i.arrested for hunger

Written by: Hilary Joy Torrecampo

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney present. If you cannot a ord an attorney, one will be appointed to you.” ere was no utterance heard; only the clicking of chains while stomachs were churning in silence.

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney present. If you cannot a ord an attorney, one will be appointed to you.” ere was no utterance heard; only the clicking of chains while stomachs were churning in silence.

I took my last mask behind the old bamboo door, with slippers at the edge xed with thin wires. For a poverty-sheltered skin, I couldn’t feel the heat; only the will to run and to plea for food aid, ayuda. Amidst the pandemic, I have sought refuge, but I couldn’t nd one.

I took my last mask behind the old bamboo door, with slippers at the edge xed with thin wires. For a poverty-sheltered skin, I couldn’t feel the heat; only the will to run and to plea for food aid, ayuda. Amidst the pandemic, I have sought refuge, but I couldn’t nd one.

When you hear a small voice every day, telling you, “Ma, nagugutom na po ako”, all while having her tiny hands clasped underneath her growling stomach... No mother can bear such pain for her child. So I did what I thought was right.

When you hear a small voice every day, telling you, “Ma, nagugutom na po ako”, all while having her tiny hands clasped underneath her growling stomach... No mother can bear such pain for her child. So I did what I thought was right.

Upon arrival, I saw people lining up to a truck with food supplies, and I ran towards it. I grabbed one from the plastics lled with yellow, red, and green cans; clamped with an image of a so -boned saltwater sh. In my head, I heard an echo, “Sardinas ulit?” but scarcity replied, “Sardines or meat; there is no distinction when it comes to hunger.” Li ing the plastics of a kilogram of rice and ve pieces of 555 sardines above my head, I took the route back home.

Upon arrival, I saw people lining up to a truck with food supplies, and I ran towards it. I grabbed one from the plastics lled with yellow, red, and green cans; clamped with an image of a so -boned saltwater sh. In my head, I heard an echo, “Sardinas ulit?” but scarcity replied, “Sardines or meat; there is no distinction when it comes to hunger.” Li ing the plastics of a kilogram of rice and ve pieces of 555 sardines above my head, I took the route back home.

When a crowd in camou age woodland-colored jackets and trousers came, the next, I found myself in a crowded jail—arrested for violating the in-house quarantine protocol. Some warmth touches my skin, and there I saw the arms of my co-PDL. ere is no social distancing here. It’s ironic because I was deprived of liberty for a social distancing violation, but I ended up locked in a ock.

When a crowd in camou age woodland-colored jackets and trousers came, the next, I found myself in a crowded jail—arrested for violating the in-house quarantine protocol. Some warmth touches my skin, and there I saw the arms of my co-PDL. ere is no social distancing here. It’s ironic because I was deprived of liberty for a social distancing violation, but I ended up locked in a ock.

He promised to prioritize the citizens of this country. I had faith in him, and so I voted.

However, all of my trust was gone when he called us— called me, Le . One more trouble, a shoot will be our end. It wasn’t his promise that freed us; it wasn’t his will to keep us alive, and it wasn’t him who stood for the poorest and marginalized Filipino victims. Instead, he took his blue n tuna on a gold plate; and it took me a can of sardines to end my freedom.

He promised to prioritize the citizens of this country. I had faith in him, and so I voted.

However, all of my trust was gone when he called us— called me, Le . One more trouble, a shoot will be our end. It wasn’t his promise that freed us; it wasn’t his will to keep us alive, and it wasn’t him who stood for the poorest and marginalized Filipino victims. Instead, he took his blue n tuna on a gold plate; and it took me a can of sardines to end my freedom.

Kalayaan. I was given another chance through the collective e orts of my fellow Filipino citizens. e strings on my slippers started to loosen up, and in no shame, I walked barefooted. Miles away from home, I can hear her say, “Ma, nasan ang sardinas?”. I’m sorry, my dear. I have nothing but a pair of ruined slippers and rough experience from his draconian measures.

Kalayaan. I was given another chance through the collective e orts of my fellow Filipino citizens. e strings on my slippers started to loosen up, and in no shame, I walked barefooted. Miles away from home, I can hear her say, “Ma, nasan ang sardinas?”. I’m sorry, my dear. I have nothing but a pair of ruined slippers and rough experience from his draconian measures.

is page unveils an experience of a mother arrested for receiving ayuda—locked and deprived of liberty because of famine. Mentioned identities in the text are optimized in a parodic manner. (Retrieved from: Queer Street Malibcong, Abra) is page unveils an experience of a mother arrested for receiving ayuda—locked and deprived of liberty because of famine. Mentioned identities in the text are optimized in a parodic manner. (Retrieved from: Queer Street Malibcong, Abra)

As long as there are many beautiful women, there will be more rape cases,” the corners of my lips start to rise, and a forlorn smile escaped. It was indeed a compliment from the country’s highest and most in uential man, for which I thank thee. Gender equality? ose were words he did not give honor to. It was di cult for people like me who share the same gender to live in his era.

