The story was written by Sandra Nicole Roldan who is currently an instructor at the University of the

Philippines – Diliman. The story took place during the period of President Ferdinand Marcos told on the
point of view of a 5-year-old girl. Here is the summary of the story, which was uplifted from
jamesfuentes12 on Brainly:

It begins with a housing project catering the middleclass of society. Among the facilities were tennis
courts and a swimming pool. Her family was in the same project and people from all appearances were
living like everyone in the community. Everything went well. One night when everyone turned their light
off before sleeping, her father would oddly keep his light beside the window on beside the window for
no reason. The house would have visitors at night when they are asleep but then the would come more
often and gather in another room. the girl asked them what they are, they were introduced as uncles
and aunts. They kept going for years to the point that it has become a practice. The “uncles and aunts”
will stay up all night talking things like “soldiers, dead bodies” and “escaping through the tall grass is the
best way”. The kids would come home to see these relatives gathered in the TV front watching the news
or programs with a revolutionary theme. The girls would at times shocked to see the president’s face on
the monitor. A year later, these “relatives” became used to the house that they think of it as their own.
Enraged at the loss of privacy and her quiet life and burdened with unpaid bills and taxes, the couple of
the family finally had a talk. “We cannot go on like this” the wife said. “You have neglected everything!”
The father said that the president has to be stopped. His resolve was clearly unshakeable. The wife was
urged to leave. A year has passed and the father was arrested in front of their houseThe children were
left under the care of their grandparents. Now with her new life, and living in a different house, she
would often have recurring dreams of searching for her former home. The girl would see her father who
was in Camp Crame. Years has passed and she is now a woman. She finally understood. The “relatives”
were revolutionaries and her father is one of them. At nights, there would be people knocking on her
door asking “Are you his daughter? to which she would reply “He does not live here anymore”.

Let us dissect the story "The Safe House by Sandra Nicole Roldan".

Grab your 21st Century Literature from the Philippines and the World book, pages 15 - 18. Together let
us analyze the events and underlying meanings in each paragraph for better understanding. The
narrative started with the description of the scene. There mentioned, "a one box among many",
"identical to all houses", and "it is easy to get lost here".

What kind of place is being described? What is exactly the box that was mentioned?

With the mentioned lines above, we can sense that we are inside an apartment complex, or might be a
subdivision, where houses all looks identical that if you're not that familiar enough, you'll get lost.

Aside from the houses, being all looking the same, an oozing feeling of luxury and elegance can be felt
as luxury cars, pools, tennis courts and a clubhouse was mentioned. Yet, inside, reveals little of what
happens - "there is not much else to see".

The box mentioned here is our main building, where all scenes takes place - the safe house. The safe
house, where silent cries are poured, wounded are healed, and empty stomachs are filled. The house
that looks exactly the same with the other buildings, but not THAT the same. A refuge where the visitors
know exactly where and when to turn even in the midst of darkness. "It is 1982." The time that there
was a struggle against the life in Martial Law. A five year old girl, witness through her innocent eyes the
coming in and out of strangers-- people with faces that differ every night. She does not care that much,
but make sure to keep quite because the "relatives" are "Talking about Important Things".

Who are these people?

The girl sees these people as her "relatives", well, at a young age, with people eating, talking inside
your house every night, everyone just seems like relatives. Every new face becomes her "newer
relatives". There was this man, with band-aids on his feet instead of toenails and wears dark glasses on
his eyes. Funny to think about, she's wondering if he man has superhuman powers like laser vision, or
maybe a one-eyed pirate.

Needless to say, this man might have went to tremendous danger, with wounds on his feet. What
could have happened to his toenails right? What happened to his eyes that even at night, he covers it
with dark glasses?

"sundalo, kasama, talahib --- katawan" A lot of things can come to mind, yet one thing can be clear --
someone died in the midst of the bushes. It may be their comrade, the government's army, or the army
killed their comrade. SOMEONE DIED.

We later get to know that these people are against the current administration - the rule of Marcos.
With the grownup's eyes nailed on the television, she did not have the chance to watch her favorite
channel, instead, curses are heard. People are not just angry, they are furious!

A year passed, 1983, and more and more people are coming. With children's birthday as masks for
their meetings. Dusty beer bottles that are never opened were serve. The "relatives" do not drink at all,
it's all just a game of pretending. A laughing game through the eyes of the little girl. Then, there's the
mother not enjoying the game at all, crying as the laughter of the husbands continues.

