Saying goodbye to Cory Aquino

Today, I stood at Ayala Avenue, in the fierce August sun, in the cramped company of many, to say goodbye to Cory Aquino. Ayala, and especially that small, maybe a couple hundred meters between Makati Av. and Paseo de Roxas, plus the place we used to call Ugarte Field, has been second home to Cory since her husband Ninoy's brutal death. Ayala had become the New Plaza Miranda, the place where politicians were weighed and often found wanting. Today, for the last time, Cory called home. And we made sure she had a fitting welcome.

Of course, there's no replacing those halcyon days from 1983-1986. No event on earth could bring back those days, when people gathered under a rain of yellow confetti to tell Marcos, then still very much the strongman, with the backing of the military, and let no one forget, the US of A, to go to Hell. But at least today we had a glimpse of what it was like. Today, we bid Cory goodbye as she goes, we hope, to Heaven. We went to thank her for the simple gift she gave us; herself.

Cory became president when I was in the 3rd year of high school. Those were the days, my friend, we thought they'd never end. We really thought People Power would change the world. And in many ways, it did. When the former Warsaw Pact countries decided they've had enough of Communism and rose against their rulers,we smiled. Yes, some of us even claimed that that was the Euros finally picking up on our cue, finally getting the People Power message. Of course, story of our lives, we didn't get credit for it, Solidarity did. But that's a small matter. We know what we had, and People Power, in its pure state, remains precious, our gift to the world.

Cory wasn't the perfect president. But who was? Anyone who came after Marcos was going to reap hell, and Cory did. Because she held such promise, every one of her missteps was on a highlight reel. Like when one of her uncles was included in the Constitutional Commission. Because she had promised to abolish political dynasties, the announcement of her relative's name drew catcalls and hoots from the crowd. And this was during the so called honeymoon period!

There were other lows, of course, and one of our my friends is reminded of one of them everytime she celebrates her birthday, because it coincides with the Mendiola Massacre.

Then there's the fact that power in government basically remained with the elite, and that many of those "elites" happened to be her relatives.Then there's the awkward solution that they devised for her own family's Hacienda Luisita.

Then there's her march to the Senate in a bid to stop the senators from evicting the Yanks from their bases here.

And yeah, there's also Kris Aquino joining showbiz. But I'll give Cory a pass on that one, she was just a loving mother letting her daughter pursue her happiness.

But for a time, for too short a time, we thought we had a chance. The economy was on the upswing, and the people, still euphoric from victory, were willing to endure any hardship just to get the country on its feet again. All our hopes effectively ended when in August 1987, the flamboyantly egotistical, messianic RAMBoys thought they were far more important than they really were, and tried to wrest power from the civilian government. In later interviews, Enrile would say it was a mistake for Cory's government to ignore the military aspect of EDSA 1, that portraying it as a purely non-violent civilian revolt was an injustice, that it robbed the RAMBoys their due, and rubbed them the wrong way. What? Was it not enough they got to parachute in Luneta during Cory's inauguration, in what was the largest gathering of civilians in our history? Was it not enough they became more famous than they deserved, for being basically Johnny-come-latelys? Was it not enough that their sins during Martial Law, especially those they committed against Cory, were put under the rug? What Enrile and the RAM Boys missed was the obvious, without the crowds in EDSA, they didn't stand a chance. They had no armor and no air power. For all their skills, Marcos's men would have wiped them out. (Just to show the reader I'm not making that up, Proseso Maligalig, a military man and a participant of EDSA 1, summed it up in no uncertain terms: "sa tingin ko lalampasuhin kami"..."People Power saved our lives." Maligalig knew the odds, when 500 men meet 5,000 or more Marcos loyalist troops in an all-out shooting fight, the outcome is inevitable, even if the 500 happen to be RAM Boys. They would have been routed.)

Something else they all missed, and most of us miss: EDSA 1 was just the event that represented the long struggle against Marcos's tyranny, a struggle that began in the early 70's, a struggle that required the sacrifice of many. Cory, and before her, Ninoy, was just the one person who became the face of that struggle. For anyone to claim credit for EDSA 1, let alone the RAM Boys, is the height of arrogance, and ignorance. Yes, Cory became the face of EDSA 1, not because she claimed it, but because we willed her to be so.

A lot of old timers will disagree with me on this, but Cory's government before the first coup represented, in my opinion, our best chance to truly introduce and implement reforms. There were good men there, who unfortunately, were thought by their enemies to have been wearing the wrong color. It was still the height of Cold War, and any mention of Red triggered panic. After August 1987, the trapos crawled back in. The opportunity was lost forever.

Cory should have become president in another country, where her first job would have been to inspire the people to help themselves, and where the technical aspects of the job could be tackled with the help of others without feeling guilty about it. But she became president of the Philippines, where the president is expected to "do everything on his/her own" and "satisfy everybody". Where, if you told the people you have advisers to help you in the technical aspects of the job (like economics, which is something few people really understand, even today), the people reacted with "hindi niya alam ang trabaho niya". Where to even get sick, or to duck for safety when bombs and shells are coming down, is a sign of weakness. No man could have performed the job we asked Cory to do. And since women are probably more capable than men, I should add, no woman could have either.

But in spite of her shortcomings, in spite of the transgressions of the people around her, Cory somehow remained unstained. I guess it had something to do with how she lived. She had what I would call "sense of honor," and lived accordingly. She lived honorably, honestly, simply. Cory was labeled many unsavory things, but never, never was she accused of lying or stealing. Especially stealing. People just knew she wouldn't do it. Their logic, our logic, was, Cory was "dati nang mayaman", an aristocrat, born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Money had never been a problem for her, money held no special power over her. And while one can argue that that logic is faulty, in Cory's case it works. You could just see it. She was never greedy. She never was guilty of extravagance. She lived simply, so others may simply live.

It was after leaving office that the true measure of Cory's legacy became clear to me. It was when Grant Hill, then still healthy and a rising NBA star, went to the Philippines and pronounced he was visiting, among others, Cory Aquino, an icon of democracy all over the civilized world. A few years out of power, and living a very quiet post-Malacanang life, Cory still had that pull on people.

In her last interview with Jessica Soho, Cory said what would probably go down in history as her most memorable quote, surpassing even those heights she reached during the period after Ninoy's death and during the first year of her office, including that famed address before the US Congress. "Ipinagpapasalamat ko sa Panginoon na ginawa niya akong isang Pilipino... karangalan ko iyon, na maging katulad ninyo."

So today we went to relive the old days when Ayala became the hotbed of the protest movement. We went to say goodbye to a woman who left her comfort zone to take up the fight for us. We clapped, we cheered, we wore yellow shirts, we wore yellow ribbons, sowed yellow confetti. Deep down, we know this could all be just symbolic, that in the end all this is futile. The people in power now are too drunk with power to let go. The people are too numbed by the pain of their own labors, too numbed by the outrageousness of the transgressions of those in power, too cynical, to demand change. Maybe this is just one last defiant thrust of the fist into the darkening sky.

And maybe we went there to see Cory one last time, and to welcome her home one last time, and to send her away one last time, because we know with her passing comes the end of an era, of a time that will not come again, when we thought good will trump evil simply because that's what's supposed to happen. That was the hope Cory gave us.

And maybe we went there because we know, in spite of our cynicism and callousness, we just know, and if we are honest men and women we had to know, that Cory represented, and still represents, the best hope we ever had. And we didn't want to let it go.