In memory of Mariannet Amper

It is said that 12-year-old Mariannet Amper of Davao City committed suicide out of quiet desperation over her school absences, her inability to catch up with school work and the growing poverty of her family. Mariannet’s diary and an unsent letter to ‘Wish Ko Lang” were found tucked under her pillows. In her letter, Mariannet wished for a bicycle, a school bag and jobs for her parents. Her wishes reflected her gentle soul: a wish for the child she was in the present, a wish for the woman she could have been in future, and a third wish to give away to the ones she loved. That it was unsent and only fulfilled after her death shows just how sharply and mercilessly poverty cuts the soul of our nation. It is testament to the tragic failure of government to serve its people.
Was Mariannet suffering from chronic depression, or was she simply a tender soul who couldn’t bear anymore to live in the looming shadow of poverty? Whichever the answer, poverty embraced her soul with a tenacity that shattered the last vestiges of hope in her 12-year old being.

Pag-alaala kay Mariannet Amper

Panahon ng tag-lagas
nang dumapo sa aking isipan
ang iyong pangalan,
Mariannet Amper.

Saksi ako sa ritwal ng mga dahong
dahan-dahang nagsasayaw
hanggang sa ang hardin
ay natakluban ng dilaw,
kayumanngi
at pulang nahihimbing
habang pilit pa ring
tinatanto ng pangangatwiran
ang dahilan ng iyong paglisan.

Hindi ko ito agad naintindihan.

Siguro dahil sa hindi ko mapagtugma
ang imahen ng isang
labing-dalawang taong bata
at nylon rope.

Desperasyon, obsesyon, kombulsyon
separasyon, imahinasyon
walang-hanggang prosesyon
ng mga araw na nakabitin sa bangin
ng katiyakan.

Hindi ang kawalang-kasiguruduhan
ang nagtulak sa iyong magpumiglas
kundi ang katiyakan
na walang himbing kang makakamit
sa pagtulog,
walang magandang panaginip
kahit na ilista mo ang iyong mga pangarap
at itago sa ilalim ng iyong unan:
bisikleta
iskul bag
mas magandang trabaho
para sa iyong mga magulang.

Ay, Mariannet Amper —
labing-dalawang taong gulang
ng aking panahon —
tinitigan mo ang kahirapan
at ikaw ay nayanig!

Sino kami para ikaw ay hatulan?
Hindi sapat ang ligayang
naidulot sa iyo ng pag-aaral,
hindi sapat ang pagmamahal
ng kapatid o sakripisyo ng magulang.

Tinitigan mo ang kahirapan
at ikaw ay nayanig
sa katiyakan ng kanyang pangako.

Hindi sapat ang pinabaon naming pag-asa —
kaya mo pa ba kaming patawarin?

Sana’y makamtan mo na ngayon
Ang mailap na katahimikan.
Wala na kaming iba pang pabaon
kundi ang pangakong
hindi ka namin kalilimutan,

Mariannet Amper —
labing-dalawang taong gulang
ng aking panahon.

—-

In memory of Mariannet Amper

It was amidst a season of fading
when I felt your name descend
upon my thoughts,
Mariannet Amper

I witnessed the leaves
and their slow dance into stillness
until the garden swelled
with yellow,
brown
and red slumbering
while I trudged
the pathways of logic
trying to grasp the reason
for your leaving.

At first, I couldn’t understand it.

Maybe because my mind failed
to make sense of the image
of a twelve-year old girl
and a nylon rope.

Desperation, obsession, convulsion,
separation, imagination
a never-ending procession
of days hanging in the abyss
of certainty.

It was not the unpredictability
of your reality
that you grappled with –
it was the overwhelming conviction
that your nights
will never bring you rest,
there will be no sweet dreams
when you slumber
even if you list all your wishes
and tuck it under your pillow:
a bike
a school bag
and good jobs for your parents.

Ay, Mariannet Amper —
twelve year old of these times —
you dared stare into poverty’s soul
and the intimacy
shook you.

Who are we to cast judgement?
The joys you earned with learning,
the love of siblings and parents —
they were no longer enough
to fill you.

You stared into poverty’s soul
and its promise
shook you.

The hope we lent you
was never enough —
can you ever forgive us?

We wish you the serenity
you never could tame.
The only gift we can offer
for your journey
is the promise
to never forget you,

Marinannet Amper —
twelve year old
of our times.