I was roving along EDSA around 8:00 o'clock in the morning of August 1, 2009 when my attention was interrupted by the simultaneous discharge and firing of artillery apparently coming from Camp Aguinaldo. I also noticed that the Philippine Flag flew half mast. A few meters from my lane, I was seeing this police officer who tirelessly assist pedestrian trying to cross Ortigas. When the traffic light turned red, it got me the opportunity to ask as to satisfy my curiousity anent the succesive artillery fire. It was just so sad when he said "Nakaka lungkot sir, sumakabilang buhay na si dating pangulong Cory Aquino, kaninang madaling araw lang".
So, the successive firing was the "Volley of Fire". In military parlance, the Volley of Fire is a traditional discharge of howitzers to honor the demise of their Commander in Chief. It is eight succesive canon shots fired every 30 minutes from daybreak to night fall.
I was still in grade school when I first heard about a widow that many called Cory, and of how her husband - a state legislator - was without remorse murdered. I was not really oriented about her given my tender age and the province where I was born is politically dominated by Marcos - Romualdez clan. But it was not until my college days under "Philippine Constitution" subject that I was awakened by her resolve of restoring the glory of Philippine democracy, and shielded the rule of law in those times of great peril. It was not until my post graduate studies days that I admired her moral leadership and the purity of her intention to serve. It was this recent when I worked in the government of which the local chief executive is her appointee at the helm of Makati City that I witness how she continue to defend the integrity and freedom of our mother land. She epitomizes the best of what the filipino is.
Losing one’s mother is the final wrenching from the womb. The feeling of aloneness is incomparable to any loss — all at once one realizes that the symbolic umbilicus that has somehow assured one of safety in the unknown waters of Life is not there anymore. But precisely the experience of losing a mother is the final salvo of strength given us, for our turns will come to let go of our own children, and the cycle of strength-giving continues.
There is a sorrow akin to losing a mother at Corazon "Cory" Aquino’s demise on Aug. 1, 2009. The hollowness in the soul might be coming from fear — a compelling feeling one would not readily admit. For when a mother is gone, the child that is in everyone must let go of that ever-ready hand that gives confidence at whatever age or status. For it is only from a mother that pure, unconditional love can ever be assured — and we felt that in Tita Cory. She was our moral anchor at that fateful People Power Revolution of EDSA I in 1986, and through the many unsteady years after that, until now. Surely, her spirit will guide us still, but we will sorely miss the true mother to the Filipino people.
In an uncanny twist of Fate, Cory Aquino became the first woman president of the Philippines , Feb. 25, 1986, to June 30, 1992 — when many may have thought it was not time for a woman to lead the country. (In fact she was the first elected woman president in Asia .) "Just a woman," Ferdinand Marcos called her then, when he scoffed at her "audacity" to run against him in the Feb. 7, 1986, snap elections. How could she win, when he held absolute control of the election machinery, and of the whole country? How could she even dare to try, when she was just "a plain housewife" who never worked in an office, never knew complicities beyond her home and family? But he — how could he forget the country’s heavily-matriarchal history, where the women effectively led the men leaders by subtle persuasion, by assertive ascendancy and by every way in between?
And so Ferdinand Marcos, despite his genius, erred in our favor by overlooking the basic human instinct to run to a mother in times of fear and desperation. Twenty-one years of a shackling dictatorship dealt deep wounds of rights violated and voices stifled — and he did not notice nor care. By offering herself as a most presumptuous alternative to dictator Marcos at the 1986 snap elections, Cory Aquino uttered the magic words a mother would say to an offspring needing love and attention, "There, there-that will all go away." And the February 1986 EDSA I Revolution happened in the Filipinos’ revived strength from that mother’s assurance — and the pain that was Marcos was whisked away to Hawaii by a sympathetic America .
Cory Aquino was a healer in the fashion of the ultimate mother figure, the babaylan of pre-Hispanic Filipino social history. "In the Filipino indigenous tradition is a person who is gifted to heal the spirit and the body; a woman who serves the community through her role as a folk therapist, wisdom-keeper and philosopher; a woman who provides stability to the community’s social structure; a woman who can access the spirit realm and other states of consciousness and traffic easily in and out of these worlds; a woman who has vast knowledge of healing therapies," according to historian Leny Strobel. The Philippines could be the only Asian country with a tradition of women-priest/healers, and this can only draw from the faith of Filipinos in mothers, who are believed to be able to do anything and all things, as would the babaylan. It was Cory’s motherly task to heal the wounded Filipinos.
Cory brought back democracy to a people parched for its freedoms in two decades of dictatorship. She guided her "special child," the Filipino, in the first struggling steps to normalcy, starting from a new Constitution that protected life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness in laws meant to curb individual greed and benefits. In the horrible memory of a 14-year martial law that extended Marcos’s second four-year reelected term, the new Constitution stated that the president will have a maximum six-year term with no reelection. Cory made no exceptions for herself.
"I don’t have any formula for ousting a dictator or building democracy. All I can suggest is to forget about yourself and just think of your people. It’s always the people who make things happen," Cory said. Cory, the true mother, knew just how tight and how loose it needed to hold her reins. "I guess my religious faith sustained me more than anything else. Family is also very important. If I didn’t have children, it would have been too difficult." Rosary in hand, she constantly prayed for help and guidance from God that she might do right for her people and for them to discern their path in appreciation of newfound freedoms. "I am not embarrassed to tell you that I believe in miracles," she declared.
Seven (or nine?) coup attempts to overthrow Cory in her first few years of being president highlighted the pains of parenthood wrought by the biblical "prodigal children" who thought they knew better and could do better. "Faith is not simply a patience that passively suffers until the storm is past. Rather, it is a spirit that bears things - with resignations, yes, but above all, with blazing, serene hope," she countered. Cory knew how to handle criticism, which came from those impatient with her serene but steady aura, and who probably wanted to fast- track the return to their concept of political "normalcy." Some in media, maybe yet unaccustomed to their revitalized role in the democratic rebirth, abetted ambitious politicians shamefacedly wresting for power so soon.
At the end of her six-year term, she stepped down from the presidency and became "Citizen Cory," back to being "a plain housewife." By this time she had shaken off Marcos’s disdainful "just a woman" tag, for she was still the "Mother of Democracy" for the Philippines and symbolically for the rest of the modern world. Known for her refinement and prudence, she did not comment on political issues in succeeding presidencies, except to say "Tama na, sobra na" ("Enough is enough," her 1986 campaign slogan) amidst the preponderance of evidence in Joseph Estrada’s plunder case. Her respected dictum prodded the EDSA II people power, which persuaded Estrada to "go on leave" and effectively resign. More than once, she openly asked Gloria Arroyo to step down from the presidency, in the flood of scandals and accusations of lying and cheating in the incumbent governance.
The multitudes that queue for three hours to view her remains, the churches filled with people praying for her, the millions like you and I who shed fierce tears at heaven for taking her away too soon will be grieving for much more than the 10 days of official mourning declared by the state. But if we truly love her as a mother, and are grateful for her selfless love of country; if we value her as the one unblemished leader who has not betrayed us by lying, cheating, and stealing; and if we care to keep her memory alive, we must jealously guard and preserve the sacred integrity of a truly free and peaceful Philippines.
"Maraming salamat, at paalam," you said in your last State of the Nation address (SONA) in 1991. Never attached to power and never accused of greed, you were the only president who unequivocally said "goodbye" in a final-term, last SONA. From us, the Filipino people, there’s never "goodbye" to a mother — Madame President, Corazon Cojuangco Aquino.
