Ilaga: Warrior of the Dark

I dream of writing non-fiction novels on Mindanao someday. I'll give one book the title “Warrior of the Dark.” It will contain the story of my uncle.

My uncle, nearing 60 now, is a farmer and a good family man. He has lived the life of an ordinary Mindanaoan. But there’s one part of his life that I’d like to document, for it is not only a part of our family’s history, but of this island’s history as well. This was when he went by the name “Kumander Dodoy.”

In the 1970s, my uncle joined Ilaga, a “Christian” paramilitary group that fought against the Moros. To call the members of Ilaga “vigilantes” is an understatement. The media have described them as “dreaded,” “notorious,” and even “barbaric”. The most famous of my uncle’s comrades, Norberto Manero, has caught the public’s attention (and revulsion) for killing a priest and then allegedly eating the victim’s brain.

I’m drawn to my uncle’s and his group’s exploits not because I consider them heroes. It’s quite the contrary. I believe racism and violence—two ills Ilaga perpetuated—have no place in this world. I consider myself a student of Gandhi. I’m fascinated with the members of Ilaga because I want to understand them. In knowing their story, I hope to understand better the conflict in Mindanao, my homeland.

“Ilaga” is a Visayan word for “rat.” Uncle told me a few years ago that like the noxious vermins, they crept in the ground, feared water, and attacked in the dark. (Some Maguindanaoans kept their families from harm’s way by staying in raft-huts at night.) Most of the members of the group were farming settlers whose families came from Antique.

My mother told me that when she was about 14, my uncle, who was 17 or 18 then, just disappeared one day. They lived in what is North Cotabato today. When Uncle came back after a long time, everyone noticed his battle scars, one of which was right in his jaw.

Uncle has told me what happened to the jaw—and why he believes it happened. He said that in one battle, his amulet failed to work. A bullet caught him in the mouth and tore through his cheek. The amulet of an Ilaga was usually a tiny bottle containing lana (coconut oil), bits of tree roots, and whatnot. The bottle would be tied with a string and worn as a necklace or wrapped around the waist. To keep the powers of the amulet effective, supposedly, an Ilaga would also rub his skin with lana, utter Latin prayers, and avoid certain kinds of food in certain days of the week. Taking a bath and having sex were forbidden on Fridays. One Friday, my uncle wasn’t able to resist the temptation. He slept with a woman.

I didn’t ask my uncle why he joined Ilaga. I didn’t have to. It doesn’t take a genius to know. Suffice it to say that despite his being a brave (or brutal) warrior, he was also a victim—an unwitting victim of poverty, ignorance, and the cold-bloodedness of the powers-that-be.

The Ilagas have become a legend, and should remain so. They should be nothing but a part of Mindanao’s past. They should be remembered not as martyred Crusaders but as soldiers with a good end but a misguided means. They wanted peace in Mindanao, but they thought the best and only way to attain it was by subduing, if not annihilating, the Muslims. They are a source of pride for young Christians like me, for in my veins flows the same blood—the blood of fearless fighters. But they are also our shame, for they turned into ruthless savages who every so often preyed upon innocent lives.

Ilaga has done its share of wreaking havoc on Mindanao. I want the chapter on them closed. Unfortunately, I couldn’t have things my way. Philippine Daily Inquirer reported yesterday that the group has resurfaced. They claim to be gathering force.

We’re back in the 70s—well, almost. I’m confident the “new” Ilaga could no longer sow as much terror as the original group had. Times have changed. The people of Mindanao now are more socially aware and educated. Our voice against human rights abuses has become stronger. Many of us Muslims and Christians have forged ties of friendship no senseless war could break.

I hope when I write my book someday, the Ilaga of this decade will only merit a passing mention in the afterword.

If there's one reason I won't leave, it's them.

But I'm leaving.

P.S. Hindi lahat ng classrooms namin kasimpangit nito. Ito na yung pinakapangit. Old elementary building kasi ito. Hehe