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BY RHICK LARS VLADIMER ALBAY
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“We can be buried by the things that do not worry us at this hour.” — Eliza Victoria
A HUNDRED MEN gather, their backs against the sun, shadows falling bleakly on the loose gravel. The air is unusually still and heavy — the wind seems to be waiting for something to happen. Mud-stained backhoes move mechanically across the field, like tamed animals, their engines humming in drones. Not far off, a dug hole awaits to be filled, maybe with cement for paving a new road, maybe not.
Birds were flying high above when it happened, indifferent to the smell of rust and smoke dispersing below them, unmoved by the cries of 58 different people.
When the bodies were strewn into the ground, like mere aggregate for concrete, the soil did not complain. Rocks piled with the remains, several vehicles, mounds of dirt and decay.
To this day, the road remains narrow.
On the morning of Nov. 23, 2009, a convoy of seven vehicles carrying journalists, lawyers and relatives of then Buluan vice mayor Ismael Mangudadatu left the town to file the certificate of candidacy of their patriarch at the Commission on Elections office in Shariff Aguak, Maguindanao’s capital. Unknown to them, the private army of the Ampatuan clan was already stationed, waiting for them.
That was seven years ago, when the world was shocked by the mass murder of more than 50 civilians, including several journalists. Regarded solely as the deadliest event for the Philippine press, what is now called the Maguindanao massacre made our country one of the most dangerous nations for media, second only to Iraq.
Seven years have passed, yet proceedings for the case are still ongoing. Of the 197 accused of having a hand in the massacre, 106 are on trial, about 90 remain at large. Proceedings are at a standstill, the Philippine court has yet to reach a verdict. And one of the main suspects, Ampatuan clan patriarch Andal Ampatuan Sr., already died in July 2015.
The road remains narrow.
About 200 have been identified as state witnesses, but threats on their safety have forced some to keep silent. Three years ago, the dismembered body of Ismail Amil Enog was found in Mamasapano, Maguindanao. Enog, who drove a large number of Ampatuan’s gunmen to the massacre site, testified against his former employer in 2011.
In 2013 six people — three witnesses and three relatives of other witnesses — were killed in connection with the trial of the politically influential Ampatuan family. Such threats have discouraged numerous witnesses from affirming the guilt of those involved. Meanwhile the families of the victims continue to voice out their unheard calls for justice.
The road to Sitio Masalay, whose hillsides became the backdrop for the killings, is rugged and desolate. I have never been there. We have never been there. Yet in our minds we imagine it: a narrow path, the sound of gunshots, the scent of blood. Government-owned backhoes and trucks, rifles from the Department of Defense’s arsenal. We show remorse for the deaths of the victims, support the pursuit of justice and voice out the need to end impunity.
Yet the road remains narrow./PN
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