Angie’s Story: Letters from Prison

LETTER FROM PRISON
March 8, 2007

Dear Friends,

March 8, International Women’s Day, that fateful day when arrived men abducted me, brought me from prison camp to camp, incommunicado, tortured, actually molested, denied of my legal rights, declared missing for 14 days till I was surfaced at the Pagadian City Jail.

Two years have passed but the memory of this 14-day ordeal, this illegal, inhuman acts by the military done to a 60 year old woman is still fresh in my mind. I cringe at the thought that such sadist acts could be done by men who claim to be protectors of the law. But what I suffered was probably much lesser as compared to the many victims that have undergone same fate as I did worse when we count the growing numbers of disaparecedos and extra-judicial killings that have happened in the country today pointing to the military as the perpetrators.

These must be strongly be condemned!

Two years of unproductive life facing all sorts of trumped-up charges, fabricated cases and witnesses attending those turtle-paced and boring court hearings escorted to and fro by a bunch of fully armed soldiers. Here we see the futility and the absurdities of our justice system. I know all of these has been designed to break me, destroy me and make me rot in prison.

Two years of life behind bars and barbed wires place in a cramped, poorly ventilated, smoky, noisy cell mixed with inmates accused of common crimes, drug addicts, freaks- all of different world views, adjusting from a very active, busy, productive life to a sanctuary boring limited prison world.

The first few months of prison life were difficult months. Adjustment was not easy. My health waned a lot. I suppose the stress I got from the 14-day ordeal compounded by the unfavorable factors in the detention cell contributed to my poor health.

Twice I had an attack where my blood pressure rose, experienced chest and back pains, shortness of breath, numbness of the extremities, felt dizzy and nauseated. I had constant cold and cough. For months I had body malaise and a drooping spirit.

I tried to cope up with the situation first by starting an organic vegetable garden inside the jail compound raising healthy vegetables and later flowers.

Garden work became very therapeutic for me. Besides producing vegetables that we could eat in lieu of the poor ration we get, this was also where I got my daily sunning and exercise.

With the permission of the warden and financial support from my kins coupled with some donations from friends, we set-up a rehab projects like card making, sewing, beadwork, etc. for the women inmates. This rehab area eventually became a respite when I had a very bad cough (I thought I had TB) for three months during the first quarter of 2006. This coincided with the swelling of the number of female inmates impossible to be accomodated all in the old cell. So this rehab area became also an extension cell.

The well ventilated area free from smokes and noise coupled with the daily garden work and creative card making and other rehab work had made myself busy. All these has greatly alleviated the situation and improved my health.

This arrangement existed for 8 1/2 months year 2006 until January 2007 when there was a change in the organizational set-up of the jail. A new warden was assigned and new policies enforced. We were all placed back at the main cell. Our rehab area sequestered and turned into a coop store of the jail personnel. All rehab work were stopped. This time we were only given an hour in the morning and another hour in the afternoon for open cell. I pleaded for garden work as I know this is good therapy for maintaing good health and I could’nt bear to see the plants wither and die especially under hot weather. The one hour open cell in the morning was the only time given and only to water the plants. But I could barely finish watering the plants, time is up. We were promised we will be transferred to a new cell and will continue some of our rehab work, but so far this has remained a promise.

How I wish I could stay longer outside the cramped, smoky cell and do my garden work, card work. It broke my heart that the little concession I got on humanitarian grounds were taken away so abruptly without my considerations.

This is prison life, always at the mercy of whoever is in authority unless they have some understanding and humane outlook.