Remembering Nelson Mandela and the 'Closest' Encounter I Could Ever Have with Him

"It is never my custom to use words lightly. If 27 years in prison and 27 years of silence in solitude have taught me anything, it is how precious words are!"

I distinctly remember frantically scrambling my way through the bushes and flowerbeds, just so I could get a clear glimpse of this frail, but magnetic and eminent man named Nelson Mandela. That was during the Closing Ceremony of the XIII International AIDS Conference in July 2000, which Durban, South Africa hosted. Mandela was a demigod revered by all of Africa and the rest of the world – at least that’s how I remember it in that conference. The welcome song, the chants, and the cheers did not seem to end, as he slowly entered the main hall.

And when he spoke – every word was like a mantle of wisdom and hope cloaking the entire audience. Some were even in tears, that it seemed all too surreal. That’s when I fully comprehended the meaning of awe.

His speech was a subtle, yet sharp rebuke to Thabo Mbeki, who earlier that week, spoke at the Opening Ceremony. Mbeki, who was then the president of South Africa, was greeted by jeers, boos, and placard-carrying protesters, much to the chagrin and embarrassment of the conference organizers (mind you, the protests were led by South African AIDS activists). Well, that’s what you get for saying that HIV does NOT lead to AIDS. That, and his refusal to see the value of ARVs, vaccines and treatment access.  

In his speech, Mandela admonished the importance of going beyond the conflicts between politics and science, adding that he believed Mbeki ‘takes scientific inquiry seriously.’ Chuckles. Heads nodding. We all knew what he really meant when he said that.  He also challenged everyone to address stigma and discrimination, move from rhetoric to action and ensure inclusiveness in the  fight against AIDS. Which meant including Thabo Mbeki, even when he was being a jackass.

More than a decade later, Mandela's words still ring true.

Thankfully, the global AIDS movement has progressed, even as we’re still seeing a spike of cases in a number of countries in the world, including the Philippines.  Alas, there were only a few video/digital camera addicts at that time; wifi technology was not in place; and, there was no live-tweeting or facebook updating that could have informed the rest of the world, in real time, what a great, great man, he was. He still is -- (and I'm saying that even if he only succeeded in addressing political, and not economic apartheid in South Africa).

One of the buildings in downtown Durban that was festooned with AIDS ribbons and banners.

This blog was originally posted in my FB Notes on June 27, 2013 at 10:51pm.

‘Never Again’ Means NEVER AGAIN!

I was four years old when Martial Law was declared on September 23,1972. My distinct memory of that period was the constant airplay of ‘Ang Bagong Lipunan’ (The ‘New Society) blaring from our transistor radio. It was a rousing tune that made me march along with it, oblivious to the ghastly implications of that presidential proclamation that would spawn more than a decade of political terror. Because I lived in the southern-most tip of the Philippines, which we then referred to as ‘Dadiangas’ (before it got the ‘Gensan’ monicker), we were somehow isolated and insulated from the political crisis that was infesting imperial Manila and the other main cities.

Throughout the 70s and on to the mid-80s, I would occasionally hear of the skirmishes between the Pulahans or NPAs (New People’s Army), the MNLF (Moro National Liberation Front – when its ideals and intentions were still somehow noble) and the Ilagas (Rats), the much-dreaded ear-chopping vigilante group. And who could forget Norberto Manero, alias Kumander Bucay, who sowed terror in Southern Mindanao, including his infamous murder of Italian priest, Fr. Tulio Favalli? He would later reveal that it was his brother Edilberto who pulled the trigger.

Growing up in an apolitical household meant that political issues were only furtively discussed in whispers, so that we could ‘go on with our lives’. Yes, we had to deal with the inconveniences of military checkpoints and curfews, but as a kid, I was totally incognizant of the grave social and political repercussions of Martial Law. During those times, we would hear of frequent encounters between the military, which was supported by para-military forces, i.e., the infamous CHDF (Civilian Home Defense Force) and its later incarnation, the CAFGU (Civilian Armed Forces Geographical Unit) with the underground left/communist movement.

It would be a decade later before I realized the full extent of the so-named conjugal dictatorship, and that was only when I came face to face with friends (and friends of friends) who were forcibly silenced, incarcerated, tortured and sexually abused. Some of them had joined the underground movement or were forced to a life of exile outside the country.

Four decades later, the Marcoses are back in politics as if they never left. As if the reign of terror did not exist. As if the Philippine treasury was never raided and as if the existence of the Swiss bank accounts, the staggering amounts of jewelry and cash and the lavish mansions were woven from urban legends and imaginary tales. They say you cannot bestow the sins of the father upon the son (in this case the Marcos children). But for them to disregard and rewrite the past, as if the Marcos era was the Golden Age of Philippine history, insults my sensibilities to the very core. Which is the same sentiment I have for Johnny Enrile (Martial Law executor) who has deftly evaded justice all these years and Kit Tatad (Marcos’s Information Minister) – both rabidly and fanatically anti-RH spokespersons. What makes the situation worse is that many young people, especially those born from the 90s onwards, have absolutely no idea or no clue about those dark days of the dictatorship. Hey, it’s not like this happened in the 18^th or 19^th century, no?

I am writing this to honor and pay homage to those who lived to tell their stories and to give respect to those who continue to lend their names, faces and voices to counter the lies and falsehood of those who benefitted and profited from that regime. I join them in exclaiming, ‘Never again!’   

P.S. And this is also why I will never vote for any Marcos into political office.