FR DIARIES | A More Meaningful Revolution

For years, she was known by another name.

Inside the Communist Party of the Philippines-New People's Army (CPP-NPA), she was "Ka Kira" - an organizer, recruiter, cadre, and believer in the revolution. Today, however, she is simply Mara: a daughter, a partner, a peace advocate, and a former rebel determined to help others find the path she once struggled to take.

Her story did not begin in the mountains.

It began when she was only fourteen years old.

Growing up in a family with relatives working overseas, Mara became an easy target for recruiters. Members of Migrante International frequently visited their home, promising support for families of overseas Filipino workers. What started as weekend discussions soon evolved into political education sessions.

Within weeks, Mara found herself immersed in activism.

"We were taught about poverty, landlessness, and the struggles of workers," she recalls. "Those problems were real. Eventually, we came to believe that armed struggle was the only solution."

Like many young recruits, Mara entered through legal organizations before being introduced to underground structures. She became active in Anakbayan, later serving as spokesperson for Migrante and eventually becoming founding chairperson of Migrante Youth.

But behind the public image of a student activist was another identity. Barely 18 years old, Mara had already been recruited as a cadre of the CPP.

The Recruited Becomes The Recruiter

As a student at the Polytechnic University of the Philippines (PUP), Mara was tasked with recruiting new members.

She organized students, conducted "mass work," and followed the movement's expansion and consolidation formula: Arouse, Organize, Mobilize. For six years, she operated within legal organizations while helping build underground networks.

Then came her first "tour of duty."

Sent to Quezon Province in 2014, Mara saw armed struggle up close for the first time. The NPA was no longer a concept discussed in classrooms or meetings. It became real; with rifles, guerrillas, and life in the countryside.

By 2016, she had risen to a leadership position in the Migrants Bureau and was eventually deployed to Northern Luzon. The activist had become a full-time revolutionary.

Life Beyond The Romanticized Revolution

Life inside the NPA unit proved far different from the image she once admired. There were endless marches, hunger, exhaustion, and sleepless nights. More difficult, however, was the emotional burden.

"You convince yourself every day that everything is okay," Mara says. "You tell yourself you don't miss your family." But she did and so much.

As months passed, she began seeing contradictions inside the organization. While members spoke passionately against corruption and inequality, she witnessed disparities in how resources were distributed. Questions started replacing certainty. And one question refused to leave her mind: Was this really the future she wanted?

It’s Now or Never

On March 30, 2018, Mara made the hardest decision of her life. Together with her partner, she escaped from the NPA. But the decision had been building long before that.

Months earlier, tragedy struck. Her father had died on June 9. Unknown to her, the news had reached some of their comrades, particularly members of the higher organ of their unit, the following day. Yet nobody told her. She only learned about his death in September. By then, three months had already passed.

"I was devastated," she recalls. "I wanted to go home. I wanted to mourn with my family. But I wasn't allowed to leave."

That pain stayed with her. More than hunger, exhaustion, or fear of combat, it was the thought of never seeing her father again and being denied the chance to say goodbye that slowly pushed her toward a decision she had once considered impossible.

Originally, four people planned to leave. Only two followed through. As they slipped away under the cover of darkness, Mara remembers hearing footsteps behind them and fearing they had been discovered. "I was praying the whole time," she says. "I was calling on God and all the saints, asking that we would not be found and brought back to camp."

And somewhere in the darkness, she finally allowed herself to accept what she had resisted for months—that her father was gone. "I spoke to him, too," she recalls. "I said, 'Tay, gusto ko nang umuwi. Tulungan mo kami.'"

The words came too late for her father to hear. But that longing to come home, denied to her for months, became the turning point of her life.

The Second Life of Ka Kira, Now Mara

Returning to civilian life was not easy. Mara initially refused to surrender because she feared being labeled a traitor. Instead, she and her partner quietly rebuilt their lives in Manila.

Yet former comrades continued reaching out, urging her to return. She declined every offer. What ultimately convinced her to formally reintegrate was not fear, but reflection.

She saw the pain her absence had caused her family, especially her mother. She also realized that many of the stories she had been told about government soldiers were not true. "The soldiers treated us with respect," she says. "They did not do the things we were told they would do."

Today, Mara laughs as she recalls accusations that she was a paid government mouthpiece who spouted nothing but lies. "I never received the rewards they claimed I got," she says. "If anyone knew about those rewards, it seemed they knew more than I did. So, who is telling lies now?"

Building Peace, One Story at a Time

Today, Mara serves as Regional Coordinator of Buklod Kapayapaan and works closely with Kindling Actions for Peace Progress and Inclusive Advocacies (KAPPIA), Inc. KAPPIA is a grassroots, former rebel-led civil society organization and federation in Region 2, with several provincial chapters. It actively supports the government’s peace agenda by facilitating community dialogues, peace walks, and reintegration programs. 

Rather than organizing armed struggle, she now helps organize opportunities for peace.

Her advocacy focuses on helping former rebels reintegrate into society while addressing the root causes that once fueled insurgency.

She believes former rebels can contribute meaningfully to nation-building because they understand firsthand the realities that push people toward conflict.

"We are not mouthpieces," Mara explains. "If we see something wrong, we speak up. But we've learned that progress doesn't come from pulling a trigger."

For Mara, the lesson came after years of revolution, sacrifice, and difficult choices. The young girl who once believed change could only come through armed struggle now carries a different message: Real change begins when people stop pointing guns at one another and start extending their hands instead.

And for Mara, that has been the most meaningful revolution of all.