Posts
Cory Aquino gained the seat of presidency in 1986. I was two years old. Naturally, I have no vivid recollection of what it was like to live under her regime. What little I know is wrung out of history books, sporadic TV documentaries, and my mother’s responses to my prodding questions. My mother said she was the fitting leader after the dictatorial regime, of which I have no recollection either. President Cory was like a nurse-mom, tending the large-scale injuries and patching band-aids to all sorts of national wound. There would still be momentary aches, invoked by protests from disgruntled people. But they were few. Opposition forces then were not as united and as widespread as they are today, said my mother.
I asked her why Cory. Why, of all people, a housewife, who was maintaining a low-profile status prior to the death of her husband, was chosen to run against an exceptionally intelligent, eloquent, and manipulative Marcos? She was, as I understood it, a faceless name. Certainly, the public saw something about this coy widow of a slain would-be president to become his replacement. But what was it? After a moment’s pause, my mother said that the Filipino people, with all the sentiments of an orphaned kid, looked for Ninoy in Cory. That they thought she was the closest thing to Ninoy.
On second thought, why shouldn’t it be Cory? She was perhaps the only person then who had no cravings for power and therefore had no desire to use the position for personal and a few beneficiaries’ interest. Indeed, history tells us that Cory’s integrity as president was almost spotless. Sure, her administration wasn’t remarkable; in fact, according to my mother, the economy had a downhill stride. But though the economy was weak, Cory did not aggravate the situation by overusing her power to fatten her pocket. Instead, she served with honesty, authenticity, genuine love for God and country, and overwhelming concern and affection for her people. She may not have made the Philippines an economic lion, but there was decency in her democratic leadership. And for a people cowered by a dictator for several long years, it mattered.
It was when she was already a private citizen that I began to take notice of her. I was older and more exposed to the matters of the government. I always remember Cory in yellow and taking part in activities to uphold the nation’s interest. Even though she had long ago relinquished her power, she remained visible and articulate when the democracy she had fought hard to rebuild was on the verge of erosion. In these instances, everyone needed to know what Cory had to say. Because she personified our aspirations and convictions as a people, she became the national conscience.
That’s why despite knowing how vile cancer is, I had hoped that Cory would live through 2010 elections. I thought that the coming elections would be some kind of a turning point, and I sort of expected her active involvement. If her condition, however, wouldn’t allow her to be active and visible as much as she once was, I thought that at least she deserved to witness the positive changes following the elections.
But then again, things happen. She passed away at 76. Orphaned for the second time, the entire Philippines is in deep mourning over the passing of Cory. I know so little about the Filipinos’ response to the death of other former presidents, so I have no point of comparison, but even then, I know that the people’s response to Cory’s death is special. When I saw the outpouring of love and gratitude first at her wake at La Salle Greenhills, then at Ayala Avenue, and during her funeral procession from Manila Cathedral to Manila Memorial Park, I knew it was the same spirit of 1983 and 1986, the same flood of emotions first felt when Ninoy died and then during EDSA 1. The same color. The same fervor. The same “L” (Laban) sign. The same patriotic songs. The same Cory chants. And perhaps the same faces, only some had grown old and some were added. Some say it was like a déjà vu. This time, however, they were not pursuing a fight. They were paying respects to the woman behind the bygone fight. And everyone was bound in love.
I know more about Cory when she passed away than when she was still alive. And that goes without saying I appreciate her more now. I guess, that’s the way it is with us humans. Death has a way of looming the greatness of a person and attracting us to the life he has lived. But Cory, even in death, seemed to have done another act of greatness. Lying lifeless, she reminded the Filipinos of People Power, of the fight for democracy, and of selfless love for country. She reminded us that we, as a people, are capable. This is nine months before elections. This is when threats to our democracy are coming at hand. I would say it’s a timely death, and Cory, even when laid to her final resting place, reawakened our spirit and stirred our memories at a time when we seem to have become forgetful, passive, and fatigued. This, I think, is her final contribution. And I hope her death, as did her life, would trigger changes in the way we see the country and how we protect it from external and internal enemies.