"underground, revolution, taxes and bills" words that does not make any sense to the little girl.

The mother left her for good. The siblings would just spend their days playing outside as their house is
occupied with more and more papers, plus the smoke that most probably from the cigarettes of the
"relatives". There is a mention of the "small red book". Based on the description of the little girls, we
can say that it is a book of Mao Zedong or Mao TseTung. This book was distributed in China during the
Cultural Revolution, in which many people were killed, owning it became a way of surviving. This book
covers class struggles, correcting mistaken ideas, and other things that talks about revolution. This book
has been carried secretly by the "relatives" and may be a source of idea and inspiration.

Another year had passed, the father got arrested. Everyone was quite witnessing the arrest, but after
the soldiers left, murmurings went louder.
 The siblings lived with their grandparents. A story about lovebirds was also mentioned, that may have
an underlying meaning of soldiers that has been taking over since long ago.

The little girl would come visit her father in his "new house", of course that means prison cell, and
sleep there during the weekends.

She had dreams, bad dreams -- scary images of what's supposed to be her house. She sees her house
now as a dangerous place, a scary place. To make things better, she paints it pink, blue and yellow. Such
lovely colors through the eyes of a girl, then have the sun and the moon and the star on the floor, to
provide light to such dark world. A world where she is left-- alone.

Soon after, when she comes of age, she will still be living in the same old house -- the safe house. With
it's new door, and a familiar stranger will come knocking looking for his now gone father. She knows the
stranger needs help, but she will still decide to close the door, and "push the bolts firmly into place".

The safe house, was actually not safe. Years passed and the house has been catering defectors,
"relatives" that were not actually relatives. Now, she knows better. Though she knows she can help but,
she chose to close her doors so that what happened before will not repeat itself. She will keep her
house--- safe.

A Reflection Paper on the story, “Safe House” By Sandra Nicole Roldan

Martial Law in the eyes of an innocent and naïve child is nothing but a harsh, confusing, and traumatic
experience no one in this lifetime ever deserves. Reading Safe House made me realize how hard it is to
be in a situation you don’t even have a clue about, despite knowing there’s something wrong and fishy
about it. Truly, this story is an eye opener for people like me who’s lucky enough to be spared from
living a life under Martial law. After reading the story, I can say that I understand both the father and the
little girl. I understand why her father did those things that may put them in danger, but at the same
time, may give them freedom. Being under an abusive government, seeing how your fellow Filipinos are
suffering and paying for the non-existent sins they committed, maybe I would’ve done the same thing
too. On the other hand, I also understand why the little girl chose a different path far from what her
father used to do. I sympathized with her decision of not letting people inside the safe house so that it
can be genuinely safe, at last. Some may say that what she did is such a cowardly and selfish act but I
think it is brave. It is brave because after everything that she’s been through, she is firm and strong
enough to stand up for herself, for her safety, and for her peace. I realized that I can’t just judge her for
not being like her father or for closing her doors because if my childhood was the same as hers, I
would’ve been broken and traumatized as well. Because in order to help and heal others, you have to
help and heal yourself first.

The Safe House"

From the street, it is one box among many. Beneath terracotta roof tiles baking uniformly in the
sweltering noon the building/s grey concrete face stares out impassively in straight lines and angles. Its
walls are high and wide, as good walls should be. A four-storey building with four units to a floor. At
dusk, the square glass windows glitter like the compound eyes of insects, revealing little of what
happens inside. There is not much else to see.

And so this house seems in every way identical to all the other houses in all the thirty-odd other
buildings nestled within the gates of this complex. It is the First Lady’s pride and joy, a housing project
designed for genteel middle class living. There is a clubhouse, a swimming pool, a tennis court. A few
residents drive luxury cars. People walk purebred dogs in the morning. Trees shade the narrow paths
and the flowering hedges that border each building give the neighborhood a hushed, cozy feel. It is easy
to get lost here.

But those who need to come here know what to look for-the swinging gate, the twisting butterfly
tree, the cyclone-wire fence. A curtained window glows with the yellow light of a lamp perpetually left
on. Visitors count the steps up each flight of stairs. They do not stumble in the dark. They know which
door will be opened to them, day or night. They will be fed, sometimes given money. Wounds will be
treated, bandages changed. They carry nothing-no books, no bags, or papers. What they do bring is
locked inside their heads, the safest of places. They arrive one at a time, or in couples, over a span of
several hours. They are careful not to attract attention. They listen for the reassuring yelps of squabbling
children before they raise their hands to knock.

