Brothers
After the #fallen44, I have admittedly changed the way I look at our police force. This is not to say that I did not respect their roles as peacekeepers, on the contrary. During my six-year stint in DAR Ilocos Norte, I had the privilege to be 'secured' by the PNP when I went to far-flung barangays and resolve agrarian disputes. Always, I would pay a courtesy call to the PNP Provincial Director assigned in the province (I had three officers assigned there in six years) as our office needed their assistance in security not only for resolution of disputes but also for execution of orders by our sheriff.
I remember my first trip to this barangay in Pagudpud as PARO in Ilocos Norte. My presence was needed to settle a boundary dispute among farmers whose lands were covered by one title (we call these 'collective' titles). My point person on the ground advised that I coordinate with the PNP for security. Of course, that made me a bit nervous.
So on the way there, I was escorted by the PNP. True enough, as we approached the farmers waiting for us, they were all casually armed with 'itak', held by belts around their waists, not really threatening but rather giving a semblance of 'just-got-home-from-the-farm' stance. The meeting went on smoothly, no voice was raised, no skirmish, and no 'itak' was drawn. I breathed a sigh of relief, and I got to thinking maybe it was because I was the one of about only five women in sight that no one attempted to be unruly. It was that, or the sight of the uniformed men with long rifles quietly walking around the perimeters while the meeting was ongoing.
Having resolved the issues that day among the farmers, we were treated to lunch of broiled fish and vegetables. I sat down with the farmers, then moved to where my new police friends were huddled. I asked them their ages (late 20's); why they joined the police force (reasons cited were: fathers were also with the PNP; they wanted to help the country; and yes, someone answered he simply needed a job).
These men became my resident-security and 'boyfriends' while in Ilocos Norte. After each 'date' I had with 'my boys' as I used to call them, I would send them a bottle or two of brandy plus a live goat for them to feast on at camp with their colleagues when they were allowed to, off duty.
Until one day, an officer had the courage to let me know, thru our office drivers, that while they appreciate my gesture (brandy and 'pulutan'), would I just please gift them with a sack or two of rice instead? So they can share it with the rest of the troops?
I was humbled by that. There I was, presumptuous, giving them brandy and stuff, yet they did not enjoy my gifts because it did not benefit all the troops. So from then on, I knew what to send them as my gesture of gratitude. Not that they asked for it. I just felt they deserved a little enjoyment after working with a difficult woman like me.
I wonder now how the #fallen44 must have felt for each other, having been trained together, assigned together in a place far away from their families. The bond among them must have been so strong, that calling them 'brothers' may be an understatement.
Sen. Santiago, regardless of her demeanor at the Senate hearings and how many are offended by it, was on point when she said, '..44 men are dead and we will never see them again..' Or something like that. We will never see them again.
But I see them now in every uniformed man I come across in the streets. I see them in my police-women friends. I see them in the officers in the Senate hearings. I see them in the faces of their 'brothers' in the background, at the gallery, while Gen. Espina, their boss, was fighting with all his might the tears of regret, anger and desperation. I see them now, with so much clarity: they are our peacekeepers, our 'boys', our security, our brothers.
I remember my first trip to this barangay in Pagudpud as PARO in Ilocos Norte. My presence was needed to settle a boundary dispute among farmers whose lands were covered by one title (we call these 'collective' titles). My point person on the ground advised that I coordinate with the PNP for security. Of course, that made me a bit nervous.
So on the way there, I was escorted by the PNP. True enough, as we approached the farmers waiting for us, they were all casually armed with 'itak', held by belts around their waists, not really threatening but rather giving a semblance of 'just-got-home-from-the-farm' stance. The meeting went on smoothly, no voice was raised, no skirmish, and no 'itak' was drawn. I breathed a sigh of relief, and I got to thinking maybe it was because I was the one of about only five women in sight that no one attempted to be unruly. It was that, or the sight of the uniformed men with long rifles quietly walking around the perimeters while the meeting was ongoing.
Having resolved the issues that day among the farmers, we were treated to lunch of broiled fish and vegetables. I sat down with the farmers, then moved to where my new police friends were huddled. I asked them their ages (late 20's); why they joined the police force (reasons cited were: fathers were also with the PNP; they wanted to help the country; and yes, someone answered he simply needed a job).
These men became my resident-security and 'boyfriends' while in Ilocos Norte. After each 'date' I had with 'my boys' as I used to call them, I would send them a bottle or two of brandy plus a live goat for them to feast on at camp with their colleagues when they were allowed to, off duty.
Until one day, an officer had the courage to let me know, thru our office drivers, that while they appreciate my gesture (brandy and 'pulutan'), would I just please gift them with a sack or two of rice instead? So they can share it with the rest of the troops?
I was humbled by that. There I was, presumptuous, giving them brandy and stuff, yet they did not enjoy my gifts because it did not benefit all the troops. So from then on, I knew what to send them as my gesture of gratitude. Not that they asked for it. I just felt they deserved a little enjoyment after working with a difficult woman like me.
I wonder now how the #fallen44 must have felt for each other, having been trained together, assigned together in a place far away from their families. The bond among them must have been so strong, that calling them 'brothers' may be an understatement.
Sen. Santiago, regardless of her demeanor at the Senate hearings and how many are offended by it, was on point when she said, '..44 men are dead and we will never see them again..' Or something like that. We will never see them again.
But I see them now in every uniformed man I come across in the streets. I see them in my police-women friends. I see them in the officers in the Senate hearings. I see them in the faces of their 'brothers' in the background, at the gallery, while Gen. Espina, their boss, was fighting with all his might the tears of regret, anger and desperation. I see them now, with so much clarity: they are our peacekeepers, our 'boys', our security, our brothers.
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