Enfoque y tipo de investigación

Being remembered as a martyr –

because you’re a martyr during the revolution – there is that honour.

But the question is, will we end there?

Those that became martyrs during the movement, didn’t they have their own dreams?

Of course they did.

You arrive at that point because you have dreams.

Your dream was to change yourself and change the system. The question is, until when?

Until when will we dream of that? Until we are gone?

-Jun (translated and spacing added).

Even with visible scars, Jun was handsome and athletic, the picture of glowing health now that he was out of the jungle. His social worker had done a thorough job asking if he would mind doing an interview with me, stressing that he did not have to by any means. He had shared his story on other occasions, and wanted to make his experiences known. He sat facing away at a 90-degree angle to Adrian and me, his eyes averted to the wall, his face neutral but hard, appearing wary and alert. I was slightly concerned that he was

uncomfortable with the interview, but Jun had chosen to be here, and we continued through the informed consent process. I first asked him to describe his life where he had grown up, and my apprehensions began to lift as he spoke at length, thoughtfully but not hesitantly, and gave the impression that he was in control of himself and what he wanted to say. I met Jun early in my fieldwork and I was not used to working with a translator, and Adrian, the social worker who was accompanying me, was not used to being one, but we managed to communicate. Slowly Jun’s body language relaxed and became more open and towards us, and he began to make eye contact with Adrian, although I only received the occasional glance. He had been a soldier from the age of thirteen to 33, when he

surrendered a few months prior to my meeting him, making him almost exactly my age. I watched and listened as he spoke, trying to picture him as the thirteen-year-old he once was when he began rebel life.

88

Jun described how he was never really able to have a childhood. For some time, he had a happy but poor life in the remote rural village with his agricultural family. He would work hard on the farm as well as going to school. He remembered how his parents cared for him and that the children would have enough to eat, even snacks during the day as well as their meals. Things changed drastically, though, when Jun’s mother died when he was seven, and his father less than three years later. “In my youth, I did not really experience

childhood life because first my mother died, then my father also died.” Jun and his siblings were left to support each other, and Jun found himself in the role of breadwinner from an early age. He and his siblings suddenly found themselves in dire poverty with little hope for a better life, and the demands meant that Jun did not continue his schooling past grade one. When he was thirteen, recruiters came through the area, and he joined the NPA.

Jun had had an ambition to finish school, and the offer of free school and training towards any chosen career was too good to pass up – there was no such opportunity in the rural area otherwise, and Jun was not in school at all. They offered “free school and whatever course you want. That propaganda, I was really convinced, because I really wanted to finish school.” The lessons, though, were solely based on the NPA’s specific communist ideology and would not be any use outside of the forest. Eventually he realised that he would not gain any qualification this way, and in particular, that the anti-government teachings would not help him to get a legitimate job.

The NPA promised him an education that would lead him to a career in the city. He would be able to provide for his siblings, and make something of himself. The reality was far removed from the promises, though. Food was scarce, and during combat there was no chance to prepare what little food there was. “Sometimes breakfast would become dinner, dinner would become lunch. It wasn’t regular; really, the situation was dili mayo [not good].” Arduous treks without regular meals were part of the way of life. “On our monthly walks, sometimes we wouldn’t have enough sleep, not enough food, because we were on the run. If there was any food to be eaten, we couldn’t cook it.”

Jun described that as a soldier, the trees were like his parents, and his comrades became his siblings as they travelled and lived together. Jun reflected that he was in combat in the forest for “(so) many years that I had forgotten the responsibilities of being me. What my

89

responsibilities were to myself and to my family. The one thing that I considered to be my parents…was the forest. It’s what I recognized as my parents and what raised me.”

“I really was not able to enjoy childhood life because it was so early that I was pushed into (combat). I carried a big responsibility as a guerrilla even then. I really didn’t feel (like a child) because at thirteen years old I had already joined and was in the mountains. Thirteen years old until 33.”

There were two things that Jun identified as characterising his long period of service in the NPA. The first was the discipline. He described how, as a soldier, the demands were not only to obey the group’s orders but to discipline himself – he described the ongoing self- discipline as central to his experience. “Those experiences - not enough sleep, not enough food, long walks, even if you are asleep, you wake up, and you will walk just to defend, and to avoid (the government troops) – they gave me strength. Those experiences gave me resolve. It gave me strength and I learned to be careful and alert, so that I can also see what is going on around me. So those experiences really gave me fortitude and discipline.” The second characteristic of life in the rebel militia that Jun identified was the constant danger, being used to seeing death, losing comrades, and fearing for one’s own life. “It is normal to experience risking life, risking death in the crossfire of an encounter between the military troops and the revolutionaries. Both sides have to defend something, that’s just the standard operating procedure. Whether it would happen now or later, it’s expected to happen, you expected eventually there would come a time when you would lose, and death would come.” Jun had watched several of his friends die during encounters. He lamented that even though there was honour in dying for a cause, all of their dreams and hopes for the future would never be realised.

Jun described that most of the other former soldiers had a similar background. Rural, poor, and most had not only never reached high school, but had only been in school to grade one or two. He attributed this as a cause of vulnerability to propaganda as well as age. “In the documents of the former rebels, they really lack education. Nearly all of the surrenderees, their profiles say, Grade One, Grade Two. We rarely see a high school level. If anyone did reach high school, they did not finish.”

90

It was Jun’s ambition for an education and a career that finally made him realise that staying in the rebel movement would not help him in his life. However, he had not been aware of the level of support he would receive, and he was grateful for the opportunities offered. “When I surrendered, we did not expect that this (organisation) existed.”

Jun came across as thoughtful and intelligent, and he had proven his abilities by completing high school. Not only had he quickly graduated, but he also won a nation-wide writing competition. The title quote came from some of Jun’s reflections on being a rebel soldier. His poetic prose was deeply moving, and conveyed a deep sense of meaning within his experiences and perspective.

Jun reflected on his life as he moved forward. “For me it’s sayon [easy]. First, before we make decisions or act, we should first consider what the benefits will be. We are not perfect, we have wronged people. But what is important is that the mistakes can really teach us lessons. For me, what happened to me, gave me a big challenge. How will I support myself, and fulfil my dreams. The dream I had to continue my education never faded, never faded even up until the time I surrendered. It was always on my mind that while there is life, there is also hope. Poverty is not a hindrance to my dream. It’s not a hindrance that I am an orphan. My having been a rebel is not a hindrance. All of these things, poverty, being an orphan, being an older (student), these became my bridge to become stronger than I am. So, for others, I can only suggest that we should not make poverty, seniority, or other things a basis, because if you could see past them, there are many possibilities to reach your dreams.”

Adrian thanked Jun and shook his hand as we got up to go. Adrian later confided how much Jun’s words had touched his heart; I was also rather in awe at the depth of Jun’s reflection and the strength of character in his narrative. I reached out to shake Jun’s hand as well, looking him in the eyes. “Daghang salamat,Kuya44_{” [Thank you very much, (older)}

brother], and he finally returned my gaze, as well as my smile, which warmed my heart although I left feeling somewhat shaken.

44_{Kuya is an honorific title meaning older brother. Its use is not restricted to natal siblings, and denotes}

91