Looking at my twitter feed and noticing that the tweets that mention Cotabato City have slowed down to about one or two every half hour. As the incident unfolded yesterday there were at least three new tweets every minute. I have a feeling that they will dissipate further as the day passes, as new events take place, new intrigues that pique the interest of the man not on the street but in front of his computer.
But as Fr. Jun Mercado said this morning: “While people of Cotabato City grapple with terrorism and insecurity, they have learned to bury their dead, grieve for them… and pick up the pieces once more and move ahead… ”
The people of Cotabato City are a scarred bunch. Those who go about their business day by day do not live in anticipation of another cowardly act such as yesterday’s bombing. They go to work, to school, to market, pedicab drivers still bat the breeze or nap while waiting for the next fare. It is just another day, after all, in the city where deadly explosions are commonplace.
While it is a strong people that can learn to live with that, one cannot help but see the desperation beneath the apparent nonchalance. People have been dying violently in Cotabato City, for one reason or another. Justice is a word one shouts at yet another friend’s funeral, and then comes the forlorn silence of acceptance.