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Minsan may isang Puta by Mike Portes-Borromeo 88-A Manila as published in Peyups.com

Tuesday, December 2 started out as a very regular day for me. While my mag-ama, Henry and Jet, would still be dozing-off on the bed in a full blast 16C aircon, drooling, smelling each others breath beneath the thick comforters, I would be waking up around 5am, do some treadmilling at the home gym while watching TV. For days, I’ve been disappointed with the news on TV: FPJ running for president and the high-rate of kidnappings (especially the Fil-Chinese). I would usually cook something for lunch after ‘gyming’. Henry prefers my cooking over the maid’s. While waiting for the food to cook, I would usually bathe Jethro and get him ready for school. If it turns out that he has a few minutes more to spare, I would let him watch Barney (to perk him up) and check his lunchbox to make sure that the yaya prepared the snack I instructed her to pack.

My husband and I would usually send him off to school at 7.30-7.45AM for his 8AM class in The Learning Child School inside the Ayala Alabang Village. It takes around 15-30 minutes of travel to reach his school. Henry, as usual, would remind, Mang Imon, the 48 yr old driver to lock the car doors. After seeing the yaya and Jet hop onto the car, Henry and I went on with the usual “business routine” at the shop. I went inside the office to fix some files. It was just a matter of 5 minutes when I heard a commotion outside. I went out and saw Jet’s yaya hysterical. Nobody told me what happened. For a few seconds, my mind was trying to analyze everything. Jet’s yaya’s here. Driver is outside. Where’s Jet? Could be some emergency? But why neither of them accompanied the baby??? CRV is outside: I took a quick look and checked it. The rear windows were shattered into bits. I was hysterical the moment everything dawned on me: some heartless souls took my poor baby away. All I could I say was “Diyos ko po..!” I can’t recall… maybe hundred times it was the same phrase like a mantra I was murmuring. I was crying my heart out. I was frantic. I was deranged. Henry was fidgety wandering inside the shop aimlessly. I started calling up and texting friends and relatives- anybody. I summoned them to offer prayers for my baby’s safety. I called up a friend, a wife of a congressman. I called up another friend, son of an army general for help. All in all, with dad’s “network” (him being an RTC Judge) we were like tracing the contacts (military) who could probably help us (from Generals Wycoco, Thomas Lantion, Virtus Gil, Ed Aglipay, Colonels Geronimo, dela Cerna etc; even known politicians). Some friends would claim having connection to the Sen. Ping Lacson, PACER, NBI, NAKTF. After some time, we realized the harsh reality that even if I was seated right next to the President when the kidnapping happened, it will boil down that my son’s life will still be in the mercy of his abductors.

Here’s what happened according to the recount of Gian Jethro’s yaya: They were traversing Susana heights (near Aguila Vill) en route to South Luzon Expressway when a gray Isuzu crosswind blocked their path. Four among the six men aboard the vehicle, all heavily armed with M16 rifles (baby armalite) and pistols, wearing bonnets, surrounded the Honda CRV: two guarded the driver’s and front passenger’s seat, one behind the CRV, then two went to the left passenger seat to get hold of Jet. They were forcing-open the CRV. The yaya hid Jet and kept on covering him. Jet was uneasy because of the impact of the sudden brakes plus the fact that his yaya’s heavy body is over him- trying to shield him. One of the abductors fired the handgun shattering the tempered window, then he used the pistol butt to fully smash the window. From there, he tried to grab my baby by the arm. The abductor started punching the yaya by the head to let go of Jet. Finally, one abductor was able to seize Jet. He pulled him out from the shattered window. He carried Jet on his right arm, while on he left was his handgun in vigilant position. Jet all the while was crying and shouting at the top of his lungs as they take him to the getaway vehicle. My Gian Jethro, baby as he is, seem to have a grip of what’s happening. The kidnappers fired one more shot in the air and sped off. Everything happened on broad daylight, in full view of many motorists, passengers and bystanders.

I was never brokenhearted this much. So much that I never felt this so much pain. I felt helpless. I never had so much anger and hatred in my heart. How could some heartless human being do this to an innocent boy like Jet? I worry for my baby’s safety. They should have taken along the yaya, too. Who will look after my baby? Will these ruthless gang bottlefeed him? Can they let Jethro sleep without mosquitoes feasting on his very sensitive skin? Will they allow him to play and watch his favorite shows on TV? These questions came streaming my mind. I had diarrhea. I had the worst headache of my life. At least twice a month I would carpool to school with Jethro. Because of my hypothyroidism, I would regularly have my bloodtest and check up done at the Asian Hospital and Medical Center (also in Alabang). I would drop him off to school and go straight to the hospital. The driver would then pick up Jet and they will wait for me with my check up. I was supposed to carpool with him the next day. What if when the abduction happened, I was also in the car with Jet? I could have been taken too: all two of us. Or probably, I could have resisted, maybe could have been another Betti Chua Sy.