It is 1982. The girl who lives here does not care too much for the people who visit. She is five. Two
uncles and an aunt dropped by the other day. Three aunts and two uncles slept over the night before. It
is impossible to remember all of them. There are too many names, too many faces. And they all look the
same-too tall, too old, too serious, too many. They surround the small dining table, the yellow lamp
above throwing and tilting shadows against freshly-painted cream walls.

They crowd the already cramped living room with their books and papers, hissing at her to keep quiet,
they are talking about important things. So she keeps quiet. The flock of new relatives recedes into the
background as she fights with her brother over who gets to sit closer to the television. It is tuned in to
Sesame Street on Channel 9. The small black and white screen makes Ernie and Bert shiver and glow like
ghosts. Many of these visitors she will never see again. If she does, she will probably not remember
them. She wakes up one night. Through the thin walls, she hears the visitors arguing.

She can easily pick out one particular uncle’s voice, rumbling through the dark like thunder. He is one of
her newer relatives, having arrived only that morning. All grown-ups are tall but this new uncle is a giant
who towers over everyone else. His big feet look pale in their rubber slippers, a band-aid where each
toenail should have been. He never takes off his dark glasses, not even at night. She wonders if he can
see in the dark. Maybe he has laser vision like Superman. Or, may be like a pirate, he has only one eye.
She presses her ear against the wall. If she closes her eyes and listens carefully, she can make out the
words: sundalo, kasama, talahib. The last word she hears clearly is katawan. The visitors are now quiet
but still she cannot sleep. From the living room, there are sounds like small animals crying.

She comes home from school the next day to see the visitors crowded around the television. She
wants to change the channel, watch the late afternoon cartoons but they wave her away. The grown-
up’s are all quiet. Something is different. Something is about to explode. So she stays away, peering up
at them from under the dining table. On the TV screen is the President, his face glowing blue and wrinkly
like an-old monkey’s. His voice wavers in the afternoon air, sharp and high like the sound of something
breaking. The room erupts in a volley of curses: Humandakana, Makoy! Mamatayka! Pinapatay mo
asawa ko! Mamamatay karin P%t@ng*n@ ka! Humanda ka, papatayin din kita!The girl watches quietly
from under the table. She is trying very hard not to blink.

It is 1983. They come more often now. They begin to treat the apartment like their own house. They
hold meetings under the guise of children’s parties. Every week, someone’s son or daughter has a
birthday. The girl and her brother often make a game of sitting on the limp balloons always floating in
inch from the floor. The small explosions like-guns going off. She wonders why her mother serves the
visitors dusty beer bottles that are never opened.

She is surprised to see the grown-ups playing make-believe out on the balcony. Her new uncles
pretend to drink from the unopened bottles and begin a Laughing Game. Whoever laughs loudest wins.
She thinks her mother plays the game badly because instead of joining in. Her mother is always crying
quietly in the kitchen. Sometimes the girl sits beside her mother on the floor, listening to words she
doesn’t really understand: Underground, resolution, taxes, bills. She plays with her mother’s hair while
the men on the balcony continue their game. When she falls asleep, they are still laughing.

The mother leaves the house soon after. She will never return. The two children now spend most
afternoons playing with their neighbors. After an hour of hide-and-seek, the girl comes home one day to
find the small apartment even smaller. Something heavy hangs in the air like smoke. Dolls and crayons
and storybooks fight for space with plans and papers piled on the tables. Once, she finds a drawing of a
triangle and recognizes a word: class. She thinks of typhoons and floods and no classes.

The visitors keep reading from a small red book, which they hide under their clothes when she
approached. She tries to see why they like it so much. Maybe it also has good pictures like the books her
father brought home from, China. Her favourite has zoo animals working together to build a new bridge
after the river had swallowed the old one. She sneaks a look over their shoulders and sees a picture of a
fat Chinese man wearing a cap. Spiky shapes run up and down the page. She walks away disappointed.
She sits in the balcony and reads another picture book from China. It is about a girl who cuts her hair to
help save her village from Japanese soldiers. The title is Mine Warfare.

