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Wednesday, November 30, 2016

Only a Boy


ONLY A BOY
In Memoriam Boyet Mijares

You might have seen my fresh face,
I was only a boy.
You’ll discover my velvety dark eyes in Batas Militar, documentary
About martial law in the Philippines
Under Marcos, watch it.
Black-and-white photograph from the sixties,
My father stands beside me,
Self-possessed...imperturbable, he looks it...
In his own way
Content as content can be,
Buddhic as his black plastic spectacles,
Old style, balanced on his nose, also old style.
He did not know...he could not know...
How could he possibly know?
What we both know now,
Now that we are dead,
His body disappeared,
Mine found,
Dead, too,
Mutilated, same way
Kitchen knives slice open vegetables, poultry...
Sledgehammers break apart tendons, bones...
Cabbages snap, fracturing into large pieces for your salad.
You would not want to see
What my father’s dead body looked like.
Souls...after they die...
They are not really dead,
Just not in the body.
Some natural process of disintegration,
Devastating mishap,
Murder, unnatural,
Damages the body
So that it is like the painting of a landscape,
Not the landscape itself,
Breathing plants, animals, living things,
Joined to a universe in perpetual motion—
Soul, spirit, consciousness,
Whatever you call it,
A soul can know, does know.
Only a boy at the time, I could not imagine
The pain, indescribable...yes, I can describe it,
As long as you understand,
Words do not equal the experience.
Have you ever stood in front of a high-pressure water stream gushing,
Your mouth agape,
And you drink and drink and drink
To the point you cannot drink anymore?
And then you drink even more,
You drown by drinking.
Pain fills you the same way, like a bicycle tire before it explodes.
A hot water bag before it bursts.
White light, pain has the capacity to inundate your consciousness.
It becomes who you are
Because you cannot think of anything else.
What happened?
You ask me.
They were grown men.
I had never seen them before.
I was still a youth.
They smashed my hands and my feet,
Household hammer,
No nails.
Next, they pried out my eyes
The way you dig up potatoes.
They used a blade to maim my genitals,
Castration first, severing the rest.
I screamed all the while.
My father, arms held fast,
Was forced to watch.
Stabbed 33 times in my torso,
I drowned in my own blood, gurgling like a sink.
A wash of emotional anguish...terror...disbelief...incomprehension...
I am going to die! In front of my father!
I may have known anger,
But I have never raised my arm against another
To disable or to disfigure,
Or to kill, certainly not!
Why is it my time now?
Swinging a hardwood bat, a soldier
Popped my skull, loud crack inside your head
You hear when you split hard candy.
This time I felt no pain.
Only 16 years old,
I had not lived at all, or hardly,
I barely knew who I was.
Who will remember me when even I hardly knew myself?
Will nothingness be the remembrance of who I am?
Now I am become a harvested fruit, disconnected forever.
Murdered, I was not yet a man.



Primitivo Mijares and son, Boyet

Sins of the Father


SINS OF THE FATHER

“Why is not the son charged with the guilt of his father?”—Ezekiel 18:19

The son does not acknowledge but denies. He does not condemn but condones. He does not repudiate but exonerates.

“I can only apologize for myself,” he says. “I cannot apologize for anyone else.”

Do you think that I am like yourself? I will correct you by drawing them up before your eyes.—Psalm 50:21

70,000 imprisoned…34,000 tortured…3,240 killed…2,520 salvaged…737 desaparecidos…

Let us catalogue the methods of torture.

Electric shock was administered to the victim’s fingers and genitals, or in the case of females, nipples. Frequent shocks to the genitals would cause the victim to uncontrollably urinate, and through the buttocks to unintentionally defecate.

Beatings were common, using fists, kicks, and karate blows. Rifle butts, wooden clubs, glass soft drink bottles, and other weapons would be used. Victims might have their heads rammed repeatedly against the wall until they were knocked unconscious.

Everyday implements—ballpoint pens, thumb tacks, or pliers—would be used to assault victims.

Hands, wire, or steel bars would be used to strangulate the victims, which would damage the victims’ ability to breathe or speak, or kill them.

Dubbed San Juanico Bridge, victims would be forced to suspend themselves in the air, anchoring their head and feet on two separate beds set a body length apart. When the victims sagged, they were beaten.

Using the water cure, water, usually dirty, or abhorrent liquids like urine or sewage would be forced down the victims’ mouths and throats, causing gastric distention, and then it would be forced out by beatings, sometimes resulting in death.

