Maguindanaoans still living in fear

SHARIFF AGUAK, Maguindanao—Tanao and his friends still cannot get enough of Manny Pacquiao, relishing how he made Antonio Margarito a bloody mess to snatch his eighth world title.

But when the Inquirer started asking about the massacre of 57 people a year ago today, the mood shifted at the public terminal where the house of Andal Ampatuan Jr. majestically stands amid worn-out buildings and shanties.

“Can we just not talk about it?” Tanao replied.

Enso was even more circumspect. “It’s difficult to comment,” he said.

“You don’t see them, but they are still around,” Karnain said, referring to leaders of the Ampatuan clan who are in jail. They are among 197 people charged in the massacre in Ampatuan town that included 32 media workers.

Maguindanao is the bastion of the Ampatuans, Karnain stressed.

Of the accused, about 100 are detained while awaiting trial—a process that could take years. The leaders are detained in Manila, yet they have access to mobile phones and other forms of communication.

On the other side of the road stands the house of suspended Gov. Zaldy Ampatuan of the Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao, one of the accused. Similar houses belong to the sons, daughters and relatives of a co-accused, the Ampatuan family patriarch Andal Sr.

The names of these residents who spoke to the Inquirer are not real to protect them from reprisals.

No armored cars at gates

Last year’s massacre was meant to stop a politician from a rival family, Esmael Mangudadatu, from contesting the governorship of the province.

Mangudadatu eventually won the post in the May elections after the Ampatuans lost their political support from then President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo amid the fallout of the massacre.

Unlike the days when the Ampatuans were physically around in this former provincial capital, no armored vehicles were parked by the gates of the houses. A few uniformed men posted by the government guard the houses against robbers and vandals.

“The good thing is that we don’t see them anymore. The bad thing is that there are few people buying from me now,” said Zalika, a store owner.

When asked what she thinks of the new provincial leadership, Zalika said: “Just OK.”

“I wished they did not move the capitol away, but they are the ones in power,” she said. Reminded that Mangudadatu’s move was tied to security concerns, she added: “That’s good for him. We don’t really know.”

‘Beware of people’

“The victims were really pitiful,” Zalika said. But she stopped talking when asked about the case against the Ampatuans.

Karnain said many followers of the Ampatuan clan were still around. “Beware of the people you talk to,” he told the Inquirer.

The residents know that the followers of the Ampatuans are so committed to protecting their patrons that they would sacrifice their lives to shield them from harm, even if perceived, Karnain said.

“If it were true that Andal Jr. shot most of the victims, nobody from among his men would talk about it,” he said. He also excused himself.

Clan still in control

Lt. Col. Randolph Cabangbang, the spokesperson of the Eastern Mindanao Command, said it was understandable if people would not talk about the massacre. “The leadership of the town is still Ampatuan,” he said by phone.

Cabangbang cited one proof: Out of the 38 candidates who belong to the clan or are allied with the Ampatuans, only two lost in the Oct. 25 barangay and Sangguniang Kabataan (Youth council) elections.

“For the ordinary people, they know that the members of the clan are still there, still in power,” he said. They still lack a sense of security, he added.

“The stretch of the highway is safe because we have soldiers there,” Cabangbang said of the battalion fielded in this part of town. The only problem though that the military helps address in the town center is criminality, such as theft of properties.

But outside the town proper, remnants of the Ampatuan militia still roam, Cabangbang said. “There are certain areas we can’t go in (because of the presence of Moro rebels) and they are hiding there,” he said.

Benevolent godfather

A longtime government employee described Ampatuan Sr. as a benevolent godfather to those who were loyal to him, but a vengeful and violent man to those who went against his will.

“No one dares to go against them,” he said as a column of military tanks and armored personnel carriers patrolled the main highway amid heightened tensions just ahead of Tuesday’s first anniversary of the massacre.

But Mangudadatu, whose wife was among last year’s victims, said many of the clan’s loyal armed followers continued to elude a police manhunt by hiding in Maguindanao’s remote hilly areas.

He blamed these holdouts for the murders of at least five potential witnesses, including a former Ampatuan militiaman who was gunned down in July and whose death had been widely reported.

“They remain very dangerous and can receive instructions any time (from the Ampatuan leaders) through mobile phones,” Mangudadatu told Agence France-Presse.

Illustrating the security threat, Mangudadatu has chosen not to set up his governors’ base in Shariff Aguak, preferring a town with fewer Ampatuan links, about 50 kilometers away.

‘Very, very afraid’

Ampatuan Sr. rose to prominence in the 1970s as a leader of a paramilitary group before entering politics as a mayor in Maguindanao province.

He later became provincial governor and consolidated power and wealth by allegedly taking over vast tracts of land by force and by eliminating other families that were seen as a threat, according to Human Rights Watch.

The family’s power grew even stronger under the patronage of Arroyo, who used the Ampatuans and their militia of up to 5,000 men as a proxy force against Moro rebels who have waged a decades-long insurgency in Mindanao.

The continued violence has left people like Bai Nena Sahrik with little hope of seeing her 10-month-old granddaughter grow up in a place where she can play without fear of being abducted or harmed.

“We are still very, very afraid,” Maribuhok said, as she lined up to receive a cash dole at a dilapidated municipal building in a town named after the Ampatuans.

“Everyday, we are reminded of them,” she said, pointing to a fading campaign picture on a wall showing Zaldy Ampatuan, one of the clan leaders in jail awaiting trial.