Her father’s chief security officer once gave her the easy monicker “ krisis” when she was born 53 years ago on a Valentines Day. The reason was a no-brainer and hugely superstitious. It was the beginning of a time of political crisis for the senator seen as a potential president.( The officer will one day show up at the Malacanang guest house at breakfast, and greeted a new president busy scanning the dailies for items but reportedly failed to say something beyond hello. After all, the security man was also jailed by the man who jailed her husband. Que sera, sera)
Martial law was declared and an unlikely dictator rose in the land. Another man born on the same day, not date, vowed that as long as he was the dictator’s defense secretary, the senator would not be arrested. Not true. Soon after the martial rule diktat became effective, unbeknownst to many, the late senator who -would have -been- the -next- president, so many thought, was arrested in the middle of a Senate session in a hotel not too far from Congress at Taft.
The dream that was nurtured at the now historic Times Street ended in the jails for political prisoners, a sinful shibboleth in a time of political ferment, at Camp Crame and other places somewhere near the boondocks where spectacles were inadvertently or purposely lost to the victim of the new vision of a society.
Later on, the late senator, who was apparently gamed by a martial law body masquerading as a judicial one, gave him a death sentence. The senator’s already emaciated body soon lost more weight due to a hunger strike and made the face of a prominent lady to shine upon his fate. Luck, good or bad, was deceptive. As events showed later, it was to be a Faustian deal.
The late Ninoy Aquino, “krisis” father , was convinced he was better off in a political exile thousands of miles away where there was no danger and plenty of time to talk about politics at home and lead a so-called “steak” commando. He grabbed the opportunity but missed the future. In his own word” “ a pact with the devil is no pact at all”.
When the senator came back to his country, it was to be his last. An assassin was stealthily waiting at the tarmac, so the narrative, both official and non-officlal go, to impose the mothballed death sentence. The sentence had its own other tragic consequence. History is never predictable notwithstanding its unmistakable lessons.
The senator’s martyrdom triggered a famous peaceful revolution that was inspired by Henry David Thoreau or Mahatma Gandhi or both. Suggestions were pushed at the Pasig river to quell the restive but festive gathering at what used to be Highway 54. But the dictator, who was inspired by Plato’s encouragement to be a philosopher and king at the same time, thought it was foolish and inconsistent with his parameters. No go.
The relentless throng at the highway soon flowed like a stream of believers that inexorably rushed to the mansion of the dictator by Pasig River and nearly desecrated it for souvenir sake. It was the flowering of civil, even political consciousness that sent the dictator and his family in a panicky detour to the land flowing with milk and honey, instead of the North where wind turbines grew later on. Political excursions can be tricky, even tasteless.
Of the martry’s family, the wife and only son became presidents where the senator was thought to be destined. How exciting it was meant to be days and weeks before the arrest or the martial rule. In one evening of make -believe ,the imaginary members of the new administration were anticipatingly celebrating of a political victory. But the would-be dictator had other plans.
The widow refused to have a second term . The son also served a one-term. Cha-cha was not the political pizza pie. The widow died of cancer. The son died of a heart disease. Both modeled integrity and patriotism, leaving a legacy of statesmanship that was said two of the best among Philippine presidents. Surprisingly, Gloria Macapagal Arroyo and the late Fidel V.Ramos have made it to the cut, despite their own peccadillos, grandes y pequenos,
History, or infamy, had to wait for a putative tyrrat before the dictator was flown home for the appropriate burial. He was later allowed burial in the sacred ground for heroes where non-heroes dared not to threat. But history , as Marx said, comes as tragedy first and evolved into farce, like a Greek or Shakesperean play.
The son of the dictator also rose as the next president after decades in political limbo or irrelevance . The new myth has yet to complete its political narrative even as a past narrative is being rewritten. It’s the prerogative of the victors, not of the vanquished.
In the meantime, the “krisis” of the Times refuses to die as she battles a rare immune disease in another land where the dictator’s family once lived or frolicked, if you will. It’s understandable if one has read Mitch Albom’s “ Tuesdays with Morrie” that tells of man unwillingness to die because of his family. Kris has an elder son by an actor, more like the child of a lesser god and the apple of the eyes of her late only brother president, and another younger son by a cage superstar. The reasons are both visceral and cerebral. If only a Camelot existed.
In the meantime, another man born on Valentines Day, who vowed not to throw in prison her father, is celebrating his centenary and out to make his own record in longevity, both biologically and politically. He was once touted as one of the architects of martial law. History repeats itself? Santayana has a caveat.
“I once believed in horoscope”,a man confessed,” until I found out that a prince and a pauper where born o n the same day’. Solomon says there is a time for everything under heaven. For Kris, time is of the essence, philosophically and existentially. For others., things have just began, even for a past president who thinks he’ll be off the hook for crime against humanity as guaranteed by the Sitting Bull that the International Criminal Court cannot touch him. Promise..
By the way, there is no official Edsa holiday in February 2024. Tough luck or eat your hearts out.
