ALTHOUGH THE People Power Revolution of 1986 has been memorialized as a national achievement, its storytelling has been limited to the scope of the revolution at Epifanio de los Santos Avenue (EDSA). However, parallel to the capital’s three-day revolution, people across the country gathered in the streets for a final struggle against the Marcos dictatorship. Without honoring such memory movements from outside Metro Manila, a memorialization of the People Power Revolution would be incomplete.

A reputation to fear

In the years leading up to the People Power Revolution of 1986, Davao City built a reputation as the Philippines’ murder capital. Attributed to the Martial Law, the turbulent socio-political landscape in the city was exacerbated by the abuses of the New People’s Army directed at civil society, counterinsurgencies by vigilantes, and unsolved political and nonpolitical crimes.

Then a regent and high school teacher at the Ateneo de Davao University (AdDU), Alberto “Paring Bert” Alejo, SJ witnessed the regularity of violence in his community. He recalls, “Araw-araw may patayan. Ilan na rin ‘yung estudyante namin na… absent. Tapos, ‘yun pala, ‘yung pamilya nila [ay] nangibang-bahay na dahil sa takot.”

(There were killings every day. Some of my students would go absent, only for me to learn that their families moved away out of fear.)

Even his coworkers, Alejo says, were traumatized by the killings. He particularly noted one of his co-teachers who witnessed a murder inside the jeepney of their daily commute.

The regular violence in Davao pushed citizens to start the Yellow Friday Movement. Alejo places two personalities at the center of the group: Rodolfo “Rudy” Malasmas, SJ, then the AdDU high school principal; and Soledad “Nanay Soling” Duterte, teacher, activist, and mother of former President Rodrigo Duterte.

Led by Malasmas and Duterte, Davaoenos held weekly rallies motivated by “disgust for the Martial Law days” and the rampant killings. Alejo notes that, for over a year before the People Power Revolution, Yellow Friday’s colorful caravans and energetic marches unified Davaoenos in their clamor for change.

The final stand

The frequent Yellow Friday mobilizations primed the citizens of Davao for one final demonstration. On the eve of February 25, 1986, Alejo and some AdDU students monitored the events in Metro Manila over radio reportage. Amid the news of a brewing revolution, an alarm of local turbulence shook Alejo’s party. Davao’s Bombo Radyo station—the locals’ source of news—reported that its broadcasting tower was to be bombed by state forces. However, the potential loss of the local radio station would throw Davaoenos into the dark about the national situation.

Urgently, Alejo and his companions rushed to the site of the alleged bomb threat and stayed to protect it. As this happened, they followed new information coming from across the country—until a reporter brought startling news: the Marcos family fled Malacañang, and the length of EDSA was flooded with peaceful demonstrators.

Then, Alejo and his fellow Ateneans were moved to call for a demonstration in their own area. The reporters of Bombo Radyo soon began to advocate for a gathering of the people of Davao.

They broadcasted: “Mga kababayan! Mayroon pong mga Atenista rito […] nagdesisyon sila na pupunta sila sa plaza (San Pedro Square)! […] Nagdadasal na po sila ngayon! […] ‘Eto, lalakad na! […] Nananawagan [po] kami sa mga [pwedeng lumabas] na sumama sa pagmartsa papunta plaza!”

(Friends! There are Ateneans here who have decided to go to the plaza! They are praying now! Here, they are walking! We call for those who can come out to join the march to the plaza!)

As they marched, Alejo’s party of 15 increased to 20, then to 25. Demonstrators joined from the sides of the road, some wiping away sleep or still in towels during the midnight march to the plaza and its neighboring cathedral. At the church, a seminarian saw the crowd and rang the bell. Silence fell over the plaza. The gathered Davaoenoes communed into prayer.

At that moment, Paring Bert and his team of Ateneans suddenly thought of visiting the military camp. There, they were greeted by rows of heavily armed soldiers. “Walang gagalaw, […] walang gagawa ng kalokohan, walang mambabato ng kahit [na] maliit na bato (Nobody move, […] nobody play any tricks, nobody throw even the tiniest rocks)!” the companions cautioned each other.

With their hands clasping each others’ and some of their eyes pressed shut, Alejo and his fellow Ateneans serenaded the armed forces with the song “Bayan Ko.” The group prayed for their hymn to finish without anyone getting harmed at all. Nobody did.

When the group returned to the plaza, the solemn mass they had left was vibrant with festivity. People were dancing to music that blared from speakers around the vicinity. Tears poured as strangers embraced in thanks that the years of trauma and violence would finally come to an end. Across the party, the most breathtaking sight of all was the sheer number of Davaoenos that packed the plaza—communing that midnight just as they did each Friday afternoon every week for over a year prior.

Preserving the memory

Beyond Metro Manila, the Filipino people created a picture of hope.

As Alejo notes that no revolution is ever complete, he calls to mind the success of the People Power Revolution in securing all Filipinos’ democratic capacity. He says, “Dumami ‘yung mga pagkilos para sa kababaihan, para sa indigenous peoples (There came more spaces for women and indigenous peoples). That movement really expanded the democratic spaces for civil society. Also, it demonstrated the power of peace over violence.”

As he reminisced about the daring and joyous People Power in Davao City, however, Alejo lamented his solitude in preserving its memory. He remarked that his recalled events in Davao lacked any accessible documentation, as he had struggled to find any reportage to capture the moment. Alejo noted that this shortcoming, coupled with the conflation of the People Power Revolution with the EDSA Revolution, marginalizes the stories of Filipinos from beyond Metro Manila who similarly struggled for freedom.

To complete the common memory of the People Power Revolution, Alejo advises those interested in understanding the national nature of the revolution to gather information about it from key informants and original news sources. Although the overlooking of narratives from beyond Metro Manila cannot be undone, Alejo advocates for the creative preservation of these regional stories today.

In the storytelling of Davao’s People Power in particular, Alejo emphasized the essence of his narrative that ought to be highlighted—Davaoenos’ consistent persistence to organize as a community in the face of violence. “[The people of Davao] held [their] ground in front of the military in a place where bloodshed was ordinary–minus the international attention, minus the cameras, minus Cardinal Sin,” he recounted.

“But, we had the Ateneans,” he continued. Alejo praised the students who were active in Davao’s resistance against state suppression. Alongside the youth, Alejo heralded other figures he regarded as leaders of Davao’s People Power. These narratives, among other experiences of People Power around the Philippines, stand witness to one of the many Martial Law histories that parallel those in the nation’s capital. Without the memorialization of these stories, the national memory of People Power is incomplete.