Thank You, Ben

He is no Ben in Michael Jackson's song. This Ben is a better rat. Out of his many virtues I just recently discovered, this Ben has a better memory than anybody else.

He is Ben Sumog-oy, columnist in an award-winning local newsweekly, the Mindanao Bulletin. I knew him better, lately, as a media man, a respected thinker and an advocate of genuine governance and democratic principles.

But other than that, I have very limited memories of Ben. I may have never been fond of him twenty years ago, proof of which is that I have hazy memories of him. Well, I have hazy memories of almost everything in the past, a defense mechanism invented by my brain to ease the pain of remembering.

Ben was never part of my circle of influence then. When I was a national democrat, he was not. When he was a media man, I considered myself a propagandist of the people's struggle against the dictatorship. When I was a political animal, he was an NGO worker. Our lives met again in one crossroad: making local government work to improve the quality of life of the people. How that ill-fated advocacy and passion ended for both of us is another story.

Suddenly Ben remembers! His column on “Reflection and Analysis” printed in the April 25 – May 1, 2006 issue of Mindanao Bulletin, the fourth of a series of his treatise on the progressive forces in Sarangani, was like a nuclear bomb that fell on me.

Ben remembered the “Lampasak Massacre”. He remembered that I led the march of about 800 people from Alabel and General Santos City through nine high mountains and one river crossed 97 times to reach the scene of the crime and give honor to the 17 dead, 7 of them children. In the middle of Ben's column, I was already unable to read. An abundance of lachrymal liquid was trying to blur my field of vision.

Instinctively, I scavenged on my old folders and prized possessions. I was looking for a picture I never dared look during the last twenty years. When I finally found the last picture of the Lampasak Massacre, I was already sobbing like a child.

Thanks Ben. In remembering, you helped me remember... and live again.

I remember the dangerous times when armed men lord it over Alabel and the countrysides, and I was a young priest struggling to make sense of the cruelty of humans against each other. I remember that Artemia Apitan, a catechist, came to the doors of the convent crying for help for her seven-year child, Rosemin, who while celebrating her birthday the night before was killed with several neighbors and relatives.

I remember the spontaneous show of support and commitment from several sectors and personalities both from Alabel and General Santos City , and the unequivocal and daring decision to visit the site, document the incident and give homage to the victims. It was dry season but the river unexpectedly swelled; a two-hour trip lasted almost 9 hours and the group was able to reach the place at about 8:00 P.M. After the mass, we rested with wet clothes and began to trek down very early in the morning. Without food, some lumads and residents appeared from nowhere bringing us boiled bananas.

I remember the stories told by Ben in his column. Like Ben, Fr. Rene Cruz and I wrote voluminous documentations about the incident, but we just never knew what happened after. We were all caught in the storm, so to speak.

I remember that the armed group who perpetrated the massacre continued to terrorize, maim and kill people in Alabel even after EDSA. They did it in the name of democracy and in the name of God. We do not know what happened to them. Perhaps Ben knows.

I remembered that a community was born during that day. It was a community crying for justice for the 17 victims of the Lampasak Massacre, 7 of them children. It was a community whose courage and rage prepared richly the coming of the true EDSA in 1986 and the other EDSAs of the future.

Then, I wept that justice was never served. I despaired that God could be so uncaring for His people. I kept myself from remembering. To ease the pain.

I am sharing here the picture of the massacre victims taken almost twelve hours after they were herded in an open space to die... that we may all remember. So that in remembering, we will continue to cry for justice. So that as we remember, justice will be served sooner.

Thank you, Ben. May your tribe increase. And may the souls of the Lampasak Massacre victims rest in peace. Amen.

(About the photo: Tabi-tabi po! Seventeen persons, including seven children killed in a massacre perpetrated by a “fanatic” group in the mountains of Lampasak, Malapatan, Sarangani Province 20 years ago. Justice was buried with their bodies.)