February 22, 1986: Encoding the Memory of EDSA

As far as I’m concerned, there is only one EDSA. I can say so with conviction, because I was there. To those not in the know, EDSA stands for Epifanio delos Santos Avenue, the longest stretch of highway that cuts through four cities in Metropolitan Manila. This was where the downfall of then president Ferdinand Marcos concluded, a product of many long years of struggle of political activists, some of whom have already died even before EDSA happened. It was precipitated mainly by the defection of the leaders of the defense and military establishment, shortly after the snap elections concluded in February 1986. Every time I remember the historic walkout of the COMELEC workers who were tabulating the election results in PICC and the brazen murder of Antique opposition candidate, Evelio Javier, I still get goosebumps.


I was 18 in 1986, and was just initiated into political activism through my involvement in the electoral campaign of Ninoy Aquino’s widow, Cory Aquino. Together with my classmates and schoolmates from Ateneo, I heeded the call of Jaime Cardinal Sin to mass up in EDSA (I was still a good Catholic, then) – which was perhaps, the only “religious” prodding, I am proud to have participated in.

My feelings were a confused blend: heady excitement over the prospect of participating in the unfolding of a significant historical moment and resolute belief that there really was no other choice but to be part of it. But, I was also gripped by uncertainty and slight apprehension. Before February 1986, EDSA was just a long lonely thoroughfare, with the trademark blue buses traversing it on a daily basis. Instead of flyovers, stoplights punctuated the traffic flow in that highway that seemed to stretch forever (mainly because of the traffic).

On February 22, 1986, when people began treading towards EDSA, both the southbound road from Cubao and the northbound road from Ortigas Avenue were closed to vehicular traffic. Our motley contingent consisted of students, faculty and Jesuit priests. From Ateneo, we converged in Cubao. We trudged towards EDSA, mulling over our decision to participate in this unfolding “revolution”. How long was the “military rebellion” going to last? How long did we have to stay in the streets? How do we keep everyone safe? Who do we have on our side now? What if Marcos will order his soldiers to open fire on the people? Who else can we call to join us?

Yet, we stared uncertainty right at its face, flushed out the butterflies churning in our stomachs, and summoned our naïve enthusiasm. We believed in our power as a people to effect political transformation. People power – that’s what it got branded later on – was a unique take on democracy.  Literally, it’s about the people themselves, bringing about change. This moment did not occur overnight --- the ground had been laid by many political activists who had risked life and limb, fighting for freedom during the dark days of the Marcos dictatorship. Cory was the catalyst, she was the symbol that things can and could change. Really, before Barack Obama came into the picture, we already had our “yes, we can” historical moment.

I also remember the seemingly “fiesta” atmosphere. For indeed, what is the Filipino without the funfare, fiesta, and yes, food? Just before we left Cubao, I remember happily slurping a Mcdo sundae (back in the days when I used to eat it), a treat from our very affable college dean, Fr. Raul Bonoan, S.J.,. Food was a-plenty, with many people donating boxes of packed meals, sandwiches and water. I was stationed in the food distribution section and I remember distributing Jollibee hamburgers to a very orderly queue of people (no pushing, no shoving, no "singit").

Everywhere, people were singing, taking pictures, and playing card games. Mats were laid on the hard concrete and makeshift sleeping areas were arranged.  If it were not for the intermittent whirring of helicopters and the presence of the tanks in Ortigas, one would think it was a national picnic. Amidst the chatter and laughter, one could hear the crackle of Radio Veritas, which was the only radio station that had been taken over by progressive forces. As night approached and darkness enveloped the gathering, candles were lit and flashlights were turned on. People huddled closer to each other. Complete strangers shared a resting spot, comforted by a common dream and a peculiar sense of closeness.


In 1986, the internet did not exist as a popular medium of communication. Mobile phones, and yes, even pagers, were not in vogue at that time. Everything happened by word of mouth and until there was a takeover by progressive forces of the media establishments, Metro Manila, the entire country, and perhaps, the rest of the world, would not have heard about the thousands of people who have spontaneously heeded the call to converge in EDSA.

Meanwhile, somewhere in a city in central Philippines, within the cloister of the Pink Sisters, Cory Aquino was reciting prayers non-stop. The “people power” fever was so infectious – more and more people overcame their fears and massed up in EDSA for the next four days. We also learned that with barely a month to go before the end of the semester, classes had been indefinitely suspended in the campus.

I was back home in my uncle’s house when the Marcoses were flown out of Malacanang, four days later. It was all over in the news. How the intrepid journalists covered those events as they unfolded, could put all the current reality TV shows to shame.

Classes resumed almost as quickly as they were suspended. Some of our teachers exercised mass promotion, giving everyone a passing grade (except for the resident nerds who got higher marks). My Spanish teacher eventually gave me an “A” for submitting an essay called, “Fuerza la Gente.” I also submitted an essay for our English Essay class chronicling my four days in EDSA. I’m still trying to locate that frigging essay in my stockpile of college "abubots".

It's been 24 years since all that happened. EDSA has changed quite a lot –  with its flyovers, roadside malls and the MRT, but this country seems to have gone back into those dark times. Ironically, it was also at EDSA, where an abomination called Gloria Macapagal Arroyo, rose into power. I suppose it’s a good time to wave those yellow banners again.