The privilege of being able to sit tonight in front of my computer with the deafening silence to accompany me is gold.
Our house isn’t big but I’m still fortunate for having enough space to stretch my legs and arms. I might not have eaten the most exquisite dinner yet my stomach had no room for another bit of food.
At this hour of the night, 11:38 pm to be exact while another millennial (from Visayas or Luzon) scrolls up and down through his / her smartphone. It’s the same hour where bullets glide into the air, exchanging gun fires from our military officers and a group of extremists called ISIS.
Once, the news about ISIS killings were just horror stories that you could read on social media. What I thought was a wishy washy issue now costs lives of civilians and more than 50 Filipino military officers and counting.
It’s sickening to hear statistics of fatalities on the radio every morning but like they always said, truth hurts, truth tastes bitter but you still have to eat it.
In the morning, you woke up with the sound of your alarm and get yourself dressed for school or for work. Easy.
For the evacuees in Marawi, seeing another sunrise is a blessing but being woken up by the sound of airstrikes is both a curse and a gift.
It gives them hope that one day, this war will finally be ceased. This will pound the enemies to death but sad to say, it is the same bombs that destroyed their homes, pharmacies and some other places that once erected in the land of Marawi. Airstrikes were crushing the buildings, schools and roads they built from ashes. Considering the length of time, roads and infrastructures are built in the Philippines. It will surely take time to mend and get things back to normal.
The fallen heroes and the ones who are still fighting until now, bargaining their normal life for the love of country. I could not send through my ‘thank you’ and so I wrote this blog post.
We were just lucky to have brave men to cover us from the bullets, some of them even made their bodies a human shield to protect civilians. There names and faces flashed on the screen once, yet their deeds and heroism will always be engraved in the lives of those whom they saved.
I know how the death of a loved one crushed the heart and I may not transcribe the pain I saw in the eyes of a tearful Military Officer as I stop scrolling down on my news feed. I can not write the words for it. But the pain wires through. It was infectious.
It crushed me, seeing these armies in a straight line, carrying human-sized boxes, a coffin of their own comrade. There’s nothing as painful as that. Made me question why good people die first?
To give chance for the bad people to change? To be a great example? Whatever that is, it will serve its purpose. It will inspire, it will touch lives. I hope.
I am just saddened by the apathy most of us are showing. Only a few shows interest in donating and helping our Maranaonan brothers and sisters.
I just hope many would care to the survivors in the evacuation area. Health problems were arising, infectious diseases have killed some of the evacuees. Children were getting thin. While we indulge our normal life, earning pesos or dollars a day, I wish we could share a little and send baskets of food, that will not only sustain the victims physically but will also restore their hopes.
But even how bad the war is, we could still hear stories about Muslims defending their Christian friends, despite the differences, the religious perspective was set aside. And for that moment, there were no Katoliko or Muslim.
There were only Filipinos.
If they were only no factions, no divisions, no walls.
Photo Credit: Abs Cbn