by: William R. Adan MSU Alumni Association AB Political Science, Batch 1966 Mindanao State University

A JOURNEY TO UNCERTAINTY: TOWARDS THE 1972 MARAWI UPRISING AND BEYOND
by: William R. Adan
http://thelettertoday.blogspot.com/2011/10/journey-to-uncertainty-towards-october.html

(Note: MSU stands for Mindanao State University)

       23 September 1972. It was a bright Sunday morning. The sun was already up and biting at 6:30 am. Yet, everyone was still wallowing in the comfort of a deep weekend slumber. I decided to stroll solo from the MSU Bongao campus down the stretch of Datu Halun beach to a distance of some 2 km away. The beach was cool and a little dark as it was tightly wrapped by the ubiquitous shadows of huge Bitaog and Talisay trees that dotted its shoreline. The sea was also exceedingly calm and was almost foreboding in its silence. I waded to the waters outside the shadows of trees and, at chest deep, allowed myself to float, to relax, and to meditate on the pristine, enchanting beauty of my marine surrounding.

       A lazy humming sound of a DC plane from a distance interrupted my reflection. The plane was apparently approaching Sanga-Sanga Airport in another island some 12 km from the Bongao campus of MSU Sulu College of Technology and Oceanography (SCTO).

       At around 9 am, I traced my way back to the MSU Panel Locks faculty dormitory on campus. What I saw when I reached the place distressed me: fully-armed Philippine Air Force personnel in their grey overall were everywhere. Although they maintained a decent distance from the dormitory and staff houses, their presence was definitely threatening.

       The scene in my room was equally disturbing. My locker was in chaos; all my books, reading materials and notes were gone. No one was in the dorm to explain the situation. I looked around outside the building and saw the dorm tenants in a nearby staff cottage, apprehensive and sullen, all ears to the radio set. As I approached them, the baritone voice of President Ferdinand Marcos cracked the air: he was justifying the declaration of Martial Law throughout the country made two days earlier. I supposed it was a replay of an earlier announcement.

       So that was it. The dorm occupants were alerted by the neighbours on the declaration of Martial Law before the arrival of the Air Force assault personnel. The lady faculty members rushed to my room, force-opened my locker, hauled all my books and reading materials and buried them to a location that even to date has never been disclosed to me. The little red book of Mao, the nationalist essays of Renato Constantino, the speeches of Recto and Tañada, including the relatively harmless but provocative Atlas Shrugged of Ayn Rand, the Little Prince of de Exupery, and the history, sociology and English textbooks I borrowed from the campus library were put to rest under the ground inside a tall tin biscuit can. My disappearance early that morning alarmed the ladies. They thought the military had kidnapped and detained me. Thus, they had to hide the "evidences" against my person.

       Mass Resignation. By Monday, the campus was bereft of students as classes were suspended indefinitely. The suspension of classes added to the uncertainties and anxieties of everyone. The rumour mill began grinding and circulating information about the termination of teachers and closure of some state colleges and universities that had served as the breeding ground of political activists and communists. The tense atmosphere on campus somehow relaxed when, with nothing to do because of the suspension of classes, we started engaging in small talks the Air Force personnel who kept watch on us. They were surprised to know that we spoke Cebuano, Tagalog and Ilongo and soon became friendly to us. In a short while, they reduced in number and eventually faded without our notice.

       Classes resumed after a week of suspension. The spirit of the faculty and staff soared up as a result, only to dive on a tailspin when after a few days talks circulated that all employees of the government had to resign as directed by Malacañang. By the second week of October 1972, the information from the rumour mill turned out to be true: Following instruction from Malacañang, then MSU President Mauyag Tamano issued a memorandum order enjoining everyone in the University to file or submit his/her courtesy resignation. MSU-SCTO Dir. Santiago, who flew to Marawi some few days after the declaration of Martial Law, instructed me to bring all the resignation papers from MSU-SCTO to MSU Marawi.

