Power without Charm

After a terrible incident on Monday, I still feel shivers down my rickety spine. It’s already Wednesday; 2,880 agonizing minutes have already passed but paranoia continues to enjoy resting on my shoulders.

No I wasn’t held up, but I was once a victim of the circumstance – and my personal ignorance – while riding a jeep along pollution and petty thieves infested Recto.

The circumstance – I realized I was alone with 3 thieves on board. One was sticking out his fan knife at me like a laser pointer aimed at my face.

My Ignorance – Recto. Taking out your mobile phone.

The rest is a story of priceless historical idiocy. Ignorance of the laws of the universe excuses no one. Especially the ones who stick out their mobile phones in public places.

Last Monday, I fell victim yet again to another law of the universe – clear the hell out of the way of the President if you want to see your car again.

I wouldn’t have had this problem if our greedy landlord spared a parking slot for us. But that’s worth another story.

We park on the street and this Monday, the Grand Dame had to make a grand visit somewhere, and our car – along with the neighbors’ – were getting in the way of her public entrance.

Under threat of a 2,000 peso penalty, as well as the possible damage to the handbrake, I hurried my ass back home.

Upon arriving, the only car left on the street was – you guessed it – ours. So I climbed up a 100 steps to our floor, and ran back down skipping two steps at a time.

(Yes, there’s no working elevator. Our landlord wants to imbibe in the tenants and unit owners the value of exercise – even for those aged 60 and up. If there is a God, I’d like to ask one simple question, where is the equity in life?)

I opened the door to the driver’s seat, rammed the keys in, turned on the engine and stepped on the gas. I didn’t care if my heavy foot evaporated all the gas in the tank.

About ten minutes later, I find out that Madame President passed by. Just in the nick of time.

Now is that power or what? If someone can make you climb up a hundred steps without stopping to catch his breath, that’s power.

But it’s charm when you can climb up that many steps, go down to park your car, and then wait for the parade to pass by so you’d get to greet the personalities.

You get what you want both ways, but only one of them will make someone go the extra mile.

Thank God there’s an election.

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Favorite quote at the moment: our name is our virtue.

Philipp-Inis

It was the usual dry and humid Manila night. I estimate it to be around 7 in the evening. Coasting along a road in Manila, I passed through the intersection of Taft and Finance.

Since I cannot make a left turn towards Taft Avenue, I must cross Taft then make a u-turn along Finance, just across the National Museum to get to the other side of the road. I do just that.

I pass near the fork, then make my way towards Taft. In the corner of my eye, I see a kuliglig passing by, it doesn’t stop even as I make my way on the road. I stop and let it pass, then out of nowhere, a man in gray uniform stands in front of me, waving his hand. I ignore him, and the kuliglig, and then go on my merry way along Taft.

As I step on the brake heading towards Kalaw, I see a dark figure on his motorbike, venturing ever so close to where my vehicle was standing. As the green light lits, he cuts me from the right side, and tells me to stop. He is a Manila traffic aide. Mounted motorbike demerit aide – MMDA. Well not really MMDA, this guy’s from the local government.

Most of these motorbike mounted traffic aides are the Philippines’ version of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, although most of the local ones aren’t as royal … or noble. However, if you count the number of royalties these guys collect, then they’re very royal.

He raps at my windows so I roll it down.

“Tagalog ha.” (Speak in Tagalog)

He probably noticed my coin slot eyes and probably thought that there were millions of money hidden behind those coin slots. He was already salivating over the possible Ninoy or Roxas he’d get. He was dreaming as I wasn’t about to give him a Rizal. (Ninoy – on the 500 peso bill, Roxas – on the 100, Rizal – on the 1 peso coin)

I studied his face, it was oily. Probably in need of some astringent, that’s why he’s flagging me down to ask for some royalties. But I also noticed his eyes. They were either drowsy or showed signs he was high on illegal substances. He looked sleepy and weird. He opens his mouth again.

“Nag go kayo sa red light.” (You beat the red light).

“Anong red light? Kapag fork, pwede kayong lumiko basta alalay lang.” (What red light? At a fork, you can turn, just turn with caution.”

“Hindi, it’s a local ordinance.” (No, it’s a local ordinance)

What the hell? What local ordinance? Is he making up his own ordinance? I was thinking, pissed at this guy who’s already fleeced my salary through government taxes and now attempting to skin me more.

“I passed the Driver’s License Exam, I distinctly remember that you can turn.” (Of course I said in Tagalog).

I added, “Bakit hindi niyo hinuli yung kuliglig? Di ba bawal sila sa national/main road?” (Why didn’t you apprehend the kuliglig? Aren’t they prohibited from plying national/main roads?)

“Eh, wala pa kasi yung implementing guidelines eh.” (Well the implementing guidelines haven’t been released yet)

What a sorry excuse.

That is just one of the double standards that Filipinos – you and me – have to deal with everyday. Obviously, why would a traffic aide waste his time on a kuliglig or a tricycle or a pedicab? He’d go for the one with the potential higher rate of return. What can he get from the kuliglig? What about a person driving his car?

Go figure.

It is a sad reality, as sad as what is happening to Boracay.

I read an interesting article yesterday, something worth your time, about a balikbayan’s view of this lovely islands of Philipp-Inis.

While other countries are moving ahead, we are moving sideways. Slowly, but surely, we are digging up the graves for the subsequent generation of youth who will be left with nothing in these lands.