THESE are the numbers of those who died and were injured in last year’s blast at the Roxas night market. Last year, I spent three or four sleepless nights gathering data about those who perished because I wanted to put names and faces into the numbers. But hearing the stories and seeing the pictures of those who survived, it has been a long 365-day battling the memory of that fateful night and maybe it is another 365 days for some.
How are they coping? Even Roxas Street Market looks different now. It still bustles with energy but the space where the vendors sell have become smaller, tighter, and more secured. Where they used to occupy the whole stretch of Roxas, they are now limited to space that has specific ingress and egress under the watchful eye of uniformed personnel. It is better organized too because the Claveria side is allotted for food stalls while those near Padre Gomez street are for the ukay-ukay and thingamajig stalls. But the spaces are tight and whereas before one can take a leisurely stroll, now, it can literally mean bumping into someone or something. Even on a cool night, the heat from the stoves and grills can suffocate the air. Some of the injured have went back to the Roxas night market, some did not. Last week, I saw one masahista raise his shirt to show where his scars are like some soldier would after surviving a war.
Reports show that the Davao City Government has provided livelihood assistance to the left-behind families. A P9-million trust fund has been put up and another P7.5-million has been allotted for the continued medical expenses of the injured and the livelihood of the survivors. Though no amount can compensate for the loss of a loved one, it surely alleviates some of the grief.
I look at the slides I’ve posted last year and I don’t think I have completed all seventeen. SunStar Davao’s reporters provided the missing information in the news stories it published in the days that followed after the blast. I remember how countless strangers provided me the information and pictures I needed. At one point I was so soaked in the feeling of gratefulness that it left me immobile. The world became a digital village of people helping each other identify the victims making them real and not just some statistical figure whose lives were disrupted. At the same time I was grateful. I was cursing to high heavens the perpetrators and their kin.
The Mautes have been blamed for the blast. The patriarch, Cayamora Maute died in a hospital last week due to health complications. It is the same Mautes who has given Marawi City its 105th day of war and devastation. Almost 200 uniformed troops have died in the battle. The numbers are easy to remember (and to correct), but the stories of those people will be excruciating to write. Someone will, in time.