THE IRONY OF INDEPENDENCE DAY (IN MY MIND)

photo by: Kim Ashley Escalona

THE IRONY OF INDEPENDENCE DAY

(In My Mind)

By: K. Ashley

       

There are always events in your life that you couldn’t just simply dismiss to forgetfulness. Like those good times when you found a new friend to play with; probably for other kids, that time when your dad bought you a brand new play station, or that time when your mom took you to a play land where unlimited toys can be had; or maybe that time when your kindergarten crush helped you put on a temporary tattoo you got from a bubblegum.

Those are memories where you found excitement, love, happiness, joy and laughter. You may even say that those memories are worth remembering because those are “good” memories.

But what about those scary albeit painful memories? Those times when there were only mental snapshots that indicate almost unbelievable fear or prospect of pain.  However, behind those emotionally threatening incidences, lie potent scenes where courage, compassion, bravery and love bloom and take root.

Painful memories are worth remembering to me. Not because I love remembering the feeling of pain and getting hurt, but rather because I saw what is past the pain; and feel abundantly fortunate seeing things not seen right before my eyes. As John Mayer succinctly says it, I believe I can echo it well too; such as that, I am “Alive in the Age of Worry”.

Around 6:00 PM, 12^th of June 2007, Philippine Independence Day

Droplets of water fell from the sky as I tucked my seven-month old sister at the backseat of our old battered-up car. After securing my sister, my next duty was to open our gate, and I did.

It was around six-o’clock in the evening and we were bound for a Bible-study in the city. It was only the four of us- my mom and dad, my sister and me. I just turned eleven years old that time.

Just moments after I got inside the car, a drunk,  who was a known small time bystander in our area who happens to be our neighbor just living three house away from ours, suddenly approached our vicinity and started an avalanche of threats and gestures of physical violence.  It was few minutes of shouting foul things about us.

Uncontrollable, he was getting wild like a lion ready to devour its prey. He kept on yelling senseless things at us. Our neighbors I believe were too afraid to get out of their houses. Everything around was silent except this drunk with a bottle in his hand. When he was not satisfied with the yelling, he smashed the bottle he was holding onto the pavement right before us, to scare us; and he was effective. He scared me.

My dad calmly asked him what was wrong, but the drunken man kept on yelling nonsense things, his words were gibberish due to intoxication. He was getting wilder and evidently was calling the whole neighborhood’s attention.

Minutes later, this drunken man’s gang mates entered the scene and was holding him back trying to calm him down. They were dragging him out of the area but he still kept on threatening while being dragged.

It was somehow a relief for me that this man was already out of the scene. Somehow, there was something in me that still believed that that wasn’t over yet. And I was so right.

Past 9:00 PM

The street where we live happens to be known then, as listed as of one of the most dangerous streets in our city.

After an hour and a half from the Bible-study on the opposite side of this city, we drove home immediately because the rain was already pouring heavily.

Right after we reached our street, I sensed that something was wrong; something odd.

Our whole neighborhood was still so quiet and the fact that it was still nine in the evening. It was pretty unusual.

When our car arrived in front of our gate we noticed that in the middle of that pavement were shattered glasses, it looked like glasses of beer bottles, and it looked like it was done on purpose.

So my dad decided that he would be the one to open the gate instead of me because he sensed something dangerous in our surroundings; and my mom and I sensed it too.

The moment my dad opened the locks of our gate, that same intoxicated man appeared and attacked him. Action began.

Looking on at the scene, it was ultra frightening. Remember, this was just a few days after my 11^th birthday, and this was a scenario far from my imagination to happen to us. I was shaking; hysterical. We were all shouting inside the car. Mom was frozen stiff, yet shouting and crying at the same time.  I looked at the back of the car and I saw the drunken man’s gang mates coming our way to attack us.

I didn’t really know what to do and everything was happening so fast.

I looked at my dad from the window and I can see him being mobbed by these people and I looked at the back of the car and I saw one other young  men each,  carrying either a hand-made gun (sumpak) , knives, rocks or 2x2 planks of wood in their hands.  They looked as if bent on hitting if not, killing people.

The moment I saw them coming towards us to the car, my mom got out to help my dad out. She was hysterical too. Then it was only me and my seven-month old sister in the car.