It is 1984. The father is arrested right outside their house. It happens one August afternoon, with all
the neighbors watching. They look at the uniformed men with cropped hair and shiny boots. Guns
bulging under their clothes. Everyone is quiet afraid to make a sound. The handcuffs shine like silver in
the sun. When the soldiers drive away, the murmuring begins. Words like insects escaping from cupped
hands. It grows louder and fills the sky. It is like this whenever a disaster happens. When fire devours a
house two streets away, people in the compound come out to stand on their balconies. Everyone points
at the pillar of smoke rising from the horizon.

This is the year she and her brother come to live with their grandparents, having no parents to care
for them at home. The grandparents tell them a story of lovebirds: Soldiers troop into their house one
summer day in 1974. Yes, balasang k4 this very same house. Muddy boots on the bridge over the koi
pond, strangers poking guns through the water lilies. They are looking for guns and papers, they are
ready to destroy the house. Before the colonel can give his order, they see The Aviary. A small sunlit
room with a hundred lovebirds twittering inside. A rainbow of colors. Eyes like tiny glass beads. One
soldier opens the aviary door, releases a flurry of wings and feathers. Where are they now? the girl asks.
The birds are long gone, the grandparents say, eaten by a wayward cat. But as you can see, the soldiers
are still here. The two children watch them at their father’s court trials. A soldier waves a guru says it is
their father’s. He stutters while explaining why the gun has his own name on it.

They visit her father at his new house in Camp Crame. It is a long walk from the gate, past wide green
lawns. In the hot surrey, everything looks green. There are soldiers everywhere. Papa lives in that long
low building under the armpit of the big gymnasium. Because the girl can write her name, the guards
make her sign the big notebooks. She writes her name so many times, the S gets tired and curls on its
side to sleep. She enters amaze the size of the playground at school, but with tall barriers making her
turn left, right, left, right. Barbed wire forms a dense jungle around the detention center. She meets
other children there: some just visiting, others lucky enough to stay with their parents all the time. On
weekends, the girl sleeps in her father’s cell. There is a double-deck bed and a chair. A noisy electric fan
stirs the muggy air. There, she often gets nightmares about losing her home: She would be walking
down the paths, under the trees of their compound, past the row of stores, the same grey buildings. She
turns a corner and finds a swamp or a rice paddy where her real house should be.

One night, she dreams of war. She comes home from school to find a blood orange sky where
bedroom and living room should be. The creamy walls are gone. Broken plywood and planks swing
crazily in what used to be the dining room. Nothing in the kitchen but a sea-green refrigerator; paint and
rust flaking off in patches as large as thumbnails. To make her home livable again, she paints it blue and
pink and yellow. She knows she has to work fast. Before night falls, she has painted a sun, a moon and a
star on the red floor. So she would have light. Each painted shape is as big as a bed. In the dark, she curls
herself over the crescent moon on the floor and waits for morning. There is no one else in the dream.

Years later, when times are different, she will think of those visitors and wonder about them. By then,
she will know they aren’t really relatives, and had told her names not really their own. To a grownup, an
old friend’s face can never really change; in a child’s fluid memory, it can take any shape. She believes
that-people stay alive so long as another chooses to remember them. But she cannot help those visitors
even in that small way. She grows accustomed to the smiles of middle aged strangers on the street, who
talk about how it was when she was this high. She learns not to mind the enforced closeness, sometimes
even smiles back. But she does not really know them. Though she understands the fire behind their
words, she remains a stranger to their world’ she has never read the little red book.

Late one night, she will hear someone knocking on the door. It is a different door now, made from
solid varnished mahogany blocks. The old chocolate brown ply board that kept them safe all those years
ago has long since yielded to warp and weather. She will look through the peephole and see a face last
seen fifteen years before. It is older, ravaged but somehow same. She will be surprised to even
remember the name that goes with it. By then, the girl would know about danger, and will not know
whom to trust. No house, not even this one, is safe enough.
 The door will be opened a crack. He will ask about her father, she will say he no longer lives there. As
expected, he will look surprised and disappointed. She may even read a flash of fear before his face
wrinkles into a smile. He will apologize, step back. Before he disappears into the shadowy corridor, she
will notice his worn rubber slippers, the mud caked between his toes. His heavy bag. She knows he has
nowhere else to go. Still, she will shut the door and push the bolt firmly into place.

ANALYSIS

A. Literary Genre

21st Literary Genre is the new genre for literature that 21st Century authors wrote, created, and
published from 2001 to present. Its purpose was to separate the new kinds of literature. Why? This
century is full of new and young generation writers here they think and write much more creative than
in past ages.

