Guy Wisdom
Finding Light
From January to June in 2004, the New Bilibid Prisons admitted 1,550 first-time offenders and 31 recidivists. In the six-month period, 25 inmates died while 10 escaped. But there are also some who defy the statistics—finding survival and a second chance.
By Carol H. Pajaron; Photographs by Bahaghari MFI
Mateo Ragasa walks towards us in his tentatively stooped stance. He shyly tilts his face upward to speak, betraying a huge switchblade's scar across his nose.
The 48-year-old father of seven is a former inmate at the New Bilibid Prisons (NBP) in Muntinlupa. While intervening in a family squabble, Mateo allegedly fired a wayward gun and killed another man by accident. Released in 2002 after serving four of a six-year sentence for homicide, he now works as a candle maker with other former prisoners at the Pag-asa sa Paglaya (PSP) Multipurpose Cooperative inside NBP's minimum-security compound. Founded by Father Victor Labao, SJ in 1994, their annual production of novelty and liturgical candles has yielded close to P4 million, serving as an alternative source of livelihood for Ragasa and his community.
Beyond profit, PSP offers them a choice apart from the Philippine penal system's revolving door. Ironically, freedom is less a privilege than an unfortunate consequence of their long period of incarceration. Ragasa admits that most ex-convicts inevitably return to a life of crime upon their release. "Kasi ginagamit nila 'pag labas nila ang pagkakulong, pinagyayabang nila na galing sila sa loob," he says. "Ako nahihiya ako sa sarili ko. Ang tingin ng iba mababa ako kaya umiiwas rin ako sa ibang tao."
Ragasa, who has since been estranged from his wife, lives alone in Cavite. He appreciates the occasional reunion with his kids. One of his four sons is now a parent himself, and Mateo beams at the thought of being a grandfather to twins. Most of his days are spent working at the PSP office, while Sundays are reserved for church duty at the Iglesia ni Kristo. "Pagka-oras ng hapon, naiisip ko parang nasa kulungan pa rin ako," he says. "Nandoon lang ako sa loob ng bahay. Yung mga kapitbahay ko nga sinasabi, 'Mateo, bakit parang walang tao sa bahay mo?' Nalilibang lang ako kasi marami rin akong ginagawa—naglalaba, nagwawalis, o nanunuod ng TV. Ako rin ang nagluluto."
"Kung isipin mong mabuti, kung wala kang trabaho sa laya, mas mahirap pa kesa sa loob [ng Bilibid]. Kasi sa loob, kung wala kang trabaho doon, may pagkain ka. Yun ang pagkakaiba," explains Artemio Dumasig, another PSP worker. "Kaya kailangan magsikap ka sa labas na makakita ng trabaho. Kaya lang mahirap naman makahanap ng trabaho para sa katulad naming may record".
Sentenced to 6-8 years in prison for selling marijuana in 1992, Dumasig, now 44, recalls his range of emotions upon learning of his eventual release. "Excited ako, parang hindi malaman kung saan ako didiretso, saan makakita ng trabaho," he shares. "Panibagong adjustment sa buhay."
Change is familiar territory for a former inmate. From lawbreakers, Dumasig and company were constrained to adapt to Bilibid's stringent rules and regulations. "Kailangan sa loob sumunod ka sa mga patakaran. 'Pag sumuway ka, may parusa sa iyo, tulad ng takal—pinapalo ka sa puwit 'pag hindi ka sumunod," he recounts. He did not experience the ordeal first-hand; seeing it in his own eyes had been enough of an education.
» Guy Wisdom archive
Men's Health Philippines - August 2005 Issue
|
|
|
|
|
|
Advertisement
|