       From Bongao to Marawi. With the resignation letters of MSU-SCTO personnel towed inside a milk carton, I took the boat JK Bab from Bongao to Zamboanga on 16 October evening. I checked in at old Astoria, a wooden hotel near Plaza Pershing, Zamboanga City on the 18th and bought my ticket for a one-way plane ride to Iligan (Baloi Airport) via Cotabato City (Awang Airport).

       On the 19th, the military personnel at the Zamboanga City airport held me up for questioning for over an hour. I was then sporting a long hair, almost shoulder length and was unshaved. The interrogators asked so many questions about the box of resignation papers. I had my Travel Order with me but my school ID and my residence certificate did not have my photo. (There was no photo shop in Bongao at that time). My identity was at question. At any rate, my name did not seem to appear in their Order of Battle (OB). The public address system was already advising me to board the plane. The military let me go on the condition that I have to shave and have my hair cut in Cotabato before taking the flight to Iligan. I was also directed to show them a university ID upon my return to Zamboanga City.

       I was finally allowed to board the plane for Cotabato, the last to do after a delay of like eternity. I spent overnight in Cotabato City in a hotel that was overflowing with endlessly moving uniformed men.

       20 October 1972. Clean-shaved and sporting a new haircut, I took my flight to Baloi Airport the following morning.

       I was at MSU Marawi campus at about 2 pm. I reported immediately to Dir Santiago in the office of President Mauyag Tamano where my return trip to Bongao was facilitated. The MSU Bongao Cashier, Tolentino "Suang" Go, who was with the late Fructuoso Escudero, the Dean of the SCTO College of Fisheries, gave me my travel money. I knew Lito Vizcara, the SCTO Engineer, was with them but was not around at that time. They would leave for Iligan at 6 o'clock the following morning on their return trip to Bongao via Cotabato-Zamboanga

       At 4 pm, VP Manaros Boransing arrived in the office from downtown Marawi and was disturbed to see me and Cora-Banno Santiago, the summa cum laude wife SCTO Dir. Fred Santiago. Accordingly, Cora's name and mine were in the OB of the Military in Lanao – all honour graduates of MSU and known campus activists were in the OB. He reported that Dave Tauli, Fred Apugan, Edwin Bael and some others were rounded up earlier and were already detained at Camp Amai Pakpak. I was advised to hide for the night at the cottage of Fisheries Dean Domiciano Villaluz and would leave the campus for Iligan after breakfast with the Santiagos the following day.

       I cosseted myself that night listening to favourite stereo music in the cottage of DK Villaluz whose lone occupant was the late Benjie Ladrera, a faculty of the College of Fisheries. Dean Villaluz had stayed in Naawan doing research and supervising the construction of the laboratories, the shrimp hatchery facilities, the guest house and the fishponds of what would be known later as the Institute of Fisheries Research and Development (IFRD), the forerunner of MSU Naawan.

       21 October 1972. Brought my luggage at 6:30 am to the assembly area (the Miravite Residence where the Santiagos were having their coffee) for the early trip to Iligan. I proceeded to the cafeteria to eat my breakfast. I supposed the Santiagos spent the night in the nearby cottage of Engr. Orlando Yu.

       At about 7am as I walked back to the Miravites from the cafe, bursts of fire erupted in downtown Marawi. People started rushing near the old gym to get a vantage position in observing what was happening down below. We could, of course, only see light smoke and the scampering fog. The exchange of fire continued. Then a familiar face approached and whispered to me: The revolution against Marcos has begun. The rebels have already assaulted Camp Amai Pakpak and a special force will soon occupy the campus.

       I ran to the Miravites and inform them of what the firing was all about. Dr. Quiterio F. Miravite (QFM), the Vice President for Academic Affairs, showed no apprehension. Instead he requested me to accompany him to the growing crowd near the gym. While observing there, a rushing jeepney with MSU security guards stopped in front us. One shouted to the crowd of mostly students to disperse and go back to the dormitory because the rebels were about to attack the campus.