It was just barely a month ago, Henry and I would talk about the babies of the Filipino immigrants in the U.S, Canada and Australia (I’ve been “comparing notes” with my friends in Canada and Seattle), their babies being independent by the time they reach the age of two or three: self-feeding and sleeping in the room of their own. Hard to believe but true. Henry went: “Do you know that the most pampered kids are the Fil-Chi?” Yeah. I know…. because these kids have their own drivers and yayas to look after them, to answer every beck and call: from toddlerhood up to adolescence! My husband’s and my work aren’t glamorous at all. Henry and I literally sweat on the job… chatting up people, doing variety of things: cashiering, office work, HRD, accounting, etc. Henry does construction-type work, managerial, supervisory; etc. We do practically all-around jobs- typical to any Chinese business setup. We don’t wear the trendiest clothes nor do I wear make-up to work. We dress down and literally get dirty. Being a wholesaler store, we deal with little shop owners; from small businessmen to construction workers. We have some 17 people in our workforce: from our truck drivers to the company security guard. I don’t mind if people label my Fil-Chi kid as pampered. Henry and I don’t mind at all. Anyway, that’s the reason why parents like us work our asses off. We slave away six days a week. Heck, we don’t mind working on holidays. We don’t mind putting off some much deserved trips abroad or somewhere leisurely unless there’s this long (read: three days) holiday break. We want only the best for our kid. I wanted him to study in Brent Intl. School for grade school, Singapore for high school, and Australia for college. Anything for our kid’s future. After all, we strongly believe that everything will be possible with hardwork.

As much as Jet was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, I try as much as I can to expose him to the “real world.” He’s loved. Yes- so much. That’s why I wanted him to see “both” worlds. He’s always driven in a car. I had other plans for him than riding in different cars with my toddler. It’s not just once that I have sneaked him out the house to tag him along with me and the maids to the palengke (wet market). My reason: so that he’ll know what it’s like to ride the jeep. How I saw his eyes turned really big in awe when we rode the jeepney. There were other kids in the jeep.. sleepy, feeling that nth ride a bore. Jet on the other hand was very much alert, with a look very inquisitive. Nothing can ever be compared with the joy I have given my child. And oh, my next project would be riding in the tricycle with Jet. On the other had, my husband would always frown at me whenever he would find out I have sneaked past him again, with Jet in tow. To start with, he doesn’t want me commuting and taking the public transport let alone bring Jethro with me. Henry resisted the very idea. I thought that Henry’s just being overly paranoid about the whole thing. Although he had told me that his family was held at gun-point, hog-tied and was divested of cash and jewelries in their own home when he was 12y.o, I should have understood him for being overly cautious. Also, he had forewarned me just a few weeks ago that kidnapping is on the rise because of the coming elections. Nevertheless, I would always insist on commuting to the palengke with the maids or whenever the driver is not available. I would even haughtily argue “Sanay akong magcommute.” He would give me cold-shoulders for being hard-headed. I would be stubborn to heed him.

Jet has a roomful of toys: from China-made to sophisticated European, American, Japanese toys. He used to like playing with push-button-operated toys (lazy little kid). I would have wanted him to rather play with blocks, trucks, puzzles and other toys that would encourage more imaginative and constructive play. He would play with these toys at times but if laziness gets in the way, he would end up push-buttoning again (hah!). Two days before he was abducted, we were at the Toy Kingdom buying presents for Christmas. I bought Jet this really sturdy, pricey Tonka bulldozer. I gave it a long shot. He has some trucks at home which he doesn’t even fancy. It’s a TONKA bulldozer anyway. Maybe this kid would appreciate his kuripot mom not buying him this time some China-made trucks (brand-conscious brat hey?). I was surprised the next day when his yaya told me that Jethro had been playing with his Tonka bulldozer since he got his hands on it. He’s manipulating the toy really well. Maybe he’d grow up to be a “construction worker” like his dad, I told myself.

