August 21. Twenty-five years ago...

This day twenty-five years ago, I was attending the first meeting of the 1983-1984 University Student Council of the University of the Philippines in Diliman, sitting as the College Representative of the College of Mass Communication.

The meeting was being chaired by Leandro "Lean" Alejandro, activist and a personal idol.  Many of the others present  were known to me from the previous three years I had spent on campus, mainly in my alternative life as part-time activist. The younger ones would help me see life on the Council through different eyes. Some of them have gone on to prominence or notoriety in this day and age. I know most everyone was changed by that day and that time... Bong, Roel, Thor, Loudette... 

The atmosphere was somber, quiet, not because it was the first meeting, as there is always a familiarity between UP students even if it is the first time you are meeting each other.  It was because that day Ninoy Aquino was coming home after a long exile and rumors were rife that something was going to happen.

Less than half an hour into the meeting, something did happen.  Somebody opened the door to the meeting hall in Vinzon's and shouted "patay na si Ninoy".

The quiet turned into frenzied action, each one suddenly 

speaking, letting out the emotions not only of the moment but of so many years of observed repression and manifest disparity in the way things were supposed to be and the way things really were.

The meeting turned into an organizational huddle for the rallies that started immediately after.  Vigils, putting up wall news around campus, preparing statements, rushing to the printer to have the publication done overnight, getting home just to comply with parental expectations and rushing out early the next day, rallies, yellow shirts, rallies, mass actions, agitation, expression, hope for change, doing something about the way we felt, and what we saw...

Twenty-five years ago today, a man gave up his life, by his own choice, knowing as he did that coming home would mean at least jailtime once more, or worse... Twenty-five years ago, a man strode down the plane and led the way to finding freedom again. Twenty-five years ago, I learned about putting heart and soul into what you believed in, and never letting go.

Twenty-five years ago, that was me, young and clear-eyed and strong.  How so today?  Older, clear-eyed, stronger.  Would I do it all over again. Yes, of course, everything all over again.  If I were twenty-five years younger.