It’s the birth anniversary of my eldest brother Macapanton Rashid Yahya Abbas, Jnr. In our family, he was also called Limahong because of his Chinese features. We younger siblings would not dare call him such, except when he was not around. Our parents loved giving their children nicknames, mostly silly ones.
When I was in grade school, when my father had already passed away, Jun became nearest to being a father figure to me, although we hardly saw each other. When I was in grade one, he was already finishing his law studies and later took the Bar.
GIFT-BEARING BROTHER
On the few occasions that he came to visit, he usually came with presents. I just loved his gifts for my birthdays or New Year. I especially loved the James Bond kit which consisted of an attaché case that could fire rubber bullets from the side. It had an invisible ink, which turned visible if put under water. It also included a toy camera that could fire rubber bullets, and other gadgets. I also liked the junior golf set, built exactly like a normal golf set but smaller. In Grade 6, he gave me a plaid sports blazer which I thought made me look très chic or very cool.
Even as a young adult, he still gave me gifts like the predecessor of computers, a hand-held computer that could solve mathematical problems, had small cassette tapes as its hard drive to store computer programs, etc. It could also give printouts. And I liked the leather jacket that he sent to me from Jeddah. I got to wear them when I went back to Jeddah and to Malaysia.
ELECTIONS AND THE LUCKY HOUSE
In 1969, my brother-in-law Mike Tamano ran for the Senate. Jun was his campaign manager. My mother joined forces with Doña Josefa Edralin Marcos or Nana Sepa, as we called her. They formed Operation Pepay, an all-female movement that campaigned for Marcos for President and Tamano for Senator. I went with my mother in some of her campaign forays in Davao and Lanao.
The Tamanos transferred from a big Spanish-style house in Maryland street to a small house in Jasmin street just before the elections. After the elections, the Tamanos transferred to a big modern house at Bohol Avenue. Jun took over the small house vacated by the Tamanos.
My mother brought me with her to Davao and then to Marawi during the election campaign. I joined my mother and Nana Sepa on a private flight Davao to Manila. It was the first and only time that I saw people (Nana Sepa and her friends) play mahjong – with a mahjong table and all – inside an airplane. It was also the first and only time that I saw a person (my mother) sleeping on a folding bed inside a plane.
After the elections, my mother brought me back to Quezon City. We stayed with the Tamanos at their new house in Bohol Avenue. I still remember the grand Victory Ball of Senator Tamano at their big house, complete with a live combo. Jun and my other brother, Sing, even sang with the combo players. I attended numerous parties at that house, but that Victory Ball was the grandest and happiest, with great food cooked by the caterers right then and there. Everybody seemed so happy.
Yet more than a month or so earlier, during the early days of counting, we thought Tamano had already lost. I remember walking along the streets of Marawi, going to the city center, my siblings and I could see and hear people whispering “Talo and manok nila!” Because of Ilarde’s protest, Tamano’s proclamation was delayed. He was proclaimed only in January.
Shortly afterwards, my mother decided to transfer to Jun’s small house. It had 3 bedrooms, a den, living room, sala, bathroom, and driver’s quarters with toilet next to the garage at the back. My mother later converted the den into her bedroom. It had a front patio but no backyard. The back of the house was the garage and driver’s quarters. But there’s a yard at the side, which had two huge star apple trees. It was a corner house.
The house was practically empty — no furniture except for the terrace set that my sister left there and a divan. It had one bed for my brother. He rarely stayed there. It was home to his two bodyguards Mabini and Eddie.
My mother, with my sister Zawiya, immediately went shopping, And in a matter of hours, the house became a home. My mother bought a sala set, carpet, dining set, TV set, refrigerator, stove, kitchen utensils, double and queen size beds, headboards, linens, pillows and pillow cases, etc. That was how we came to live at Jasmin street.
But Jun never really lived there until almost two years later when his wife moved in with us. He just appeared periodically, sometimes staying for a few days or for a week or so. I never really knew where he lived most of the time. He was already a lawyer, so he couldn’t be living at the U.P. dorm where he lived as a student.
