DAHLIA CASTILLEJOS
Mula sa Letter
to Chris and Jeng
September 1985
…….
BY THE END of May [1980], just before our much-awaited military training, I was already conceiving you, Chris. How can I describe our excitement, your father’s and mine? But we were confronted with a dilemma—should I or should I not continue with the group which was to enter another province that could be reached only after days of journeying, passing through a formidable chain of mountains? While we wanted to give you the best care we could give, I had strong desire to be a member of the Armed Propaganda Unit (Sandatahang Yunit Pampropaganda), whose formation was to signal na start of the armed struggle in our province.
Towards the end of May, we entered the guerrilla zone were we were given basic training in military work before proceeding to our area of responsibility. We trained on maneuver tactics to be used in different types of encounters with8 the military such as ambush, sniping, chance encounter, etc. We also had target practice using live bullets. Because of the jumping and running required by the exercises, I was a bit worried about you, but your father and I were confident that with the care of our medic you would come out strong and healthy.
After a
month of training, we were ready to proceed to our assigned area. Of the two
squad units formed, ours was assigned to the
We walked for twenty days, a seemingly endless trek through a labyrinth of forests and mountain peaks. I constantly felt you inside me, Chris. I was always thinking that indeed, may first child was growing with me. Your father showed how much he cared about our well-being through his actions and the look in his eyes. His concern for us combined well with his sense of duty to comrades, as he raised everyone’s moral and maintained collective discipline during the march.
We passed through the formidable heights of the Gran Cordilleras. The steep ascents seemed to rise to the heavens. Its beauty was a awesome as the rigors that its path entailed. The moss forests were to thick with vines that at times we had to crawl beneath the growth in order to pass through. These were a number of small sitios en route, and the people greeted us with warm smiles. Their faces seemed so familiar in the cold and unfamiliar terrain.
As we passed through the thick forests, we could hear the singing of the birds and wild chickens. The beautiful orchids of different colors engaged may attention as did the wild ferns and other plants along our paths. The waters in the rivers were so clear and cold, as though these had never been touched by human beings. So that we would not deplete the supplies we carried on our backpacks which consisted of rice, sardines, salt and dried fish, we gathered wild edible vegetables and fruits as well as fish and other riverine products along the way.
Despite the long, rigorous journey, the morale of the group remained high. While resting, we sang revolutionary songs and recited poems expressing service to the people. I composed two poems during this journey: one for you, Chris, and another for the masses.
It was an afternoon in June when, standing atop high mountain, we had our first glimpse of the barrio we were headed for. We broke into shouting, releasing our unbounded joy! Finally our three-week journey was over. We could not, however, enter the barrio right away because there were military troops nearby. Just the same, that very night the people from the barrio came to meet us.
The area posed more difficulties than we expected. A few weeks after we arrived in the area, one group of comrades working in an adjacent province unintentionally passed by. They told us that they lost their way in the forest. They were spotted by the spies from the barrio who reported their presence to the military. Consequently, the military was alerted, thinking that the NPA had already entered the province. Thus, even before our arrival they had already positioned themselves in different places in this part of the province and awaited their opportunity to attack us.
Although ours was a small group and neophytes in military tactics, we were very creative in finding ways to make contact with the people. The work we had during our white area days helped a lot in our guerrilla zone (red area) work. We entered the barrio now and then, but most often encamped in our nearby bases. We slept in the open air under separate and improvised tents, on mats made of rice sacks laid on the grassy ground. It was a good thing that the river had may tributaries. Soon the rainy season began and oftentimes we slept soaked with the rain and shaking with cold. Nevertheless, we woke up every morning with renewed spirit and enthusiasm to work for and with the people
Soon I was beginning to be heavy with you, Chris. While comrades expressed special concerns for my physical condition, I saw to it that I was not a burden to the group. I particularly remember the times when we did not have any food at all and comrades would go out of their way to hunt wild birds which they would offer to me, saying, “For our youngest revolutionary,” referring to you in my womb. This, and other gestures of concern from comrades touched me so much!
We transferred from place to place, each time camping out close to the sitios where we could easily make connections with the people. The barrio people secretly came to us in a small groups for formal education session, as well as for discussions regarding their work, problems and plans.
