Election Vote-buying, Philippines style

 

To lump together any transfer of money from candidate/politician and/or his leaders/henchmen to voters as collectively and simply vote-buying I believe misses some finer points that may be unique to politics, Philippines style.  Yes, Philippines style, especially taking into account culture and the pervasiveness of poverty.

Consider the following wrinkles, or nuances, or refinements, or however one may call it, uniquely common in maybe many underdeveloped countries exercising democratic rule.

Money changes hands and given to a candidate/politician’s committed voters/supporters whether for services rendered or simply because it is election time and everyone expects money to be dispersed.  Would that technically be called vote-buying?  And how does one buy something it already owns? For many the services to be rendered would be that as poll watchers, errand boys, or other menial jobs.  And the issue is not whether or not these are redundant or unnecessary jobs. Or whether we can even truly call these real jobs.  But these are paid employment created during election time. In many instances, money transfers hands after the election and counting has been completed.

The conventional wisdom around town and elsewhere is that because of extreme and pervasive poverty, a good sure-fire enticement to vote is financial.  Thus it is not uncommon for voters to receive money not just from one candidate but usually from two or more.  In our logical mind, the differences in the amounts given would determine where the votes would go.  But this is not necessarily the case.  We have often heard political purists say that voters especially those in penury ought to accept the money and vote with their conscience.   And this may be true in many cases.  Of course, also true is the scheme where opposite parties will pay committed supporters of other parties, for them to stay away from voting. Thus, paying for non-votes clearly equals vote-buying.  Ironic?

The proof of this pudding?  Consider the very high voter turnout even during barangay elections. Small barangays in the last election registered as high as 81% turnout.   What galvanizes a citizenry already carrying the heavy onus of privation to come together and attend to a cumbersome exercise?   Money.

High elective officials may also choose to take the role of patrons for lower-level candidates and dispense money not directly tied to any particular vote, but simply as assistance or goodwill money expressly intended for the recipients either for their own particular campaigns, or different advocacies, or other commendable causes, etc.  The politician himself may not even be in any ballot. Again, would this be technically characterized as vote-buying?

The greater moral thorn of course is where the big money is coming from and/or how the generous dispensers of largesse expect to recover the big expenditure?  Every thinking man has the answer. 

But does he have the solution?  Realistic one(s).

Not Trashing the Garbage Problem

It is no smellathon that we are having here in Cagayan de Oro, except that the stinking garbage uncollected in some areas on days at end has caught our collective noses.

We know what happened.  For some reasons or other, the then garbage collector just stopped collecting, leaving the city high, dry, but stinky with the mounting piles of rotten refuse.  To stave off impending disaster, the city has had to resort to stop-gap measures – like using some of its vehicles for garbage collection, engaging third parties to collect garbage, and what have you. Despite these, garbage collection has been unsatisfactory.

Invariably local pundits wasted no time rehashing and exhuming the entire waste disposal process.  Questions and proffered possible solutions were not wanting.

Why did the then current collection just summarily rescind its contract with the city?

Shouldn’t solid waste disposal be given to the barangays?

Why go for privatization of garbage collection?

Why not let the government handle that since as a basic service it is tasked to do just that?

Why should waste collection and disposal not follow strictly the stringent environmental standards we read being discussed incessantly throughout the world?  Instead of just indiscriminately dumping on open landfill sites?

To all these questions and more, why and why not, indeed?

Except please consider the following first.

We understand that two of the major issues the current administration has over the garbage contract hastily renewed long-term by the previous occupant are the absence of required public bidding prior to the award and secondly, the current administration finds the billings submitted as over the top. 

Such being the case, a new contract ought to be drawn following the required process of going through public bidding, which should not preclude the subject garbage collector from participating.  This ought to fairly address the issue of fair price, or any cost-benefit issue obtaining with regard to this specific issue.  Problem solved.  Or is it?

BTW, the government being not for profit, driving it to understand and apply strict cost-benefit analyses will be a difficult task.  Look anywhere, locally and abroad, and one finds that government waste is the daily fare, in most anything government does.

We have traditionally looked to government to provide us with “basic services” required with living as a community.  And the barangay is the most basic unit of governance we find in our current political system.  But our experiences have consistently shown to us that government has always fallen short of our expectations.  At this time, we will all be hard-pressed to name and recommend any important government-owned and –operated entity that has delivered to its citizens some important “basic service” with some satisfaction.  Water service? Think COWD.  Phone service?  Think MisOrTel.  Power?  Oops, Cepalco is privately-owned.  But we do have in our midst two electric cooperatives, Moresco and Buseco.  But they would be considered at least non-governmental, right? Roads and infrastructures?  But most jobs are contracted out to private firms.  What else.

But for garbage collection and disposal, barangays should be able to do that.  How?  How do you prepare, equip, and expect the 80 barangays of this city alone to handle seamlessly, without fail, and without running into each other tons of garbage on a daily basis?  That’s a gargantuan task.  Maybe one or two, or even more barangays can handle their own specialized collection and disposal.  But an entire city with 80 barangays?

Whether we like or think so or not, privatization is now the marked trend. Limited government is now the cry of those eternally frustrated by governments which slavishly attempt to co-opt more power and control over the citizenry. Research most developed countries in the world and you will find the sure shift toward privatization.  Why, in some cities in the US, collection of traffic tickets has been privatized. This is obviously naked acceptance of the failure of government to be trusted with many of the tasks traditionally bestowed to it.  Will ours be any different?