That relatively small house was a very lucky house. While living there, Mike Tamano, or Manong Mike as we called him, became a senator against all odds, to the chagrin of Eddie Ilarde who filed an electoral protest. And while living there, Jun or Manong Jun, after being detained at Camp Aguinaldo, was taken in by Executive Secretary Alejandro Melchor to co-head the Presidential Task Force for the Reconstruction and Development of Mindanao (PTF-RDM), which covered the whole of Mindanao, Sulu and Palawan. He was the highest-ranking Moro in the government at that time. And my mother, who was living there with the Tamanos earlier, got tons of money when election funds came pouring in during the 1969 elections.
Yet, funny thing is, the moment Mike won as senator, he left the lucky small house. And the moment Jun got his huge break, he did the same. After just a bit more than two years of being a senator, Mike went back to being an ordinary citizen as Marcos declared Martial Law and abolished the Senate. And just after more than two years of PTF-RDM, Marcos fired Melchor and Jun had to escape to Saudi Arabia without the proper travel documents. My mother, too did not seem to like that house in Jasmin Street. With all the money she got in the elections, she could have bought that house. Instead, she spent all the money elsewhere and stayed most of the time in Davao City and campaigning all over the country with Nana Sepa.
I guess I was the only one who liked that house. In fact, among all of us, I was the one who stayed in that house the longest — from the few months I lived there with the Tamanos up to the day when our mother decided to live there and furnish Jun’s empty bachelor’s pad up to the day when Jun made us all transfer to an apartment.
We went from a 4-bedroom house with a front patio, big garage with driver’s quarters, spacious side yard with two huge star apple trees to a claustrophobic 4-bedroom apartment. It was a strange way of celebrating one’s status from being basically unemployed and hiding from the government to having a top government job with huge resources. He even had two Master Sergeants alternating as his drivers.
Our mother was not even in Manila when we transferred house. She was in Davao City, as usual. That apartment turned out to be a very unlucky house for almost everyone. Ironically, Jun and his family were the first to leave the house. They went to Marawi.
I was next. Through Jun’s and Mike’s brother’s help, I was able to get a full scholarship to the top engineering university in the Middle East. Mike’s brother, Dr. Mauyag Tamano was the President of Mindanao State University (MSU). He was a classmate at Stanford University of Dr. Bakr A. Bakr, who was the Rector of the University of Petroleum & Minerals (UPM). I got a scholarship to UPM to study Petroleum Engineering. Later, Mauyag and Jun would go on self-exile to Saudi Arabia and become Visiting Professors at King Abdulaziz University in Jeddah.
LEADER, REVOLUTIONARY and CAPTAIN OF THE SHIP
The first time I realized that Jun was a leader when, as Grand Archon of Sigma Rho fraternity, he did the frat’s hazing ceremony at the home of our eldest sister. Although drapes covered the glass walls and door, my niece and I, who were both in Grade 1, peeped through the glass header and watched the hazing ceremony in utter amazement.
Later, I saw him in the news on TV. One time, he came to the house to be interviewed. While he was being interviewed, the phone rang. And it wouldn’t stop ringing. The phone was out of order. Even if one answers it, it would still keep ringing until the caller puts it down. The maids covered the phone in rags to muffle the sound. When we saw it on TV later, we could hear the phone endlessly ringing.
When we were living in Jasmin street, he would always come to the house with our mother’s cousin, Cong. Rashid Lucman. They would always be talking about the Moro struggle, fighting in Mindanao, discussions on Sabah with Sabahan leaders, etc. They were plotting the birth of the modern-day Bangsa Moro revolution.
He was the publisher of a newsletter Dawa’t ul Islam. It was all about the Moro struggle. Our brother Firdausi or Sing, was its editor. And he sometimes did the lay-outing at our home. I saw pictures of the atrocities done by the military on Moros.
One day, Jun and Sing were having a serious conversation that went something like this:
Sing: You cannot afford any wrong move.
Jun: Why not? You’ve been doing all the wrong moves.
Sing: But I am just an ordinary mate, you are the Captain of the ship, the ABBAS ship.
That was a big eye opener for me. So, Jun was not just an ordinary guy. He was the Captain of the ABBAS ship. OUR ship! From then on, I tried my best to follow his orders. Aye, aye, Captain!
