alive. Bullets cannot harm him."

Before I leave, I take one last look at the Santa Catalina sniper. He is sleeping again. It must be the first real sleep he has had in days. – HS, GMA News