'Ka ni Kim

I started reading “Some People Need Killing” at the airport. We were obscenely early, waiting for the counters to open so that we could check in for our flight. After a crash course in Philippine history and the tragic and enraging story of Love-love’s family, my eyes stung. It was old, repressed anger bubbling back to the surface – and also the lack of sleep.

It haunted me, and it still haunts me. I was far from the worst-off during the war against drugs. I was a middle-class employee and student. I had never been accused of taking or dealing drugs. But when daily reports of murder, sometimes multiple murders, had become the norm, there was no true reassurance of safety for anyone.

One afternoon in 2016, I was having lunch with a friend at a mall. We were catching up and digging into our rice bowls when our conversation was interrupted by screaming outside the restaurant. A small mob of people was running.

With no context about the commotion, my first thought was that I was going to die. Someone must have started firing in broad daylight; that’s why people were running and yelling. I had never been in a position where I thought I was about to die. I probably should have been taking inventory of my life, making some important phone calls to loved ones. Instead, I was paralyzed with fear and confusion.

As it turned out, there was no shooter. There was, however, a fire, and we were informed that we’d need to evacuate through the emergency exit. My anxious, overly-dramatic mind had jumped to the worst possible conclusion. In my case, it was the wrong conclusion. But the reason why I was in that frame of mind was the acute awareness that for many other people, especially those living in the slums of Metro Manila, it would have been right.

In another airport, a few months deeper into 2016, my dad was on a tirade about how Duterte was going to fix the country. I had made it known on several occasions that I wasn’t convinced.

“So what if he curses a little?!” he’d asked dismissively. “I like him!”

I don’t know why my father thought I was offended over the odd “motherfucker” or “putang ina” when I learned how to curse from him.

The lady at the counter frowned as she weighed our bags. “I don’t like the killings.”

“Ah, well. It’s just the druggies.”

After many fruitless conversations where I tried to explain to him that it wasn’t “just the druggies”, and even if it were, that doesn’t justify the war, I figured one more attempt wasn’t going to change his mind. I just hoped he understood: I don’t like the killings, either.

When Pat Evangelista took her book tour to the University of the Cordilleras, one particular bit of wisdom struck a chord with me. Asked about how we can help people “avoid making the same mistake again” next election, she suggested beginning with a change of perspective. It’s not “us versus them”. The mindset of “We’re right, and they’re wrong and they need to adjust” is only going to cause more divisiveness and hostility.

She said, “Seek to understand, not to agree.” These conversations need to be human-to-human. We’re not changing anybody’s mind by gleefully barraging them with statistics or by shaming and blaming them with stories of dead kids. Pat skillfully lays out in her book the many valid reasons her sources had for their political allegiances and how these sentiments are tied to their own lived experiences. A background in journalism is a plus, but you certainly don’t need years of training to listen to and understand someone’s story.

Her other piece of advice as the event was wrapping up: Keep the stories alive. Again, you don’t need to be a journalist. You don’t need to be a published author. All you need to do is treat these narratives with respect when you pass the word.

Learn more about Pat Evangelista and “Some People Need Killing” on her website.