DETENTIONS and SELF-EXILED REVOLUTIONARY
When Pres. Marcos suspended the writ of habeas corpus, Jun was one those detained. But the family didn’t even know about it. He was soon released. When Martial Law was declared, he went into hiding and in December 1972, he was arrested. I wrote about that incident in another essay. (See here)
I left for Saudi Arabia in 1976 to study. He left for Saudi Arabia a year later. For fear of being arrested again, he used an old official (red) passport, and with the help of relatives working at the airport, he was able to go past the Immigration and flew to Jeddah. There, he was welcomed by Cong. Lucman and Saudi officials.
In Saudi, the Bangsa Moro Liberation Organization (BMLO) was established with ex Cong. Lucman as Chair of Military Committee, ex Sen. Salipada Pendatun as Chair of the Political Committee and Jun as the Sec-Gen and International Spokesman.
In 1977, during Hajj, I went to Jeddah to see Jun. I was surprised to see our eldest sister Zorayda there with her husband Mike. And Mike’s brother Mauyag and his family were also there. It was an extended family reunion!
But there was an even bigger reunion. Former Indonesian Prime Minister Muhammad Natsir and Pakistani Muslim leader Inamullah Khan called for a Unity Meeting of all Moro forces in Mecca, Saudi Arabia. So I got to attend the meeting.
The MNLF leaders were there except for Misuari. Salamat was there with his commanders. The Misuari-Salamat divide was already well-known and the meeting was there to patch them up and unite with other Moro forces. BMLO was represented by Jun, ex Cong. Lucman and ex Sen. Pendatun. Former Senator Domocao Alonto was there representing his group, the Ansar-el-Islam. Ex Gov. Tarhata Alonto-Lucman, the wife of Cong. Lucman and sister of ex Sen. Alonto, represented the Moro women in politics while my sister Hadja Potri Zorayda Abbas-Tamano of the Philippine Muslim Women’s Association represented Moro women in Civil Society. But the Tamano brothers (ex Sen. Tamano and ex MSU Pres. Tamano) did not attend.
Nothing came of the meeting. There was no unity. The BMLO trio went to Europe to get support for the Moro Cause and speak up against the Marcos dictatorship.
In the summer of that year (1977), I went back to the Philippines. From Metro Manila, I went to Davao City to see my mother, my sister Zawiya and her family. My uncle Abdul Kader Yahya invited me to vacation at their hometown in Malita, Davao del Sur. When I returned to Manila, I was informed that there was news about Jun in a foreign magazine. Manila was still under Martial Law, so international magazines were hard to find. But I was able to find the magazine. I think it was Hong Kong-based. It had a feature on the BMLO trio and their international campaign for the Moro Cause.
I had a great time vacationing with my uncle’s family in my mother’s hometown of Malita. I stayed there for a couple of weeks. I returned to Davao City. After a few days, we received news that my mother’s only full brother died of cardiac arrest while sleeping. My grandmother was devastated as he was her favorite child. The whole town of Malita mourned as he was at that time Acting Mayor since the Mayor, Uncle Ben Bautista, the husband of his first cousin, left for Manila.
My uncle’s last words to me was: “Tell Jun, everything is fine here.”
JEDDAH and DHAHRAN and ELSEWHERE
When Jun was in Jeddah. I used to visit him during school breaks. We talked until the wee hours of the morning during my visits. A year or so later, his wife and 2 small daughters followed him in Jeddah. I was studying in Dhahran while he was a Full Professor at the Institute of Muslim Minorities Affairs at the King Abdulaziz University. Dhahran is about 1320 km from Jeddah. It’s a \3-hour flight, more or less.
After my graduation in 1980, I went to Jeddah and was glad to see my mother, my youngest sister and my third brother there with Jun. They were all living with Jun and his family, which had grown bigger. He now had 3 sons in addition to the 2 daughters. I remember treating them to a dinner at a (Hilton?) hotel restaurant on my birthday.
Months later, Jun went to Paris and I followed a week or so later. At first we stayed at Nikko Hotel and later transferred to Flatotel. a 31-story apartel. We stayed at the 30th-31st floor. It was a two-story flat. We got the groceries together, he cooked while I washed the dishes. We bonded together in Paris for a week or so before his wife and kids joined us.
On our second day at Flatotel, while waiting for the elevator, Jun asked me why I was not wearing a suit. I told him that my suede jacket, which I bought in Rome, was quite expensive. He said, “Still, it’s not a suit.” He loved wearing suits, even tuxedos in formal parties back in the Philippines.