Our chosen 21st Literature uses metafiction, which is a narrative technique in which the work self-
consciously calls attention to itself as a work of fiction. Similar to breaking the fourth wall in theater,
metafiction suspends the disbelief of the reader by respectively addressing the reader or discussing its
status.

Metafiction is created in many different ways but always includes an awareness within the fiction that it
is indeed just that, a work of fiction because the story emphasizes how it constructed and continuously
reminding readers that it is fiction.

The author used these following techniques:

addressing the reader

a story within a story

story with a narrator that exposes himself as both a character and the narrator

B. Analysis Guides

Together, let us understand the message behind "The Safe House" by discussing a variety of categories
that will help us to comprehend the story.
Reader Response

We like the story for the fact that it is not the usual plot we usually encounter compared to other
literary pieces we had read before. We are amazed at how the writer gave the twist and put flavour in it.
Reading it for the second time has a huge impact on how we will perceive the message of the story. It
feels like we are in that situation though it is a work of fiction.

Plot and Structure

The parts have a great connection to each other that makes the story complete and understandable.
The story ends up sad and tragic. Based on the literary piece that we chose, the conflicts are the mental
capacity of the little girl to understand what is happening in this period. And since most of the people
are against the Martial Law, it leads to revolutionary of the people.

Setting

Sandra Nicole Roldan based the story in real-life situations. This happened during the reign of Former
President Ferdinand Marcos in the year 1972. Most of the events that occurred during this time are in
what they called “safe house”.

Tone

The attitude of the writer is negative when delivering the story, it feels like she has anger in the
government because of what happened to her family during that time. The tone she presented gave life
and power to the story for the reason that it was her experience, and there’s an impact on the people
who encountered the Marcos regime. The story serves as the voice of the people who lived on the span
of Martial Law.

Character

The protagonists in this story are the little girl who is the witness of the Martial Law, relatives which
serve as activists, and the leader of the activist who is her father.

Point of View

It is third-person point of view because the author exposes herself as both character and narrator.

Diction and Style

Images and Symbols

Blood and scared people come through my mind while reading this story imagining how they
survived this situation. At the beginning of the story, many brief descriptions about the surroundings
and characters are being told. Also, the author used the safehouse as the image of the story. Safehouse
refers to a place you can be safe and this could be a hideout too. We can say this because we put
ourselves in the shoe of the protagonist or the actor to feel the emotion of the story's impact.

Theme

The story shows what is the truth behind Martial Law because the voice of the people was silent by
the law ruling that time.

C. Contextual Analysis

The story used a Biographical Context. Sandra Nicole Roldan was the one who writes, “The Safe
House.” She was conceived in prison during conjugal visits when her mother visits her father that was a
political prisoner. The reason why she wrote it is because of her childhood experience during martial law

SUMMARY

It was 1982 at that time, and there was a five years old girl that experienced difficulties in
the period of Martial Law in the reign of former President Ferdinand Marcos. It was the most
remarkable event that happened in Philippines history. They were hiding in what they called "safe
house." She was confused about why there are so many people in that house. She asked her father, who
are they, and the father replied, they are his relatives, her uncles and unties. The thought that it was a
safe house was not she expected.

It was 1982, early in the morning, the girl goes to a room that is full of unknown people, and she
was wondering what are they doing. Her father came, and she asked him who and what are they
preparing. The father replied, they are all our relatives, and when she tends to ask again, her father got
irritated, and he commands that she must go to her room and play toys with other kids. But, in that
room, the father and all his comrades are planning to attack and kill Marcos. If you are confused about
who they are, they were a rebel in that period. Her mother is serving their relatives with no sign of
happiness. Sometimes she saw her mother crying in the kitchen because of the taxes and unpaid bills.
The mother soon leaves the house, and she knows that her mother will never come back. It was in 1984,
an afternoon of August when her father got arrested right in front of their house. The neighbors are
watching, afraid to create a noise, but when the soldiers left, murmurings begin. It is also the year where
she and her brother go to their grandparents because they don't have a parent to care for them. They
visit her father in his new house, which is Camp Crame. Every weekend, she slept in her father's cell. She
was fourteen, in prison, and she's having the time of her life. The events that happened in their past
became a thought that the safe house was not safe at all.

Why do you think safehouse was used for the title?

A house in a secret location, used by spies or criminals in hiding. being misplaced or taken away by
another being. vibe that a person will feel safe around him/her. The Safe House used as a title because
place where one finds safety and protection.