Forgive me, for I have sinned,” —and that sin was being born a woman. is account unravels the case of a raped woman who had not claimed justice due to gender blaming where women are deprived of certain rights. Incidents and names are not associated with any living and existing events in the present. (Retrieved from: Fort Gregorio del Pilar)

“

Right a er the six o’clock prayer, the tolling of the church bells echoed to every nook and cranny of the small town. e darkness of the night crept in as the sun faded out of the picture, and in exchange, the lampposts outshone the sky in response to the moon’s absence. e picturesque abyss of the void above the peoples’ heads gained no admiration…as everyone is already enshrined by the fear that fed on the lurking credulity that speaks,

“Whosoever wields the PNP badge shall be worthy of a judge, jury, and executioner’s power.”

No prayer remains unheard, but not every prayer can be graced with an answer. e presence of injustices will never be deterred as long as someone plays the role of a god! e sinner dares to wield the divine power of tampering with human life. He dares to give the verdict on who gets to live, and who deserves to be choked to death with his iron grasp. Yet, a mere human is con ned to a awed prowess, as he can’t conquer a nation alone.

We were paid a visit by such unwelcome guests, civiliandisguised men. In the age of modernity embraced by civilization, these guys were rather…barbaric and profane. A visitor would enter through the front door, only a burglar would storm the residence through the back door, which gave me a hint that this might be my last day. Pointing the barrels of their guns to our heads, they seemingly tell us that no one will be spared. In the plight of grave fright and confusion, an utterance that reeked of dominance nally reached our ears.

“Buy-bust! Alsa ang kamot!”

“Hala may bata, atindera na anay! Bantayi giho ya!”’

Our oating hopes capsized with our eeting willpower when realization dawned that we are not being attacked by burglars or criminals of some sort but instead by the law enforcers. But what in the world are they talking about?

“Abaw toto, kabalo ka man nga ang mama mo gabaligya shabu?”

Still puzzled by such an atrocious claim, I spoke, “Paano kamo ka sigurado sir?”

I was forced outside of the vicinity in which they’ve been interrogating my mother. But judging from the audible exchange of loud articulations, it appears that they are forcing THEIR truth on her. As vivid as the claims of an oracle, she was labeled as a suspect albeit being victimized in their disgusting ploy.

I must remain unshaken, for the sake of the woman inside who is being obscured of her rights. Yet as the night delves deeper, the situation bodes with anguish and torment. Neighbors and rumor-thirsty dwellers are clumping outside like ies. My shivering body battles the aches of my heart, as my knees grow weak, succumbing to defeat.

“Diin mo di ginatago ang imo shabu?”

“Ano ni? Ginapilit mo na pakumo sa akon ang dala niyo nga sachet sang shabu haw?”

“Kag diin inyo search warrant kag warrant of arrest? Indi na ni tyakto ya! Highschool graduate lang ko pero indi ko amo ni ka mango. Hala, saksi ang Ginoo sa mga ginapang-ubra niyo subong!”

I can’t depose my fear anymore. Minute by minute, the exchange of dialogues grew louder and louder. Relying on my hearing alone, I can paint the image of my mother struggling in the hands of these oppressors. Shame on your mainstreamed motto. To serve and protect? e hell…protect who? Your interests? Your fat pockets? Or your untainted power?

At the height of the heated argument on the matter, the deafening bang of a gunshot reverberated in the area. My mind went hazy; the beat of my heart and my gushing pulse tore through my innards. Sweat came trickling down my cold and despondent face. Alas! A police o cer came rushing outside. e chief of police halted him with a furious face.

“Ano na naman ni nga casualty? Gusto niyo piyestahan naman ta sang media?”

“Relax lang sir, stick to the alibi lang ta gihapon. Hambalon ta lang nga nagbato sa, kag self-defense lang ang pagtiro nga natabo.” is incident robbed me of my mother. And the president’s war on drugs? e extrajudicial killings? What more will it rob us of? Will it rob us of our future…or perhaps, our humanity? is process of ful lling an ambitious promise through the expense of some innocent lives brims with the lust of the sel sh and those greedy of power and position. THIS. IS. ABUSE. is diary unfurls a young child’s rst-hand experience of his mother being wrongfully accused as a “drug pusher”, which eventually costed her her life. (Retrieved from: e Slums of Pontevedra, Negros Occidental)

I scorn the prejudiced evil that lingers in our police force. But truth be told, it’s not their badge that bears the tag of cruelty, it’s the bearer of the badge who stains their collective image.