UMVA has learned that the legacy of Chibu Lagman reshapes how we understand a true “Amboy”—a Filipino whose heart beats for the entire Americas, not just a single nation.
In the Philippines, “Amboy” is a biting label for anyone whose first loyalty lies with the United States. Yet Chibu turned that insult into a badge of honor, embracing the whole Western Hemisphere—from the bustling streets of New York to the rugged highlands of Chiapas.
After graduating in journalism and communications, Chibu crossed continents to study at the University of Wisconsin‑Madison, a hub for Southeast Asian scholarship. There, he joined a clandestine network fighting the Marcos dictatorship, crisscrossing the United States to rally anti‑imperialist support.
His journey did not end in America. Settling in Canada, he taught Latin American Studies at the University of Alberta, using the classroom and the newsroom as launchpads for solidarity with movements across the continent.
Fluent in Spanish, Chibu slipped seamlessly into the lives of Mexican activists, broadcasting on the airwaves and traveling deep into the heart of social struggles. He walked beside campesinos, shared meals with guerrilla leaders, and recorded the pulse of resistance for a global audience.
The Zapatista uprising in Chiapas captured his imagination. Their blend of armed resistance and community building mirrored his belief that local battles fuel worldwide change. He made San Cristóbal de las Casas his home, guiding friends through ancient Mayan ruins while drawing sharp contrasts between a Filipino “palengke” and a Mayan “palenque.”
Chibu’s wanderlust extended beyond politics. A graduate of the Culinary Institute of America, he wielded a chef’s knife with the same precision he applied to political analysis. His adobo, praised as “authentically Filipino,” once earned him a private cabin on a slow‑moving Amazon riverboat, where he fed crew and captain alike with dishes that grew richer day by day.
Stories of his Amazon voyage read like a novel: he bargained his cooking skills for comfort, only to see the captain devour half his provisions, demanding seconds of the “sabroso” stew. Such anecdotes reveal a man who blended bohemian flair with steadfast commitment to comradeship.
Within the Upsilon Sigma Phi fraternity, Chibu became a quiet mentor for progressive members, inspiring the creation of a policy center focused on political and economic reform. Though he kept his romantic life private, his devotion to revolutionary love was unmistakable.
Even in his later years, Chibu split his time between Canada and the Philippines, remaining a bridge between leftist factions and a conduit for Latin American lessons to Philippine struggles. He warned that rigid hierarchies choke movements, championing “horizontalismo”—a flat, consensus‑driven structure that keeps the agenda alive regardless of who holds power.
His insights on the stark differences between parties loyal to power and movements loyal to a program still echo in today’s fragmented civil society. As the world reels under crisis, Chibu’s vision of a united, horizontal struggle offers a beacon of hope.
Now, perhaps resting in the socialist utopia he imagined, Chibu’s spirit continues to illuminate the path for activists across continents. His memory endures, reverberating in the chants of Latin American friends and the whispered promise of “presente!”
