Life during Martial Law was normal

Imagine waking up on September 21, 1972 and all was quiet. We lived on Shaw Boulevard and the street was deserted.

In the house, all was sullen. Mama lay in bed and kept me there with her. I couldn’t go out to buy pandesal. The bakery was closed. The taho vendor did not pass by.

All was quiet.

Trucks with soldiers passed the street. Policemen gathered at the corner. Everyone’s door was closed. I was five and that morning was the first time I saw my mother afraid.

My father used to be a policeman. He had just become a lawyer four months before. He, too, was afraid. Something happens to a child when she sees her parents afraid. She learns to be afraid, too.

No one in my family was taken, arrested, detained, beaten up, tortured or raped. But we were all afraid. Living afraid was normal.

We lined up to buy rice. We lined up to buy sugar. In those early days of Martial Law, everything was controlled. After a few weeks, being afraid became our normal.

My dad needed to take a road trip to preach somewhere. They had a car but no gasoline. He buys the gasoline stub from a policeman friend. It was his gasoline allowance for the mobile police car. I asked, what if the policeman needed to chase a bad guy? Then the people who complained to the police will have to give the policeman “pang-gasolina,” “pang-sigarilyo,” or “pang-meryenda.”

When teachers told us to plant vegetables in the school garden, it wasn’t because it was fun. It wasn’t because it was a learning experience. It was because of the Green Revolution. There would be inspections and we could receive awards if we grew the best vegetables.

When teachers told us to sweep the street, no one asked why. Every student was out on the street sweeping. We didn’t do this out of civic duty, we did it because “sa ikauunlad ng bayan, disiplina ang kailangan [discipline is needed for the progress of the country].” A few months of this, and we didn’t ask, we didn’t complain, we didn’t question.

When we were told to make Philippine flags from colored paper and made to stand for hours in the heat along J.P Laurel Street so we can wave at the passing black car where the dictator and his wife rode, no one complained. No one asked why. No one questioned. This became normal. This was life and it was normal.

School kids were given a bun and a glass of milk everyday. No one asked where they came from, if they were international food aid or if they were from “utang [loan].” Marcos was so good to the poor.

The news? Well, the only source of news was the same government stations, those owned or operated by friends and cronies of Marcos. The only newspapers that survived were those that sang the praises of the dictator. All the news came in press release form. No one wrote the news. They just read the press releases.

No one asked why. No one questioned. No one knew any better.

The government was deep in debt to finance the construction of the CCP, the PICC, the FAT, ECP. We had to memorize all those acronyms in school. We had to learn all the cabinet secretaries’ names. We knew all about Marcos’ bravery during the Death March — never mind that it turned out to be fiction, we memorized it in school.

I was watching cartoons or Sesame Street, and suddenly my favorite program would be interrupted and a man sitting in a chair behind a desk would give a speech for an hour. I would groan and sometimes get angry and complain. I would be shushed. The soldiers might hear you. If we misbehaved, older people would say, “Sige ka, dadalhin ka sa Camp Crame. Tatawag ba ako ng pulis? Ipadadala ba kita sa Crame? [Go on, they will bring you to Camp Crame. Should I call the police? Should I let them bring you to Crame?]” This was normal.

I would often hear that same man with the big voice and slow cadence of speech say, “I have ordered the Armed Forces.” He would say, “I have issued Presidential Decree number so and so.” I grew up thinking that laws were made by Presidential Decree. I didn’t know until I was 15 that laws elsewhere, in other countries, were made by a congress or a senate or a parliament. I thought Presidential Decrees were normal.

So when older people say, “Naku, during Martial Law, life was quiet,” believe them. There was only one voice to be heard. When they say, life was peaceful during Martial Law, believe them. Everyone who questioned was in jail or in a shallow grave somewhere.

When they say, “Naku, noong Martial Law, mura ang bilihin [Oh dear! During Martial Law, goods were cheap]” believe them. Malacañang controlled everything even the price of rice, and sugar and cooking oil. Everything was controlled and owned by the government or some lucky friend, classmate or kababayan [countrymen] or kamag-anak [family relative] of the man in Malacañang.

When people say that they were free during Martial Law, believe them: they were free to choose Seeing Stars with Joe Quirino or Superstar; they were free to root for Toyota or Crispa; they were free to watch the news on RPN 9 or IBC 13 or BBC 2 or PTV 4 or GMA 7 the news would contain the same footages and the same press releases, anyway.

You know what else became normal? When you needed some help getting something you need from a government agency, you would ask, “Sino bang kakilala natin doon? [Do we know somebody inside?]” or “May kakilala ka ba sa Malacañang? [Do we know someone from Malacañang?]”

But later, it became different. The teenager who ran over a child on the street would not be prosecuted, the family will not press charges because, “pamangkin ni Colonel so and so [he’s the nephew of Colonel so and so].” Barged your way through traffic? “Anak ni General so and so iyan [she’s the daughter of General so and so]” This, too, was normal.

You wanted a government job? You don’t have qualifications? That’s not a problem. Kilala mo naman si [Of course you know]… Kumpare naman ng tatay mo si [Certainly, your father is friends with]… Ninong mo naman si [Surely, you’re godfather is]…it doesn’t matter what you know, it matters whom you know. This, too, was normal.

All those who turned up dead and found in the talahiban [meadow], well, they were all communists, anyway. Good riddance. All those rounded up for questioning, well, they were all communists, too. Everyone who questioned or complained was a communist. Pretty soon, everyone who was evil was a communist.

What’s a communist, Mama? Communists are people who want to overthrow the government, but Marcos saved us. Marcos saved the government. Now the communists want to overthrow Marcos. A communist is a person who wants to overthrow the Bagong Lipunan.

May bagong silang,
may bago nang diwa
Bagong bansa,
bagong galaw,
Sa Bagong Lipunan.
Nagbabago ang lahat
Tungo sa pag-unlad
At ating itanghal
Bagong Lipunan!

We grew to believe that we were all safe because all the communists would be rounded up and they would be jailed. We needed not fear. Life was in peace and order.

So, life during Martial Law was normal. Everything was normal.

Read other Martial Law stories here.