I immediately locked the doors of our car, hoping that they wouldn’t get to open it, but they were holding rocks and planks of wood; and the moment they discovered that I locked the doors they started smashing the car’s windows or its hood. I threw my arms around my sister trying to cover her incase the window glasses break into smithereens. It was an instinctive gesture on my part to cover and protect my baby sister.  

Miraculously, despite their strength and weapons in hand, the car windows didn’t even crack. They hardly made a dent. Amazing. 

It was not yet the time to rejoice though. The attack was relentless especially on my dad. I forgot how many exactly were there. One thing for sure, as one behind-the-scene-witness later told us, they kept trying to load the gun, but every time they attempted to reload the gun many times, successfully fired while testing it, but when they reached us or my dad, no shot was ever fired successfully.

Some precious minutes later, a neighbor took Tal out, brought to safety my little sister by bringing her to the next house.  Tal (my kid sister) looked shock and was all wet with the rain shower.  With mom inside the gate with dad –still shouting and crying for help – and Tal in the other house, and I, was left all alone inside the car.

Trying to stay calm but couldn’t, panic totally overwhelmed me.

These men tried to kill my dad right before my very eyes. For me, that was the worst scene an eleven year old child has to watch. I was hopelessly crying and shouting for help.

I scanned my surroundings and looked for my mom from the inside of the car. I saw her trying to grab a hold of these aggressive men, but she was without match with them. Good thing they never did something to her, except the torture of seeing her husband getting mobbed by a couple of men she hardly knew.

Everything didn’t make sense. I was too young then.

Still confused on what to do next, I decided to run to where the action was taking place.  So I did.

That was the most stupid thing I have ever done.

Because when I got there, this one ugly looking ogre took an eye on me and then went to my direction. He had that smirk on his face as he tried to lift his hand with a plank of wood right at me. I couldn’t run away because he got me cornered in a wall.

Timely, my dad, being attacked by a number of men, saw me, and yelled at the man who was trying to attack me. He told the man to fight with him instead of me. 

Maybe, just maybe, because he was challenged, he did let me go. The man immediately got out of my way and the scene took an even more ugly turn. As my dad ordered me to run towards a safer place (inside our house),  he started to face around three or more men who took turns and simultaneously, attempted to hit him, as another , again and again, tried to shoot him with their gun. Mommy told me later that she almost fainted just seeing that big bolo almost landing on dad’s body.

All I was thinking at this point was that my dad was already dying, if not dead.  But then I heard his voice, he still called out to me which means that he’s still alive and fighting. That gave me hope.

There were few minutes of help from one neighbor and his wife, but when the guns appeared, they secured themselves and left us.  

Thankfully, someone from our neighborhood called the police.

A few minutes later the police arrived and these the attackers immediately took off.

I found myself shaking and crying in our kitchen with two bread-knives in my hands as if ready to attack.

Then, my dad and mom came and saw me there. They hugged me and told me that it was over.

I looked at my dad and I was shocked that he was almost unhurt, except for blood oozing from one of his upper arms. It was simply a miraculous night, and no other way to explain it. With all those that the attackers prepared, we were unscathed? Too many miracles in one night.

When the police arrived, we immediately looked for Tal (my sister). She was alright, but she couldn’t speak. Her face was blank and pale and she was like that for almost a week. My dad had sutures that night, while my baby sister eventually got admitted to a hospital within that week.

For almost three months though,  fear stalked us; and me in particular. I was afraid to go out of the house and I didn’t want to go to school because of the fear that the same people would come after me; and I’d get nervous whenever I’d hear someone shouting.

There were legal ramifications for those men. Of course, the best thing that happened was that all of us recovered from the fright and sense of physical insecurity. This is the other miracle.

That Independence Day is so significant to me now, because despite the thing that befell us, things beyond our control, and things or events which highlight our insignificance and puny strength, there is such a reality which we cannot see or feel.

I saw God in those instances.

I was liberated from bad and scary memories; liberated from dread and prospect of things that are beyond our control – my control. Faith in God taught me that I can live freely and face uncertainties, because no matter what may happen, and even when these awful things happen to us sometimes, God delivers, God makes miracles, and God restores.

I keep seeing how gracious God is to us – especially, particularly during that time, that fateful evening when we got mobbed, and thereafter.

Happy Independence Day everyone. 

And have a real God-given one!

Summer Breeze

"STREET MAN"

"LOG-GIRL"

PHOTOGRAPHER: K.ASHLEY