Julius Fortuna, Susan Fernandez: Friends I will miss dearly
July 16, 2009
(The Philippine Reporter, July 16-31, 2009, http://philippinereporter.com)
Two friends passed away recently. Julius Fortuna on June 23, 2009 and Susan Fernandez on July 2. Both were friends I will miss dearly.
Julius was a journalist who wrote political columns for The Manila Times and a few other dailies in the Philippines.
He was a student of the University of the Philippines in the late 60s. We joined the same student activist organizations in our late teens and early twenties. He was a year younger than me but we practically cut our political teeth in the same environment. We joined the same anti-Vietnam war rallies and teach-ins, the same anti-Marcos and anti-U.S. imperialism demonstrations and pickets, the same workers’ strikes and campus strikes. We belonged to the same generation that launched the First Quarter Storm, the series of militant student-led demonstrations in the first quarter of 1970 that questioned the pro-imperialist and pro-landlord policies of the Philippine government led by Marcos. At the height of the FQS, he was the general secretary of the Movement for a Democratic Philippines (MDP), a broad coalition of student, youth, community and workers organizations that composed the main ranks of the mass actions.
But previous to the FQS, in 1969, the university and college campuses in Manila and other major cities of the country were hotbeds of student activism. In the 1969 student strikes, Julius, then enrolled at the Lyceum of the Philippines, was among the leaders of the national student movement that protested tuition fee hikes, censorship of campus publications and repression of student organizations. The widespread wave of student strikes was a dress rehearsal of the FQS and led the way to the winning of student council elections by activists. Even the traditionally moderate National Union of Students of the Philippines was “radicalized” and started to oppose campus repression and the policies of the Marcos regime.
Julius was at the forefront of the political storm in Manila and at times toured the country to organize student groups in campuses and youth groups in communities.
In 1971, when the Marcos regime suspended the privilege of the writ of habeas corpus and came up with a wanted list of 63 student, worker and peasant leaders, Julius’s name was in that list. He went underground and continued his organizing activities. He was among those who formed the broad anti-Marcos coalition that later on grew into the Movement of Concerned Citizens for Civil Liberties (MCCCL) headed by the late Senator Jose W. Diokno that opposed the writ suspension which was lifted a few months later.
When martial law was declared on September 21, 1972, Julius went further underground to continue his anti-fascist and anti-imperialist organizing.
He was arrested two years later in 1974 and detained until 1981. He was held for a few months for interrogation at the ISAFP 5th MIG headquarters in Fort Bonifacio, detained for about two years in the detention center of the 5th Constabulary Unit (CSU) in Camp Crame and moved to Camp Bagong Buhay in Bicutan, Rizal. After a hunger strike by 135 political detainees in 1976 that demanded the release of two nursing mothers and the improvement of food and detention conditions, Julius, suspected as one of the leaders of the hunger strike, was transferred with other detainees to the Stockade 4 in Camp Crame under more repressive conditions.
After a few months, his group was brought back to Bicutan. When martial law was lifted in 1981 when many detainees were released, Julius belonged to the group that was moved to the National Bilibid Prisons in Muntinlupa, Rizal.
I was released earlier than Julius who stayed a few more months in Muntinlupa with other political detainees who learned more about life in the most dreaded prison in the country.
Throughout his long almost seven years in prison, he was on the side of the detainees who opposed torture and other forms of repression.
After he was released in 1981, he slowly but steadily built a career in journalism. He later became the acknowledged dean of reporters in the diplomatic beat. With a few other journalists, he started and sustained a string of weekly “kapihan” or political breakfast forums in hotels.
Coming from the ranks of activists who rebelled against the political and social system in the 1960s and throughout martial law in the 70s, Julius was at times a subject of observations that he led a “compromised life” from the mid-80s on as a journalist in the mainstream media.
