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My father is my enemy
By Julie S. Alipala
http://partners.inq7.net/newsbreak/i...story_id=60433
He was once a rebel sympathizer, a favorite son of a foreign-trained rebel leader based in Panamao, Sulu. Now he is a trusted soldier of the state, running after Nur Misuari’s renegade followers, among them his own father.
Army Private First Class Yasser Abdulla, 29, is one of around 1,000 former rebels in this province—birthplace of the Muslim rebellion—who are now assigned to Army battalions. Their integration was part of the package granted the erstwhile underground Moro National Liberation Front (MNLF) when it signed a peace agreement with government in 1996.
When we came here in June 2005, it wasn’t difficult to find Abdulla. His story stands out for its irony: while he had joined the Army, his father, 60-year-old Jannier Yasser, remained on the other side of the battlefield. Yasser belongs to a renegade group that has been demanding the release of Misuari, the former MNLF leader who had brought his organization to the negotiating table only to rebel against the state again later. In February, they were among those who attacked military camps here that led to a prolonged gun battle with the Army and Marines.
“Of course I’m torn between respecting my father’s principles and our loyalty to the AFP (Armed Forces of the Philippines), but their group committed unlawful acts that even caused the death of our commander (Lt. Col. Dennis Villanueva),” Abdulla told NEWSBREAK in Filipino.
Abdulla finished Grade 3 before he joined the MNLF. He belongs to the first batch of MNLF integrees who joined the military in 1997. Life is better for him now, he says. With a monthly pay of P13,000, he can send his kids to school—a far cry from the years when he had to scrounge for food. Yet, he was constantly bothered by the fact that he and his father were on opposing sides. He thought of quitting the Army, but his father himself told him he was better off as a soldier.
Integration had been a sensitive issue in the government-MNLF peace talks. Both sides feared that it would create more problems than solve them, given their history of bloodbath. For 30 years, the MNLF waged a separatist rebellion that saw the bloodiest battles in the Philippines’ post-colonial history. It ended in a peace agreement in 1996, which, among others, created the Southern Philippines Council for Peace and Development and caused the integration of 5,000 MNLF rebels into the AFP and about the same number into the Philippine National Police. The agreement was preceded by the election of Misuari as governor of the Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao.
The actual strength of MNLF integrees in the enlisted service of the Army is 4,348, according to Army records. To this day, the Army encounters the usual problems that come with integration. There are cases involving combatants who join the Army, enjoy its benefits, borrow money from it, then abandon it. But these are more the exceptions than the rule, according to Army officers.
In 1997, the Army set up a training directorate to facilitate the transition for both sides. Two officers involved in the program are now based in this province, Lt. Col. Pablo Lorenzo, commander of the 35th Infantry Battalion (IB) and Lt. Col. Emmanuel Sison of the 53rd IB. Both officers say that integration has come a long way since it was first introduced.
The 53rd IB, which is based in Maimbung, has two former rebels holding crucial positions: lieutenants Julistidi Arasid and Walid Kee. At age 44, Arasid is a company commander, while Kee—previously head of battalion intelligence—is now chief for civil-military operations. They get a base pay of P20,000 a month, enough to send their kids to decent schools.
Arasid joined the MNLF in 1979 after finishing high school. In 1997, he enlisted as an integree in the Philippine Army and got a scholarship that allowed him to finish a political science course at the Western Mindanao State University in Zamboanga City. “Without the peace agreement, I would not have been able to finish college,” Arasid said.
Kee was a representative of the MNLF in Saudi Arabia from 1982 to 1984. He organized Filipinos there and recruited them to the MNLF. He eventually returned here and was commissioned in the Army in 1999.
“My experience as intelligence officer taught me some lessons on how to play an active role in conflict management and resolution, but at the same time, it is very challenging because we have to be very cautious and sensitive, or else you might be the cause of senseless war,” Kee said in a reflective tone.
He’s focused on building relationships with the community to help the military gain the trust and respect of the locals. He’s proud of the fact that in his area of operation in Talipao, “not a single Misuari follower here” joined the February attack.
When almost all the troops of the 35th IB reinforced the other units in February at Panamao, leaving a skeletal force in Talipao, Kee said their headquarters in Bayog Hill remained untouched and protected. “In fact it was the community who provided us with a buffer, and when [rebel forces] withdrew, they never passed through Talipao,” Kee added.
Integrees make no bones about their biggest motivation for joining the Army, which is to have a better life.
Private First Class Maing Arajam is 70 years old and a former rebel. He said he would rather sweep garbage and clean the Army camp here than go back to the jungles and fight. When he was with the MNLF, he was getting a P500 monthly allowance, which made him heavily indebted. Why would he go back to that life when in the Army he’s now getting P13,000 a month? “Now I don’t have any debts. I can send my children to school.”
Arajam is suffering from rheumatism, but he bragged that he could still fight it out with the last man—if and when the camp is attacked. He is a sentry of the 104th Army Brigade in Bus-bus, Jolo town.
