Published on page A13 of the February 24, 2005 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer
To help mark the "Mindanao Week of Peace" late last year, our school organized a walk for peace. I thought I could use the bonus points I would earn in my Religious Education class, so I decided to join it. But typhoon Yoyong forced its cancellation.
I was disappointed. Southern Mindanao only had light rain showers that day but the suspension of classes was nationwide. I spent the whole day grumbling about the fun I had missed. I was looking forward to the event as an occasion to get better acquainted with my new classmates.
I knew the walk was meant as a call for lasting peace in Mindanao. But I thought it no longer necessary. The whole island had been rather quiet for some time. The most gruesome terrorist act in my memory—the bombing of the Davao airport—happened two years earlier. The government's counter-terrorism efforts must have borne fruit. So if the walk had anything to do with peace, it must be a celebration.
Or so I thought. A few days later, another bomb went off in General Santos City, killing several people and injuring dozens of others.
The blast opened my eyes to reality and made me reevaluate my purpose for joining the walk. Peace seemed more elusive than ever before. The terrorists had taken only a brief respite and they were on the prowl again. I should take part in the walk for peace not for some selfish reasons but to help bring about its ultimate goal: peace.
The walk pushed through a week later. The night before the event, I stayed up late working on the placard I would carry. As I struggled to find the perfect message, I remembered one incident that occurred during my childhood.
It happened about 15 years ago during one of the few times I visited Cotabato City. My parents and their friends were following up some papers at the branch office of the Government Service Insurance System in front of the city plaza. While the women were inside, my father and my godfather took me to the park.
There I met a Muslim boy who was a little older than me. He must have been one of several children of a vendor. We became instant friends. Somehow, we managed to communicate even though he spoke Maguindanaoan and I could only speak Ilonggo. Knowing I was a visitor, he invited me for a walk around the park.
We were at the back of the statue of Jose Rizal when a poorly covered manhole caught my eye. I don't know what got into my 4-year-old mind, but I put my foot tentatively on the thin sheet of metal, turned to my companion, and declared, "Tapakan ko ni (Do you want me to step on this)?"
He mumbled his disapproval, but my braggadocio got the better of me. I stepped on the cover and it gave way immediately. I fell into the hole, and cold, murky water engulfed my tiny body.
I don't know what happened next. When I was out of the water, the first face I saw was my father's. Then my mother bought me new clothes, a balloon and everything I pointed at in the store we went to. I completely forgot my newfound friend.
I found out later that I could have died if not for the boy's quick action. When he saw me disappear into the manhole, he immediately looked for my father. My father saw my hands trying to grasp at anything among the dead frogs floating in the dark-green water. He pulled me out and was greatly relieved to see that I was conscious.
It was an unforgettable experience for me. The incident has been etched in my memory as my second birth. Remembering what happened that afternoon is like watching a monochromatic film: Two boys take a leisurely walk, oblivious of the rest of the world. It does not matter to them if one prays to God by kneeling down and looking up to heaven, while the other worships Allah by kneeling down and kissing the ground. The friendship they share knows no religion, language or culture.
So when I walked around Koronadal City with my fellow students of Notre Dame, I carried my placard up high so that everyone could read what I had written: "Prejudice creates injustice. Injustice destroys peace."
Midway through the activity, I was filled with doubts. I began questioning the significance of what I was doing. Would the walk have any impact on the peace and order situation in Mindanao? I thought the walk would bring awareness and awaken the peacemaking instinct in people. But those who came out to watch went back to whatever they were doing after seeing that it was not a parade. Those who stayed did so because they were amused by the sight of students marching like labor union members on strike. Motorists were obviously annoyed to find the flow of traffic being disturbed.
I asked myself if the terrorists would heed to the silent cry of a few hundred students. They were deaf to the wails of families left by the innocent civilians killed by their bombs. They were blind to the agony of those who were crippled and maimed by the explosion. Their hearts had been hardened by the injustices they suffered. Their minds had been clouded by ideologies.
I finished the walk feeling lost and confused amid the throng of students. But I realized afterwards, during the symposium and the Mass, that the walk was not useless or futile. It may not have changed the minds of the terrorists, but it helped everyone who joined become aware of his vital role in peacekeeping. It may not have moved those we passed by, but it made us resolve to become peacemakers. After the walk, we were ready to wipe away the prejudices we had acquired and judge everyone on the basis of his character, not his religion or ethnicity.
I hope other young people of Mindanao—both Christians and Muslims—will have the opportunity to join a walk for peace or any related activity. If every young man and woman would work for peace today, who is going to plant bombs tomorrow? Propagating a culture of peace among the youth is the way to put an end to the insurgencies in Mindanao.
The walk was exhausting and made my feet ache. But the pain was nothing compared to the rewards I got. The bonus points? I did not get any because our teacher was not able to join us. But the enlightenment I received was much more valuable. And I gained friends—peace-loving friends.