Today marks the 40th anniversary of the declaration of Martial Law by then president Ferdinand Marcos. Many (victims) refer to that period as the longest and darkest 9 years of their lives.
|photo from gmanetwork.com|
The horrible stories of unwarranted arrests, harassment and torture of political enemies send shivers down my spine. I was actually born during this period? Unbelievable! How did my parents date, marry and want an offspring during this time when the future seem so dim? They said there was a curfew then and I wondered how my parents managed to drop me off my grandma's house during those nights I threw tantrums and wanted my Lola. And media was regulated? I was told nobody could utter anything against the administration, but how come my Lolo often cursed Marcos from head to foot?
I am a Martial Law baby but I have no recollection of what it was like then (I should thank God for that). In fact, the first time Marcos made a dent in my memory was when I heard from my cousin (who was then in HS) that Ninoy has been assassinated and that Marcos was to blame. Well I was only 8 then and how to perfect putting a pair of barrettes on my hair mattered more.
So today, as many Filipinos look back in 1972, my prayer goes to mothers whose sons and daughters were never found, to children whose parents are still out there buried somewhere, and to those who survived but are haunted by the painful memories.
God bless you all.