Noel “Flip” Caagusan

August 10, 1965 – February 23, 2002

Noel was part of the anti-dictatorship movement in his university days and beyond. His political journey began at the UP College of Social Work and Community Development, where he enrolled in the mid ‘80s but later dropped out. 

He once went on an exposure trip to Bicol, wanting to join the New People’s Army. He changed his mind later when he realized he couldn’t live without television and other urban amenities. Instead, he later trained as an urban guerrilla. But things went amiss between him and his group. They reconciled only 17 years later. Their last reunion was at his wake. 

In Noel‘s almond-shaped, dark brown eyes was the boyishness he never outgrew, in spite of inner conflicts that hounded him at every turn. This included being separated from his baby daughter Monica in 1989. He could be taciturn or quick to anger, yet he loved playing with kids and doted on Monica. 

He was known among his barkada for his dry wit and poetry. He enjoyed figuring things out, from solving crossword puzzles and brainteasers to repairing and assembling anything on wheels, and was an avid biker. His adventures on the road started in high school with bicycle ramping on his hometown’s streets. Noe, his father. taught him and his brother, Bernie, how to drive. Eventually, Noel turned their old car into a taxi and drove it himself for two years. In 1998, he found his place on the fast track, driving his second-hand motorbike on long stretches of highway and mountain trailing with his and Bernie’s “brothers”, the Black Riders.

His mother Flor Caagusan, a political activist and detainee recalls Noel’s last few days. “Bung (as she calls Noel) no longer lived with us but he often came to visit. On February 21, 2002, Noe learned that our son was beset with troubles and told him to relax at home.  As usual, Bung stayed overnight.  He fell asleep while watching TV on our sofa. I noticed the next morning that his back was bare as he slept facing the wall. Usually I’d cover him with a bed sheet or blanket, but that day I thought he might feel too warm with it. I will remember his bare back forever. I prepared lunch and called him away from the computer. We ate quietly. I was ready to listen if he cared to tell me what was bothering him. But he kept things to himself, unusually calm and soft-spoken. I didn’t read anything into that, nor did I think it special that he came to join me at the dining table, rather than eat while watching TV in Bernie’s room or surfing the Net, as he usually did. 

 “Around four o’clock he bade goodbye, drove off in his red Honda 500 to attend a Black Riders meeting. Standing by our gate, I watched him turn the curve at the end of the street. 

The call came around midnight. Noel had met an accident, said the stranger, and he was at the Delgado Hospital. I could hear my son’s painful cries in the background. Within minutes, Noe, arrived from a reunion, unaware of the emergency. Much later, he confided that gut feeling drove him to quit the party early. We rushed to the ER and found our son sitting upright but restless on a gurney. He complained of pain inside his chest. He kept begging for Vicks Vaporub and painkillers. Bernie and the Black Riders kept telling him to lie down. He refused. 

It took a long time for a nurse to appear with Noel’s X-ray plate. Panic was written all over her face. She urged us to rush to the National Orthopedic Center. Bung had to walk, aided by Bernie and the Black Riders, to our car. The ER staff did not offer to wheel him there — maybe because we were all frantic. Maybe out of sheer ignorance in handling an accident victim.

Noel lied in the back seat. I knelt on the floor beside him. I held him as he kept shifting his body,  trying to find a painless position. It was two in the morning on February 22. His father drove madly from Cubao to Quezon Avenue. Noel could not keep still and I struggled in vain to lift him by the shoulders, so that he might recline. He was too heavy.

His last words were, “Hindi ako makahinga”. I placed a small pillow behind his head. “Subukan mong tumagilid,” I said. Maybe he could breathe easier, I thought. He shifted sideways toward me, fell back without a sound from his lips. His half-closed eyes, those eyes I loved so much, turned white. I could hear his lungs drowning.  A clicking in his throat as I cradled his head in my palms. And then nothing. 

“Huwag kang matulog, Bung, huwag kang matulog!” 

When Bung was a baby, I’d rock him to sleep. “Tulog na, anak,” I said one last time.

Broken ribs pierced his lungs and liver, the autopsy read. He suffered no bleeding open wounds. They were inside, like the troubles in his life, which he struggled to put together on his final day.” 

Isang Tula ng Pag-ibig ng Isang Rebelde
(a poem found by Noel’s father after Noel’s Death)

Aking giliw iyo sanang ipagpaumanhin
kung kita’y di na madalas dalawin
Intindihin mo sana ang nangyayari sa akin
kung bakit ako nagkaganito sana’y isip-isipin.

Sana’y tandaan kita’y laging sasambahin
pag-ibig ko sa iyo’y di kukulangin
sumpaan nati’y hanggat makakaya’y tutuparin
ngunit bago ako limutin pakinggan ang aking sasabihin.

Kaya kita’y di makapiling aking liliwanagin
ngayon sa mga demo ako’y sumasapi na rin
pangpapasista ng kaaway nais nang tapusin
tanikala ng baya’y ibig nang lagutin.

Sana ngayo’y iyong napapansin
baya’y pinahihirapa’t pinagsasamantalahan pa rin
bukol, pasa, pilay madalas kong abutin
para lamang sa lupang kumukupkop sa atin.

Anong mangyayari kung baya’y tuluyang aalipinin
wala… walang mangyayari sa kinabukasan natin
paghihirap ngayo’y dapat munang tiisin
lalo na’t baya’y nakagapos pa rin.

Aking mahal, ano ang ating sasapitin
kung ganitong sistema’y pababayaang pairalin?
Pagbagsak ba ng baya’y hihintayin?
ngayo’y dapat kumilos imperyalista’y palayasin !
O, giliw ko, ako sana’y hintayin
ang lahat ng kahirapa’y akin munang babakahin
kirot ng katawa’y akin munang titiisin
hanggang kalayaa’y tunay na mapasaatin.
Aking sinta, sana’y sa aki’y sumama na rin
tuta’t estado’y ating dudurugin
magtulong tayong baya’y palayain.

Ang pakikibaang ito’y di lamang para sa atin
Ito’y magpapalaya sa libo-libong inaalipin
bubusugin ang mga taong walang makain
mga tulad nati‘y paliligayahin.