Poetry and resistance: A literary reflection on guerrilla life in Mindanao

By Harsh Thakor* 

Joven Obrero’s The Gumamela Is Still Red, published earlier this year as a sequel to Warriors, Poets and Friends, offers a poetic and narrative account of revolutionary life in Mindanao. The book blends poetry with prose, incorporating letters, autobiographical sketches, and vignettes to depict the long-running armed struggle in the Philippines from the perspective of its participants.

Obrero uses the red gumamela flower—a common plant in the Philippines—as a central metaphor for the strength and persistence of the guerrilla movement. The imagery of the gumamela, with its bright red color and resilient nature, is employed throughout the book to reflect ideals of resistance, sacrifice, and hope.

While primarily a collection of poetry, The Gumamela Is Still Red also functions as a reflective memoir. Obrero revisits themes of love, loss, political commitment, and gender equality through a revolutionary lens. The chapters—such as Love, Monsoon Diaries, There is Blood in the Streets, and Corona and Other Viruses—highlight not only the armed struggle but also the personal and social dimensions of life within the revolutionary movement.

One of the book’s notable contributions is its attention to the experiences of women in the guerrilla ranks. Obrero recounts the stories of women who challenged traditional gender roles, demanded equality in combat roles, and found personal meaning in the collective struggle. The memoir also addresses the displacement of indigenous communities and the socio-political impact of extractive industries in rural areas.

Obrero’s writing often juxtaposes the natural environment with the realities of war. Rivers, rain, mountains, and flora serve as recurring symbols that intertwine with the political and emotional landscape of the fighters. In doing so, she aligns her work with a tradition of revolutionary poetry seen in the writings of figures such as Mao Zedong, Ho Chi Minh, and Pablo Neruda.

Poems such as To the Masses, Our Teachers, The Masses Are Waiting, Waiting for Us, and The Gumamela is Red emphasize recurring revolutionary motifs—mass participation, transformation through struggle, and martyrdom. Other works, including Ode to a Rifle and Viewpoint, examine the dual role of violence as both a source of protection and a tool of liberation. Themes of loss, isolation, and perseverance also permeate the text, particularly in the context of the COVID-19 pandemic and the policies of the Duterte administration.

Throughout the book, Obrero explores the lives of individuals often absent from mainstream narratives: indigenous youth joining guerrilla operations, peasants navigating land loss, and urban poor families enduring state neglect. Her correspondence with imprisoned friends and children of desaparecidos further humanizes the broader political backdrop.

In conclusion, The Gumamela Is Still Red is not a neutral or detached account of the Philippine conflict—it is an insider’s perspective shaped by ideological commitment and lived experience. The book affirms the author's decision to join the armed movement and reflects on the cost and meaning of that choice. As such, it serves as both literary expression and political documentation of an ongoing social struggle. While it may not offer a comprehensive overview of the conflict, it provides an evocative window into the mindset and motivations of those within the revolutionary movement.

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*Freelance journalist