Our area of assignments covered almost half of the total land area of the province. The barrios, mostly situated on mountain tops or valleys, were thinly populated and far from one another. It was quite a large area we maneuvered, moving to and fro. Many times, to avoid encounters with the military, we had to clear new paths, and sometimes came across snakes on the way. I was seized with fear at their sight but I was also good at concealing this.
The village people in our assigned area wee invariably peasants who toil under the most adverse of natural and social conditions, using primitive tools and techniques of production. They were without government support. Owing to the mountainous terrain, agricultural land for food production is relatively scarce compared to the wider plains in the lowlands. Rice production hardly supplied one-third of their annual cereal needs. Traditionally, the people resort to alternatives, usually camote (sweet potatoes). There are areas where camote and/or calabasa (squash) comprise the main staple, with the leaves and tops serving as vegetable for viand.
The people are increasingly turning to cash-related occupations to be able to buy rice and other basic commodities. Many villagers go into gold-panning or gardening. Some leave their villages altogether to seek job opportunities outside. But their efforts always meet with frustrations.
They are exploited by the big compradors or businessmen who control the marketing of their produce. They are exploited by the capitalist whenever they land jobs in the lowlands and cities. This mountains are declared as government property, then leased to the big mining and logging capitalists.
Basic social services are either totally denied or scarcely given them by the government. We witnessed server epidemics of diseases which annually claimed hundred of lives especially of infants and children, due to chronic malnutrition and absence of medical and health services.
Aside from Party building work in the barrios and within the New People’s Army, we also tried to expand the ranks of the Red fighters. More and more young people from the barrios registered their eagerness to work full-time in the people’s army.
To be able to rapidly reach more barrios, we divided ourselves into teams of three or four. Each team was assigned to cover several barrios, and after a month of so we came together again to assess our work and adjust our program of action.
In the main, we succeeded in working without attracting the notice of the military. We avoided encounters with undesirable people. In time, however, our presence in the area became known. We were a weak force in comparison to the much more numerous and heavily armed military, and our tactics could be likened to playing hide and seek. Our strength lay with the people, an advantage the military did not have. Responsible people, most of whom were already our contacts during the white area days, served as our eyes and ears in the barrios. Whenever the military came dangerously near to where we were, we would retreat to an adjoining barrio; if they followed us, we would go back to the barrio we had gone to earlier, this time taking a different route.
However, we could not always avoid bloodshed. In September, just three months after we entered the province, he heard sad news from the south district. Four of our comrades with whom we had worked closely during the white area days were killed in an encounter with the military. This early sacrifice did not frighten us but made us even more determined to continue to fight for the cause which we had begun earlier.
We had our share of close encounters with the military. Had it not been for timely warning from the barrio people, we would have been unable to avoid largescale military encounters which we did not need nor want so soon.
One incident was very memorable to me. Our temporary encampment was only a five or ten minutes walk away from a certain barrio. On one side was the river, on the other, a mountain. We were about to take an early supper when an old man arrived telling us that the Philippine Constabulary (PC), together with some policemen and members of the Civilian Home Defense Forces (CHDF) were preparing to attack us. We realized that should a fight ensue it would be very one-sided; there were twenty-two of them against the five of us. We hurriedly packed our things and left the place that night, taking a different route in the dark without turning our flashlights on. Later, the barrio people would tell us that only a few minutes after we had left, the military had positioned themselves along the three paths leading to our encampment and directed their firepower towards it.
We suffered cuts on our bodies because of the sharp cogon we rushed through but felt relieved that we were all safe. By moving fast we had left the enemy futilely boxing the air.
Within five months membership in the New People’s Army in our area had doubled and more local people expressed their desire to work among their own people in the barrios. This kind of work included education and organizing.
We had to render capital punishment, too, to a number of diehard persons who had earlier incurred blood debts. Not only had they been instrumental in causing the death of comrades, but they continued to limit our movements in the barrios and hinder the advance of our work despite previous warnings. Before any decision for capital punishment is made, a thorough investigation is conducted. Then the basis for every decision is usually discussed in the barrios.
