Three years after Marawi siege
Coming to terms
with a horrific, unimaginable ordeal
By Teresito L. Soganub
May 23, 2020
I am Fr. Chito,
survivor of the Marawi siege in 2017. This is my recollection of that fateful
day three years ago, when war broke out in the city and I was taken hostage by
local followers of the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (ISIS).
It was around
10:30 in the morning when we heard gunfires. We knew later these were in
Barangay Basak Malotlot, when ISIS warriors resisted a team of government
troops sent to arrest their top Asian leader.
While the war
had already started, I prayed and asked for God’s enlightenment on the most
prudent action to take to protect myself, and the church, and the people.
The prayerful
reflections and discernment led me to a decision that I have to witness the
unfolding of events. My experience in the last 23 years reminded me that we
were spared from harm as I simply trust and put our fate, as always, in the
hands of God.
Soon, the
sounds of war reached the road just near our church compound. But amid the
continuing rattle of gunfires in the streets, we promptly had our lunch at 12
noon, and by 3:30 in the afternoon, celebrated Holy Mass in preparation for the
next day's Santa Maria Auxiliadora Cathedral parish fiesta.
A climate of
fear engulfed the entire city at 5:30 of that sad afternoon. The usual hustle
and bustle of the city was gone, replaced with the eerie silence akin to a
ghost town as the continued ringing of gunfires sent and kept people within the
safety of their homes.
Not a single
vehicle was moving in the streets. Lights in the houses were turned off. A deafening
silence reigned over the city, broken only by the intermittent burst of
indiscriminate gunfires.
Sensing the
deep climate of fear captivating the entire city, me and my five lay companions
in the Bishop's house gathered in the chapel and prayed for 30 minutes.
At six o'clock
of that sad afternoon, after the prayers, we saw in one direction, about 500
meters away from us, the city’s police station and jail burning. The Bureau of
Fire Protection station was unable to respond as they were already occupied and
controlled by the armed men.
About 30
minutes later, we saw from another direction one of the buildings inside the
Dansalan College compound, some 500 meters away from us, go up in flames.
While
witnessing the two big fires not so far from us, which we were helpless to do
anything about, we resorted to prayer to control our fears.
At seven
o'clock of that fearful evening, several armed men in full combat gear showed
up at our compound’s gate. They introduced themselves as warriors of ISIS dawla,
and ordered the six of us to submit to their commands so they won’t shoot.
We were
instructed to get into a van. Inside, we met seven teachers of the Dansalan
College. Together, we comprised the first group of hostages. Our horde would
reach 120 as the war wore on.
As captives, we
were living with unexplainable fears, surrounded by around 60 young and
war-capable men brandishing Armalite rifles and other high-powered guns, with
bandoleers of bullets strewn on their bodies.
“Lord, keep me
in your hands.” These were the words I constantly intoned, fully entrusting
myself to Him amid that very devastating situation. In my intense and fervent
prayers, I told myself before God that my life will never be the same again
with this experience. That is, if the Lord wills into my fate and destiny to
survive from the ordeal, I thought then.
I and several
male hostages were transferred to a location where the top ISIS leaders hold
fort, dispensing orders to their fighters. There, we got a daily feel of the
war’s nerve center.
When government
forces soon discovered it was the main headquarters of the militants, our
location became center stage of the offensives, and we were right in the middle
of all the strife.
During days of
intense assault by government forces, we have to constantly dodge from
devastating air strikes. For those of us who survived every blast, we
suffered the deadly sound unleashed at every explosion. In due time, our ears
have grown deaf to the blare. We also have to be alert to immediately seek
cover when a barrage of artillery fires and bullets start to rain on our
location.
In a given day,
I can count at least ten times that I escaped death from a bullet or a bomb
shrapnel. Most of the time, I was just an inch away from being hit.
Seeing ISIS
fighters and our fellow hostages hit, struggle with serious wounds and
eventually die was also daily fare. The daily sight of buildings brought to
their knees by bombs was a grim reminder of the devastating way we could meet
death.
That ordeal I
endured for 93 days! Horrific. Unimaginable. A tale that still shocks me to
this day.
Having seen
death face to face, I was no longer afraid to die. Instead, I prepared myself
to meet it at any moment. I was just afraid of being hit by a bullet and
agonize for too long before dying. Hence, in my intense prayers to the Lord, I
implored, through the intercession of the Virgin Mary and all the angels and
Saints, that if I have to die, it should not be in such situation.
In a hopeless
situation, simply praying covered me with the cloth of hope, especially
when I forced myself to entrust everything to God, even asking Him to give
me strength to accept His will.
After three
years, the deep psychological wounds inflicted on me still linger, although
these are within my capacity to manage, through the professional help of
psychologists, psychiatrists, and health coaches. I hope that with the passage
of time, and with the blessing of God, I can be healed completely.
I thank all the
individuals and institutions in government, civil society, inter-religious and
inter-faith communities, and the Church for accompanying me and other survivors
and hostages, in our journey of healing. After three years, many among us still
find it hard to return to our work or professions as the trauma would disturb
our thoughts. This can be compounded by current worries of the coronavirus
pandemic.
Please continue
to pray for our recovery from that tragedy in Marawi. We also pray for strength
in maintaining our forgiving hearts to our captors.
I am still awed
at why God let me undergo such a unique and privileged faith experience three
years ago. It was the greatest test of my faith.
And today, I
have yet to comprehend the miracles of God.
(Fr. Chito
escaped from his captors amid intense fighting near Marawi’s Bato Ali mosque on
September 16, 2017 and was immediately brought to safety by government troops
who saw him. At the time of his kidnapping, Soganub was chaplain of the
Mindanao State University. Fr. Chito, currently the Chairperson of the PAKIGDAIT
Inc.)
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