Luisita is a rich mother. She is a woman bestowed by Nature a power, a power to nurture tiny seeds until they all grow roots to courageously stand up, taking pride of their fresh, green leaves against the sun of Central Luzon. She provides her children an advantage to harvest tons of sugar canes, rice, and corn for the feeding of their hungry stomachs. She bathes with the irrigation from a nearby dam or with the calmly flowing water from the river that rages during a storm. She likes catching the rain even during a plaguing summer, giving her grandchildren the opportunity to play with and appreciate a common yet great blessing from the skies. She wants the heart of her land to be distributed to her children.
Luisita is indeed a lighthearted mother. She could be seen patiently waiting along the main road leading to the expressway, welcoming her beloved visitors with her breath of hope, which touches their skins with soft, blissful wind. When these people drop off from their vehicles, she would let them stare at her in open-mouthed wonder and snap photos of her. Oftentimes most of her visitors are students, but she is never bothered of their disturbing laughter. In fact, she would laugh with them too, though she couldn’t be heard. With her grandsons and granddaughters who naively ask you, “Where is U.P.? Is that a school?” she would request their parents to be the foster parents of these students and tell them stories of her happiness and struggle.
But Luisita became an enraged and depressed mother. She is a slave of the elites and the President’s family in Tarlac. She never hides behind tall grasses because she wishes for her soil to be inherited and cultivated by her poor children and grandchildren. She doesn’t recognize the dirt at the corners of her shirt and wields banners and placards instead of guns and swords. Like other women, she was abused and hurt; and her rights were overlooked. Her children were driven out of their place with huge bulldozers so she was even more saddled.
But her children won’t leave her side and are willing to fight for her. And she wishes that her once young visitors will come again to hear her cheerful stories.
Let’s then fight for her.