Tweet Have you ever felt such deep emotions for a place that holds a big space in your heart that you could hardly breathe as you try to put down your feelings in writing? I have always been fond of my birthplace, my hometown, Zamboanga City, ever since I was young. I always sat down with our elders during reunions and intimate family gatherings just so that I can hear about the stories from old. I loved listening to my parents, relatives and their friends as they retold again and again their fond memories of the place they called their true home. I took their stories, plus what I have learned of its rich and colorful history and combined it with the little of what I remember and made them my own memories. You see, I did not grow up in Zamboanga City. A couple of months before I turned two (2) years old, my father transferred us, his family, to Manila to pursue a career that he had started to build in Zamboanga City. Ever since then, we lived in Quezon City, transferring from one rented place to another until finally, after a couple of decades later (give or take a few years), my father was able to provide us with our own house, our home away from our true home.
The first time I went back to visit Zamboanga for vacation was a year or so after we transferred to Manila. Being so young at that time, what I mostly remembered then were the fun times we spent playing with our cousins, or going to the beach or eating delicious seafood and fruits that were abundant in Zamboanga. The 2nd time I went back for a visit was ten (10) years after the first. By this time I was older and a bit more matured to take in more of what the city offered. I remember feeling envious of my cousins who lived there their whole lives. I told myself that I would persuade my parents to let me go home every summer after that so I can experience more of the city. But due to reasons not worth mentioning, I never went back, that is not until after almost two (2) decades. We went home to attend the wedding of one of my cousins. It was my shortest visit out of the three as we only stayed for a little more than a week, But what struck me most this time was that it was a lot smaller relative to what I remembered it to be and from what I heard in stories. Don't get me wrong. Zamboanga City is big. But if you measure it in travel time as you go from one place to another, the distance between places were a lot shorter than what I was used to here in Metro Manila. This only added to the growing affection I had for the city that I hardly knew personally. Almost all of what I held dear to me about the place came from the stories and old pictures that my parents and relatives treasured. This did not stop me from loving it more and more. I was, and still am, proud of my roots, my heritage. All this time, even when I lived most of my life here in Quezon City, I never forgot my native dialect. My parents made sure we never forgot Chavacano, a mixture of Spanish, Visaya, Tagalog, Subanen etc.
Now, Zamboanga City is under attack by rebels who aim to take freedom away from my fellow Zamboanguenos and to establish the city as part of a different republic. Hearing about these rebels who came in with show of force: shooting at civilians as well as soldiers protecting the city, burning down houses and establishments, snipers shooting at firemen as they try to put the fire out and holding hostages and using them as human shields, have riled me up so much that I could hardly breathe. I realize now that it was my anger that triggered my recent asthma attack. I can't sleep. thus I am still writing this until the wee hours of the morning. But what riles me the most is the way our government officials, both local (Zamboanga) and national, and even most of the media covering the crisis, are trying to downplay what is happening in Zamboanga City. They keep saying that the situation in the city is under control and everything is back to normal but the truth is they have not done anything that will end this crisis as peaceful and gentle as possible at the soonest possible time. For one reason or the other, the country's highest official has been quiet about this crisis, leaving it to his cabinet members and aides to try and control the situation. Today is the 5rh day, what is taking them so long to get this situation under control for real? What does it take for them to act immediately to end this senseless violence that is being inflicted upon my people, my fellow Zamboanguenos? I may not be physically affected as I am living all the way here in Metro Manila, but my heart is breaking as I see my hometown being destroyed and the inexplicable suffering that my people are going through. If only my health would allow me, I would be there to help my people, even if I have to put my life at risk. I want our future generations to have our beloved city in their care, rather than having it placed under the rule of undeserving people. Yes, they are my people for I hold them dear and very near to my heart, for they are as much part of the roots that I rightfully claim, being the proud daughter of my Zamboanga Hermosa.
No comments:
Post a Comment