IN 1972, exactly 46 years ago today, dictator Ferdinand Marcos signed Proclamation No. 1081 declaring Martial Law.
What followed was an era of oppression and corruption – a regime responsible for the deaths of 3,240 Filipinos and the torture of around 34,000, as well as billions looted from the government’s coffers.
At the height of Marcos’ brutal reign in 1983, John Herbert Dela Fuente, a young Ilonggo activist, was shot dead at close range while asleep at a relative’s house in Jaro, Iloilo City.
The local constabulary reported that the killing was the product of an “armed encounter” but people know he was really “salvaged” – executed for his activism and support to the fight against the tyranny of a dictator.
His brother, Edward Dela Fuente, a student of Central Philippine University and former editor-in-chief of the student publication Central Echo, wrote a poem entitled “Epilogue” to commemorate John’s death, swearing to live on and continue his fallen brother’s plight for the freedom of the country.
“With the painful thud of your fall / Our vulnerability broke, our hearts cried, knowing the morning will be different without you,” wrote Edward.
In this same handwritten poem sent to his family, Edward continued “our dream”: “…an eternal flame / that lights / countless torches / in the throbbing hearts / of millions.”
Edward and John were the sons of two leaders of the Baptist Church in Iloilo. Both of them regularly attended church services, and the eldest Dela Fuente brother was also a former president of the National Baptist Youth of the Philippines.
Unbeknownst to Edward, a year later, he would suffer the same fate as his brother. In April 1984, Edward and two others were killed in the village of Unat, a few kilometers away from the town center of Ibajay, Aklan while serving at the remote and poor community. The military said they died in an encounter with constabulary patrol.
However, eyewitnesses said Edward and his companions were captured alive, tormented and shot dead. The autopsy reports indicated they had been tortured.
“I thought [Edward] died of natural causes when we came to the morgue to find his body,” recounted their mother Lucy Dela Fuente, who tragically has outlived both her sons. “But then I noticed signs of torture: his bloody nails and fingers, bruises and scars, the mark of a boot print on his back, I was shocked and taken aback by the cruelty Marcos’ soldiers had taken upon my son.”
The web archive of the Bantayog ng mga Bayani – where Edward Dela Fuente’s name is commemorated on the “Wall of Remembrance” – recalls the following exchange the older Dela Fuente brother had with his father, who later shared it after his son passed, once he decided to join the resistance against the Ferdinand Marcos regime:
“I believe that fighting the dictatorship is a noble cause and I would regret it if I don’t join,” he told his father.
“I also believe that it’s a noble cause,” his father replied. “But I do not want to be sending you to your death. I cannot give my permission.”
“Then I’m not asking for your permission,” Edward Dela Fuente replied. “You’ve merely been informed of my decision.”
‘KA PONSO’ AND FRIEND
After taking leave of his family, Edward spent the next years among the poor people living in the central mountain ranges of Panay. He was “Ka Ponso,” a skilled negotiator and troubleshooter often sent to expansion areas to settle conflicts or to organize new groups against the dictatorship.
At Edward Dela Fuente’s wake at their residence in Jaro, hundreds of people came to pay their respects. Most of them were peasants from all over Panay. They told us how our son made an impact on their lives, said Lucy.
When it was time to take him to his final resting place four kilometers away, they – the masses Edward aided and helped organize – insisted on carrying his coffin on their shoulders.
Margaret “Pitsik” Dominado, a family friend and former schoolmate of the Dela Fuente brothers – now a nurse based in Washington, D.C. – still regularly posts about the fallen Ilonggo sons, wanting their memory and sacrifice to live on.
“I grieved with mom Lucy and her family when her sons died. I knew her sons. Edward was an epitome of an intelligent leader. John was my ‘contemporary’ and dear friend. My memories of him were full of laughter,” she shared.
Dominado shares that she was just 13 years old when Martial Law was declared in 1972. She was in her early 20s during the untimely deaths of her friends Edward and John.
“I grieved for and with all the other mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, sisters, and brothers who bore the brunt of the cruelty of injustices and senseless violence perpetuated against [them] under [Marcos’] Martial Law.” She said.
“Each time the grief and sufferings under Marcos [is] negated or ridiculed, I feel a stabbing pain for all those who, like mommy Lucy, had carried the battle scars while surviving this dark side of Philippine history.”
Dominado believes the anniversary of Martial Law should be a day of remembering for the “comrades” who made immense sacrifices – including laying down their lives – to attain the freedom and justice we take for granted today.
“The Filipino people should never forget that the victory won during the EDSA Revolution of February 1986 – otherwise known as the People’s Power [revolution] – was not [possible] without the seeds of resistance planted by these comrades,” she continued.
“We must never leave their stories buried in unknown archives. Such examples of heroism and patriotism should be taught to the next generation and their stories retold to our children and our children’s children,” said Dominado.
Marcos was forced to leave the Philippines in 1986, a result of the very first unified and unparalleled People Power Movement, two years after the death of the dela Fuente brothers, proving that those who fought for what they believed in and those who paid with their life did not die in vain./PN
