In a small church in the suburbs of Manila, a group of widows try to find meaning to go on with life by weaving. Photo by Basilio Sepe
In a small church in the suburb of the Philippine capital, a group of women who all lost their loved ones to the government’s bloody war on drugs, overcome their grief by weaving.
They are of various ages from different walks of life, but they are bound by a story of grief. They are women who are left to pick up the pieces, to struggle to survive.
They are widows who continue to work on healing the wounds inflicted on their lives.
In 2016, Philippine President Rodrigo Duterte launched a controversial drug war – supposedly targeting criminal and drug traffickers.
In the front lines of his campaign are members of the national police who went after suspected drug users and peddlers that resulted in a killing spree.
The impact of the crackdown has claimed thousands of lives, mostly men – husbands, fathers and brothers. The killings have left thousands of children orphaned and women widowed.
Aileen Naty’s husband, Rannie Dagami, was killed during a police anti-drug operation at a local junk shop. Police said Dagami fought back during an attempted arrest.
“I still can’t accept his loss,” said his wife. “If he was jailed, he could’ve changed. No matter how bad a person is, they can still change,” she added.
In the same police operation, Constantino de Juan was also killed. His wife, Lourdes, wasn’t there. She was in prison because police has earlier arrested her when they couldn’t find her husband who was on a “drugs watchlist.”
Lourdes was still in jail, pregnant with their seventh child, when her husband was shot dead. Like most police operations, authorities reported that Constantino fought back during the operation.
In just one night, Aileen and Lourdes’s lives changed.
All they wanted was to put food on the table for their children, but the drug war came knocking on their doors. Overnight, they became the head of their respective households.
Most of those killed in Duterte’s brutal crackdown are the poor.
Independent monitoring agencies have already pegged the number of drug war-related deaths at more than 20,000.
Rodalyn Adan, 31, found herself in a similar situation to other widows of the drug war. Her husband, Crisanto Abliter, was killed in an anti-drug operation in the slums of Quezon City in 2016.
Adan said she waited for news of her husband the entire day. The next morning, a relative called her asking where the funeral was going to be.
She didn’t answer, and just cried. In that buy-bust operation, 100 people were caught while two were killed — one of whom was Adan’s husband.
The couple have seven children. Rodalyn is now struggling to make ends meet for her family, often she finds herself looking at photos of her family – all alive and complete – on her mobile phone.
“I’m still slowly accepting (the death),” she said. “As my children grow up, as does my frustration that he won’t be there with them,” said Rodalyn.
In the aftermath of loss however, Rodalyn, Lourdes, and Aileen have found each other through a campaign that was “heaven-sent.”
The Solidarity With Orphans and Widows, a church-backed program, began at the height of the drug war in 2016. It was a collaborative effort of several priests.
Vincentian priest Danny Pilario, a theology professor, said the project was a result of the church people’s first-hand encounter with Duterte’s “war on drugs.”
In the slums of Payatas people would come to the church to ask priests for the blessing of their dead. They also ask for financial assistance for funeral expenses.
And people talk about their lives and faith, too.
“They have a lot of problems like trauma, anger and fear. One of those problems is providing food for the table,” said Father Pilario.
Then came the sewing.
On December 2018, the women were invited to join a weaving as a livelihood program. They were taught to sew backpacks, pencil cases, and shirts.
Father Pilario said the work offered the widows dignity, which, he said, has been lost since their husbands died.
Dignity, he said, “because now they take pride on themselves” that they can actually support their family even after what happened.
It started small, but the business grew as the women learned more about the craft.
Working five days a week the women earn about five dollars a day.
“To be able to vindicate the death of their loved ones is only possible in another time. This time, they need to live. To live means to sustain them,” said the priest.
The difficulties are still far from over, but at least the widows are starting to find their bearings in the aftermath of their tragic loss.
“The program helps us financially. It’s a good way to cope. If we stay at home, we might just end up crying. I still tear up when I see his pictures on my cellphone,” said Adan.
While the income has certainly helped, the act of weaving itself with other women who share the same trauma proved to be therapeutic.
“They found community. They found a family,” said Father Pilario.
It’s a tough job to raise a family as a single parent, but for the widows of Duterte’s “war on drugs,” threads put together can weave hope.
