A Day that will life in Infamy for NEA
Pre-Semester Non-Lecture Analysis 46
That shameful blitzkrieg carried out by NEA in South Drive on October 18, 2021 was not just a shortlived takeover of BENECO’s premises. It was the beginning of a long siege that continues to this day. NEA had hoped to build a bunker in BENECO by encircling it with a human wall of anti-riot police. But when it caved in against a human wave of MCO’s with balls the size of cantaloupes, reluctantly the NEA invaders who had bivouacked in the co-op’s boardroom had to pull off a hasty retreat.
It was crudely choreographed, decoy girl drawing enough distraction allowing the main actress she was stunt-doubling for to jump out of a low window in the back.
Another one attempted a higher jump from a 2nd floor cantilevered ledge chanting in his mind R. Kelly’s song “I believe I can fly.” He broke his shinbone upon landing—the pitch was too high. No, he wasn’t gangraped leaving him unable to walk, the poor fellow tried to get up but his legs said “stay down!” Meanwhile, the policemen around him thankfully found an opportunity to shift to a lower-key mission: surrounding him to protect what little remained of his ego. That’s why he needed to cry “mob job!” it was just too embarrassing to go down THAT way.
Every night since, BENECO’s premises had been transformed from a transformer yard to a center for socio-cultural transformation. When this fiasco is over, they should put up a memorial marker there that says “On this day, MCO’s took a valiant stand to carve in granite the legacy that they proudly ended what arrogance began.”
It helped that their mayor is supportive of them. Wait—that is way too abbreviated.
For those of you who are millennials who weren’t even born yet in 1986, I’ll tell you this short true story. The title of the story is “The Untold Story of Camp Cathedral.”
The People Power revolution didn’t just happen in EDSA. It happened all over the country. People too far from Manila assembled in their own town plazas and churchyards, their ears glued to transistor radios following the blow-by-blow report of what’s happening in EDSA. Marcos ordered the AFP to break up all “illegal assemblies” wherever they formed. Fidel Ramos and Johnny Enrile countered this with their own call for “AFP units to stand down and declare your allegiance to the flag.”
Here in Baguio, people gathered at the Baguio Cathedral, alternating between praying the rosary and listening to radio reports trickling in of AFP units one by one turning their back against Marcos. First to do it was the helicopter wing commanded by Air Force Colonel Sotelo and his men who stole three Hueys from the hangar and hovered them over Malacañang and EDSA. He spoke over a radiopatch to the throngs on the ground, “Watch out, we’re going to drop something.”
People prepared to die, sure that the chopper was dropping incendiary bombs. But when what poured out over the helicopter’s skids were confetti clouds of machine-shredded yellow pages, they began to cry.
Back in Camp Cathedral, we stood outside just in front of the church cowering in the cold. The sun was beginning to sink low in the horizon. We prepared to hunker down for another long night of vigil–pretty much like what the MCO’s are doing now. Everytime another report of troop movement came in, we wondered when it would be Baguio’s turn. Then it was back to praying the rosary.
Sometime between the second or third Sorrowful Mystery, a “six-by-six” Army truck packed with heavily-armed PC Scout Rangers drove up and parked near Patria. No one knew where it came from. A thin lanky lieutenant barked to his men, “Deploy!” and the soldiers quickly surrounded the Cathedral. Two of them set up a 50-caliber belt-fed mounted machine gun right in front of the Cathedral. We were sure we would never make it to the Glorious Mysteries, especially after the young lieutenant shouted to his men, “Lock and load!”
As the women began crying, the young lieutenant walked over to the mounted machinegun then. Then, to everyone’s disbelief, he swung the gun around to point AWAY from the Cathedral and towards the only approach, then told the gunner, “Nobody breaches the perimeter, understood?” the gunner snapped, “Sir, yes, sir!”
Then he walked up to the church entrance, took off his helmet, snapped a salute to Bishop Madangeng and said, “Good evening, Monsignor, me and my men are here to protect you. My unit and I stand with the Filipino people.”
The Baguio bishop took a moment to gather his composure, almost unable to believe the soldiers had not come to kill everyone. Finally, he managed to say, “thank you lieutenant. You say you’re here to protect us, do you really think Marcos would send people to harm us?”
“Just they try, Monsignor, just they try. Subukan nila.” Then the lieutenant introduced himself.
His name was Benjamin Magalong.
So a few days ago when I heard him say of the BENECO crisis, “I have made my stand as early as six months ago, and I say again, respect the will of the people!”
Six months ago? Nice try, Benjie. You’re trying to be too modest so I will rain on your parade. You took your stand thirty-five years ago. I know because I was there. And you know it.
The author is a writer and lawyer based in Baguio City, Philippines. Former editor of the Gold Ore and Baguio City Digest, professor of journalism, political science and law at Baguio Colleges Foundation (BCF). He is a photographer and video documentarist. He has a YouTube channel called “Parables and Reason”