It was taking long for the elevator to come up. Jun got impatient. “Lets take the stairs,” he said. I was shocked. “We’ll go climb down 30 floors?!,” I asked unbelieving. He said, “Yes; let’s go!”
So we climbed down from the 30th floor. I was just 21 years old. And I was used to running up and down a hill from our dorm to the school campus. So, it was a breeze. He was in his mid 30s. He didn’t have any exercise at all in Saudi Arabia. The following morning, he could hardly walk.
The following day, when he had fully recovered, we went out again. This time, we took the elevator. He led me to a clothing shop and told the sales ladies that I was looking for a suit. I was not. I brought with me two suits. But if he wanted to buy one for me, why not? So, I ended up with a brand new double-breasted suit.
Jun and his family went back to Jeddah. I stayed around as I was still studying French at L’Alliance Française. Later, I decided to go to the US. After getting my plane ticket to New York, I called him up. I told him my plans. He was furious. He said I should go back to Jeddah. His business prospects are great. He needed me there.
I told him that I don’t have a Re-Entry visa to Saudi Arabia. (I gave back my Re-Entry Visa and demanded an Exit only visa. The visa guy was incredulous, He asked me if I were sure. Of course, I was. I didn’t want to go back to Saudi Arabia.)
Jun insisted that I should go to the Saudi Embassy with our Moroccan-French friend. He could explain to them in Arabic that I needed to go back to Saudi Arabia. Since he was my “Captain”, I thought I should obey him. So, I went to the Saudi embassy. It turned out that the embassy was manned by Filipinas — from Davao. They were very accommodating and gave me my visa right there and then. I then went to SAUDIA airlines and re-routed my ticket to Jeddah.
JUN and NINOY
Jun met with Ninoy in the US. I am not sure how many times. But he brought with him a blank Philippine passport and a bullet proof vest for Ninoy. The blank passport was brought over from the Philippines by our youngest sister. The Philippine embassy in the US refused to give Ninoy a valid passport. That was the passport, with a fictitious name, used by Ninoy to return home.
Cong. Lucman and Jun arranged for Ninoy’s meeting with the Saudi King Khaled. The Philippine embassy protested such meeting. They sent the Foreign Ministry several notes protesting the meeting, claiming that Ninoy was a criminal under Philippine laws.
Ninoy came to Saudi Arabia and met with the Saudi King. The picture of Ninoy meeting the King, together with ex Senator Maceda, ex Cong. Lucman and Jun was bannered in Phil-Am newspapers in the U.S. for many days. The star of Ninoy rose. The Filipinos started to rally behind him instead of the two other Filipino political leaders in self-exile in the US — Raul Manglapus of the Movement for Free Philippines and Sergio Osmena, Jr. of the Liberal Party.
So I got to meet the great Ninoy, too. I was just in Grade 1 when I first heard of him. There was so much hullabaloo on the media about him not old enough to run for the Senate.
When Cong. Lucman introduced Ninoy to my mother as his cousin, I was quite surprised at what Ninoy said. He said to my mother, “You’re the widow of Judge Abbas(?)” I expected him to say, “Oh, so you’re the mother of Jun.” Even Bapa Rashid, as I used to call Cong. Lucman, was quite surprised. After my mother answered “yes”, Bapa Rashid immediately added, “He was the first Muslim Filipino CFI Judge.” I wondered if Ninoy knew of my father.
(Only very recently, I found out that Ninoy was an original “Magsaysay boy”. He was Magsaysay’s official emissary to Luis Taruc of the Hukbalahap when he was just 21 years old. He was Magsaysay’s personal assistant. Magsaysay was his ninong sa kasal (sponsor) and he guided his political career. While my father, as Provincial Fiscal of Sulu, accompanied Pres. Quirino and Sec. (later Pres.) Magsaysay during negotiations with Kamlon, the infamous rebel. My father resigned as Provincial Fiscal to campaign for Magsaysay. In return, he promised to appoint him as judge if he won. Magsaysay won and he immediately appointed my father as District Judge of Zamboanga and Basilan. Two years later, Magsaysay appointed him as CFI (now RTC) Judge of Sulu. My father was the very first Muslim lawyer, fiscal and judge in the country. The odds are high that Ninoy knew my father.)
