Poetry
Amanda Socorro Lacaba Echanis
SA SINAPUPUNAN NG DIGMAAN
Disyembre a-dos,
alas-tres ng madaling araw,
tahimik na sumususo si baby.
Isang buwang gulang
pa lamang siya noon.
Hindi pa nakakikita
ngunit malakas ang pandama,
hindi pa nakaaaninag
ngunit maagang naimulat
ang mga mata
sa mukha
ng karahasan ng estado,
agad na naisabak sa tunggalian ng mga uri.
Pilit ko siyang tinakpan ng kumot
sa gitna ng kaguluhan,
hindi pa niya alintana
ang mga nangyayari.
Masyado ka pang musmos, anak.
Hindi ito ang mundong
nais kong masilayan mo
ngunit ito ang katotohanan
na kailangan nating harapin,
at haharapin natin ito
nang may dignidad
at puno ng pag-asa.
Huwag niyo na po akong tutukan
ng mga baril.
Pumunit sa langit
kasabay ng bukang-liwayway
ang pag-iyak ng aking sanggol.
Bumalik sa akin
ang madaling-araw
ng kanyang kapanganakan,
nag-agaw ang umaga at gabi,
ang liwanag at dilim,
ang araw at ulan,
ang tuwa at pighati sa akin
dahil sa matamis na alaala
at mapait na kasalukuyang
kinalalagyan.
Baby ko lang po ang hawak ko.
Disyembre a-dos,
alas-tres ng madaling-araw,
umalingawngaw ang sigaw
sa aking isipan
ngunit anak ko, wala ni isang imik
o hibik ang lumabas sa aking labi,
wala ni isang luha
ang pumatak sa aking mga mata
dahil itinulak ng kalagayan
na titigan
nang mata sa mata
ang mata ng nagbabadyang sigwa.
Hindi ka pa nakakikita
o nakaaaninag
ngunit alam kong alam mo
ang pakiramdam ng kalmadong pulso
at matapang na puso.
Mula noon
hanggang ngayon,
sa sinapupunan ng digmaan.
Pebrero 25, 2021
IN THE WOMB OF WAR
The second of December,
at three in the morning,
my baby was quietly feeding.
He was then
a mere month old.
He could not yet see
but he could strongly feel,
nor could he discern
but he had awakened
early
to the face
of state violence,
he was immediately thrust into class struggle.
I tried wrapping him in a blanket
in the ensuing havoc,
he did not know yet
what was happening.
You are still too young, anak.
This is not the world
I want you to see,
but this is the truth
we must face,
and we will face this
with dignity
and full of hope.
Please do not point your guns
at me.
My baby’s cry
to reopen the sky
along with the dawn.
I remember
the early morning
of his birth,
night and day scrimmaged
and so did light and dark,
the sun and rain,
joy and grief within me
because of the sweet memories
and my current
bitter place.
It is only my baby I hold.
The second of December,
at three in the morning,
the scream echoes
in my mind
but, my anak, no word
or sob escaped my lips,
no tear
dropped
because the conditions forced us
to stare
eye to eye
at the eye of the gathering storm.
You can’t see yet
nor discern
but I know that you know
the feeling of a calm pulse
and a brave heart.
From the past
until the present,
in the womb of war.
February 25, 2021
English translation by Faye Cura
ISANG MADILIM NA GABI
Paano kaya
kung walang nagbukas ng pinto
para kay Maria
noong manganganak na siya?
Paano kaya
kung naabutan sila sa daan
ng mga sundalong mersenaryo
ng tampalasang imperyo,
ng mga gahaman at palalo,
posible kayang nakunan si Maria?
Kung naging makasarili,
kung natakot ang lahat ng kanilang nilapitan
at hustisya ay kanilang tinalikuran,
kahit pa alam nilang mayroong kapatid
na nangangailangan,
kung walang nasilungan ang mag-anak,
posible kayang hindi naipanganak si Kristo?
Mabuti na lamang
at may isang abang maralita
na nagbukas ng kanyang munting sabsaban,
na naniwala at nagtiwala
sa mabuting balita,
na hindi nagpadala sa takot
at binigyan ng pagkakataon na maisilang
ang isang munting sanggol
na puno ng liwanag at pag-asa.
Sana, mas marami pa ang maging katulad niya.
Hulyo 14, 2021
A DARK NIGHT
What if
no one had opened their doors
for Mary
when she was about to give birth?
What if
her family had been waylaid on the road
by mercenary soldiers,
by the murderous empire,
by the greedy and the overbearing,
could Mary have lost her child?
If everyone had been selfish,
if everyone they approached were terrified
and turned their backs on justice,
even if they knew there was a sister
in need,
if the family was not able to find a shelter,
could Christ have been born?
Fortunately,
there was a poor peasant
who opened his tiny manger,
who believed and had faith in
the good news,
who did not cower
and who made way for the birth
of a small infant
full of light and hope.
May there be more like him.
July 14, 2021
English translation by Faye Cura
Amanda Socorro Lacaba Echanis is an organiser with the Amihan National Federation of Peasant Women in Cagayan province. She is the daughter of peace consultant Randall “Ka Randy” Echanis who was killed by state forces on August 10, 2020; and “Ka Linda” Lacaba Echanis, a veteran activist since the Marcos dictatorship and long-time leader of the peasant movement.
On December 2, 2020, Amanda was arrested by government armed forces less than a month after giving birth. She was charged with ‘illegal possession of firearms and ammunition and illegal possession of explosives’. She is currently detained at Cagayan Provincial Jail in Tuguegarao City. Like many other political prisoners, she is being deprived of her right to due process, as her court hearings have been repeatedly postponed during the four years that she has been illegally detained.
Amanda is a soft-spoken person, committed, and well-loved friend and activist who has inspired many young people by selflessly serving the poor and peasant women in Cagayan. She was involved in helping farmers and peasant women with their campaigns for land rights, the lowering of land rent, accessing benefits from the tobacco excise tax, gender equality, the right to organise, and the right to access social services such as relief aid during natural calamities.
Before working full-time as a community organiser, Amanda was a researcher for a local NGO catering to the urban poor. In 2015, she wrote the play Nanay Mameng, isang dula, a biography of urban poor leader Carmen Deunida. She is the author of Binhi ng Paglaya (Seeds of Liberation), a collection of prose and poetry published in 2022. At present, she is studying remotely at the University of the Philippines, Diliman.
Faye Cura is a poet and editor and the publisher of Gantala Press, a feminist small press in the Philippines. Her poetry collections include Bruha (2012) and Punan (2022), both published by small presses in Metro Manila. She is the editor and a contributing translator to Pa-Liwanag, a collection of Filipina writings in translation published in 2022 by Tilted Axis Press as part of their Translating Feminisms project. Faye recently published a Filipino translation from English of Alexandra Kollontai’s novel, Red Love (1927). Her collection of Filipino translations of Emily Dickinson’s poems is forthcoming from Paper Trail Projects. She is currently producing a bilingual edition of the collected poems of Marites N. Nicart, a peasant woman in Cavite. Faye also volunteers with the Amihan National Federation of Peasant Women and helps in their campaigns for food security, peasant women rights and welfare, and national sovereignty.