There’s so much upsetting news these days, I don’t know if I can get any angrier. The biggest and most important has to be the Chinese invasion in all sorts of disguises—tourism, online gambling, or the “Build, Build, Build” program. And the only somewhat reassuring development is that the military seems beginning, finally, to worry and speak out.

The military is most concerned specifically—and only understandably—about some Chinese gambling operations being sighted around its Metro Manila camps, given the numbers of Chinese mainlanders that they employ and cater to, by themselves a security concern.

Oh please! I’m still having a hard time getting over the Chinese grandma washing her toddling ward’s behind in the beachfront waters of Boracay and another burying a soiled diaper in the sand, as though these were the most natural things to do.

I’m not as bothered about the President not being seen since Aug. 9. I’ve somehow come to terms with such unseen truth: we never got to know about what all the hiding was about in Marcos’ case until after he died just the same, at exactly God’s appointed time. There are goings-on that are more obvious and have longer-lasting effects.

Keeping my sanity

To keep my sanity since Duterte became President, my husband and I have signed up in every petition brought us protesting his cruel rule and, whenever we could, marched for cause—justice, freedom, democracy. It can get overwhelming sometimes, especially for seniors like us, who had been around since Edsa, but we just want to contribute at least two warm bodies in the protesting crowd.

One active thing we do with some regularity is visit Leila, at least once a month. It is in her presence that we feel our own courage reinforced and, there, in the presence of fellow sympathizers, our faith in God and humanity renewed.

The bombardment of prayers for her lately has been answered to some degree. Leila was granted two requests among the many that had been denied her: she was allowed a furlough, first, to attend her son’s graduation and, second, to travel to her hometown and visit her ailing mother, whom she had not seen since she was put in detention more than two years ago.

Of course, in both cases, she was heavily guarded and prevented to be seen, much less, heard publicly. But given her lonely circumstances in detention, all that was something to be thankful for. She might yet be allowed—who knows?—to participate electronically, from jail, in debates at the Senate, of which, after all, she is a member.

Bad PR risk

Now, the opposite bad prospect: life-term criminals who testified against her are going free, giving credence to the suspicion, raised from the start, of a deal.

At first, Antonio Sanchez, the Laguna mayor who had been convicted of rape and murder in the most heinous case of his time, was supposed to be released, too, for “good conduct,” a claim that flies in the face of recorded fact: he was found dealing in shabu (crystal meth) inside prison and has made neither contrition nor, as required by the courts, monetary compensation.

“Good time” in prison is more like it: he has lived in an air-conditioned and television-serviced cell. The authorities seem finding now that he is a truly bad PR risk.

More ridiculous issues pop up every day, but there’s always something active and positive for us to do, if only to make our voices heard and presence felt in ways however small. We appear, we join, we sign, we march, we get counted.

When impatient young people ask me, on the verge of despair, “What can we do, Tita?” I tell them, it’s as simple as going to the Manila Memorial Park on Aug. 21 to honor the man who took a bullet in the head for us. Courage is contagious.

Every would-be leader should remember him. Ninoy never saw democracy reinstated in his country. Cory herself didn’t see the fruition of her efforts that would put the country on the map as a rising economy. It was their son, Noynoy, who is himself being accused now, along with his supporters, of all sorts of incredible crimes.

What do we do? We do our part in active protest and put our faith and hope in the one who said, “When the disciple is ready, the guru appears.”