Ericson Acosta (left) performs with BAYAN Secretary General Renato Reyes during the book launch
The artist is a product of his experience, his circumstances and his reasons for creating. This is certainly true of poet and writer Ericson Acosta, and he proves this with his first book “Mula Tarima Hanggang at Iba pang mga Tula at Awit” published by the University of the Philippines Press.
For those who did not know before, Acosta is a former political prisoner of the Benigno C. Aquino III regime. He was imprisoned from 2011 to 2013 on false charges in Samar. Prior to his two-year unjust incarceration, however, he was a writer and researcher in Samar who focused on issues affecting farmers in the region and their struggle for survival against landgrabbing, militarization, and government attacks against their livelihood and welfare. During his student days in UP Diliman, Acosta was a creative jack-of-all-trades – a poet, writer, theater performer, song writer, singer, and student organizer.
Acosta’s first book can be seen as a series of reflections on Acosta’s life so far and the experiences he has had with the people he has worked with and for. These reflections – both on imagined scenarios and actual events that took place—come in the form of poems, prose-poetry, and short narratives. Some are in English, most are in Filipino, and everything is suffused with emotion and political conviction.
Acosta’s work shatters the lie of the government that there are no political prisoners in the Philippines and that there is nothing about state of human rights in the country to be outraged over. He gives voice to the over 491 political prisoners in various prisons; 220 of them were arrested under the incumbent Aquino regime. There are 43 female political prisoners, 53 are ailing, 42 are elderly, and six are minors.
There is a strong thread of controlled anger in Acosta’s work as he addresses what he clearly considers to be the enemies of the Filipino people and his own: the government, the military, the exploiting classes that ensure that workers and farmers remain in poverty. Still, his sense of humor and a graceful kind of sadness are present in how he describes in poetic form how it is to be by turns a political prisoner, an advocate of peasant rights, an artist in service of the cause of humanity and social justice.
Take for instance his two poems “Usok” and “Usok-Usok” describe scenes in prison where both the guards and the prisoner smoke cigarettes and keep fires burning to cook their meals. While the context may appear mundane, Acosta is able to imply another level of meeting: hope for a political prisoner can be as fleeting as smoke; but also, like smoke, a political prisoner’s fears and doubts also do not have permanence because he never forgets who he is and why he is in prison.
In “Mabalasik”, Acosta gives an account of the human rights violations he was subjected to by soldiers when he was arrested in February 13, 2011 in Barangay Bay‐ang, San Jorge, Samar. In reports it released to the media, the Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP) said that Acosta was a verified member of the New People’s Army (NPA) and that he attempted to resist arrest by trying to lob a grenade against arresting soldiers. Acosta was tortured and threatened with extrajudicial killing.
“Kulit mo, di pa ko laseng, bading.
Kawawa talaga kayo,
Si Joma inom nang inom sa abroad
Kayo nakakulong.
Huwag mo ‘kong ini-ingles-ingles,
Pak yu ka! Pak yu forever!
Pinag-aeral ka sa UP ng gobyerno
Ngayon lalaban-labanan mo.
Wala kang utang na loob.
Umayos ka, hayop ka
Hindi ko makakain
‘yang human-human rights mo d’yan.”
All of the military’s accusations have since been debunked and exposed as lies the military made to justify Acosta’s illegal arrest and detention.
As for the poem from which the book derives its title “Mula Tarima Hanggang”, it describes the literal and metaphorical boundaries of a political prisoners: from the tarima (a cot) towards wherever his resilience takes him: beyond the howling of prison dogs, beyond the reach of nightmares, and well into dreams of one day waking into freedom and resuming his life as a revolutionary.
The poet struggles against his physical confinement, but his will remains strong and his spirit continues to be free.
Acosta’s poetry is rife with images of freedom and struggle; hardly surprising as many of the poems in this book were written during his two-year stint as a prisoner of conscience. The poet struggles against his physical confinement, but his will remains strong and his spirit continues to be free. Life in prison is an irksome existence for an ordinary prisoner, but a political prisoner can tap reserves of strength from the outside, because he is one with the people’s daily fight for social justice and dignity. His suffering – from physical, psychological and emotional torture and deprivation – is not only his: he knows that he is being punished as a means to break his political commitment to causes much greater than the lies and atrocities of those who want to break him. Acosta channeled his boredom, his frustration, his anger through poetry and prose.
He also highlights the cause of political prisoners and gives readers more than a glimpse into their lives. In “Well”, a warden or chief of prison guards lies about the plight of the men under his watch: he can barely get their names right, and he dismisses the concerns of the prisoners’ loved ones regarding the health of the prisoners. “Kosa J” is a funny complaint against the conditions in jail: it’s a rant against the heat and the Philippine government’s indifference to the welfare of prisoners. The same can also be said about “Half Hip-Hop: Isang Di-Tapos na Tangkang Mag-Jail House Rap”. Here, the poet also makes the appeal to readers to use their social media accounts (Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram” ) to call attention to human rights issues.
Acosta also reveals a kind of tenderness for friends and comrades he has encountered along his journeys as a human rights advocate. He states their names, memorializes their words, and defines them in terms that show their human fragility against a backdrop of continuous social conflict. When referring to them in some of his poems, he uses words that describe their “kaweng-wengan” (craziness) and call them “eng-eng”. He pays tribute to them and their sacrifice of life (such as in the poems “Pagpupugay” and “Paalam”) in concise but burning clarity. Deliberately or not, a message that Acosta wants to put across is that activists — specifically national democrats – are human just like the rest of us, able to laugh and sing, but their grief and pain are deeper because it is of a dimension that goes beyond their singular experience: they are unable to distance themselves from what is suffered by the poor whose sufferings are myriad.
There are also poems where Acosta shows that life is like for ordinary Filipinos for whom survival is a daily struggle. “Alicia” is about a 16-year old provincial lass who is recruited to work as a seamstress in Manila, but during the bus ride, the recruiter asks her if she can dance. “Pasensya” is a monologue of a worker who has been laid off, and he is speaking presumably to his wife. At first he appeals for her understanding, but in the end, he makes the realization that everything has an end and one has to set that deadline unless one wants to continue in a state of victimization. Alicia, a 16-year old lass leaves for work as a seamastress, but the recruiter asks her if she can dance.
Of course, Acosta has also written poetry about farmers, telling stories of peasants in Agusan del Sur, Davao del Sur, Samar Weste, and delving into the history of Samar and how American colonial forces massacred its residents and turned it into “a howling wilderness.” Much of Acosta’s imagery pertains to life spent coaxing life from the soil, and fighting to keep that life.
In the end, “Mula Tarima Hanggang at Iba pang mga Tulat at Awit” is also political statement about art and the kind of choices artists should make given a context of civil war and widespread social injustice.
In the end, “Mula Tarima Hanggang at Iba pang mga Tulat at Awit” is also political statement about art and the kind of choices artists should make given a context of civil war and widespread social injustice. The artist’s skills and gifts at creation are directed towards ideals of compassion and liberation: towards destroying beliefs and resisting actions that make it impossible for genuine democracy to become a living, breathing reality. At first glance one may be tempted to think that Acosta’s book is purely propaganda; and in a way it is because it is the best kind: well-written, lyrical, humane, insightful, emotional and intelligent propaganda. Beyond this, however, what it is is a testament to the will and creativity of the artist when he moves beyond the narrow confines of the self and embraces ideals that aim to liberate others from oppression and exploitation. Through his art, he contributes to humanity; and this in turn is also what strengthens him, toughens him against personal adversity, and ultimately helps him to continue with his chosen life.
