Three days ago, my group visited Santa Maria, the northernmost town of Laguna to execute the first of a three-phase project. Needless to say, there was so much preparation prior to the actual implementation of the first phase. I would wake up at six-thirty in the morning, be in our constant meeting place by seven, be back to my place by one or two the following morning, go to bed by three, and wake up again by six-thirty of the same morning. I recall the head staff of that particular UP Shopping Center photocopying station tease me about my beautiful eyes and eye bags. Oh, yeah. Black is beautiful, so they say. My eye bags are going black and my eyes are bloodshot due to sleep-deprivation. Black and red: perfect combination.
Anyway, in that town, I had my firsthand experience on how Hobbes’ concept of the Leviathan and Machiavelli’s The Prince were successfully operationalized by the ruling Godfather in order to instill fear and blind submission on the people. I was appalled to hear a great majority of the locals tell me that they would still put to office the same Leviathan/Prince/Godfather regardless of the fact that this local political giant used his position to accumulate wealth and power without really addressing the social concerns of his domain. Public goods such as water supply, security, health-care, and education are backwards. Deforestation is accelerating, thanks to the logging activity of the local Prince. Gambling, especially jueteng, is a common sight, thanks still to the patronage of the Godfather. And politically-related killings, rumbles, and disappearances are nothing new in that town, courtesy of the existing rivaling local political warlords.
On the way back to Quezon City, my group decided to chill out in a place where we could temporarily forget the grim situation of that town we visited. We ended up having dinner in the relative tranquility of Eagles’ Nest in Antipolo City. When we could no longer tolerate the painful quiet that descended upon the group, we hauled our carcasses to Padi’s Point for some cocktail.
By the entrance of the said bar stands a life-sized replica of the Grim Ripper, which reminds me that the day of honoring the dead in this country is nigh. In my mind, I protested on how the Filipinos honor the dead but give a low and passing deference to their neighbors who are still alive and who labor on a daily basis to beat the odds and merely survive. Are Filipinos really individualistic? Are Filipinos really into the so-called not-in-my-back-yard syndrome? Those two questions dampened my already damp atmosphere that night.
Upon entering the main hall of Padi’s Point, my group was ushered to a table by the center edge. Since I was seated at the head of the table, I had a clear and wide view of the Metro Manila nightscape. The dark horizon of the city was graced by flickering lights emanating from approaching jumbo jets. Despite the very visible smog, the nightscape of Metro Manila was alluring to the eyes and appealing to the mind’s subliminal appetite. From a distance, the thousands of city lights seem to beckon to my tired body and spirit. From a distance, the thousands of city lights seem to promise serenity. From a distance, the thousands of city lights seem to be an assured haven to people who are wandering aimlessly in the dark.
From a distance. But not when one is within the scale.
I arrived in my place at around two in the morning. As I lay down to rest, I tried to recall everything that I saw and experienced that day. I tried to etch them in my mind so as not to forget whatever lesson or nugget of wisdom I could cull from them. I tried. But everything went black. And I wandered off to the boundary of my subconscious and unconscious mind where the despicable tentacles of reality are set at bay.
Sikatuna Village
October 28, 2009
