CAFE HONOURS MEMORY OF DUTERTE’S DRUG WAR VICTIMS
On the second floor of a nondescript coffee shop in a trendy neighbourhood outside of Manila, patrons were welcomed by a marble gravestone with a tiny inscription written in gold: “Stop the Killings.”
The gravestone, part of an art exhibition at the coffee shop, is dedicated to the memory of those killed in President Rodrigo Duterte’s bloody war on drugs.
Another marker featured the Filipino word nanlaban, which means “resisted”. For authorities, the word suggests a drug suspect who resisted arrest and engaged in gunfire before being lawfully killed by police. But for the families of the dead, it suggests the person was victim of an extrajudicial killing.
The coffee shop, Silingan, opened last year and is staffed primarily by the mothers and wives, sisters and daughters of those killed since 2016, when Duterte took office. Beyond serving lattes and cappuccinos, these women aim to educate the public about the brutal truth behind Duterte’s promise to rid the streets of drug dealers and addicts at all costs.
According to the Philippine National Police, roughly 8,000 people accused of being involved in the illegal drug trade have been slain since Duterte launched his deadly campaign. Rights groups have reported higher numbers.
“Here we don’t just sell coffee,” said Sharon Angeles, the head barista at Silingan. “We tell customers about our life and how this place serves as a place of healing for us. We also tell them, if they care to listen, why Duterte’s drug war is a war on the poor and not on drugs.”
The women of Silingan, which means “neighbour”, hope to see Duterte held accountable for the violence before it is too late. But they, like many others in the Philippines, fear that his successors will block any effort to investigate him once he is out of office and no longer immune from prosecution.
On Thursday, Ferdinand Marcos Jr, the son of a former dictator, will be sworn in as the country’s new president, alongside Sara Duterte, the outgoing leader’s daughter, as his vice president.
Angeles’ brother Christian became one of the first victims of the extrajudicial killings when he was picked up by police just four months into Duterte’s term. Christian, who was 20, never took drugs, Angeles said. But his two companions at the time of the raid were known users with petty criminal records.
When the two companions saw police approaching, they fled.
“But Christian did not run because he knew he was clean,” Angeles said. “Still, I had warned him before that a bullet will not listen to his excuses.”
Her brother was a volunteer watchman who believed in the law, she said, adding that the results from the autopsy the family ordered came back negative for drug use.
“My brother was killed like an animal,” Angeles said. “If Duterte did not win, this wouldn’t have happened, and Christian would be alive today.”
On a recent weekend at the cafe, Angeles talked to two university students who had wandered into the shop.
The film majors said they grew curious when they saw a painted message on the steps of its black metal stairs leading to the art exhibition on the second floor: “It’s not a war on illegal drugs. It’s an illegal war on drugs”.
Nanlaban was no excuse in 2018 when a court convicted three officers for murder and sentenced them to life in prison in the death of Kian Loyd delos Santo, a 17-year-old college student.
Officers claimed he was a drug suspect who shot at police. But surveillance video showed police leading him away moments before he was found dead near a pigsty.
The uproar prompted Duterte to temporarily suspend his campaign, only to relaunch it weeks later.
“We talk to customers about the drug war and how it has affected us,” Angeles said. “It’s up to them to do what they want with the information.”
Grace Garganta, another employee at the coffee shop, said nanlaban was the pretext police used to justify the killing of her 52-year-old father and her 27-year-old older brother.
Days after Duterte took office, police raided their home in one of Manila’s sprawling slums. The father, Marcelo, was killed in what police said was a shootout.
Garganta’s bother Joseph was later arrested when he protested against the raid. She said his body was fished out of a river the following day. His face was wrapped in packing tape, and his genitals were mutilated, she said.
The Garganta family soon became the face of Duterte’s unfolding drug war after local tabloids began depicting the father as a “big-time pusher”, Garganta said.
Neighbours kept silent for fear of being identified as accomplices. Garganta, who was studying for a degree in hotel and restaurant management at the time, dropped out of school.
But at Silingan, she has found some redemption.
Now a mother to two young children, Garganta said her only wish is for people to hear her story and those of the other women at the coffee shop who seek to hold authorities responsible for the killings. “I am no longer afraid,” she said. “The public needs to know the truth.”
Duterte remains overwhelmingly popular in the Philippines and has denied any wrongdoing in the drug war. He has insisted that violence was a necessary part of his effort to eliminate the scourge of drug use afflicting many poor Filipinos.
Yet with Duterte on his way out this week, Garganta fears no one will be punished for the thousands who were killed without trial. “All we want is to be given the chance to be heard,” she said.