I didn’t know her very well. I only learned of her passing after a long and fierce battle against illness. The night of Malou’s wake was unlike any other. Even in her absence, she had the power to awaken the deepest emotions within us. We found ourselves smiling and laughing as we recalled the beautiful moments we shared with her. Yet, as we celebrated those joyful memories, the atmosphere quickly shifted to one of sorrow and regret, especially when we recognized that until the very end, Malou faced cancer—not just in her body, but as a reflection of the broken system around us. 

Someone shared the story of how Malou’s struggle began. From her humble beginnings as a vendor to her emergence as a fierce organizer for workers, we heard how she took on countless roles in her life. She was a mother and grandmother, a wife, a friend, a leader, a workers’ organizer, and a tireless advocate for human rights. Ka Malou was a woman and a warrior. 

Among the countless things Malou accomplished, one person mentioned that they would never forget her sweet smile—a testament to her joy in the work she did. This was the most profound lesson she imparted: even in death, her spirit calls us to carry forward her legacy. We must be relentless and unwavering in our struggles, honoring our actions with the same fervor she embodied. I wholeheartedly agreed. I whispered to myself that I too aspire to be an inspiration, to embody the spirit of Ka Malou, and to guide others toward meaningful struggle. 

One voice expressed deep regret, lamenting that there was so much more we could have learned from Malou. This sentiment was echoed by a woman who shared that even in her final moments, you would never sense that Ka Malou was suffering. Her resilience was extraordinary; she endured everything to share her strength with others, to uplift other women and her comrades. 

Yet, someone reminded us that we all face death. Ka Malou succumbed to illness, while many others have been brutally silenced for defending the rights of the working class and the marginalized. What is truly remarkable is that she chose to live fiercely. She lived and served as an extraordinary woman; she was not just a wife and a mother. She was a mother to the nation, a true matriarch of the oppressed. 

That night, the rain poured down, accompanied by the rumble of thunder. Yet, for me, the challenge left by Malou echoed louder than the storm. We may face different forms of death, but that should never mean surrender or retreat. We must not allow the struggle initiated by Ka Malou and those who came before us to end. The death of one does not mark the end of our fight. This is undoubtedly what Ka Malou wished for us—to continue the struggle for a society that is truly free and just. 

Ka Malou’s principles ignited a fire in the realm of labor. Though her life’s flame has been extinguished, someone remarked during the wake that the true essence of our struggle lies in the reality that whenever one falls, thousands will rise to take their place. As long as the crisis of exploitation continues in all its forms and true reform remains unachieved, a Malou will continue to rise from the heart of the working class. 

I didn’t know Ka Malou very well. I had only one fleeting encounter with her at the dining table. I remember her arriving with a radiant smile. She left just as joyfully. That moment was brief, but it left a lasting impression. I soon realized that the chair she occupied is now empty. Now, I reflect on how we have indeed been left by Ka Malou, and it is now our duty to fill the void she left behind. We are the ones who will rally the women, we are the ones who will enlighten the workers and the youth, we are the ones who will carry forward her legacy. We are all Malou. 

A raised fist in honor of Ka Malou! Until we meet again…