By Donnie Lama

Before I received the 70 lashes, I prayed to the Lord to bear the pain physically. I must also remember His word from I Peter: 12-14 “Do not be surprised, my dear friends, at the fiery test that is coming upon you. As if you are experiencing something unheard of. Be glad that you are sharing to some degree the suffering of Christ, in order that in the revealing of His Glory you may be full of joy. Happy are you if you are insulted because you are Christ’s followers; this means that the glorious Spirit, the Spirit of God, is resting on you”

It was a terrible physical pain as I was whipped with a cane which had a heavy lead attached at the tip of it. Each lash was as strong as the last one. Each one carefully counted, seventy in all, no more, no less. They fell on my back. Some fell on my thigh, I would fall when the whip reached my feet. But the guard would raise me up again and continue the whipping. I was amazed to find myself still alive even after the seventieth lash given because the prison doctor had read my blood pressure at 150/100 right before I entered the whipping area. With some “smuggled” antibiotics and skin medication, healing of my ruptured skin took shorter than normal. I was up and about after three days.

The following day, very early morning, the officer on duty called me. My employer was outside. He had brought my plane ticket which would bring me home to the Philippines.They sadly informed me, however, that the company could not provide anything more. I was not entitled to any company benefit. I understood the situation. I was just too happy to go home.

At 6 am the following day, I bid farewell to my friends who were very close to me (Ruel Janda, Rene Camahort) in prison. That was March 23, 1997. I was brought to the Deportation Department for five more days before I was able to finally to the King Khaled International Airport. I was a free man again.

Kindness at Flight SV 864

I boarded Saudia Flight 864 on March 28, 1997. I was bound for home. As I took my assigned seat, I suddenly experienced difficulty in breathing. I was having high-blood pressure. I was shivering. I called the stewardess immediately and asked for water.The stewardess immediately gave me water and called a doctor. The doctor gave me an Electro-Cardio Graph test. My blood pressure was read at 170 over 120. All the while, my mind was alert and knew everything that was going on. My doctor was already giving me instructions for me to be brought out of the plane on wheelchair. “I could not. Doctor you can’t! I explained my situation and what would happen if I were bought down for the plane. I would be returned straight to Malaz Jail! The doctor understood and talked to the Flight Captain. The Captain himself understood and did the next best thing so they could already proceed with the flight, which was already delayed by more than one hour. He looked for a nurse on board who could monitor my condition during the night. There was one who volunteered. Both the nurse and I were transferred to the Business Section of the plane. I ended up traveling first class!

In the plane, it turned out that many passengers recognized me and knew of the situation I went through. Many sympathizers to the injustice I suffered. Many waited to go near me just to ask how I was. They were, however, advised by the flight attendants not to since I was not feeling well. I was told of this later. The stewardess asked me who was fetching me from the airport. I said no one because nobody knew I was even coming home that day. The stewardess offered to bring me home straight to my house, as her father was fetching her. She happened to live in a nearby town where I lived.

I was about to get off the plane upon its landing at the Manila International Airport I was approached by the stewardess who handed me an envelope. It contained money – contributions from the crew and passenger for me. They just wanted to give. I could only thank them for their love and kindness.

That very moment I felt that the sufferings I experienced in Saudi was being replaced a hundredfold with so much warmth and kindheartedness from His own people. And it was only my first day. I was indeed home.

The Day before Easter

I reached our hometown in Dasmarinas, Cavite, a province south of Manila, on March 29, 1997. My wife cried as she saw me approaching our house. It was Black Saturday. But not for me. To me, it was already Easter, the day when Jesus resurrected and rendered powerless the gates of hell. To me, it was a day of celebration for my won victory over death. Everyone of my family was at home. It was an emotional reunion. There was rejoicing in our household. I knew in my heart that it was going to be the first day of the rest of my life. And I am living it for Jesus.