We also staged several tactical offensives, with your father taking an active part. I was not allowed to join these activities because I was already getting heavier with you, Chris. Of course, I also carried arms in readiness for any sudden enemy attacks, but my tasks were more political then military.
Maybe you would also like to know how your father and mother behaved as members of the district leadership. The highest collective leadership in our area of responsibility then was the District Secretariat in which both of us were members. During decision making and other important meetings, we tried to temporarily forget that we were husband and wife so that we could have objective discussions. However, at the beginning your father and I seemed to have opposite personalities so that sometimes we experienced contradictions. There were times when he was rather slow in making decisions because he as carefully weighing almost everything while I was impulsive. He would criticize me for this while there were times when I would criticize his style. However, the occasional contradictions and our honest, open criticism of each other strengthened our unity as comrades and as husband and wife. I do not remember a single night when we did not resolve our differences before we went to sleep.
As our work intensified, we met really tight situations. There were days when we experienced being completely cut off from the barrio people because of the presence of military troops. On such occasions, we survived on guavas and blackberries found in the mountains.
But the military situation was not always that tights. There were times when we could wander freely as though we wee in a free land.” We would fix our belongings, sew or mend torn clothes or gather “supply” from the forest river. Comrades caught fish and hunted wild birds, while we, your father and I, gathered susu, duriken, uong and anibong (snails, mushrooms and wild vegetables). On such bounties we feasted. Those were relaxing days for all of us.
Gradually, we were able to enter some of the barrios. We conducted mass meetings which were attended by the barrio people, discussing with them the revolution being waged in the country, its perspectives, the roots of the people’s problems, and the issues affecting them. We also tried to help them solve particular problems like barrio disputes, cattle rustlers, etc.
There were times when we slept in the barrios more often we set up physical bases (sleeping quarters) in the open air away from the houses because the situation was not yet stable.
Your father had poor eyesight and he constantly wore eyeglasses. I remember one night when, after a long walk, we decided to encamp on a valley where there were very big stones. As another comrade and I prepared our food, using a flashlight, your father and the other comrades set up sleeping quarters. It was very hard to look for a level part. After we finished supper and finally retired for most needed rest, I found out that your father had neatly placed our mat near a big stone with a hole. (Your father did not see the hole which was partly hidden by grasses.) From experience I knew that holes on the underside of stones were usually the dwelling of snakes, so when I saw this I could not be persuaded to sleep. Your father offered so sleep near the hole and told me to stay on the other side. But of course I was not afraid for my life but for his, too. Knowing my firm stand on things, he patiently transferred our mat to another place. This was another trait of your life. He never tried in making others feel comfortable, especially when it was his pregnant wife!
For meetings which would take two weeks or more, we built camps farther from the barrio and on higher mountains. Only a few trusted people knew of the existence of such camps. Comrades took turns in guarding the camps during the meetings. During the nights, each one of us took turns in guarding the sleeping comrades. Just like everybody else, I had my turn, too.
When we first came to know one another your father seemed to be too serious for my kind of personality. Some comrades even thought that we might not be compatible in the long run. I was very vocal with him regarding this matter, so he became very conscious sometimes and when occasionally asked me for feedbacks. Later, he even learned to crack jokes, especially during tight situations.
It was hard for me to adjust to the military and mountain life especially since you, Chris, were becoming heavier in my womb day by day. As my pregnancy progressed, there were kinds of food which I longed so much to have like sausages, peanuts and watermelon. Your father would tenderly say as he looked in the direction of the lowlands, “If we were down there, I would gladly search all the markets to buy the food you like but since we are here, please, make do with the sugarcane and guavas.” Except during the tight military situations, we had sufficient rice, but vegetables were scarce during the dry season.
Time moved fast for you and me, Chris. The leadership had decided earlier that I should give birth to you outside the guerrilla zone because it was not yet stable enough to ensure the security of a mother who would give birth to her child. Also, there was neither hospital nor clinic nearby which we could turn to in case of emergency.
By December 1980 I was eight months pregnant. Your father would get excited whenever he felt you kicking inside me. My last days in the guerrilla zone were spent in summing-up meeting.