       The announcement immediately agitated QFM.

        "The Ambassador," he said. "We need to secure the Ambassador."

        "What Ambassador, Sir?" I asked.

        "The Japanese Ambassador, Toshio Urabe. Let's go to the Summit Inn."

       I collected my luggage from the Miravite's and deposited it back at the Villaluz cottage which was only some 50 meters away from the Summit Inn. The Summit Inn was the official residence of the MSU President and had a few rooms for visiting dignitaries.

       At the Summit Inn VP Manaros Boransing was in huddle with President Mauyag Tamano discussing security and evacuation plan for the Japanese Ambassador. QFM and Fred Santiago joined them. The ambassador was sitting nearby, calm and silent, already informed of the situation. He was totally occupied with his own thoughts. He had only two khaki-uniformed escorts who were always within his sight, each sporting an old M16 rifle. His guards were also deep in their thought. No MSU security guards were deployed in the area apparently to avoid attention and hide the presence of the ambassador that way. Of course, the MSU security guards at that time could only be counted with one's fingers.

       The planning exercise hit snags in the absence of information. The communication line to the outside world (via telegram) was already cut. Even the campus local telephone system was already silenced. No one knew the extent of territory under rebel control. Nor the state of the government forces in the area. After some hours, unconfirmed information started to filter into the Summit Inn: That the Pantar marine detachment was wiped out by the rebels and the bridge was already destroyed and rendered impassable; that the MSU cafeteria vehicle on marketing errand to Iligan was commandeered by the rebels and all passengers, rebels and cafeteria staff alike, were killed in a barrage of fire as it approached Camp Amai Pakpak; and that prominent Christian families in Marawi were witch-hunted, and some were captured and killed by the rebels. These unconfirmed reports only compounded the planning of security and evacuation, not only of the Japanese ambassador but also of the university constituents. No definite plan could be made.

       One thing was certain: DXSO, the campus radio station was already taken over by the rebels and was used as the mouthpiece of the rebellion, instigating and encouraging the Maranaos in the lake communities to take up arms against the dictator Marcos regime. The propagandists were prominent Maranao students, Ibz M and Ali L.

       10 AM. A squad of armed men were inching towards the Summit Inn. VP Boransing saw them first and asked me:

       "Do you know them?"

       "About half are familiar. The lead guy was my former classmate in Philosophy 40, Guimba P (GP)"

       "Good. Find out what they want. Try any means to stop them from coming here."

       That was my first real mission in life. Obviously the rebels were not aware of a potential hostage in the Summit Inn that would attract international attention. My task was to avoid them from knowing it. I met the rebels some 50 meters away from the Summit Inn. GP was quick to recognize me and called me by my nickname.

       "Is this now for real?" I asked him gesturing my hands to their old assorted weapons that included a tummy gun.

       GP only smiled and said nothing.

       "VP Boransing is in the Summit Inn with President Tamano," I explained. "He wants me to convey to you that the ladies there are terribly scared and are getting nervous over this uprising. So if you please, don't go there anymore. If you have any message to the President I am instructed to deliver it to him."

       "We just want to ask permission and clearance from the President to partake of the food at the cafeteria."

       "Please wait."

       The rebels' act of asking permission to eat at the cafeteria amused me.

       I conferred immediately with VP Naro Boransing on the request and was given the go signal.

       "The President granted your request. Your men may eat in the cafeteria as long as there is food there for everyone. His request is for you to help maintain order in the place."

       Thus, at lunch time, the fully armed young rebels were in the cafeteria. When some of them broke the line to get their share, the students started to boo them. They retreated with their arms and returned to the queue.

       The cafeteria marketing team failed to return and the supply of food in the café dwindled to very low level. The same was also obtaining in all the boarding houses on campus. At dinner time, the food ration was reduced to one small slice of bangus with hardly a cup of rice. At the Villaluz cottage we harvested and cooked banana (sab-a) to supplement our diminishing food intake.

