[Philippine's human rights violations] A Thousand Little Deaths Growing Up Under Martial Law in the Philippines #10/152

The blur of men’s faces was beginning to clear. These men were the regulars who were already here when I arrived and who would still be there when I left. I conversed with them here and there, though I remained cautious. Many were genuine political detainees, I am sure, though I heard that there were spies in the camps. Probably better not to trust anyone here.

Two of the men were lawyers. One was taller than the other, and both were of fair complexion. While one talked incessantly, charming us with stories and gossip, the other was quieter, preferring to read. Then there were the two brothers. One was a journalist and the other was a businessman. The journalist was of a slight, lanky build, with short curly hair that frame his bespectacled face. He was never without a cigarette, and was the one who told me to ask my family to bring my meals. He had a confident air about him, and it was probably this that made others suspicious of him. He easily spoke his mind, a defiance that unnerved others in the room. Where the journalist was thin, his brother was portly. He possessed a sunny disposition, and had a penchant for cracking jokes. Both their wives visited daily without fail. It was as though the two wives made a pact to stick together, undertake a ritual, unbroken and unwavering in its repetition. They were the only two wives who visited this much.

Another fellow in the group was a tall and wiry writer who taught at a university. He, too, liked to tell stories. Then there were a few young men in their early 20s. I have forgotten all their names except for Annabel’s. But I can still see their faces. In my mind’s eye, I can see them squatting on the sea grass mats we called dase, which some of them preferred to the metal chairs of the conference table. Many of them chain-smoked. When the odor from cigarette smoke became too much, we asked the guards to open the windows.

Our day was spent in the conference room, punctuated only by visits to the stinky restroom, which was located next to the lobby.