The mayhem through a lens -- New Internationalist

The mayhem through a lens -- New Internationalist

Posted by Iris C. Gonzales | 0

Share this:

There was no time to scream for help. My lungs were heavy from the tear gas, my eyes were already blurred by tears.

I could hardly breathe, as if a slab of concrete fell on my chest. The burn of the gas hung heavy in the air. I wanted to stop and rest but rocks, bottles and sticks were flying everywhere.

The anti-riot police in their seamless sky-blue uniforms mercilessly sprayed water cannons against the human barricade of men and women. Like flies, they started falling one by one, helpless against the fury of the water cannon.

The dispersal turned violent as residents of a shantytown here in San Juan in the eastern part of Metro Manila refused to give up their homes.

A thick blanket of water pierced through the residents who minutes before stood adamant in front of their homes. They all ran for safety, crying, screaming and coughing.

But while they all moved as fast as they could, a handful of brave individuals stayed right smack in the middle of the chaos, recording the mayhem with their lenses.

Filipino freelance photojournalist Jes Aznar (left) is among those who covered the demolition. Photo was taken before the violent dispersal erupted. Photo by author.

Hats off indeed to these photojournalists and video journalists who covered the demolition. As Filipino journalist Carlos H Conde noted in his blog post immediately after the dispersal, ‘photojournalism and video journalism are alive in the Philippines.’

And this is what I saw with my own eyes as I covered the dispersal, albeit from a relatively safer corner as I did not have to take photos.

As Conde said, these photographers and video journalists risk not just their equipment but also, more importantly, their life and limb to show the world the many injustices that continue to plague the Philippines.

One of them got hit on the forehead but he did not have time to stop.

None of them fled or stopped for a second to escape from the violence. They went as close as they could so that they could take photos and videos of the whole ordeal.

All they could think of was to capture with their lenses what was unfolding before their eyes: anti-riot police throwing tear gas canisters in a place full of babies; men and women collapsing from the suffocating burn; children caught in the cross-fire; thick blankets of smoke billowing through the shanty homes; hapless residents drenched in the fury of the water cannon; snipers ready to fire and demolition teams tearing down shanty homes.

And it was through their images and videos that the world was able to know what had happened in the morning of 25 January 2011 in an urban poor community in San Juan.

Photos by Jes Aznar.

Homeless -- New Internationalist

Homeless -- New Internationalist

Month-old babies are gasping for air. The mothers are hysterical. An old woman has collapsed. And another. Men are coughing non-stop. The intoxicating smoke of tear gas fills the place. Their eyes are red because of the harmful chemical; their clothes are drenched by the fury of the water canon.

Used bottles, rocks, stones and pieces of wood are flying in the air, thrown by members of the demolition team at the defiant urban poor community. There are snipers positioned on top of a nearby building. A half-naked 12-year-old boy, thin, helpless and lanky, is black and blue, beaten by the dispersing authorities.

In seconds, the violent dispersal is over and the demolition starts. Men in green shirts victoriously tear into pieces the slabs of wood of these makeshift shanties.

The residents are forced to leave. They have no time to pack their things, as if a wild fire has ripped through their houses.

Welcome to Barangay Corazon de Jesus (‘The heart of Jesus’) in the city of San Juan in the eastern part of the capital region. It is a city governed by the son of former Philippine president Joseph Estrada, the actor-turned-politician who has been trumpeting a pro-poor agenda.

Yesterday, 25 January 2011, even before the roosters woke up and the sun came out, residents of this poor urban community braced for a throng of gun-wielding police officers who warned them that their homes would be demolished.

Photo by Jes Aznar.

For several months now, the police have repeatedly said that each and every house in the community would be torn down completely because the city mayor wants to build a new municipal hall on the site.

But the residents stood their ground because the three-hectare lot had been awarded to them by previous administrations. They put whatever iron sheets and wooden panels they could find as a barricade to close the streets and protect their homes.

