It has been days and weeks since the Higaonon farmers of Sumilao, Bukidnon left their homes and trailed their way to Metro Manila on foot. Beyond the point of no return, the Sumilao farmers marched with heavy hearts to Malacañang in a seemingly epic 1,700 kilometer journey. Carrying with them the faint hope of reclaiming their 144-hectare land, that dying ray of hope has now regained life, slowly yet steadily. With their clamor buoyed up by a promised deal with San Miguel Foods Incorporated, the Sumilao farmers have two reasons to celebrate at the very least. One is that parts and parcels of the nation have echoed along the voices of the farmers, thrusting their presence into the light of day even more. And two is that there appears to be a looming closure to their demands in a positive way.
The story of the Sumilao farmers teaches us that more than just mustering voices from a stretch of distance, eternal vigilance—the price of democracy—would also have to manifest shades of concrete action. Taking with them their voices and demands to the core of the nation, literally and figuratively, these farmers who tilled their land with hands and cultivated their land with crops—quite apart from having tilled and cultivated their land with their own sweat and blood—braved their way to Metro Manila while their fate hanged in the balance. In both faces of life and death, the Sumilao farmers cannot afford to lose their lands and allow the the pangs of their suffering swell all the more.
That was perhaps a tough choice, if not the tougher or the toughest one to embrace, as they saw themselves being stripped-off of their land, perhaps in slow motion, that fed the mouths of their generations and a larger part of this nation. In one way or another, the story of the Sumilao farmers mirrored the story of the Israelites in search of the Promised Land, only that this time around the land that has already become an integral part of these farmers’ body and soul is yet to be given back. Like the Israelites, the Sumilao farmers endured the hurdles of conquering an unfamiliar territory. But unlike the Israelites, the Sumilao farmers had a clear path of where they were heading to.
One cannot easily demerit them for that. Quite on the contrary, they deserve all the most serious attention in the world for that, not only because of the clear and present dangers that stood along their way but also because of their willingness and persistence to sacrifice themselves all before these. Both their motives and actions combined, the Sumilao farmers puts to shame a government rich in body which it makes up for its poverty in spirits. The cultivators of the Sumilao land, physically deprived but rich in spirits, had vigilance and honor to guide their direction. No sane president, not even an illegitimate one, can put-up with that.
Both extremes of this nation can do incredible things. You have the poor farmers on one hand, standing up for their rights with conviction, deriving the utmost strength for what little riches they have in life. And of course, you have those in power on the other, pillaging the treasury of the nation with the stroke of the presidential pen, apart from defiling the sanctity of votes by calling upon Garci instead of God, while some of their kind feign innocence and ignorance, both at the same time, with $130 million borjers. Somewhere between those two extremes, you have a silent majority waiting for the meltdown of the events, choosing a safer distance when a small but significant fraction of the populace begs for vigilance and collective action against the pirates of the democracy.
The point where this nation can no longer shoulder the burden of corruption and the weight of moral bankruptcy is the point where we can only look back at history, learn and grovel before it like a distant memory. The point where this nation can no longer smile at the grotesque face of the lingering death of the democracy is the point where the need to resuscitate the nation is at its ominous and momentous height, as it should be. The point where the mother of all fiascos gets to have the last laugh is the point where the demand to enshrine our democratic principles should truly give her the last of it. The point where the silent majority are transformed into an ocean of humanity taking the same path of the Sumilao farmers and staging a "Jericho march" around the walls of Malacañang is the point where the political madness will grind to a searing halt, sending down the house of thieves to the ground.
And it will be the point of no return.
The story of the Sumilao farmers teaches us that more than just mustering voices from a stretch of distance, eternal vigilance—the price of democracy—would also have to manifest shades of concrete action. Taking with them their voices and demands to the core of the nation, literally and figuratively, these farmers who tilled their land with hands and cultivated their land with crops—quite apart from having tilled and cultivated their land with their own sweat and blood—braved their way to Metro Manila while their fate hanged in the balance. In both faces of life and death, the Sumilao farmers cannot afford to lose their lands and allow the the pangs of their suffering swell all the more.
That was perhaps a tough choice, if not the tougher or the toughest one to embrace, as they saw themselves being stripped-off of their land, perhaps in slow motion, that fed the mouths of their generations and a larger part of this nation. In one way or another, the story of the Sumilao farmers mirrored the story of the Israelites in search of the Promised Land, only that this time around the land that has already become an integral part of these farmers’ body and soul is yet to be given back. Like the Israelites, the Sumilao farmers endured the hurdles of conquering an unfamiliar territory. But unlike the Israelites, the Sumilao farmers had a clear path of where they were heading to.
One cannot easily demerit them for that. Quite on the contrary, they deserve all the most serious attention in the world for that, not only because of the clear and present dangers that stood along their way but also because of their willingness and persistence to sacrifice themselves all before these. Both their motives and actions combined, the Sumilao farmers puts to shame a government rich in body which it makes up for its poverty in spirits. The cultivators of the Sumilao land, physically deprived but rich in spirits, had vigilance and honor to guide their direction. No sane president, not even an illegitimate one, can put-up with that.
Both extremes of this nation can do incredible things. You have the poor farmers on one hand, standing up for their rights with conviction, deriving the utmost strength for what little riches they have in life. And of course, you have those in power on the other, pillaging the treasury of the nation with the stroke of the presidential pen, apart from defiling the sanctity of votes by calling upon Garci instead of God, while some of their kind feign innocence and ignorance, both at the same time, with $130 million borjers. Somewhere between those two extremes, you have a silent majority waiting for the meltdown of the events, choosing a safer distance when a small but significant fraction of the populace begs for vigilance and collective action against the pirates of the democracy.
The point where this nation can no longer shoulder the burden of corruption and the weight of moral bankruptcy is the point where we can only look back at history, learn and grovel before it like a distant memory. The point where this nation can no longer smile at the grotesque face of the lingering death of the democracy is the point where the need to resuscitate the nation is at its ominous and momentous height, as it should be. The point where the mother of all fiascos gets to have the last laugh is the point where the demand to enshrine our democratic principles should truly give her the last of it. The point where the silent majority are transformed into an ocean of humanity taking the same path of the Sumilao farmers and staging a "Jericho march" around the walls of Malacañang is the point where the political madness will grind to a searing halt, sending down the house of thieves to the ground.
And it will be the point of no return.
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