People Power: 25th Year

“You were at EDSA I?!” a much younger friend asks me, incredulous.

“Of course!” I reply.

“Do you have any photos?”

“Well. . . ah, ah . . .”

“None. And you said you were there?!” If she's trying to shame me, she's successful.

I was where history unfolded at the most important Philippine event in the last 25 years and I have absolutely no—none, zilch, zero, nil, nada, zippo—photo to show for it.

If only I was as avid in taking photos then as I am now, I would probably have enough pictures for three dozen albums.

I try to remember (not the tanks, the soldiers, the women giving away sandwiches, and the conversations with people I met for the first time but seemed like I'd known since grade school—those are forever etched in my mind) why I didn't bring any camera, but can't.

My guess is, my whole being was bursting with so many thoughts and emotions that a camera was the last thing in my mind.

That's why when I leaf through any of the coffee table books on EDSA, I am half-hoping I'd see, if not my face, my hand, or back, or nape in one of the photos. My brother saw his and bought six copies to show around.

Today, we celebrate the 25th year of EDSA I.

People Power the world calls it; the power of grace, I believe it is.

The photos in my heart flash before me in slomo. In glorious living colors, I see it all again. I can almost taste the defiance, the anger, the insolence, the desire (with a dash of dread) of a once-cowed crowd of civilians coming together to help move the country back to where it once was and should be forever—free to cast a ballot to choose its leaders.

To keep the memory alive, I am changing my header.  I chose one with yellow daisies, which, aside from yellow roses, changed hands at EDSA 25 years ago: from harmless ordinary citizens to armed uniformed men.    

 

 (Photo was lent by my dear friend from Cebu, Carol Patigdas)