A former spiritual adviser of the MNLF, Sahiri Maulana is now a private with the 35th IB. He admits that some soldiers still have biases against Muslims like him. “If they get drunk, their biases against us would show. We just ignore them.” But he points out that once they’re in the battlefield, all is forgotten.
Another integree admitted that he almost abandoned his post when their former commander maltreated them. In fact, there was even talk that it was the MNLF integrees who tipped off the rebels about Lt. Col. Villanueva, who was killed at the height of the February attacks—a rumor that even Army officers found baseless and unfair.
Sison, who took over as commander of the 53th battalion after Villanueva’s death, says he has no reason to doubt the loyalty of the integrees under him, including Abdulla, whose father was fighting for the other side.
“Their loyalty is priceless, their commitment is immeasurable, and I have never doubted their loyalty to the government,” Sison told NEWSBREAK. Formerly training director of the first batch of integrees, he experienced first-hand how loyal they could be when his mother was hospitalized in Manila in 1997.
It was sheer coincidence that at the time, he was with the integrees in Manila because they were invited for a parade in Camp Aguinaldo. “We needed 10 donors for blood, so I left the trainees in the camp and attended to my mother in the hospital,” Sison recalled.
At the hospital, his trainees showed up, all willing to donate blood. “Among Muslims, they would consider it haram [against the Koran] when you take something precious and sacred from your body,” Sison said. But this obviously didn’t matter to the trainees. “I was really overwhelmed when all, meaning a battalion-size of that batch, volunteered to donate blood. My mother survived for several months because of the donation from our Muslim brothers.”
When he conducts patrols outside the camp, Sison prefers to be with the integrees. “I feel safe and protected,” he said. He has asked his men to be sensitive to the Muslim culture; as such, they don’t eat pork at the mess. Breaks are also provided to allow Muslim soldiers to do their prayers.
On the other hand, the 35th IB has close to 200 integrees under the command of Lt. Col. Pablo Lorenzo, or 40 percent of his battalion. He relies on Kee for information on security matters. A first-timer in Sulu, Lorenzo was a member of the Army’s training directorate for integration and this experience helped him adjust well with his Muslim troops. “I see that they have assimilated into the system, so I don’t doubt their loyalty.”
He acknowledged that non-Christian soldiers are “very passionate with their culture and religion, so we try to identify common ground and for me, I make a conscious effort to have an intimate knowledge of the situation and the people, appreciation of their good deeds and impose firm disciplinary actions if they really committed serious mistakes.”
“Now all I can say is, I can eat, mingle, and sleep with my former enemies,” Lorenzo said. However, he admitted that “though we’ve gone a long way, more work, more challenges face us here at the AFP.”
By Julie S. Alipala
http://partners.inq7.net/newsbreak/i...story_id=60433
He was once a rebel sympathizer, a favorite son of a foreign-trained rebel leader based in Panamao, Sulu. Now he is a trusted soldier of the state, running after Nur Misuari’s renegade followers, among them his own father.
Army Private First Class Yasser Abdulla, 29, is one of around 1,000 former rebels in this province—birthplace of the Muslim rebellion—who are now assigned to Army battalions. Their integration was part of the package granted the erstwhile underground Moro National Liberation Front (MNLF) when it signed a peace agreement with government in 1996.
When we came here in June 2005, it wasn’t difficult to find Abdulla. His story stands out for its irony: while he had joined the Army, his father, 60-year-old Jannier Yasser, remained on the other side of the battlefield. Yasser belongs to a renegade group that has been demanding the release of Misuari, the former MNLF leader who had brought his organization to the negotiating table only to rebel against the state again later. In February, they were among those who attacked military camps here that led to a prolonged gun battle with the Army and Marines.
“Of course I’m torn between respecting my father’s principles and our loyalty to the AFP (Armed Forces of the Philippines), but their group committed unlawful acts that even caused the death of our commander (Lt. Col. Dennis Villanueva),” Abdulla told NEWSBREAK in Filipino.
Abdulla finished Grade 3 before he joined the MNLF. He belongs to the first batch of MNLF integrees who joined the military in 1997. Life is better for him now, he says. With a monthly pay of P13,000, he can send his kids to school—a far cry from the years when he had to scrounge for food. Yet, he was constantly bothered by the fact that he and his father were on opposing sides. He thought of quitting the Army, but his father himself told him he was better off as a soldier.
Integration had been a sensitive issue in the government-MNLF peace talks. Both sides feared that it would create more problems than solve them, given their history of bloodbath. For 30 years, the MNLF waged a separatist rebellion that saw the bloodiest battles in the Philippines’ post-colonial history. It ended in a peace agreement in 1996, which, among others, created the Southern Philippines Council for Peace and Development and caused the integration of 5,000 MNLF rebels into the AFP and about the same number into the Philippine National Police. The agreement was preceded by the election of Misuari as governor of the Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao.
The actual strength of MNLF integrees in the enlisted service of the Army is 4,348, according to Army records. To this day, the Army encounters the usual problems that come with integration. There are cases involving combatants who join the Army, enjoy its benefits, borrow money from it, then abandon it. But these are more the exceptions than the rule, according to Army officers.
