ZAMBOANGA CITY—Some 300 men and women entered the restaurant in a local hotel here on Saturday. The signage at the door said it was a “family reunion.”
Inside, however, tension could be seen on the men’s faces. The women tried to solve this by offering water or coffee.
The women also moved around the room, while the men either sat silently or went outside to smoke.
Then the elders, religious leaders, lawyers and police officers started to arrive. They occupied the seats on the small stage. It signaled the start of a ceremony—to settle the three-year animosity between four warring families here.
The settlement involved the Omars, the Tahirs, the Kammans and the Iskans.
Sheikh Abdulhamid Jameri, director of Islamic Institute of the Philippines, in his speech, broke the tension.
“My apologies, I am having problems recalling all your names. You see I am old and I am looking at you all and I realize you are all now my grandchildren. I am wondering why are we here settling something when I see you can sit together in this room without fighting,” he said.
Ustadz Habib Muksin Jainuddin, who represented the Omar and Tahir clans, declined to share details about how the feud started.
“Let us move on. We have ugly pasts that are better buried. Let us start something that will bring peace not just among the warring clans. Let us think of our children and the children’s children. They deserve to live peaceful lives, a peaceful Zamboanga, and I know you agree with me,” Jainuddin said.
Supt. Madzgani Mukaram, representing the Kamman and Iskan clans, said: “There is no sweet life to live without breaking bread and sharing smiles with our neighbors. I believe everyone is ready to bury the past, our union is now strong.”
Then, Jainuddin and Mukaram urged the warring clans and their followers to join them in the stage.
Initially, no one did. Then, a woman in green Muslim garb moved around and talked to the other women, who then whispered to their men.
And, as if on cue, the men rose up and went to the stage.
As the men hugged each other, the women cried. The tension was finally gone when the men cracked jokes about their looks—how old they looked, their receding hairlines or limping walk.
When meal was served, the men shared tables.
Still teary-eyed, Abdurasad Iskan, a 60-year-old former police officer, told the Inquirer that they could “now sleep in peace.”
“I am doing this to save my two children—a daughter and a son,” he said.
Iskan lost a son, Abdurasil, a member of the Philippine Coast Guard, this year. Another attendee, Idris Tahir, 47, lost his son, a criminology graduate.
“It was painful to us when my son was killed. He is gone and what I can do is to save the lives of my five other children who are all in the police service. I am here to express my serious intention to end the war with other families who happen to be my relatives, too,” he said.
Iskan attributed the settlement to a man and a woman who are village leaders of Rio Hondo.
Councilwoman Hadja Banak Ambil, in an interview, admitted that she and a colleague, Galib Majib, were behind the negotiation and settlement.
“I am crying because I thought this will never happen. I was even discouraged by some quarters that the settlement involving big families, influential and moneyed, was impossible,” Ambil said.
She said it was the first time for her to initiate the settlement, and that “no blood money was involved.”
“It’s usually the negotiator who raises funds for blood money. I am not rich like them. Where on earth will I get funds for blood money,” she said.
The settlement was sealed with the signing of documents witnessed by lawyers Alfredo Jimenez and Robin Pajarito.
Pajarito told the Inquirer that the legal counsels were praying hard for the settlement to hold.
“All sides will submit and sign the affidavit of desistance and it will be submitted to the court,” he said.
He said the cases of multiple frustrated murder and murder would be dropped with the filing of the affidavits of desistance.