(When my mother first met President Marcos after 35 or more years they last met, she re-introduced herself as Sitti Rahma Peralta Yahya-Abbas. She said Marcos looked at her for some time and said, “My, you are like a ghost from the past!”… So you married Judge Abbas?” I wondered at that time if Marcos knew of my father. I never asked my mother. But my father was near the age of Marcos. And I found out later that my father was a founding member of Young Philippines Party, to which Mr. Marcos later joined. But I digress.)
In 1983, when I learned that Ninoy was going back to Manila, I decided to finally go back home. I did not want to miss that momentous occasion of Ninoy’s arrival. On August 21, 1983, Ninoy went back home to the Philippines and was promptly assassinated. I did not think it was going to be THAT momentous.
In 1985, I went back to Jeddah and later I met Jun in Kuala Lumpur. I think we were together in KL at least twice. In 1993, we went to Singapore for business regarding mainframe computers.
Jun with eyeglasses, rightmost. I am in suit with silver bow tie.
In 1987, he came back to the Philippines with the MNLF Reformist Group to a rousing welcome by the Moros and the media. He was on the front pages of newspapers and tabloids as well as headliners for TV news. They were invited by then Defense Sec. Ponce-Enrile. After the EDSA euphoria, there seemed to be real hunger for Peace by the people. Unfortunately, Pres. Cory Aquino and her advisers were not interested.
He started the Peace Talks process with the Armed Forces of the Philippines. He left the country again, disappointed with Pres. Cory Aquino.
But he returned a few months later and stayed for good. He established SSB Holdings, Inc. in the Philippines. For about two years, I was its Vice President. It was practically a 2-man show.
SENATE RUN
When he ran for the Senate in 1992, I was his Chief of Staff. I tried my best to convince him to run under LDP of Mitra. During the LDP Convention, the agreed rule was that all the regions would nominate 1 candidate. They would be automatically chosen as official senatorial candidates. The other 12 would be recommended on the floor and chosen later by the party leaders. Region 12 nominated him at the Convention. He was the only Muslim candidate to be nominated by the Regions.
My sister Zorayda was so mad at the Moro delegates, as none of them nominated her husband. Mitra told one of his protégé congressmen to nominate Mike, an incumbent senator, on the floor.
But the rules were not followed, as usual in Philippine politics. There was a scramble for Senate seats with the LDP as it was the richest, and had the biggest machinery among all parties. But Jun refused to lobby for himself with Mitra or his Sigma Rho brods Zamora and Villafuerte at LDP. Months before, he met Luis Villafuerte at a social event; and the governor told him that it was time for him (Jun) to run for the Senate. That actually gave him the idea to run for the Senate. I pleaded with him to even just call them by phone to show his interest. But he refused. According to some people, he was actually included in the line-up formed earlier. The final LDP Senate line-up included one or two or more who were not even nominated in the LDP convention.
Our brother-in-law Mike Tamano was the one included in the final LDP line-up. He knew how to play the game of Philippine politics much better than Jun.
Jun ended up running under a senior brod, Jovito Salonga and the financially poor Liberal Party. It would have made a world of difference had he run under LDP. He had the most coverage on TV and radio candidates’ debates as well as print coverage. He was on TV, radio, magazines and newspapers practically everyday. He made mincemeat out of the other candidates which made the more prominent candidates refuse to attend the COMELEC HOUR on TV and Radio. He ended up representing the LP the whole time while those representing the other parties were newbies in politics or debates.
Once, I went to have my hair cut in a hair salon. One of the hairdressers told her client and everyone around that she had a favorite among the senatorial candidates. “Abbas,” she exclaimed. “He is so good at explaining things. He is the only one who made sense!,” she added.
Cardinal Sin publicly endorsed him and was included in the “official” list of candidates endorsed by the Catholic Church through one of its lay organizations. And everywhere he went, crowds met him. In fact, Salonga told him, “Jun, para kang Iglesia ni Cristo. Kahit saan tayo pupunta, ang daming nagsasalubong sa iyo.” But there was just no resources for campaign materials, PR, and funding for campaign leaders and campaign headquarters in different regions. The party contributed NADA.