The kidnappers first call came around 8:05am, about 15-20 minutes after they abducted Jethro. Communicating mobile to mobile, they confirmed that it’s a case of kidnap-for-ransom. They instructed us “No police. No NBI.” Our family left the house to evade the media and the police. We stayed somewhere in Ortigas area for the next four weeks with only our immediate family knowing our whereabouts. We were on a news-block-out: uncooperative to the police. Because the incident happened on broad daylight with bystanders as witnesses, the media to some extent had a clear picture of what happened. ABS-CBN 2 gave a good computerized version. Police reporter Gus Abelgas outshined the paparazzi because of his (somewhat) imprudent and audacious investigation as he tried squeezing the relatives for information. Reliable but not quite. During those four weeks, I would be told by my bestriend (in Canada) what she heard on the radio, read on the papers etc.

Hiding from the media didn’t spare us from further misery and scrutiny. We were even allegedly quoted appealing to the kidnappers to go easy on Jet because he’s an autistic child! What enraged me is how this other reporter reacted “Kaya pala walang reaksyon yung bata nung kinuha ng kidnapper, kasi may deperensya!” What does she/he know??? Was he/she there during the abduction? Do these mediamen ever heard of NEWS BLOCK-OUT?? We were not even talking to anybody but our parents and the abductors, moreover have an interview with the media!? One newspaper even said that the kidnappers were already given P500,000 as “goodwill money”. How come we weren’t told somebody already paid for the ransom? We should thank him then. It was also erroneously reported that Jet goes to The Learning Center which is a special school. (I think is where the autistic issue came from) Jet is not autistic. He goes to The Learning Child School, a loving, regular pre-school inside the very exclusive Ayala Alabang Village. One newspaper, two weeks after Jet was kidnapped, printed that Jet was released and one of his abductors was captured. Another newspaper even said that Jet’s parents are Henry and Grace Chua (Who on earth is Grace? I think Henry will have some explaining to do, hehe). ALL but product of media hype. I began to understand that I should not believe everything printed on the broadsheets nor heard on the radio. Going through the negotiation say the least is a very tormenting process. It is gazillionfolds going to hell and back. Every ring of the mobile sends us to having a heart attack. (Familiar with Pavlov’s experiment? The association will always be there: that ring tone and the mix-feelings as we do our never-ending negotiation with Jet’s kidnappers.) The next call came at 3pm. Second demand, the negotiator said “Palitan nyo SIM nyo! Gusto ko GLOBE” (We were using the business’ mobile which is Smart). Uhm, ok. Here’s a Visayan-accent kidnapper who’s a Globe fanatic ( I would even take some humor out of the situation) They were demanding for P50 Million ransom. We were distraught. How on earth can we produce that amount in a snap?? These kidnappers possibly don’t even know that Henry Chua doesn’t even look Chinese. They don’t possibly know that we are young parents, in our late-20’s. What they see are scared Filipino-Chinese parents of a two-year old boy willing to pay the ransom at any cost.

We didn’t come from the clan of Lucio Tan, Henry Sy nor the Gokongwei’s. My husband’s family is a Fil-Chi alright. We’re doing clean, good business. Filthy rich? I wish. Then we wouldn’t be negotiating any further with the kidnappers. We would not have waited another day without Jethro in our arms. We would have rightaway settled the ransom and headed off to Western Australia or San Francisco (USA) and live a quiet life. Or if we wish to stay here, we would have our car bullet-proofed, and have a convoy of bulky, heavily-armed bodyguards following us everywhere. Of course these were all wishful thinking. My husband’s name sounds like some familiar “tycoon”: HENRY CHUA. Karen Davila was quoted saying “Sino ba ‘tong Henry Chua na ‘to?” Insinuating that Henry could probably be some mogul… business tycoon… a magnate? In his own right, Henry really is. Then again, go look at the phone directory and you will find multiple entries of Henry Chua. Henry is one of Chinese’s favorite name. Chua is one of the most common Chinese surname. Gian Jethro’s abduction is not a matter of mistaken identity. Probably, the gang has made a surveillance to the South, they saw our business, the building, the shop. They knew of Jethro’s origin as Filipino-Chinese. He is an easy target: a toddler with a regular school schedule and takes on a regular route to school. It’s just so easy to execute the evil plan. Seeing a kid driven to school is enough to send these maniacs running after my poor little boy.