Burns would be inflicted using cigarettes or flat irons, causing blistering, bleeding, scarring, or disfigurement, sometimes resulting in infection, or severing body parts.

According to Russian roulette, the gun cylinder loaded with a single bullet would be spun around and the gun barrel would be inserted into the victim’s mouth or aimed at the head, killing many in this way.

Sexual abuse was frequent, involving sodomy, rape, beatings, stripping, humiliation, mutilation, sometimes, death. A stick was inserted into the penis of at least one victim.

Pepper torture would be directed at the lips, genitals, and other sensitive areas. Talong smeared with pepper would be inserted in the victim’s vagina.

Victims who were blindfolded, manacled, or boxed into very small spaces would undergo animal treatment. They would be ordered to eat rotting food or disgusting items like worms or human feces, and then beaten and threatened until they did.

Injected with truth serum, victims would lapse into delirium.

“What I will never forget is the cruel extraction of my two molars at the Camp Panopio dental service,” says one victim. “When the military dentist found out I was a political detainee, he waived the use of anesthesia. I pleaded to him but he merely sneered and instructed my escorts to just hold my arms.”

The son remonstrates. “We have constantly said that if during the time of my father…there were those who…were victimized in some way or another,” he says, “these are instances that have fallen through the cracks.”

The father is not responsible for the abuses committed? He did not participate in crimes that took place under his command responsibility?

“My father was knowledgeable about every military operation,” says the son.

So your father knew about the military operations under his command, including the massacres that killed and wounded tens of thousands, terrorizing and displacing entire communities…Talayan, Maguindanao…Mabini, Cotabato City…Guinayangan, Quezon City…Barrio Bagumbayan and Kauswagan, Lanao del Norte…Sitio Kiagtan, Agusan del Norte…South Upi, Maguindanao…Parang, Maguindanao…Tudela, Misamis Occidental…Las Navas, Northern Samar…Culasi, Antique…Talugtog, Nueva Ecija…Pilar, Bataan…Roxas, Zamboanga del Norte…Gapan, Nueva Ecija…Lupao, Nueva Ecija…Hinunangan, Southern Leyte…Bayog, Zamboanga del Sur…Daet, Camarines Norte…Pulilan, Bulacan…Labo, Camarines Sur…Sitio Langoni, Negros Occidental…Corregidor Island, Cavite…Manili, North Cotabato…Tacub, Lanao del Norte…Jolo, Sulu…Malisbong, Sultan Kudarat…Patikul, Sulu…Pata Island, Sulu…Escalante, Negros Occidental…?

Ahab said to Elijah, “Have you found me out, my enemy?” He said, “I have found you.”—1 Kings 21:20

On February 23, 1994, a U.S. jury in a Honolulu court awarded $1.2 billion for exemplary damages against the Marcos estate, in a class action suit involving 9,541 claims of human rights victims under the Marcos regime from September 21, 1972 to February 25, 1986. On January 18, 1995, the court awarded $766.4 million for compensatory damages.

In 1997 the Swiss Federal Supreme Court promulgated a decision returning more than $680 million in Marcos Swiss deposits to the Philippine government pending its compliance with two conditions—the first, “a final and executory decision of a credible Philippine court declaring the said funds as ill-gotten,” and the second, that a “rightful share of the funds” should be given to the martial law victims who won the Hawaii class action suit against the Marcos estate.

In July 2003 the Philippine Supreme Court stated that the Marcos Swiss funds are ill-gotten, complying with the first condition.

On February 25, 2013, the Philippine government complied with the second condition when President Aquino signed the Human Rights Victims Reparation and Recognition Act of 2013, which awarded $246 million of some $683 million in Marcos Swiss deposits to 9,539 victims in the Hawaii class action suit. Beneficiaries are presumed victims of martial law abuses and do not have to prove their claims.

So far, 75,730 claims have been filed under this law as direct victims of martial law during the Marcos regime or as next of kin.

The Act also created the Human Rights Violations Victims’ Memorial Commission, tasked to work with the Department of Education and the Commission on Higher Education “to educate young people about the abuses committed by the Marcos regime and the heroism by those who opposed it.”

In 2011 payments were made to 7,526 victims in the 1995 and 1996 judgments from a $10 million settlement with a Marcos crony.

On October 24, 2012, a U.S. Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit upheld a 2011 contempt judgment against Imelda and Bongbong Marcos. Because the Marcoses refused to furnish the court with the information it had requested and continued to use frozen assets of the estate, they were fined $353.6 million payable to the victims in the 1994 and 1995 judgments.

