By Sara Soliven De Guzman
The Philippine Star
The Philippine Star
Whenever I hear the Marcoses speak about martial law in a defense mode, I tell myself, “Ah! That is forced amnesia.”
How can one ever forget the horror stories told by people from all walks of life about the tragedies that besiege us during those dark days? This was such a painful past in our nation’s history that continues to lie within our very spirit, our very soul – and no one can ever erase that!
It is just right for President Aquino to deny the state funeral for Ferdinand Marcos. Yes, the Marcos family will have to wait – and they know it! They will have to wait for a very long time since the torment; the agony and the suffering caused by the late dictator are still vivid in our minds and hearts. As a teenager and during my early adult life, I always saw Marcos as the Hitler of the Philippines. So now I ask myself how can Marcos (like Hitler) ever be a hero? How can we honor a man who caused us many sorrows and pains?
My late father, Maximo V. Soliven was a victim. Ferdinand Marcos crippled our family life. He made my father a social pariah during those years from 1972 to 1983. Before martial law, my father was at his prime. Marcos ruined his life.
In his biography, Max V. Soliven: The Man and the Journalist, Nelson Navarro writes: In his mid-1980’s writings, Max recalls that Lupita Concio asked Max to keep their September 18th show ‘on hold’ because her brother wanted to appear as guest. She was cryptic. “Ninoy has a big surprise,” she said, refusing to elaborate.
That Tuesday night, it was raining hard and Max sat nervously waiting for his guest to appear. “Don’t worry,” Lupita kept saying, reassuring him that Ninoy was on the way. With only a few minutes to spare, Max dreaded a repeat of the nightmare that had compelled him to blabber on for an hour without a script. Luckily, a pre-taped program was on hand; but soon, they found out it had been locked away by the attendant who had left for the day and the key couldn’t be found. Max would really have to do his adlib act all over again.
With just a minute to spare before airtime, Max stood petrified before the camera as Ninoy, dripping wet, stepped in with a naughty smile. “I’m ready,” he said. Max screamed: “But what will we talk about?” “Just ask me, What’s Oplan Sagittarius?”
No sooner had the green light turned on and Max asked that question that Ninoy was off talking about the finest details of this sinister plot that Marcos had supposedly concocted. I couldn’t put a word in edgewise,” the startled host said. “ He did all the talking.”
In the next three days, many people were edgy upon hearing of Ninoy’s expose. But it sounded so much like so many other exposes of those giddy days, many of which had proven to be nothing but mere rumors and disinformation. Even Ninoy Aquino dismissed the thought of imminent martial law. By exposing the plan, he suggested to Max, he had effectively disarmed Marcos. The president wouldn’t dare push through with an evil plan everybody had been told about.
But Ninoy was wrong. Marcos was serious and he had been preparing for months to pull off a surprise that would catch his enemies flatfooted. On the fatal Friday of martial law, Ninoy spoke before worried students at the Asian Institute of Management and assured them nothing would happen that night. He repeated this optimistic message at the University of the Philippines.
Sometime that evening, it was flashed on the radio that Defense Secretary Juan Ponce Enrile’s convoy had been ambushed in Wack-Wack subdivision, Mandaluyong, right next door to Greenhills. One of Ninoy’s friends, Philippine College of Commerce president Nemesio Prudente, immediately called up Ninoy at the Hilton Hotel where he was attending a congressional committee meeting and told him to be ready. “I think this is it,” Prudente said. “I think Marcos has declared martial law.”
Again, Ninoy ignored the warning, confident that he knew better. The meeting went on. Not long after, there was a knock at the door. A military officer Ninoy knew well came in and he tersely said he was “inviting” Ninoy to Camp Crame. Ninoy knew the game was up and voluntarily went with the team.
Variations of the scene were being played out at the same time all over the city as well-coordinated military teams fanned out to gather Marcos’ enemies who had been singled out for immediate arrest.
The team assigned to Max came after midnight. They had evidently kept tight watch over him, knowing exactly where to get him.
That memorable night the soldiers came for Max. He was startled but composed. Precious was fearful for her children. Max’s first instinct was to call up his friend General Ramos. “Eddie,” he said calmly. “Is this for real? Shall I go with them?”
“Yes, Max,” the general said. “It will be better if you do as they say.” It was Ramos, soon announced to be the martial law administrator, who had sent them there.”
Perhaps it was not intended, but Max and Ninoy ended up roommates. “It could be,” says Max, “that they wanted to punish me by locking me up with somebody who could out-talk me or vice-versa.”
It was Max’s first experience with imprisonment. Always a free and active man, the sudden and harsh restrictions at Bonifacio were bound to exact a heavy toll on his patience and self-esteem. Only days ago, he was on top of his profession, a successful man with a beautiful wife and three young children. They had just moved into their new home. He had achieved such a high stature that presidents and captains of industry knew him personally and even catered to his wishes; now he was just another prisoner of Marcos. He had just turned 43 and his career, if not his life, was over.
The rest of this story you can read in my father’s biography soon to be launched on November 10, 2011 published by La Solidaridad.
Like Cito Beltran who wrote about this issue last week, we both endured the hardship our families went through during this very low point in our lives. I hope Bong-Bong, Imee and the rest of the Marcos clan discover and realize in their hearts that it is better to accept what has been done. Instead of defending their father to our deaf ears, show us that lessons have already been learned by their generation. Their inner circle of close friends and families may not have felt the intense physical and mental suffering during the martial law years. They were the fortunate ones, but we weren’t.
* * *
Yesterday, my father’s brother Reggie Soliven passed away in New Jersey, USA. My uncle Reggie was a very quiet man but deep in his spirit you knew that he was a thinker like my late grandfather Benito. The gates of heaven have now opened for you Uncle Reggie – halfway my heart is joyful because I know you will finally be seeing your parents, my dad and your siblings who have gone before us. But halfway my heart is sad because we will miss you so dearly.
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