During one of the kidnapper’s call, I would appeal to their senses. I would smooth talk them out by saying “Mababait rin po kayo” with my voice shaking in fear. This kidnapper would rebut: “Mga dimunyu kami dito!” They will tell us unimaginable tortures they are capable of doing to a two-year-old. They threaten us a couple of times that they will behead Jethro. Other times, they will scare us that they will send one of Jethro’s little fingers to us. I would cry my eyeballs out. I would plead, beg and plead until they hang-up the phone. They would have me and Henry eat mouthfuls of “P***** Ina” from breakfast to dinner. One instance during one of his phone calls, he even taunted me to change places with Jet. It went “Maghintay ka sa SM Makati, palit kayo ng anak mo!” I was courageous to accept the offer. Everything for my Jethro. He changed his mind (of course it was a bluff) and didn’t dare to let me trade places with Jethro though. My worst fear would be having a malnourished baby. Knowing Jethro as a finicky eater, I was thinking how he would ever survive a day under captivity (probably in a lowly condition). During schooldays, I would prepare fresh fruit juice for him but he would insist on sipping from a classmate’s tetrapack (Moo or Chocolait’s). I stopped giving him fresh-squeezed juices and gave in to the pre-nursery tetra-craze. He doesn’t like home-made sandwiches and prefers factory-manufactured cookies and biscuits. He eats fried-chicken and spaghetti but only Jollibee’s! He would really give us a hard time feeding him!

For those four weeks, Jethro’s dad and I would feel like living deads. I would religiously prepare fresh distilled water in his feeding bottles everyday for his return. Henry would sleep with the rosary on his hand. I would wake up in the middle of the night crying. Relatives and friends’ warm words and prayers kept our hopes and spirits (somewhat) high. I have never become aware of the God’s blessings until this incident happened. Spending Christmas without Jet is the hardest thing of all. It was our first Christmas without him. Every year, Henry, Jethro and I would have our Christmas picture taken at some studio. We would attend every family Christmas gathering. I would expose him to the Filipino tradition of pamamasko: we would go house to house to my aunts’ and uncles’ and collect every gift Jet could possibly have. I would wince whenever some relatives would half-jokingly say “It’s a shame to give cheap gifts to Jet”. What they don’t know, Jet wouldn’t know the difference between a P20 from P2,000 toy. It will both end up getting thrown, and dismantled with the same end product: a toddler with big eyes in awe at every new toy presented to him. Jet filled our house with laughter. He would be frolicking around the house whenever he gets bored inside his room. Surprisingly, he hasn’t broken a single vase just yet. The household members are good “hagads”clearing away Jet’s path whichever part of the house he will wish to go. He likes watching the food heated at the microwave, loves to imitate phone conversations, loves bubble bath soaks with his dad, and for some reason he loves running after me whenever he would see me going to the washroom. He loves stories! Especially the story of Kanga and Roo about the “Very Best Mama.” He knows the story by heart and would whine whenever we’re nearing the end. He sometimes pretends he could read by murmuring unintelligible words as he flips through the pages of his favorite storybook. He even has the same intonation as his mom’s! He was never a violent kid. He doesn’t hit his playmates. He never grabs his other classmates’ toys. And when somebody would grab his toy, he would just resist by handing his classmate another toy. He has a good diversionary tactic. Very wise kid.

Henry and I personally paid the first ransom. The kidnappers finally accepted the amount we have offered them. Henry and I gathered all the courage we could have to get on with the pay-off. These abductors made us drive from North to South for 9 hours: from 5PM to 2AM! Anything we would do for our precious Jet. I won’t go further into details about the pay-off. One word: TERRIFYING. Anything short to the P50million asking price of these kidnappers won’t ever please them. The thing is, they have agreed to accept the ransom . We were expecting Jethro’s release days thereafter the ransom was paid. Three days after the ransom was paid, the kidnappers’ negotiator called. They were asking for more ransom. He went like “Kala mo Chua hindi namin alam ang kakayahan mo” talking to my husband. We were all chilling to the bones. They betrayed us. They agreed with the ransom and now they are asking for more. With no proof of life.. without hearing my baby’s voice, we paid the ransom. What’s the assurance this time that my Jethro is alive and is still with them? We still negotiated with them hoping they will return Jethro to us. This time, I insisted during his every call to let us hear Jethro’s voice. Finally, during the 3rd week, they let Jethro talk to us. The child on the other end of the line was whining… in distress. It was a nerve-wracking event. I’ve been wanting to hear Jethro’s voice for weeks but I wasn’t ready to hear another baby’s whimper- seemingly a one year old’s. Definitely NOT Jethro’s. I didn’t know how to react. The negotiator hung the phone. I am certain that it’s not Jethro who I heard. I know my son’s whining. I know his deep baby voice. I know how he would react when in distress: He would utter “diddy” over “mama” because he’s a daddy’s boy. If in case it’s me who he wants, Jet would call out “May” for “mommy” or mama but still in his deepest baby voice. The baby at the other end of the line uttered a high-pitched mama. This gave her away.