This claim may not be entirely untrue, considering his deeply left political background. But the man gave the best years of his youth to the cause, kept intact his integrity in political detention for almost seven years, deprived of freedom and a chance to live with his wife and two children all those years. He gave more than the others who lived their lives in compromise from beginning to end, those who started as activists but switched sides at the slightest sign of discomfort or harm in detention and those who would shamelessly serve the powerful and the wealthy for financial considerations.
As a person, Julius was as down-to-earth as you can imagine. He was caring to friends as he was to former activists many of whom turned to him for assistance. He was known for his contagious laughter and ability to disarm even the most unfriendly stranger. He was an endeared friend to people of various political persuasions.
Whenever I and my family would visit the Philippines from Canada, Julius was among the first who would see us. He was either at the airport when we arrived or with the first group of friends who would see us. Before I left the Manila media in 1984, I used to call him my “partner in crime” with other friends like Tony Baranda, Danny Mariano, the late Nonoy Marcelo, my best friend the late Nick Atienza, Lito de Dios, and others in the Manila media. Julius and I led a delegation of Filipino journalists to a trip to China in 1984. With the National Press Club, we later hosted a group of Chinese journalists in a tour of the Philippines.
Julius didn’t enrich himself at the expense of his political background despite the connections he built in the system. In his last days, he wanted to sell his car to raise money for his second angiogram. He and his family lived in the Pag-asa Bliss housing from the early 80s to 2009.
His wife Sabina, daughter Jilian, son Amilcar, his family and friends have all the reasons to be proud of him.
To me, he remained a friend and comrade from our campus days in the 60s, through the FQS, the 70s martial law underground and political detention, the 80s to 2004 when we last met.
* * *
Susan Fernandez belonged to another generation of activists. I met her when she visited the Bicutan detention centre in 1980 with other students and teachers who were then allowed to regularly meet political detainees by the Marcos regime as part of its face-lifting program of gradually lifting the repressive aspects of martial law. Susan, then a teacher at St. Scholastica College, sang during her first visit. Detainees were enraptured by her sweet voice and singing talent. The timber of her voice reminded us of Joan Baez, the world-renown young protest singer of the 60s who started with Bob Dylan. Susan’s signature song “Kalayaan” and her other Tagalog songs didn’t fail to mesmerize her audience.
Other than her singing prowess, Susan’s charm and friendly ways won her a large following among the detainees. She became a regular visitor whose presence eased the boredom of life in detention, especially those who stayed for many years. She brought hope to those who took to heart the message of her songs. She was referred to as “the darling of Bicutan detainees”. She even brought friends, her students, co-teachers and her two sisters to visit us.
When I was released in 1981, Susan became a close family friend. We would see her in circulation among ex-detainees, activists, cultural artists and media people. My wife and I were at her wedding. I became a godfather of his first son, as a token of our friendship that started in Bicutan.
She pursued her singing profession and became known virtually as the Activist Nightingale singing protest songs, songs of the struggle for change and democracy. Her following extended to the mainstream society and she later hosted the long-running “Concert at the Park.”
I last met Susan at a vegetarian restaurant in Quezon City in 2004. She was as bubbly as ever, then enjoying her single-blessedness. She matter-of-factly briefed us on her turbulent marriage. Her smiling eyes revealed her excitement with her new lease on life. She talked about how she had asked the advice of her sons about her choice of date. There was no sign at all of her forthcoming illness.
When we heard about her cancer, my wife corresponded with her and sent our well wishes. Then we heard she had recovered. Then the news of the remission and then her death on July 2.
Susan, your sons, your family, your friends, your legion of following, will all be proud of you. Your contributions to the movement for change, with your lovely voice, your music and your constant and relentless support are so valued it may take time for another to pick up where you left off. You are one of a kind.
* * *
Julius and Susan, we will miss you dearly. I missed seeing you in your last years. That is one of the few regrets in my life — not spending more time with wonderful friends like you. Your contributions to humanity will forever be appreciated.
Tags: Babae Ka, First Quarter Storm, Julius Fortuna, Kalayaan, Movement for a Democratic Philippines, Susan Fernandez