BY ATTY. IGNACIO R. BUNYE
JULY 1981. My wife Mira and I were vacationing in the United States and we spent a few days with her medical school classmate and best friend forever (BFF), Dr. Erie Miraflor Bague. Erie whom I also grew up with at the New Bilibid Prison reservation, was married to Dr. Fer Bague, a fellow UST medical school graduate.
Since they migrated to Boston, Massachusetts in the late 60s, Erie and Fer Bague had hosted over the years quite a number of Filipinos who were either just passing through, or attending courses in Harvard. They also met regularly with members of the Filipino community in and around Boston.
Fer Bague became more than friends with Ninoy Aquino. Ninoy was also Fer’s physical rehab patient. Ninoy tore a tendon in one leg and he regularly visited Fer at his clinic. Erie also became close to Cory Aquino and the elder Aquino children.
During our visit to the Bague lakeside vacation house, I mentioned to Fer that my father, former prisons director Alfredo M. Bunye, knew Doña Aurora Aquino. I recounted that Doña Aurora used to visit the Bureau of Prisons and during those frequent visits, she managed to “convert” my father.
My father was baptized a Catholic but he never went to church except when he got married to my mother and when his children were baptized. Doña Aurora convinced my father of his errors. Soon my father was again regularly attending church. To celebrate my father’s return to the fold, Doña Aurora gifted him with an autographed bible and a rosary.
The following morning, while we were having breakfast, the phone rang. “It’s for you,” Fer said. It was Ninoy at the other end. He greeted me profusely as if he had personally known me all his life. And then he invited us for dinner which I gladly accepted.
At the Bisuteki, Ninoy, Fer, and I were huddled while the wives – Cory, Erie, and Mira – had their own woman talk. I could overhear the wives discussing where to go for bargain dresses.
Ninoy was practically nonstop. He talked about what was happening here, there, everywhere. But most of all, he talked about the Philippines.
At one point, he apologized for his propensity to talk. He said: “Pasensiya ka na. For 7 years and 7 months, I had nobody to talk to.”
Of course, that was an understatement. Articles written about Ninoy’s long solitary confinement in Laur, Nueva Ecija describe how the moments of solitude brought him in closer communion with God and steeled him spiritually for the struggle that lay ahead.
After dinner, Ninoy asked if we would like us to join him for coffee at his home. I readily accepted. At Newton, we picked our discussion where we le off. Before parting, Ninoy autographed a copy of book which he was giving away to friends. It was entitled “When Two Dictators Meet.”
That was the first time I would meet Ninoy up close. The second and last time I would see him again was two years later. I was among thousands who lined up for hours to pay our last respect as Ninoy, face badly bruised, lay in his coffin, still wearing his bloodstained clothes.
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