I was crying so much after this phone call. We thought of two things: Jethro could have probably gotten lost while playing and somebody might have adopted him, or Jethro could have possibly died of natural causes. The most we could do given any of the aforementioned scenarios: we will give Jethro a good fight. Whatever happened to him, wherever he may be, the only thing that would let us know is to catch at least one of his abductors. Henry and I agreed that God has his reasons for letting this thing to happen. At one point, we both agreed too that hell could probably on earth.. this ordeal could already be our hell. It’s not enough to say that these 28 days are the longest days of our lives. No words can describe what we went through during the month-long torture.

There came a point we consulted psychics, temple monks and spirit questors to look for Jethro. Not even one predicted that Jethro is dead. This made us go through the second negotiation process a tad easier. The thought of Jet alive is enough to keep us in high spirits. On the other hand, we were also preparing ourselves for the worst. Henry would pray every night for “signs” that Jethro could have probably died. One time, during the first time I visited home two weeks after Jethro was kidnapped, I went to Jethro’s room crying like mad.. talking to him waiting for “paramdam”. I touched his favorite TONKA bulldozer... flipped through his favorite storybook and didn’t feel any goosebumps. I didn’t feel any “presence” in his room. I always believe that no matter how “daddy’s boy” Jethro is, there will always be this special bond… a connection between me and Jethro.

With all the psychics and spiritual advisers; “vibes”, we became more confident Jethro’s still alive. We’re thinking somebody could have adopted him or maybe.. just maybe, he’s still with his kidnappers and that they made us hear another child’s voice because Jethro wasn’t in his “performance level” when the kidnappers called. You know, the only way to terrify a mother is to hear her own child in distress. Jethro has always been a happy and adorable kid. Possibly during the call, Jethro’s in a good mood and they couldn’t even make him cry. Whatever could be the reason why they didn’t let Jethro talk to us could be some Divine Intervention. Or maybe it’s Jethro I have spoken to but God intentionally made it appear it’s not Jethro because He had a greater plan: to catch the evil perpetrators. We would have not sought for NAKTF’s help if I have perceived it’s Jethro I was speaking with. We would not risk any police operation knowing the possibility that Jethro could be caught in a crossfire. We would rather pay the second ransom and live in fear while the kidnappers are off the hook hunting for another kidnap victim. We think it’s really God’s will to put an end to these kidnappers’ illegal activities.

Jethro was rescued December 30. He was found in a rented bungalow in Laguna. He was with a 32-year old woman and her 2 yr old daughter (who became Jethro’s playmate), and 30 yr old man, possibly his “bantays” (not necessarily the guys who abducted him). We received a call informing us Jethro’s whereabout around 9AM. We met Jethro with his rescuers somewhere in Alabang. He was wearing a “jologs” shirt (hehe), an old mint green sleeveless shirt with anime prints. He was clad in diaper, no shorts. I can’t describe how I felt when I saw him after 28 days. He almost didn’t recognize me.. and his dad. He’s still cute… his hair was a mess…he seemed to have grown a bit taller… lost a few pounds. Honestly, that first encounter with Jethro after he was kidnapped felt a little weird. I can’t help but to feel that a great deal of time was lost in those 28 days. Babies grow really fast at that age. We were like starting from scratch. I don’t know how we have ever survived the 28-day ordeal if not for our friends’ and relatives’ prayers and reassuring encouraging words. Chinese and Filipino friends alike prayed for Jethro’s safety. Many people offered prayers in different churches and Chinese temples. God has His reasons for letting things like this to happen. It took a child like Jethro to lead the way and put an end to one of the country’s sophisticated kidnap-for-ransom gang. Jethro didn’t show any sign of trauma with his experience in the hands of his abductors. It’s certain that he will not remember anything from this experience. Except for the mosquito bites (looking like scabs) on his leg and hair lice and fleas (?) on his head (souvenir from his playmate), Jethro is still the same HAPPY baby we know.

To all of you who offered prayers, our heartfelt thanks.

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