Home to them is a labyrinthine community of tattered shelters and crudely built shanties. It is an informal dwelling for some 8,000 people, most of whom do not have decent-paying jobs.

April Nuyda, 18 years old, like many of her neighbours did not go to school yesterday or the day before, because she wanted to protect her family’s only home when the police came. April dreams of becoming a teacher when she graduates, but today such dreams are far from her mind. All she can think of is the impending dispersal.

In a show of force, the men, women and children of Corazon de Jesus formed a human barrier. For hours until the police came, they banged their pots and pans in protest.

Photo by Jes Aznar.

The police did come, as expected. And they came like a storm – swift, strong, ruthless and unstoppable.

The dispersal became violent, and the demolition team showed no mercy. A thick blanket of tear gas smoke filled the place, drowning the wails of helpless infants and children who could barely breathe.

In seconds, bloodied men and women dispersed and ran in all directions for safety. The demolition team proceeded to tear down their homes.

When the mayhem subsided, each and every resident unwillingly walked out of the community, their heads bowed in hopelessness, their eyes red from tear gas.

Photo by Jes Aznar.

And so tonight, under a glistening moon, the evicted residents of Barangay Corazon de Jesus will be sleeping on the cold pavement in nearby streets or communities because the mayor they voted for wants to build a new municipal hall in the lot where they had built their homes.

Because the same mayor is the son of a former Philippine president who claimed to be pro-poor; because the government could not provide them gainful employment opportunities so they could afford homes of their own; because the relocation site assigned to them is far-flung and isolated.

And simply because a ruthless team of gun-wielding police officers demolished their homes and snatched what little hope they had for a better life.

The Soothing Powers of Water - TH!NK ABOUT IT

The Soothing Powers of Water - TH!NK ABOUT IT

As with my fellow bloggers here, I am excited about the many, many things to write about water. In my country, the Philippines, the list of issues on water is endless. There's the problem of urban development as highlighted in World Water Day 2011, sanitation, migration, climate change, environmental degradation, supply and costs. Indeed, as TH!NK 5 editor Hanna Mclean noted in her TH!NKspiration post, there's also the issues of the politics of water.

Then of course, there's also the soothing and healing powers of water. Who can deny this? Who can discount this? So allow me the pleasure of writing about the magical powers of water. I am sure that at one point in our lives all of us have turned into water as a refuge or oasis for our tired and weary souls.

The music of a flowing river or the intensity of waterfalls is magical. The first drop of rain after a long drought or summer is heavenly, as heavenly perhaps as a warm bath after a tired and exhausting day.

Water, oh water. Whose hearts can survive without experiencing its magical prowess?

death

It is 1:30 am, an hour when most of the world is already in slumber.  Jes and I drive to 10th avenue, Caloocan to attend the wake of Ed Manalo's brother. The heavy rains all night have just subsided. We reach the street. There is a black cloth bearing the name of the funeral service company. At this godly hour, men, women and children are still wide awake -- drinking coffee, drinking gin and whisky, playing cards and what-have-you. 

Ed's brother is a kapitan. His colleagues and all those he helped are in mourning. He left behind grown up children and a teenage daughter. The mother of the children is in tears. She is wearing a white shirt. Ed's brother succumbed to cancer. In between sips of whisky, Ed shares vignettes about the place, the life of his brother, friends who lived in the maze-like interior and years and years of living. 

Ana warns Ed to take it easy with his drinking and smoking. Life is short, Ed replies, so better enjoy it. 

It's time for us to leave. We say goodbye. The relatives offer to lead us out. "Bawal maghatid," I say, referring to the Filipino tradition. 

It is almost 4 am. In a few hours, the roosters will be crowing and the sun will be out and it will be another day to live and survive. It can be another day to be with our loved ones and to enjoy each moment with them. It can be another day to fulfill one's dreams and to confront one's nightmares; to wake up happy and to be thankful for all the blessings; to nurture a relationship; to forgive; to drink whisky; to hold hands; to write; to take a photograph; to capture a moment; to embrace one's child; to smile; to hug; to melt in each other's arms; to love and be loved. To hang a curtain in the new house. 

