Monday, March 05, 2007

in memoriam: 04 Mar Davao bombing

Last Sunday was the 4th anniversary of the Mar 4 Davao bombing at the old Davao International Airport. A month after, April 2, another bomb went off at the Sasa wharf. The airport bombing claimed many lives including that of our classmate and divisionmate Kenneth Rasay. KC, as he was fondly called, was at the airport waiting shed waiting for his cousin who will be coming home when the bomb went off exactly in the shed. It was the next morning that I learned about the tragic accident. One of our teachers, Mam Daf Padilla and his close friends went to identify KC's body at 4am in one of the hospitals here. They easily identified him with his yellow green rubber shoes he always wear during our cheering practices. When our teacher was retelling the tragedy in class, I can't help but remember seeing KC glum and unenthusiastic when we had our division victory part in one of the resorts here just a couple of days before the tragedy. I noticed that he was silent and didnt join much of the group's senseless merry-making.

A year after, I suggested to our journalism professor, Atty. Cha Zarate, if an update on the bombings can be a topic for the investigative story we're supposed to submit for the finals. She gladly agreed and promised to have it published in the local papers in time for the 1st anniversary. Here was the story:

Davao bombings a year after: Scars, hopes, broken vows

2 comments:

Fabulously EB said...

hi. im crush on you...

jayclops said...

i'm crushed for you too. hahahaha

Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family, Choose a f—king big television. Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players, and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance. Choose fixed-interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose a three piece suit on hire purchased in a range of f—king fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the f—k you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing f—king junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, f—ked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself. Choose a future. Choose life . . . But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin’ else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you’ve got heroin?

Renton, Trainspotting