In 2014, the Singapore Court of Appeal upheld its Supreme Court decision assigning over $23 million of Marcos’ ill-gotten wealth in Singapore to the Philippine National Bank.

75,730 claims…9,541 claims…9,539 victims…7,526 victims…$1.2 billion…$766.4 million…$683 million…$680 million…$353.6 million…$246 million…$23 million…$10 million…

Go over the overwhelming, damning evidence of the Marcos crimes, piles, literally mountains of it. Know the truth about Marcos-organized and executed murders, torture, human rights violations, and plunder, and act accordingly.

Mountains of corpses—tortured, mutilated, mangled, strangled, salvaged—Liliosa Hilao, Archimedes Trajano, Boyet Mijares, Macli-ing Dulag, Dr. Remberto Dela Paz…

Mountains of personal testimonies—handwritten, audiotaped, transcribed, videotaped, recorded, printed, published, produced—Trinidad Herrera, Neri Colmenares, Hilda Narciso, Satur Ocampo, Boni Ilagan…

Mountains of documentation and evidence in the offices of the Presidential Commission on Good Government—the father’s handwritten diary, presidential notepapers, minutes of company meetings, contracts, “side agreements,” bank accounts in the dozens, share certificates in the hundreds, reports of private investigators and court judgements in the tens of thousands of pages…

Mountains of world media coverage over the past three decades—print, TV, and online…Time, CNN, NBC, CBS, ABC, The New York Times, Los Angeles Times, Chicago Tribune, U.S. News & World Report, Reuters, AP, UPI, The Guardian…

Mountains of U.S. dollars in offshore accounts, including Swiss bank accounts of aliases William Saunders, John Lewis, Jane Ryan…

Mountains of U.S. real estate—the Lindenmere estate in Westhampton Beach, Long Island, the Crown Building on Fifth Avenue, the Herald Center on the Avenue of the Americas, one 71-story office building on 40 Wall Street, another on 200 Madison Avenue, Webster Hotel on West 45th Street, the13-acre residential estate at 3850 Princeton Pike, Princeton, two more at 4 Capshire Drive and 19 Pendleton Drive, Cherry Hill, New Jersey…

Mountains of Philippine timber, half the entire country’s forest cover, 39 million acres’ worth, depleted through rampant logging…

Piles of gold—13,915 pounds spirited away from the Central Bank of the Philippines…the legendary General Yamashita’s 2,000-lb 18-karat golden Buddha, also mysteriously disappeared…

Piles of jewelry—gold, platinum, Colombian emeralds, Burmese rubies, Indian and South African diamonds, a rare 25-carat pink diamond…rings, bracelets, necklaces, tiaras, earrings, pendants, cufflinks, watches…Patek Philippe, Rolex, Cartier, Bulgari, Van Cleef & Arpels, Bucellatti…

Piles of European masterpieces—Michelangelo, Raphael, Titian, Veronese, El Greco, Zurbaran, Goya, Manet, Monet, Pissarro, Picasso, Braque…

Marcos plundered $5 to $10 billion, estimates the World Bank-UN Office on Drugs and Crime's (UNODC) Stolen Asset Recovery (StAR) Initiative, $11 to $22 billion equivalent today. What does $22 billion buy today?

$22 billion is one-and-a-half times the Gross Domestic Product of Iceland in 2015…it buys one 30-km Singapore Thomson MRT Line…5 One World Trade Centers…8 Hubble Space Telescopes…14 Golden Gate Bridges…21 top-division European football clubs…67 Boeing 777’s…it feeds 872,324 families of four in the U.S. for one year…

“We practically own everything in the Philippines,” says Imelda, “from electricity, telecommunications, airlines, banking, beer and tobacco, newspaper publishing, television stations, shipping, oil and mining, hotels and beach resorts, down to coconut milling, small farms, real estate and insurance.”

Can’t the son show at least the smallest remorse for the father’s sins?

“I cannot deny what my father did,” says Martin Bormann Jr., showing deep pain. “I cannot.” Was the death sentence at Nuremberg correctly meted out upon his father? “Yes,” he answers, slowly, firmly.

If the sins of the father are not the sins of the son, then shouldn’t the son restitute the plunder of the father?

Kapag hindi minana ng anak ang mga kasalanan ng ama, bakit niya minana ang ninakaw?

