By GEELA GARCIA
Bulatlat.com
DAVAO CITY – A few steps away from a safe house, one can hear the Pangadas brothers, Mawing and Ismael, and the Diagone couple, Jeffry and Lerma, strumming the guitar and singing to familiar songs of resistance. The four were reunited inside a warm and unassuming apartment, and one could feel the lightness and relief in the situation, after 10 months of being unjustly in prison.
The Pangadas brothers were Lumad students who were locked in jail after exercising their right to protest against Ferdinand Marcos’s first State of the Nation Address last July 2022. The Diagone couple, on the other hand, was arrested on baseless charges of human trafficking for working as teachers at the Salugpongan Ta Tanu Igkanugon Learning, a Lumad school in the Davao region that was red-tagged and shut down by the Duterte administration in 2018.
Related story: Court acquits Lumad brothers, 3 teachers from human trafficking charges
“I was very happy when we were released. I saw our comrades waiting for us. What happened to us inspired us to continue fighting for our rights. Dasig lang,” said Ismael, the elder of the two brothers.
Life in prison
According to Jeffry and the brothers, the living conditions in jail were harsh. The males were segregated into cells with 20 TO 30 people, sharing a single electric fan and television. There was nothing much to do inside, and some old prisoners were often caught in a daze. The three men were not allowed to stay in a cell together because they had related cases.
Lerma, who was locked in a cell for women, was forced to leave her infant and toddler couldn’t help but be emotional.
“I was breastfeeding my 10-month old but he had to be taken away from me to protect him from getting sick. My five-year-old kept on asking when we’ll return, and it saddened me that I cannot raise her on my own because we were away from each other,” Lerma said.
“The police and other prisoners looked at us as if we were capable of committing grave offenses, of killing people, even if we know ourselves we’re innocent,” she added.
Rice was always short in prison, and sometimes, they had no choice but to eat it however it was cooked. The kangkong they eat grows beside the prison’s septic tank, and every time it is served, Jeffry would joke that they would buy cup noodles instead.
“Days were just passing there, we only know the dates when we ask the wardens,” said Jeffry.
After a few months in jail, the four were selected to become trustees of wardens or officers. Trustees are prisoners with more responsibilities because they serve as assistants to wardens, and help in the daily operations of the prison. Lerma was assigned to the kitchen, while the boys were either assigned as runners, peacemakers, or attendance checkers.
“They looked at us differently after we became trustees. At first, we were getting discriminated against because of our case, but perhaps they saw that we are deserving of trust and were responsible enough to do basic tasks,” said Jeffry.
Most of their cellmates were perpetrators of sexual assault or were small-time drug convicts that were framed to be in jail. Sometimes they would have deeper conversations about each others’ lives and their cellmates wondered how soft-spoken people like them ended up in jail.
“They would ask, why do we like protesting? We tell them it’s because we saw the truth, and that once they’re opened to our society’s realities, they would understand,” said Lerma.
The four shared that they were very happy to have led a cultural dance in prison last International Working Women’s Day. They were the ones who facilitated the event, and even the mayor and the speaker were left in awe to the point of tears.
“They asked, who taught these indigenous dances, we said they were our own. They also found our presentation on violence against women relatable because we showed how abused women can fight for their genuine emancipation.”
The struggle for land and education
Jeffry and Lerma are also indigenous peoples who volunteered in the Lumad schools. Jeffry taught students agriculture. Lerma taught because she wanted to help children learn how to read. Jeffry witnessed his ancestors be tricked into selling their ancestral land to outsiders.
“They would tell us that the papers were only to rent our lands, but they are to transfer ownership. I want my community to be educated so people can’t take advantage of us,” he said.
Lerma taught a class of 30 students at the Salugpongan schools. She misses the school because it served as a space for children to learn not just basic school subjects but also hygiene and proper manners.
She said that public education in the countryside barely served the poorest Filipino families. Despite families being listed as 4PS beneficiaries, students can only come to school once a week because there is not enough allowance for students to participate in school projects.
Jeffry added that they once visited smaller towns within their community and it took them two days by foot just to reach smaller communities.
“You would realize that there are really areas that the Department of Education can’t reach, and even then, there’s a lack of teachers who can reach those communities,” said Jeffry.
“Some public school students would even transfer to our school because our school was for free. I noticed that students from public schools learn disrespectful manners and cursing from outside influences, but once they’re in the Lumad school, we’re able to encourage them to speak politely and change their harmful behaviors,” said Lerma.
“Even just by teaching at the Lumad school, you can see that there’s still so much work to be done,” she added.
Mawing, one of the students said that it’s also not just schools that are inaccessible in their community but also health care. “We don’t have hospitals in our community. Most people in our community die because of amoebiasis. If you’re sick, people just wait for you to die because the closest hospital is four hours away from us,” said Mawing.
Brothers Ismael and Mawing have been studying in Salugpongan since they were in grade school. For them, it was in the school where they learned how to better themselves, respect others, and fight for their rights. The Salugpongan boarding school was the closest school to their home, yet it takes a three-hour motorcycle ride and a 30-minute walk to get there.
Related story: A timeline of the birth and attacks on Salugpongan schools
Despite the attacks and the experience in prison, the four continue to struggle for education and land because they have witnessed ancestors who sacrificed their lives just for their land.
“What I miss the most about the Lumad schools is our centralized dinner over bonfires. Everyone gets a proper share of their food, and if there’s excess we still divide it among ourselves,” Lerma recalled fondly.
Jeffry said their favorite food was their “Ata rice”, it was a grain that came in various colors, from red to violet, and they enjoyed eating the rice because it was good despite not having a viand.
“One of our hobbies is going to the river to fish for frogs and crabs, and the forest was our market,” recalled Mawing.
The four have no idea when they’ll be able to return to their homes in Talaingod, as areas have been heavily militarized. Students and teachers were forced to surrender themselves to the government, but the four remain steadfast in their rightful struggle for land, education, and emancipation.
“Why should we surrender when their accusations are baseless? Why should we fear fighting when we’re only fighting for what is right?” said Mawing. (RVO)