The so-called “Chinese curse,” “May you live in interesting times,” has been quoted often enough to have become cliché, but back when I was editor-in-chief of The La Sallian (as it was then spelled) in 1989, we really were living in interesting times. Just a few years prior, the country had experienced the bloodless People Power revolution and the ensuing euphoria; by 1989, some parties had apparently soured on the administration of President Cory Aquino. This culminated in a number of coup attempts, the most serious one being the 1989 coup led by then-Lt. Col. (later Senator) Gringo Honasan, which would likely have succeeded but for the overflight of a couple of US Air Force F-4 Phantom fighter jets over rebel bases in Metro Manila, denying the rebels crucial air support.
For us in The La Sallian, the event was not just another thing that happened in the world outside the walls of DLSU. A few of us actually went out of our way to cover it, which I suppose could have been considered “above and beyond the call of duty” for student journalists. But apart from considering ourselves “serious journalists,” the Uzi (that is, uzi-sero, or an overly inquisitive person) spirit was also strong in many Filipinos at the time (or probably at any time). I was one of those.
My irrepressible co-staffer and friend, the late Rufus Dacio, and I had decided we would go check out what was happening and maybe take some photos for the next issue. Radio reports indicated that rebel soldiers had been seen on Ayala Avenue in Makati, so we headed out to see for ourselves. We were across the street from the façade of Rustan’s department store when we heard on the radio that “rebel forces have taken positions among the condominiums on Ayala Avenue.” Which meant that, as we saw when we turned around, that they were right behind us!
Not wanting to be right beside them in case any shooting started, we crossed the street to Rustan’s. It wasn’t long before gunfire erupted from an indeterminate but nearby position and we hid under a metal staircase at the front of Rustan’s.
I figured we had had enough coup action for the day, and I had taken enough photos (with my cheap point-and-click camera) of the scene, so I told Rufus we better get out of there. Imagine my incredulity when he said that he had to find a toilet first! (To this day, I’m not sure if it was because of fear of getting shot or he simply hadn’t gone to the toilet in a while.)
We started walking into the Glorietta area, which at the time was not the fully enclosed building it is now, but a network of commercial buildings with outdoor passages, like a more dense Bonifacio High Street. Naturally, all the stores were closed, but that didn’t dissuade Rufus from hunting for the elusive toilet. So we kept walking into the interior of Glorietta…right into a machine gun emplacement of rebel soldiers.
“Anong ginagawa niyo rito???” demanded the startled soldiers. Sweating profusely, I explained that we were student journalists covering the coup, but at the moment looking for a toilet. I realize now that it must have sounded like an absurd excuse, which is why I suppose that we were very lucky that they allowed us to walk back out (after confiscating the film inside my camera and letting us know just what they thought of journalists). I kept cursing Rufus as we made our retreat out of Glorietta and back home. Not only had we come close to being taken hostage by rebel soldiers, I had lost my precious coup photos…and he hadn’t even found the toilet he was looking for.
I do not know if I want to wish that the current crop of The LaSallian (as it is now spelled) staff live “in interesting times” as we did, but I hope that, whether or not circumstances ever thrust this weighty responsibility upon them, they will continue to live up to the tradition, set by six decades of TLS student journalists, of fearless pursuit of truth and the public interest. Happy anniversary, The LaSallian!
EDITOR’S NOTE:
This is an unedited submission from a former section editor of The LaSallian, reflecting on a pivotal story from their tenure. The article examines the impact of that narrative on campus culture and student life, highlighting the publication’s role in shaping community discourse.
Michael Anthony Mapa was Features (now Menagerie) editor in 1988-89 and Editor-in-Chief in 1989-90. He graduated in Liberal Arts-Commerce (Psychology and Business Management) in 1992. He now runs his family’s agricultural corporation with his siblings.
