Story on an Essay: Survivor of the Siege

I AM A SURVIVOR
A narrative essay from a survivor on the ground
By Bin Nur Asi Magangcong

At the Banggolo Streets (the former busiest streets in Marawi) Photo: Philippine Star

An unforgettable day of grateful grins, spirited smiles and congratulatory cheers—it was Tuesday, 23rd of May 2017. It was my sister Hanna’s graduation day. She earned third honor of their batch at MSU-UTC, and a topnotch of the University Senior High School Entrance Exam. It was a significant afternoon where joy is inevitable to her, to me and to all the graduates of that remarkable point of their lives.

Kaka Janjan and I decided to surprise our little sister by buying her a cake. It was our first and only expensive gift we could afford for her. Janjan was with my little sister Hanna in the Dimaporo Gymnasium for the commencement exercises while I was on my search for her cake.

I went to buy at Porphyra Cake Shop, then Darul Arqam and Crème Top where I found the best cake. Also, it’s where the shop manager offered me a part-time job after I mentioned I was desperately looking for one. I left the shop smiling from ear to ear. I was struck in traffic but I arrived at my aunt's house in MSU-PREP right on time. Everything was on the right place: simple backdrop, food and guests.

Hanna arrived, teary-eyed. She was very happy. After the food was served, all were set for entertainment and picture taking. Then one by one, our guests bade farewell.

When gunshots caused disruption on the wondrous afternoon, our eyes were painted with fear and worry. We checked on our visitors if they were safe, but instead we received threatening messages and warnings to evacuate the city. “It’s just a hoax! Nothing’s new; it will eventually subside.” they said.

We overlooked the warnings and pretended nothing was on fire until the gunshots seemed to have no end. We could no longer hide our fear as so the whole household was terrified. There were twenty people in the house. My aunt was there with her four children. three of them were married, one with two kids and one with pregnant wife was about to give birth. The rest were family friends (all Non-Muslims). They've have been living in my Aunt's home for a very long time.

The night came. We prayed, ate and witnessed the bleak night together. Smoke was all over the city. How could this happen to the city where I grew up, the market where I sold cellophanes and carried baskets, and the roads I walked on countless times? The dream of every Meranao and the properties they unwaveringly built for years were gone! No tire screeches, no call of prayers and no electricity. Schools were burned, and people were abducted and were killed. It was horrific.

I slept on the floor with Hanna and she talked about her dreams, ambitions and fears. I didn’t know she was this sweet, and her beaming hope in the middle of hopelessness made me smile. It seemed like a soothing lullaby that I fell asleep listening to her.

I saw my friends running away. I ran to them but I couldn’t keep up. I stopped and they stopped. They stared at me like they didn’t know me. I saw my mom standing next to them, and she was looking at me with pity. I felt a lump in my chest as warm tears drizzled down, “Pagnawka!” (Wake up!)

I saw Janjan’s figure looking down at me as I wiped my tears, “Paninimo tano kon tigi Ante ka papakarani siran!” (Auntie said to grab our things because they are close!) she said and began stuffing our things in a luggage.

Gunshots and bombs and mortars were heard everywhere that it eventually sounded “normal” as the ground shook, I tried to go back to sleep hoping that tomorrow I’ll wake up from a nightmare.

Except it wasn’t just a nightmare. It was all real.

We stayed for another two days praying it would end in three days. We ran out of batteries, candles and food. We used oil lamps but it couldn’t hold much light. Ramadhan was approaching, and there were no food and water. Everyone was distressed. We couldn’t leave our Non-Muslim brothers and sisters behind so we stayed for another night to wait for the car that will fetch them. And, as we were preparing to leave and our friends were on their way to Iligan City, the army launched an airstrike in the city.

Fourteen people in two cars with a lot of baggage, on their way to Malabang. —We could have been bombed, but we survived.

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Notes:

→MSU-Prep is very near to the spot where the soldiers encountered the terrorists and it is where the siege first erupted.
→All shops that was mentioned were on controlled by the terrorists during the siege.
→Malabang - The safest and nearest town to travel during the siege. The other road going to Iligan City was completely blocked.

"I dream for a life; a life of felicity. Indeed, it is a life; a life of difficulty"

Bin Nur A. Magangcong is a free-lance writer. He always writes articles about their unique culture. His Essay, I am a Survivor received a local award in their city last 2018. It was also published in the Book "Tadman di Ripatan" and featured on Rappler.com