Bantay Kurapsyon: Death Threats

It was six in the morning and the flurry of screeching tires and deafening horns truly made my day bad.

Though such early morning dilemma (at least for those who were accustomed to cool, quite mornings in Oroquieta City) I had already been through during my college days here in Iligan City, I had difficulty flouting the horrible noise and the gush of dust  that splatters into my face like a sheath of smoke from old-man’s cigar pipe.

Bantay Kurapsyon: An award-winning anti-corruption campaign

Yet a feeling of calmness and joy still dominates the entirety of my morning as I woke up early to prepare to the wedding day of my brother-in-law. Such timid emotions were joined by a sense of excitement, not because of the wedding gusto but because my three-year old daughter would be dressed in a womanly gown, walk to the altar by herself amidst a crowd of unfriendly faces,    and shower the newly-wed with flowers.

My day became worse. It was already eight and the wedding would soon begin at nine o’clock. While laughing at the sight of my daughter arguing with her make-up artist, my cellphone rang. I took it out of my pocket and read the text message. At first, it all seemed a usual business conversation. But then a call came and upon answering it, a guy spoke to me. Believe me but I never felt fear upon hearing the death threats of the still unknown caller which demands me something. Even by the moment the call ended and a text message followed which read “ kung naabtan pa tika dinhi sa inyoha gabii, patay na ka. bata pa ra ba imong asawa.” (if we caught you here in your house last night, you were dead. your wife is still young). Because I turned on the loudspeaker, everybody heard the conversation and turned worried. But I shrugged off the call and appealed for everyone to just ignore it.  Fear was something I forgot a long time ago, something I left with me in the countryside, in my life-and-death experiences of several armed encounters, torture and the sight of a companion’s death. It was fear which made some people like me develop a sense of evasiveness against danger. And this threat I had have was no match to the secret details of my youthful adventurism and material struggle years before.

After the wedding and the feast went full of laughter and celebration, my wife began to worry about the threat. I cared not for it but consoled her to be strong.

And my day became worst when my friend called me about a death threat note bearing my picture and a  message which says“pagtarong bay” . It was then that I took the threat seriously. The first thing I did was to call Tony Abejo of Malindang Tribune and Oroquieta City Press Club. Through him, we alerted the Task Force Usig-a body created by Malacañang to investigate and handle cases invloving media in Mindanao particularly the death of fellow mediamen Ernie Rollin. Then other fellow mediamen like Hon. Jino Anoos of Radyo Natin and Boy Quiros of DXNA  were alerted and they helped in publicly denouncing the threat. Prayers and messages of support came from friends, relatives, and even former colleagues of mine back in my NDF days.

The CIDG through Maj. Yape  and other government agencies responded to my concern with close-in protection, surveillance, investigation.   To them I owe half of my life. Then came the turning point, the culprits were identified (a childhood friend of mine who grew up to become a drug addict, a swindler) and a case should soon be filed. As the facts were unfolded, everybody realized that the culprit is simply a desperate, stubborn ant trying to wreck a mountain of rocks.

But then, the cooperative efforts of my fellow journalists alone solved my case. Sadly, a fellow journalist and a friend of mine refused to cooperate thinking that helping me would lose him his benefits from the office of a high-ranking government official who was one of the earlier cited suspects of the threats. On him I felt shame on.

What now? I consider the threat a mere work of cowards- people who cannot fight others face-to-face. Definitely, media work is noble and threats like mine make journalism an adventurous yet a serious profession. But threats do consume your health, time and economic resources. Unless the government will work seriously in crafting a law that would protect the welfare and interests of journalists, moronic cowards like those threatening me would continue to linger under their mother’s skirt and peep out from time to time to throw a pebble at you.

With a death threat becoming a simple laughing matter, I can now sleep well at night, assured of waking up every morning with a sense of security both in life and my chosen profession.

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