In 1997, the Army set up a training directorate to facilitate the transition for both sides. Two officers involved in the program are now based in this province, Lt. Col. Pablo Lorenzo, commander of the 35th Infantry Battalion (IB) and Lt. Col. Emmanuel Sison of the 53rd IB. Both officers say that integration has come a long way since it was first introduced.
The 53rd IB, which is based in Maimbung, has two former rebels holding crucial positions: lieutenants Julistidi Arasid and Walid Kee. At age 44, Arasid is a company commander, while Kee—previously head of battalion intelligence—is now chief for civil-military operations. They get a base pay of P20,000 a month, enough to send their kids to decent schools.
Arasid joined the MNLF in 1979 after finishing high school. In 1997, he enlisted as an integree in the Philippine Army and got a scholarship that allowed him to finish a political science course at the Western Mindanao State University in Zamboanga City. “Without the peace agreement, I would not have been able to finish college,” Arasid said.
Kee was a representative of the MNLF in Saudi Arabia from 1982 to 1984. He organized Filipinos there and recruited them to the MNLF. He eventually returned here and was commissioned in the Army in 1999.
“My experience as intelligence officer taught me some lessons on how to play an active role in conflict management and resolution, but at the same time, it is very challenging because we have to be very cautious and sensitive, or else you might be the cause of senseless war,” Kee said in a reflective tone.
He’s focused on building relationships with the community to help the military gain the trust and respect of the locals. He’s proud of the fact that in his area of operation in Talipao, “not a single Misuari follower here” joined the February attack.
When almost all the troops of the 35th IB reinforced the other units in February at Panamao, leaving a skeletal force in Talipao, Kee said their headquarters in Bayog Hill remained untouched and protected. “In fact it was the community who provided us with a buffer, and when [rebel forces] withdrew, they never passed through Talipao,” Kee added.
Integrees make no bones about their biggest motivation for joining the Army, which is to have a better life.
Private First Class Maing Arajam is 70 years old and a former rebel. He said he would rather sweep garbage and clean the Army camp here than go back to the jungles and fight. When he was with the MNLF, he was getting a P500 monthly allowance, which made him heavily indebted. Why would he go back to that life when in the Army he’s now getting P13,000 a month? “Now I don’t have any debts. I can send my children to school.”
Arajam is suffering from rheumatism, but he bragged that he could still fight it out with the last man—if and when the camp is attacked. He is a sentry of the 104th Army Brigade in Bus-bus, Jolo town.
A former spiritual adviser of the MNLF, Sahiri Maulana is now a private with the 35th IB. He admits that some soldiers still have biases against Muslims like him. “If they get drunk, their biases against us would show. We just ignore them.” But he points out that once they’re in the battlefield, all is forgotten.
Another integree admitted that he almost abandoned his post when their former commander maltreated them. In fact, there was even talk that it was the MNLF integrees who tipped off the rebels about Lt. Col. Villanueva, who was killed at the height of the February attacks—a rumor that even Army officers found baseless and unfair.
Sison, who took over as commander of the 53th battalion after Villanueva’s death, says he has no reason to doubt the loyalty of the integrees under him, including Abdulla, whose father was fighting for the other side.
“Their loyalty is priceless, their commitment is immeasurable, and I have never doubted their loyalty to the government,” Sison told NEWSBREAK. Formerly training director of the first batch of integrees, he experienced first-hand how loyal they could be when his mother was hospitalized in Manila in 1997.
It was sheer coincidence that at the time, he was with the integrees in Manila because they were invited for a parade in Camp Aguinaldo. “We needed 10 donors for blood, so I left the trainees in the camp and attended to my mother in the hospital,” Sison recalled.
At the hospital, his trainees showed up, all willing to donate blood. “Among Muslims, they would consider it haram [against the Koran] when you take something precious and sacred from your body,” Sison said. But this obviously didn’t matter to the trainees. “I was really overwhelmed when all, meaning a battalion-size of that batch, volunteered to donate blood. My mother survived for several months because of the donation from our Muslim brothers.”
When he conducts patrols outside the camp, Sison prefers to be with the integrees. “I feel safe and protected,” he said. He has asked his men to be sensitive to the Muslim culture; as such, they don’t eat pork at the mess. Breaks are also provided to allow Muslim soldiers to do their prayers.
On the other hand, the 35th IB has close to 200 integrees under the command of Lt. Col. Pablo Lorenzo, or 40 percent of his battalion. He relies on Kee for information on security matters. A first-timer in Sulu, Lorenzo was a member of the Army’s training directorate for integration and this experience helped him adjust well with his Muslim troops. “I see that they have assimilated into the system, so I don’t doubt their loyalty.”
He acknowledged that non-Christian soldiers are “very passionate with their culture and religion, so we try to identify common ground and for me, I make a conscious effort to have an intimate knowledge of the situation and the people, appreciation of their good deeds and impose firm disciplinary actions if they really committed serious mistakes.”
“Now all I can say is, I can eat, mingle, and sleep with my former enemies,” Lorenzo said. However, he admitted that “though we’ve gone a long way, more work, more challenges face us here at the AFP.”