Walking past the intimidating walls of barbed wire, AlpeKiweeJubsPatGabbieJoanEdward and I initially entered the medium security compound with undisclosed reservations. While I was eager to get a glimpse of life within the boundaries of bilibid, I also couldn't help secretly acknowledging my own pre-conceived notions of convicts as our feet made their way onto the cemented pathway of the compound proper.
Sure enough, the first thing that greeted us was the incriminating scene of a hundred men boring holes into our faces. Fr. Pineda's descriptions immediately came to mind-- some of the prisoners would be wearing the color-coded shirts we were already seeing at that very moment. And without warning, it suddenly struck me na naandun na nga kami... kahalubilo na nga namin ang mga preso. Marami na sa kanila ang nakapagnakaw, nakapagsaksak at baril ng kung sinu-sino... what makes you think they won't be able to do it again? You're very much unprotected and vulnerable at the moment and you don't mean anything to them anyway.
It was definitely hard not to think about all of these things but I tried my best to keep all my apprehensions from resurfacing for every time my eyes met those of an inmate's. It just didn't help that many of them appeared just as prisoners did in the movies--somewhat disheveled and unsettling in the way they held themselves, almost as though any wrong move could land us in a situation we'd forever be regretting in our afterlives.
But my first impressions fortunately proved to be huge misnomers. What appeared to be an enormous confinement for lawbreakers eventually crumbled off into an expansive village of hopeful, grown men just trying to make the most of their situation. I was surprised to see just how less and less of a correctional facility the compound was starting to become as these supposedly unsettling criminals reached out to us warmly, with some of them even offering to carry the food we brought them (pinayungan pa kami!), while the others engaged themselves in rounds of videoke or softball on either side of the road. It was practically a park, and at one point seryosong naisipan ko pang magpicnic doon para sa sarili kong kaarawan.
In taking in the surprisingly warm sense of community within the place, I wanted to imprison myself for thinking so stereotypically of these men. It hit me most especially when we were brought to a classroom at the beginning of our stay, where groups of the compound's detainees performed song and dance numbers to welcome us. Beyond being sincerely impressed with their well-rehearsed skills in dancing and singing, I was struck in seeing them giving their all in the performances as you could really see the depth of their situation in their eyes. You could see in the way they performed that they were really repenting, almost as if every dance step and every melody would equate to an ounce of forgiveness not only from their audience or from God, but also from their own selves. It was just evident how it meant a lot to them that complete strangers such as us still confided our trust in them in spite of their misgivings as present detainees.
Ang lakas ng tama lalo na nung kinanta nila yung PBB theme song. There was just something about seeing them all work together to complete a performance that struck a chord within me. Corny na kung sa corny, but the song actually encapsulated what their situation was trying to convey:
Lahat tayo'y mayro'ng pagkakaiba, sa tingin pa lang ay makikita na
Iba't ibang kagustuhan ngunit isa ang patutunguhan
Gabay at pagmamahal ang hanap mo
Magbibigay ng halaga sa iyo
Nais mong ipakilala
kung sino ka ngang talaga
Beyond their state as prisoners and the innumerable tattooes and scars on their bodies, one fact remains: they're human beings too. They may have stolen cellphones or cars or trespassed houses or killed their fellowmen, but doesn't that ultimately make them human? Humans who made their own mistakes and are merely paying the price for it as prisoners of the NBP? Humans who just happened to recognize that they fell victim to temptation and are liable for their actions, making them even more commendable than those who haven't taken the time to see what they're doing wrong? It felt like in giving their all as they danced to the song, these detainees just wanted to prove that they were more than just criminals. They wanted to make us understand that they were Filipinos-- people --- just like every one of us sitting in front of them at that very moment.
Their chairman (a fellow inmate... na nakalaya na-- alpe tama ba?) also gave us a talk on NBP. He talked of sentences and deathrows as though it was a normal, everyday thing to discuss infront of complete strangers... kumbaga dinaan nalang sa tawa. The establishment's reputation as a confinement--a prison--- suddenly didn't seem to be so evident anymore. Despite the gravity of the crimes committed by many of the inmates there, it didn't feel to be as much of an enormous confinement for dangerous men (so dangerous that they have to be enclosed in double walls of rusty barbed wires) as it appeared when we first entered. Ika nga ni Edward, parang mga retreatants lang talaga silang gustong magbago.
I won't deny however, that I also had my apprehensive moments with the men we interacted with. During the mass, for example, one inmate sitting behind me suddenly tapped me on my shoulder and began talking to me.
Man (I can't remember his name...): Ate, taga san po ba kayo?
Mica: Galing kaming Ateneo... sa Katipunan yon.
Man: Ah Ateneo... malapit lang ako dun, sa Barangka ako madalas.
Mica: Ay oo, nilalakad po namin yun minsan. May shortcut po kasi sa Ateneo eh.
Man: Talaga? Dumalaw-dalaw naman kayo minsan. Kabisado ko yung lugar na yon kasi bayaran ako ng pagpatay ng tao eh.
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and during the interaction:
Mica: Hindi naman kayo nagsusuntukan pag hindi nagkakasundo ung mga gang niyo dito sa bilibid?
Juno (18 yr old detainee): Suntukan? Saksakan pa nga eh. Magaling lang akong umilag.
Mica: Pano yung mga namamatay?
Juno: Eh di dinadala sa morgue.
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Frankly, after trying to push away the disturbing scenes that immediately entered my mind, I realized how desensitized these men were actually getting to be to the reality of violence. Na-culture shock ako sa totoo lang. But I guess it was in knowing of this that I felt the intensity of their desires for repentance. During mass, seeing the prisoners offer their hands up and singing passionately along with the mass songs revealed that they had genuine souls beneath their tough, scarred, and tatooed exteriors, and it was part of what made the experience so beautiful. As was mentioned during our processing, seeing the prisoners that day revealed how they were really hanging onto Him now for lack of any other thing to hang on to. In losing their lives, they found God.
For all the things I learned about the prisoners' lives in Muntinlupa, I think I actually learned more about the essence of my own.
3 comments:
You did not do justice to my attempts at frolicking. I pout.
Oh but words are not enough for that... ;) shut up and sit down okay edward?
Damn. Should have brought a video camera to record such a momentous occasion. It's not everyday I frolic, you know.
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