If the son did not inherit the sins of the father, then why does he inherit the plunder?

In 2012 the Supreme Court of the Philippines ruled that about $40 million in the account of Arelma S.A., a Panamanian-registered corporation created by Marcos on September 21, 1972, the day he declared martial law, is ill-gotten wealth. By supporting over 20 years’ litigation, still ongoing, the son has been blocking the release of the funds.

How much again? $40 million…

Marcos, the father, destroyed Philippine democratic institutions and wrecked the Philippine economy. That is why he is a traitor to our country. He shed blood to stay in power. Blood drenches his hands. He looted the country and impoverished the nation. His plunder is stained with blood. He is worse than Judas Iscariot, a traitor, a murderer, and a thief, because the spoils of the father amount to a very great deal more than thirty pieces of silver and he did not, unlike the Iscariot, return the money.

That upper spirit, who has the worst punishment,” so spoke my guide, “is Judas, he that has his head within and plies his feet without.”—Inferno, Canto XXXIV, 56-59

Murder, torture, human rights abuses, plunder—you cannot acknowledge this or at least feel the slightest speck of shame?

Apologize for the sins of the father. Return the blood money. It is worth a lot more than thirty pieces of silver.



Tuesday, November 22, 2016

Blue Train


Blue Train
To John Coltrane

I heard your blue train traveling by, coolly
As fresh waters of a brook...a cloudless aquamarine sky...
Rhythmic, not marching but a shuffle or a two-step,
Syncopated...bass, undulating river;
Cymbals, soft rain, silver pom-poms shaking;
Saxophone, lead, a composer ad hoc
Declaring a theme one way then another;
Counterpoint, trumpet, sharp, blending;
Piano, lively, solo, answering, dueling with the brass;
Saxophone, brightly, opening doors, closing them,
Mixing it up...wheels slowing, whistle blowing;
Dodging, weaving, a boxer, in and out...drums.

Originally published in Cacti Fur (October 19, 2016)



Blue train, South Africa

Wednesday, November 2, 2016

Three Day of the Dead Poems


You walk along shoulders…

You walk along shoulders of bamboo groves,
Starlight treads in your footsteps.

You go forward with shifting seasons,
Summer ghosts are left behind.

You rise as the wind of briefest memory
Pushing shutters gently open.

You arrive, fresh rain at the door ajar,
Softly rustling dry silk.

Your spirit rests in tranquility at table,
Folding itself into a napkin.

You dwell in silence in the deepest part,
Inside there is only silence.

You sleep illumined by the guardian moon,
Windless, the stilling doom.


ALL SOULS’

The day of the dead is short respite for the living.
The tumult of life is stilled by the remembrance of the dead.
The living remembers the dead as the silence of the grass.
The grass is the dead ever present among the living.

The dead have not forgotten that life is breath and water.
They hover in the air, waiting for rain.
Water is the prayers of the living for the thirsty.
The living sometimes forgets, the dead ever remember.


THE COLOR OF DEATH

What is the color of death?
In the West many say black,
Some in the East say white.
Devout Muslims enshroud the dead
In white cotton or linen,
Depositing bodies in graves,
Heads pointed toward Mecca.
Protective white paper encloses
Household shrines in Japan,
Sealing against malignant spirits.
Blue is the sadness of death,
Color of mourning in Korea.
Thai widows mourn in purple,
Same color chosen by Roman Catholics
During Lent to drape in reverence the cross,
Instrument and symbol of the universal death
Of the Son of God.

Those whose livelihood is the dead—
Morticians, coroners, embalmers—might say
Death is gray, cadaver pallor.
Hacking, slicing, packing
Dead animals,
Slaughterhouse workers might say
Death is red, fresh meat.
Buddhists who cremate the dead might say
Death is yellow and orange, purifying flames.
Distant heirs of the ancient Egyptians, or of
South Americans of old—Mayans, Aztecs, Incans—might say
Death is gold, everlasting raiment of the sun.

I say death is multicolored—
Sundry motley opening leaves of a fan,
Forward tumbling acrobats in rainbow costumes,
Multihued children’s picture books,
Mobile animal figure whirligigs,
Variegated wallpaper prints,
Van Gogh sunflowers,
Brazilian toucans,
Australian parakeets,
Octopuses, neon-like, bursting with emotion,
Pendant festival lanterns,
Brass bands marching holiday parades,
Fighting kites flashing ribbon tails,
Tibetan prayer flags streaming.



Day of the Dead skull