Philippine floods death toll: 57 lives - TH!NK ABOUT IT

Philippine floods death toll: 57 lives - TH!NK ABOUT IT

It is raining nonstop in this cold afternoon here in the Philippine capital of Manila. The clock reads 6:27 pm, the thermometer, 26 degrees Celsius, below the usual temperature of 39 degrees. The sun, usually glistening in this Southeast Asian country, has not been seen the last couple of days.

But I shouldn’t be complaining. Elsewhere, right this very minute, in some parts of this place we all call home, people are buried in flood because of nonstop rains.

There is flood because of the poor waste disposal system implemented by the government for decades now and people who do not do anything about it.

According to the National Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Council (NDRRMC), the central government office that acts on disasters and calamities, the death toll from floods in the southern parts of the Philippines has risen to 57 while 32 others remained missing.

The statistics are stark and telling. According to the government disaster office, as reported inwww.gmanews.tv, the floods and landslides have affected at least 323,149 families or 1,650,754 people in 1,823 villages in 162 towns and 17 cities in 25 provinces around the country.

Furthermore, it also said in the report that “some 12,523 families or 61,054 people are housed in 74 evacuation centers. At least 395 houses were destroyed while 1,902 were damaged.”

Needless, to say, there is a need for the government to act and put in place long-term solutions.

The real solutions include strictly implementing proper waste disposal systems and not just acting on the matter only after every time a tragedy strikes.

Suggestions anyone? What can my government do? Let’s all think about it.

Never Forget: The Ampatuan Massacre -- New Internationalist

Never Forget: The Ampatuan Massacre -- New Internationalist

Never Forget: The Ampatuan Massacre

Posted by Iris C. Gonzales | 0

Share this:

In Vietnam, thousands flock to the war museum everyday to see photographs of the Vietnam War. The photos are brazen and piercing. Photos of the victims of Agent Orange, the extremely toxic chemical used by the US military during the war which lasted from 1955 to 1975, still bring tears to the hundreds of visitors that come to the museum daily.

Provocative images, indeed, will stick to one’s soul far longer than any story, poetry or prose ever could.

Because of this, the National Union of Journalists of the Philippines (NUJP), an organization of working journalist unions, put up a roaming exhibition, Never Forget: The Ampatuan Massacre, so that the world would remember the Philippines’ worst incident of election-related violence.

Photo by Veejay Villafranca.

NUJP hopes that through these bold and striking photographs, the world will never forget that more than a year ago, under a glistening sun in a place they called home, 58 people were massacred by a member of a ruling clan desperate to stay in power.

Never Forget, curated by Filipino documentary photographer Jes Aznar, is presented by theNUJP along with the Economic Journalists Association of the Philippines and the Philippine Center for Photojournalism.

Photo by Jes Aznar.

‘Never Forget explores how the beautiful yet troubled province of Maguindanao has bred the culture of impunity that paved the way for the Ampatuan Massacre. It revisits the aftermath of that gruesome day of 23 November 2009. It also shows the collective grief and rage through numerous protest rallies and commemorative vigils by colleagues, friends and supporters, here and abroad.

‘Never Forget features the works of members of the NUJP, the PCP and photojournalist colleagues from all over the country as well as worldwide. Never Forget is a work in progress, with more photos to be added as the coverage of the issue continues. Never Forget is also a travelling exhibit as we aim to bring it to public spaces, schools and communities who wish to host it,’ the NUJP said.

Photo by Carsten Stormer and Nonoy Espina.

Never Forget has been exhibited in different universities around Metro Manila. These include University of the Philippines College of Mass Communication and the University of Santo Tomas College of Arts and Letters.

NUJP said that for 2011, the exhibit would again be put up in one of the country’s schools on 23 January 2011, the 14th month anniversary of the massacre.