Sixteen out of 24 winning senators came from LDP. Only one senator won from LP — re-electionist Wigberto Tanada, son of Senator Lorenzo Tanada, the Grand Old man of Philippine politics, who was a senator from just after the independence of the Philippines from the USA until the abolition of Senate by President Marcos. He died just before the election of his son to the Senate. The other LP re-electionist senator, whose mother was also a former senator, did not even make it.
ENERGY DEAL
In late 1990s when I was working at the Philippine National Oil Company and seconded to the Department Of Energy, I visited Jun’s office at Tektite Towers. I saw a FAX letter from his American business friend. It was quite nasty. It was telling him that he and his partners wanted some concrete projects to focus on and not some pie-in-the-sky deals. It triggered my ABBAS pride, thinking how dare he send such a nasty letter. A week later, I gathered some literature on Philippine energy situation. It was not confidential information. It was publicly available if one knew where to find it. It gave a good heads-up on the energy situation in the Philippines.
I gave the documents to Jun. After a few days, he asked to see me. He told me that his American partners were elated and thanked me profusely.
A few months later, his secretary called me and told me that Jun wanted me to do a feasibility study on a natural gas project. I told his secretary that I could do it, but the time for me doing such studies gratis was over. I’ve done quite a number of studies for him for free. Enough was enough. I said I’d do it for US$ 1,000 payable in US dollars. To my surprise, he agreed.
I did the study and I got paid in dollars immediately. And a week later, his secretary called me to say that Jun wanted to see me. When I went there, the secretary gave me an extra $200 as bonus for the study I made. I thought, his American partners must really have been impressed. I should have given the going rate for feasibility studies in the US; with discount, of course.
BACK TO GOVERNMENT SERVICE
Sometime in 2002, Jun told me that President Arroyo was offering him to be Government Corporate Counsel. I told him that was too low for him. He deserved a much higher position.
In 2003, I visited him at his office and he excitedly told me that he was going to be appointed Undersecretary of the Department of Education and simultaneously Head of the ARMM Social Fund for Peace and Development Project. I asked if he really liked that. He would be subordinate to the Secretary. He said he could handle it. Besides, he would be the head of the ARMM Social Fund Project. Silently, I wished the Department Secretary good luck. I was sure Jun would overwhelm him.
I was not able to attend his swearing-in ceremony but he asked me to come to his Tektite office a week or so later. He asked me to help him write his very first Memo to the Dep Ed Secretary. He wanted to give the Secretary a bird’s eye view of his ideas on what to do in the department, especially when it came to Muslim affairs. We crafted the memo while eating at Tektite’s Via Mare restaurant.
After writing the memo, he was very happy. He showed me his office’s plantilla and asked me if I want to work for him again. The highest position for me would be his Chief of Staff or Executive Assistant 5. I was already EA 6 or Chief of Staff of the PNOC Chair before. I politely declined and told him that I was already too old for the job.
He appeared to really enjoy his job with the government. He was all over the place. I even saw him on TV with President Arroyo who was welcoming some foreign Muslim dignitaries. I guess he was there as the head of the ARMM Social Fund, not as Dep Ed undersecretary.
On one fateful night in 2003, he went straight from the airport to the Makati Medical Center for his executive check-up. He just came from Maguindanao for some Dep Ed business. He was with his wife and a couple of their children. Our sister Zawiya, who just came from Bataan, decided to go to Makati Med to accompany our brother there.
According to his wife, the nurse claimed he was dehydrated; so he was given dextrose. He was given 3 bottles or containers of dextrose in one hour. His lungs could not take that amount of dextrose in such a short time.
According to my sister, she went to the nurses’ station and kept on calling for a doctor. But lo and behold, no doctor was available at that time at the Makati Medical Center. And my sister was not the timid type.
Just two years before, our mother passed away. I had no inkling then that I would go back to Marawi so soon to bury another close kin.
Here Captain! dear brother!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.
===================================================
SEE:
Jun Abbas and the Bangsa Moro
Sept 23, 1972: Martial Law, my brother and Me
Is a Bangsa Moro State Within A Federation the Solution?
SEE ALSO RELATED POSTS:
About our Father: The Life and Times of Judge Macapanton Abbas
About Our Mother: Hadja Sitti Rahma Yahya Abbas: Todo Sobre Mi Madre
Postprandial Musings, 2.0 