Cleta Monsanto hails from Mindanao and is a member of FIND. A wife of a desaparecido, she longs for genuine peace in the southern Philippines.
My husband Ireneo Monsanto was one of the humblest and meekest persons that anyone could ever meet. A teacher by profession, he would spend most of the day in Jatub Elementary School attending to the needs of his students. During Sundays, he would be in our parish church serving as one of the lay ministers. He was also the head of the Munting Sambayanang Kristiyano (Basic Christian Community) in our village, a religious association of the laity.
In March 1984, our barangay (village) chairman called for a meeting attended by all the residents of Barangay New Tuburan in the province of Zamboanga del Sur in Mindanao. I also attended the gathering, along with my uncle, siblings and husband Ireneo.
In the meeting, our chairman told the villagers to leave their homes and vacate the village for the military was about to conduct a military operation against the communist rebels. My husband then stood up and asked, “Is that an order from the military?” Upon hearing this, our chairman flared up and told my husband, “Komunista ka! (You’re a communist!) He then turned to me and my other relatives and shouted “Kayong lahat, komunista!” (You’re all communists!)
The following day, my husband went to the military police (MP) station and asked if they were really going to launch an offensive in the village, which the authorities denied. Because of this assurance, our family did not leave the village, thinking that what our village chief said was a hoax. We also thought that we had no other place to go and it would also be difficult to leave our farm and our animals. Apart from us, fourteen (14) other families decided to stay, while the rest of the villagers left.
In the morning, we woke up to the rumble of canons and din of gunshots. It was then that we realized that the offensive had begun and we were the defenseless targets. The attacking force was composed of Army elements and members of the paramilitary Civilian Home Defense Force (CHDF). Unfortunately, they were firing at the wrong people. We were all civilians.
Gathering whatever belongings we could take, we left our village and went to the forests. They continued to shoot at us on a daily basis, and we were driven further away from our homes. All of us were very afraid, seeing the big forest trees fall down due to the impact of the explosions. The situation was even more difficult for me because I was pregnant at that time.
We finally settled down in Gatublikod. After a few days, my husband went back to New Tuburan to harvest our vegetables. Nothing was left. We had around 50 chickens, two goats, a horse and a water buffalo when we fled. They were all gone.
Though we tried to live as normal a life as possible in our new village, we would sometimes see intelligence officers in the vicinity of our house. Then, sometime in 1985, my husband went to Pagadian City—the provincial capital—to buy a cow. On the way back to Gatublikod, the jeepney where Erning was riding was hailed by the army personnel manning the checkpoint in the town of Dumalinao and one of them pointed his rifle at my husband apparently with the intention of killing him. Luckily, the driver stepped on the gas pedal and sped away.
After three (3) days, on November 11, 1985, my husband was assigned by his school superiors to go to Pagadian to prepare the venue for their then upcoming teachers’ seminar.
He never made it there. Along with a fellow instructor, he boarded a bus which was subsequently blocked by a group of military police (MP) when it reached the town of Tigbao (the new name of Barangay New Tuburan). According to the testimonies of two witnesses, Erning and his fellow teacher were forced by the military to get off the bus. They only took my husband and released the other person free. He was 32 years old at the time and I was 28.
The following day, we instructed his brother to go to school and asked for his whereabouts. When he returned, he began to cry saying, “Wala na siya.” (He’s already gone.) They then went to the CHDF station to get information but they informed us that they could not assist us since their radio was broken and had no other means of communicating with the other units.
To protect our family from further harm, we took shelter in the Arsobispado (Archbishop’s Palace) in Pagadian. Our life there wasn’t exactly affluent or leisurely, but at least we were safe.
At that time, I had just given birth to our youngest child. Hence, I was shocked when I heard the news of his arrest. I found it difficult to accept and was overwhelmed with grief and fear for our two-month old baby, thinking how vulnerable she was. On the other hand, I felt anger because of our situation and at the people who did this to us.
Though my family was anxious for what had happened to my husband, they still helped me look for him at the military camp as did our village chairman and his councilors, our church leaders, and almost all his co-teachers. All of us were angry with the camp personnel as they made us believe that he would come back.
We, however, continued with our search. We went to as many camps as possible. Even our local priest, the laymen in our Parish of Dumalinao and almost all of the people in the Diocese of Pagadian took part in trying to locate my husband’s whereabouts.
The whole ordeal has made me and the rest of my family emotionally drained. Until now, we have not seen him. Because of what the authorities have done, we were and remain very angry and demand vindication. For us, the problem will only come to a close when my husband is found — alive or dead.
This tragedy would not have occurred if not for Marcos. When he declared martial law, the country became heavily militarized, which resulted in much death. In fact, we almost went crazy with the sounds of canons and rumors of people being locked in the stockade. But we did not expect that our fate would also be included.
Ireneo’s disappearance was the most difficult time, not only for me but for my entire family; especially because for the last three years, we kept on moving from place to place, since the people responsible for his disappearance also wanted to kill all of us. Even worse, the government, which should support human rights victims like me did not give us any support whatsoever.
Then in 1987, a priest who happened to be a family friend introduced us to a woman who witnessed my husband’s death. She said that she had been tortured along with Erning in an undisclosed place. Based on her account, the torturers took my husband’s clothes, forced him to wear a cassock and tied him with a chain.
She said that Erning was arrested because the CHDF suspected him of being a member of the New People’s Army (NPA), the armed wing of the Communist Party of the Philippines. At one point, my husband told her, “Diyos na ang bahala. Hindi ako NPA.” (It’s up to God. I’m not an NPA member.) Shortly after that, the torturers took him and she heard a very loud cry then saw my husband fall to the ground. They even showed her a sundang (bolo) that was soaked in blood.
A possible breakthrough in our quest for justice and closure was on September 18, 1996 when we found the location of the remains of my husband in Barangay Tignalapunan. I haven’t seen the bones up to this day, but according to my family, they had been placed in a shallow grave. The head had been chopped off and it had no teeth. They also recovered Erning’s yellow-green shirt which had 13 stab holes.
Our family called for a priest and held a mass over the remains. It came to our attention that the barangay chairman of Tignalapunan was a member of the CHDF but we simply ignored it. It was agreed that the remains would be exhumed on 1 November of the same year. When we arrived there, the bones were no longer there, probably stolen by the CHDF. It was both shocking and disappointing.
To overcome my trauma and grief, I joined the first therapy session sponsored by TFDP, which was also facilitated by sympathetic priests and pioneer organizations such as Balay and FIND. The therapy session helped in a way that it lessened my pain and allowed my family to remember what happened. I also joined the succeeding therapy sessions which lasted from two to three days.
The people and our parish priest and lay ministers were the first people who helped me — psychologically, morally and financially. I am thankful that my children have already grown up. Now, they can also help me especially so that their expenses are increasing.
I can still remember when my husband and I were together. His love for us was so great and he took good care of our children. Every time I look at his pictures, or clothes, or cards that he sent me when he was still courting me, or the barong1 that he wore when he was still teaching, I remember him.
Now I can, share with everyone who is still not aware of the issue of involuntary disappearance my experience and help in lobbying President Arroyo to certify as urgent the bill criminalizing enforced or involuntary disappearances. We must ensure that such a piece of important legislation be approved so that our loved ones may be protected from this of crime against humanity. NEVER AGAIN!
Footnote
1 Barong is an indigenous Filipino Formal wear made from piña.
