The Claws of Martial Law

The Martial Law period in the 70s and 80s was a challenging time for The Freeman, especially towards the mid-80s when Marcos was already very ill, and on the brink of losing power. His men were very well placed in key government positions, and the weakening big boss held on. The government continued to function with a veneer of normalcy.

As the president’s ill health soon become public knowledge, the anti-Marcos movement grew more aggressive and daring. In Cebu, the street protests were unrelenting. There were accounts of Marcos wrongdoings or anomalies circulating secretly every few days.

Our Mr. Jabat had a contact in the US supplying him with reports on Marcos from the American media. We had access to information that homeland Filipinos were deprived of. The feeds found their way into the pages of The Freeman, albeit with a more subtle tone. Since we were the only paper hereabouts that dared publish such stories, we soon got to the attention of the Marcos military. The generals in Manila ordered their local command to check on us.

Gen. Luis Amor, head of the military in Cebu at that time, was very polite in relaying to me the order from his superiors. They wanted one columnist in particular out of The Freeman – Niñez Cacho-Olivares. The fiery Miss Niñez, whom I personally recruited to write for our paper, was a vocal Marcos critic.

I admired Miss Niñez’s bravado, which was precisely why I wanted her on our team. She was the face of our fair and fearless journalistic position. Letting her go would make us look like we were softening our stand. At the same time, saying no to the powerful military would be construed as an act of defiance against their authority.

It was a very difficult situation and I had to make a crucial choice. I was concerned not only with my own personal security, but with the safety of my people. One person who was in as much danger as I was Mr. Jabat. There were rumors that we would be taken away together.

I discussed with Mr. Jabat how we would deal with the problem. He fully understood the tight spot we were in. He said it was all up to me, and swore that he was with me all the way – “all the way to jail.” Such assurance partly relieved me of my worries and boosted my weary spirit. I became all the more willing to bite the bullet.

I was not going to let Miss Niñez go. I was going to hold on to my principles. We were ready to go to jail; in fact, Mr. Jabat had already prepared a list of things to bring: toothbrush, toothpaste, bath soap, common medicines, towels, a few shirts and pants, and biscuits.

“Why biscuits?” I asked.

“Just in case our captors don’t feed us full meals,” he replied.    

Several times Mr. Jabat checked if I had already put my own things in a bag. He would insist that we had to be ready. The thought sent shivers through my spine, but he was right. In those times, things could suddenly take a bad turn.

We tried to maintain a semblance of normalcy on the job, while we waited for whatever was going to happen next. I was basically based in UV and Mr. Jabat worked at The Freeman office, as usual. After work, though, Mr. Jabat’s life was no longer normal. He was no longer going home at night.

Upon learning of this, my worries returned. I was worried about Mr. Jabat’s safety and the distress of his family. He told me he was spending his nights at a relative’s house a few blocks away from the office. He was scared of being picked up at home at night. He reiterated that he was not afraid of going to jail; the only thing he was afraid of was going to jail alone – without me.

I assured Mr. Jabat I was there with him all the way. That was the same promise he had given me earlier. And I will never betray the loyalty of a friend.

I prayed for many nights and days. Those prayers Mama Pining taught me as a child took on new meaning in the face of real danger. Not that I had become a holy man, but my faith in God strengthened even more.

The political crisis soon passed. We had not been picked up. None of us went to jail. The Freeman survived. Maybe we were just lucky, but I choose to believe that God kept us out of reach of the claws of martial law.

Eventually we had a new addition of The Freeman, the Cebuano tabloid, Banat, which both Mr. Jabat and I and my eldest son Jiji had strongly recommended that we publish. I gave it my wholehearted approval.