The 88-year-old woman looks over at Maria Quilantang, her sister-in-law. It serves as a reminder for her remembrance. The two women are part of yet another gathering of so-called “comfort women” who were coerced into working as prostitutes in military brothels by the Japanese Imperial Army in South Korea, the Philippines, Taiwan, China, and Indonesia during World War Two.
One of the last survivors in the Philippines are the roughly 20 women in the farming town of Mapaniqui.
They were abducted as young teenagers, hauled down desert highways, and held captive in a blood-red mansion where they were mercilessly raped. They are still fighting for Japan to issue a formal apology and pay them damages even though they are now in their late 80s to early 90s. They
They share their tragedy with anybody who will listen, hoping that others would remember them even as their own memories fade.
They numbered close to 200,000, predominantly Koreans. Their numbers have now dropped to nine in South Korea. In Taiwan, the last known survivor passed away in May. Japan’s failure to acknowledge its role in the Second World War and make restitution has caused friction with its neighbors.
The Philippines consented to give up claims for wartime reparations as part of a 1951 peace treaty with Japan. The Philippines’ largest source of development aid comes from Japan, but Manila has been hesitant to press Tokyo despite the former sex slaves’ claims that they will not acknowledge this.
The leader of the group and the most prominent member of it, Ms. Quilantang, adds, “We hope to get justice before we die.” We are all in our later years, and there are very few of us remaining.
The group, known as Malaya Lolas or Free Grandmothers in Filipino, gathered on a hot afternoon to sing their story in slow a cappella verses as they had done for decades.
“We sobbed. We begged for a little mercy. Their savage emotions just want fulfillment. The Malaya Lolas sang, “I was poisoned at the age of fourteen.
In order to relax her fellow grandmothers, Ms. Quilantang cracks jokes. She informs them that performing in front of an audience is just like karaoke. No worry can’t be relieved by chewing on a betel nut.
Then, Ms. Quilantang becomes grave. She was raped in that red cottage in the middle of a rice field when she was eight years old. She still has flashbacks whenever she sees that house from the other side of the highway. It is still standing, decayed, and is now popular with historians and ghost seekers.
The grandmothers’ hamlet, located in Candaba town, a two-hour drive north of the capital, Manila, is still home to a staggering number of crumbling World War Two-era buildings, despite the fact that it is now better renowned for its tilapia and duck egg farms.
Far less interesting topics, Ms. Quilantang claims, also cause flashbacks. She recalls a time when she was held captive and had to rely on the deep footprints left by water buffaloes plowing the rice fields as her only source of drinking water.
“What we carry is quite a burden,” she asserts. “When I was a child, I had so many dreams.”
Since her father perished in the war, Ms. Quilantang claims that the experience deprived her of her youth, a quality education, and a happy family life: “I could have worn elegant clothes as a little girl. Instead, we were continually relocating due to our ongoing fear of the Japanese.
She still regards it as a blessing that she wed a farmer and had children. Other Filipina comfort ladies also experienced discrimination from their own families and communities.Even though Maxima dela Cruz was bedridden, she was unable to join the party that afternoon. She is one of the group’s elders, at 94.
She sits in her home’s window and observes the slow days in Mapaniqui Town. She was one of the Malaya Lolas’ most active campaigners when she was much younger.
“I’ve attended a lot of protests. I’ve traveled to Hong Kong, Japan, and even Europe,” she claims. “The attorneys who support us take us to all of these locations. Even though my body is now feeble, everything is still crystal clear to me and engraved in my head.
Ms. dela Cruz claims that after the war she was compelled to work and was unable to attend school because she had to assist on her parent’s farm. She distinctly recalled that instead of a bridal feast, the family shared one whole chicken when she was married at the age of 16.
She comments, “It would have been nice if Japan had given us something for our daily expenses.”
According to Virginia Suarez, the Malaya Lolas’ attorney, remembering their past always makes them feel therapeutic.
To be able to convey their tale via song is very liberating for them. You cannot remain silent after experiencing what they did. That will constitute extra torture, says Ms. Suarez.
Japan has demanded that the Philippine government must support any attempt by the ladies to obtain compensation. The Malaya Lolas tried to get the government to do it by appealing all the way to the Supreme Court, but they were unsuccessful.
They brought their case before the UN’s Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination Against Women (Cedaw), which decided in March of this year that Manila must make amends for the grandmothers’ decades of suffering and discrimination.
“This is a symbolic moment of victory for these victims who were previously ignored, written off, silenced, and erased from history in the Philippines,” says Cedaw member Marion Bethel.
The Malaya Lolas’ attorney, Ms. Suarez, claimed that since the Cedaw decision, government organizations had issued thousands of pesos in relief to her clients. But, she continues, they won’t give up their fight for a Japanese apology.
The lolas value apologies highly because they represent an admission of guilt, the woman said. “Japan did something terrible to them. The world ought to remember this, and they ought to pay for it.
Share your thoughts