MAGUINDANAO Province - It was not a picnic, but finding oneself together with over three hundred or more individuals on board about 40 vehicles that snaked up to the ‘hills-of-no-return’ (as a fellow sojourner calls it) gives one a sense of dread coupled with an uneasy, uncertain feeling. The event was called the National Interfaith Mission for Peace and Justice in Maguindanao which was organized by both Christian and Muslim non-government organizations in Mindanao. It highlighted the call for justice among the massacre victims’ families, friends and acquaintances who went to the site of the massacre on January 23.

“The carnage is to be remembered as a day of infamy” and the death of democracy, says Atty. Carlos I. Zarate who lost a friend lawyer in Atty. Connie Brizuela, a feisty lady lawyer who was killed together with more than 50 massacre victims on November 23, 2009 in Maguindanao. Atty. Zarate went with the Interfaith Mission. He is one of the convenors of the Alliance Against Impunity in Mindanao (AIM) which was organized in Davao City recently.

Participants to the Mission shared their thoughts such as questions that bothered them as they approached the massacre site. Questions like ‘are we not putting ourselves in the line of fire so openly and willingly at that?’ Most of us who come from different places in Southern Mindanao and even from other parts of Mindanao and the Philippines were aware that indeed, we were easy targets of attack in this “killing fields” of Ampatuan town, Maguindanao Province in Central Mindanao.

And so we reminded ourselves that we came on our own free will, and that no one is responsible for our safety but ourselves.

‘Silenced’ Witnesses

As we entered the only entrance towards the ‘killing fields” which is about three kilometers from the national highway, we could not help but notice an eerie atmosphere, as if we were treading on hollowed grounds and no one dared speak. My mind’s eye suddenly saw the images, almost vividly seeing how the victims would have felt at that very moment when their vehicles were commandeered by the killers as they veered away from the highway.

Most of them must have felt cold and hopeless; perhaps thoughts of the certainty of death must have crossed their minds, torturing them psychologically, some might have prayed to God or to Allah, seeking help and salvation. Or some of them could have entertained brighter thoughts that they could be spared from damnation, especially those among the media practitioners who were only doing their job. No one, perchance, could have thought with certainty that it would be the end-of-the-road for them.

Halfway through the narrow trail, all of us were asked to alight from our vehicles and walk towards the massacre site, which we could distinctly see a few hundred meters away. It was almost noontime, and the heat of the noonday sun was biting, and yet, the sound of the wind softly touching our faces that blended with our silent footsteps brought with it a certain kind of cold feeling that urged goose bumps out from each of our skin.

Walking towards the dug up graveyard, I could almost hear the victims’ cries for mercy to their attackers, pleading for their life once they must have realized that it was not a joke. I could almost hear the deafening sounds of high-powered weapons bursting and tearing away the flesh, while some of the victims could have tried scampering for safety to no avail as evident in the slippers and shoes strewn about. It was difficult not to imagine these things at the site especially when the families of the victims started to wail and gnash their teeth in anger and frustration all around us, cursing the murderers and those in the national leadership whom they thought should be held responsible for cuddling the killers.

There was one young woman who tied to keep her crying low beside me, but I could see she was deeply wounded, and upon impulse, I touched her with compassion and pity, as most of us could not help but feel their pain. She lost the father of her nine month old baby, a young man whom she was supposed to marry in December 2009. It was heart breaking to watch her helplessly cry as she searched the grounds for her beloved, calling out his name.

Saksi News

I bowed my head and cried as I came upon one silent witness on the ground still shouting inaudible what it witnessed during that fateful day: a piece of local tabloid with mast head entitled Saksi Mindanaoan News datelined November 16 – November 22. It could have been brought by one of the two women staffers of Saksi namely Gina de la Cruz and Marife Montaño from General Santos City who were among the media practitioners killed in the process. They could have been young budding writers who might have dreamt of making it good in their journalistic careers, but had to write 30 too soon.

I could not help myself but be sorry for them who never had the chance to make their pleadings heard, at the same time thanking them for offering their lives “so that others may live”, even if it was involuntary. It was one piece of evidence that the monsters could not deny and the whole world must see.

One thing’s sure, Mindanaoans will never forget and will even be emboldened to continue the pursuit for justice. The wheels of the court of Justice in our land may be snail paced, but the people in Mindanao know better.

As the Canticle of Mary so declare in the Gospel of Luke and I quote “He has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts. He has put down the mighty from their thrones, and exalted those of low degree. He has filled the hungry with good things; and the rich He has sent empty away…”, justice will be served in God’s own time.