Free

There has never been and there will never be one man who can wisely decide a nation’s fate. I was taught my first lesson in political science while being dressed in yellow kikay blouse, shorts and matching headband way back in 1986 when I was too young to fully understand the concept of checks and balances and the lack of them.  My parents (they would later tell me) stayed up all night to wait for updates over the radio.  Bombo Radyo, in spite of directives not to air their coverage, was able to bring to us news about the peaceful revolution in EDSA islands away from Iloilo City where we lived.  We were able to experience only this much of the Philippine revolution, which astounded the world and inspired subsequent protests against bondage in other parts of the globe.

Today, 25 years after the EDSA revolution, I watch with a bit of envy video clips of the people who walked hand in hand in 1986.  I read bits and pieces of these stories of defiance, courage, compassion and unity which all together made world history and which continue to give us hope and pride whenever we let ourselves down as we stumble on the way to progress.  Egypt has just been freed and Libya is following suit but we -- in spite of our occasional poor judgement in electing public officials -- were ahead of our time.

And all I could add is that I was five years old when it happened and I wore a yellow blouse and yellow shorts and I didn’t even understand that a dictator, simply by quieting voices, can undo our collective efforts to become better people. I only knew that yellow meant free and free is what we must insist on being.