I looked around and saw that the atmosphere was festive. It is, they say, a celebration of democracy's rebirth; a toppling of a dictator; the rise of a widowed leader; humanity's triumph.
But what do these words meant for someone who's not yet even conceived at his mother's womb during those four-day uprising?
To tell you the truth, my family is a known Marcos loyalist. On the side of my mother, our lineage would be traced back in the land were teachers adore Ferdie and his queen Imelda, telling students of their heroic era and the glory that was Philippines. I heard it all.
Let me be bold by saying that Edsa is one among the many tragic tales of this country, or at least on how the story is developing. Yes. Edsa is a developing story, as the journalism term dictates. It never should've ended with Cory's instillation and heavens forbid even then during Gloria's on Edsa Dos.
This time let me blame this generation, my generation, which they say are people of freethinkers and liberated mindsets. This generation where majority thinks we need a law that dictates condom use. And the very same generation where students flock to nursing schools because they want to go abroad to conquer some “greener pasture.”
I saw them all and even I sometimes join them. The rants over twitter and other social networking sites where they decry over the fowl manuevering of this nation and the corrupt practices of our dear politicians. Others even write on their online journals, an exposition of how derailed this country is. They do debates. They battle it out with their sharpened words and well honed philosophy. But where does it lead?
Aside from the monthly tax deduction on your salary, what have you done to continue the story that is Edsa?
Remember that Edsa should never be about Cory, Ninoy, Cardinal Sin, Ramos, Butch Aquino or Enrile. It is about the ordinary people who left their office desks and braved the military tankers that lined the road on the former Highway 54. It's about the nuns who carry rosaries and flowers as offerings to heavily armed militias. It is about Nanay Mameng who instead of trying to figure out how to earn the needed 50 pesos a day for her family then, marched off to Edsa yelling for her grandchildren's future and freedom.
I fear, and just by thinking I am almost in tears, that my generation could not or would never have done that. I saw in the streets and there were few. I observed, there was almost none.
But I have faith. Maybe one day the blood of our ancestors that died defending the little freedom we now enjoy would boil up and awaken us in our deep slumber. No figure, yellow or rainbow, could pull us up from the sinking oblivion we're in right now. That was the biggest mistake that is Edsa, the thought of a Messiahnic figure that would end all misseries and grant us absolute freedom, and that's it – end of story.
It should be us. Edsa should be us.