Everything We Never Had: List 5

Chris didn’t know anything about his “ancestral history,” so he’d procrastinated until he’d forgotten about it.

“It’s a privilege. As for your dad’s side…” She furrows her brow in deep thought.

She picks up her pen and begins scribbling on the lined paper.

There are a few mentions of “discontent” and failed rebellions, which pique Chris’s interest.

Then it talks about the Philippine-American War—which Chris has never learned about in school— and the ensuing years of American colonialism up through World War II.

He rubs his eyes and shuts the heavy book, frustrated and ashamed by how much he doesn’t know about his ancestors, angry at Emil and the American school system for never teaching him.

From the encyclopedias, Chris learns the basics about Ferdinand Marcos, like how he was from a northern province called Ilocos Norte on the island of Luzon and how his father was a prominent politician.

They find a 1940 article about how the man was found guilty of murdering his father’s political rival and sentenced to death—only for the Supreme Court to overturn that decision.

“It’s a tell-all by this man named Primitivo Mijares, who was Ferdinand Marcos’s chief propagandist. He defected, testified in the US against Marcos, and published this book.”

How he immediately shut down the free press, began arresting potential political opponents, restricted travel outside of the country, confiscated weapons from private citizens, instituted a strict curfew, shut down all schools for a week, banned public protests, and made it illegal for anyone to question the legality of his actions in the courts.

How he grants himself lucrative contracts, monopoly deals, and tax exemptions.

How he pockets some of the money Japan pays to the Philippines as reparations for WWII.

Chris goes on, paraphrasing the open page.

“Imelda has thousands of pairs of designer shoes, buys the most expensive perfumes by the gallon, takes a bunch of overseas trips with entourages of up to, like, eighty people, owns multiple paintings by the most famous artists, and even tried to buy Tiffany & Co.”

And from the research of a Filipino American professor at Temple University in Philadelphia, Chris learns how, despite Marcos’s initial claim that martial law would grant him the freedom to enact reforms that would build “the New Society” and make their country great again, inflation and the national debt are skyrocketing while the wages of farmers and unskilled and skilled workers are plummeting.

A white news anchor with brown hair, an oval face, and sympathetic eyes sits at a desk, a sheaf of papers in hand.

Within minutes, he was assassinated.

Then the soldiers escort him off the plane, through the gangway, and to the exit that leads to the runway.

There are exclamations and cries and chaos as people jostle unsuccessfully toward the exit.

The video cuts to a shaky, grainy zoomed-in shot of two bodies lying on the tarmac, unmoving—one dressed in white.

There’s a forlorn-looking group surrounding a weeping woman.

The reporter shares a statement from Ferdinand Marcos about how they had warned Aquino that “certain elements” would try to kill him if he should return, but that what had happened was a “heinous” crime.

Then he describes President Reagan’s close relationship with Marcos and his condemnation of the murder.

An end-of-the-ride feeling, like when the roller coaster clanks back to the platform, the crossbar rises, and the riders shamble away with shaky legs and stuttering souls.

Chris climbs into his dad’s car practically vibrating with belated outrage at the injustice of Aquino’s assassination.