The Conjugal Dictatorship of Ferdinand and Imelda Marcos The attempt to tamper with a congressional hearing in the U.S. was Marcos’ contemptuous way of saying, “Happy Birthday, America!” It was his assalto *5 to Mother America. (*5. This is a Spanish word adopted into the Filipino language to mean a party given as a surprise to a person on the eve of his birthday.)
In my own case, Marcos has not spared any lie to hit back at me because I told the truth about his authoritarian regime before the U.S. Congress. Only Lucifer *6 knows what other schemes Marcos would come up with next to denigrate my efforts at contributing to the cause of restoration of democracy in the Philippines. (*6. It was a matter of common knowledge in Manila before September 21, 1972, that Congressman Carmelo Z. Barbero used to swear upon a stack of Bibles (Douay version) that Marcos operates by the “book of Satan.”)
However, Marcos cannot stop my irreversible course. I made an appointment with history when I defected from Marcos’ regime, and I kept my date with an important chapter of Philippine history when I testified before the Fraser committee. I will continue to honor my commitment to history, and specifically to the journalistic profession in that, having fortunately or unfortunately walked the corridors of power during a dark hour in the life of my country and having been privy to the sinister manipulations of a scheming man and his more ambitious wife, I would perpetuate my knowledge and observations on this abominable chapter in the history of my country.
Chapter III Twilight of Democracy Dusk was settling on the ancient city of Manila, with the sun that gives the Oriental metropolis its most beautiful sunset slowly sliding away behind the clouds beyond historic Corregidor and Caballo islands. The eastern horizon was aflame with layers of red clouds, a phenomenon which a Batangas farmer would undoubtedly interpret as a portent of heavy rains, perhaps stormy days, ahead. Out in Project 6, Quezon City, where I resided, my immediate neighbors, Lolo and Lola Adama, parents of former advertising salesgirl Fanny Adama who now resides in New York City, beckoned to my youngest son, Luis Manuel, who was driving around on his mini-motorcycle. In mixed Ilocano and Tagalog, the two old folks advised my Boyet to go home because they feared that something terrible was in the offing. Their gauge, or the basis for their superstitious belief, was the prolonged mournful howling of dogs and the cackling of chickens in the neighborhood. The phenomenon observed by the elder Adarnas manifested itself almost throughout the country that afternoon. Primitivo Mijares
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