       As the day rolled to darkness, uncertainty and fear gripped the residents. But nothing phenomenal happened that evening. There was intermittent firing but nothing more.

       Fruc Escudero and company had just crossed Pantar Bridge when they heard a deafening explosion and a barrage of fire behind them. They never looked back and went on full speed down to Iligan City. In Iligan they heard that the rebels had destroyed Pantar Bridge, overrun Camp Amai Pakpak and had taken over the MSU campus. Wild talks started to conflagrate the City of Iligan - of the pillage and destruction of the MSU campus, the rape and killing of students and other residents. Nong Fruc and company were totally devastated. They believed that the Santiagos and I were among the victims of the mayhem. What they thought and what they heard in Iligan they also communicated by wire to Bongao without any validation. There was no opportunity and means to validate anything anyway. Thus, friends and dear ones in Bongao cried and gnashed their teeth over the untimely departure of our souls.

       22 October 1972. Food supply was getting so low. The coop was ransacked the evening before by either a group of hungry students or by the equally hungry rebels. I did not anymore go to the café knowing that there was hardly anything to eat. We again cooked sab-a which, with ginamos, served as our breakfast, lunch and dinner in the cottage.

       Some older men started strutting in the street with their homemade firearms.

       Tension mounted as rumour of reinforcement from Camp Evangelista started to filter into the campus.

       At about 10 or so in the evening, the military reinforcement finally arrived. It was like Marawi was celebrating the New Year. The explosions were so loud and in luxurious abandon and the bullets created sparkles and arching lights in the sky. Our view of the panorama from the Villaluz cottage was halted by the approaching rumblings of steel and machine gun fire. We rushed inside the cottage, switched off the lights, and dropped and kissed the floor. There was shouting and running outside. Tsak, tsak, tsak, tsak... That was the sound of the bullets that found their marks in the trunks of the bananas behind the cottage. A deafening silence followed thereafter that lasted through the long dark night.

       23 October 1972. The military made a clearing operation on campus early in the morning. DXSO was silent and dead. At the Summit Inn, some women helped us in camouflaging Ambassador Urabe. He was wrapped in a malong and other decorative Meranao clothing, and was secured inside an armoured military vehicle. The Santiagos and I took the Ford pickup of the College of Fisheries Naawan Marine Laboratory. At about 10:00 am, the exodus began. The long line of public and private conveyances and military trucks started snaking down the road to Iligan City. All were filled to the brim with a hodgepodge of anxious campus passengers. The movement was rather slow as the military had to continuously clear the path ahead.

       We arrived in Iligan at past 12 noon. The atmosphere was in tumultuous joy of thanksgiving. People lined the streets clapping, shouting and crying. I learned that many parents from all over Mindanao had assembled in Iligan to get information on the plight of their children. It was a grand happy reunion of sort of parents and students. The city park teemed with joyful mankind. Relief food materialized from nowhere at no time at all.

       Meanwhile, we proceeded to Naawan. Dean D.K. Villaluz, with teary eyes, hugged each one of us tightly praising God for our survival. He immediately ordered his men to prepare lechon and cook for early dinner to celebrate our new life.

       Postlude. I was back in Bongao in about a week's time. I was welcomed like a hero, like a war survivor, by acquaintances and friends. Everybody wanted to hear my story. My girlfriend burst into a muted cry when we were finally left alone in the evening of my arrival. She pinched me hard (apparently to assure herself that I was not really a ghost of myself) to a point that I almost screamed in pain. Then she hugged, kissed and hugged and kissed me to no end.

       In a little while, she became my wife.

William R.Adan
AB Political Science, Batch 1966
Mindanao State University (MSU) Marawi

Source: http://thelettertoday.blogspot.com/2011/10/journey-to-uncertainty-towards-october.html