Okay, assuming we will continue going to the private sector for our garbage collection and disposal, why can’t we follow stringent environmental standards on waste disposal in general?

And why not, indeed.

But which issue should the government attend to first, given its limited resources, very unalterable time constraints, and overall lethargy and inattention of our public servants?

For the entire country, we have in our midst teeming millions of our own people living in inarguably sub-human conditions.  Reference is made to the countless squatter areas in probably all our cities.  People living in hovels, with no indoor plumbing much less proper human waste disposal system, crowding in slimy conditions under bridges, over esteros, over clogged creeks, etc.  In such a state, proper garbage disposal is the least of their concerns.

So we can aim and engage scarce resources to build ourselves a nice waste disposal system, away from where we live and enjoy our life free from noxious fumes or far from sources of diseases associated with improper disposal.

But in our midst, we will still have the more urgent and hazardous problems created by our own people living in very dire conditions.

These are our dilemmas.  Created by looking at hard and harsh facts, rather than enviable ideals that we think we should all aspire for.

 

The Evolution of the Motorela Business in Cagayan de Oro

 

I have always had an ardent love affair with motorbikes, owning and driving several motorbikes of different makes and models commencing in my youthful years. To this day, I own a heavy China-made bike that resembles the looks of the sport bikes of the 60’s.  

But more relevantly as one who had engaged in the rela business during its infancy, which would be toward the end of the 60’s, I feel that I have some critical insights about the business that in this day and age has taken the city by storm and upended the peace and quiet of its once tranquil streets. A business that is now leered at as having grown uncontrollably to such unwieldiness as to be considered unruly and a woeful bane to local traffic. Thus in the process it has courted serious attention and derision from both the government and citizenry, questioning its role in the local public transport system and eager to drastically rein it in.

Prior to the introduction of the motorela, which many may know was started by a local family here in Cagayan de Oro, the use of motorbikes as public transport had been ongoing from the early 60’s when pioneering Honda locally introduced the motorbike as an appropriate alternate mode of transport for the locals.   In reality it commenced as an alternate mode of transport for those rich enough to own motor vehicles.  A very conveniently different and light vehicle for those who found using four-wheeled vehicles a bit cumbersome especially for quick short trips around the city. Though others found the bike a good and convenient vehicle for tackling narrow trails or other off-road places.  Plus its novelty struck a chord in a lot of local fans, allowing them to open up their purse strings.   Honda was also quite good enticing traditionally nonplussed consumers to try their very smart-looking models which soon appealed to the daring spirits of young folks eager to pursue adventure or simply to give expression to their latent wanderlust via a vehicle that appeared to be apt extensions of their limbs.

Before long this romance blossomed out into something more. The entrepreneurial urges of the locals were piqued and awakened, especially for those that did not want to view its purchase as simply one of consumption but rather for something productive. So motorbikes as a tool to make money became the next purpose for its purchase.  It was viewed primarily as a light vehicle to ferry passengers around town, in lieu of the much-slower means which was the slow-poke tartanilla.

But how to do it? Culling and copying from the not so distant past, the idea of using a sidecar became an easy choice.  Local artisans started tooling around in their small shops and before long came up with a sidecar that could be attached to the motorbike models then in the market.  It became known as the motorcab.

With profit as the driving motive the motorbike of choice was the 90cc bike which was the default size for the smallest bikes then. But at times more robust twin-cylinder bikes were also used, typically in the 125cc and 150cc categories.  During those early times, Honda had the slight edge in the market with their bike models, coming out with pure 4-stroke gas engines, while other companies like Yamaha, Kawasaki, and Suzuki had deferred to the mixed models or 2-stroke engines.  The 2-stroke engines gave the operators a leg up with better fuel mileage, thus many also opted for them.  Since then the sale of two-stroke engines had been stopped by our government, so now only a few hold-overs can be found in our streets.

Before long noisy motorbikes with side-cars were plying the streets of CDO displacing almost overnight the long-regarded tartanillas.

And just as quickly a serious upheaval was soon to ensue because of the propensity of the designed sidecar to turn turtle causing serious accidents on the roads.  It just was not a well-balanced vehicle and was also quite challenging for the hapless drivers to handle safely.

So after many accidents later, people started questioning the continued lifespan of this upstart vehicle.

Creative innovators always tend to fill in vacuums, whether already in existence or still impending.  And the onset of the motorela is one of those instances, filling an impending vacuum that was surely to come.

The early versions of the rela were quite crude and simple.  It could accommodate 3 passengers with passenger access on either side.  The middle passenger making do with quite cramped space made so by the enclosure of the rear end of the motorbike.

BTW, since the inception of the motorbike being used as public transport, a rather uneasy and rather unresolved relationship of regulatory bodies, particularly the motor vehicles agency, with vehicle owner has always dogged it. Unable to fit in any of the categories deigned as authorized motor vehicles subject to licensing, the motorcabs and motorelas have always existed in some kind of licensing limbo.  The motor vehicle agency could only license the motorbike as a two-wheel vehicle subject to licensing.  But the contraptions attached to them whether as sidecars or relas do not fall under any of the categories and thus they ply our streets with no license and no effective oversight from those officially tasked by the government and thus from an agency with the necessary expertise on matters of safety and roadworthiness.

And to make matters worse, many enterprising locals eager to go completely under the licensing radar have fabricated a public transport that completely eliminates licensing from the motor vehicles agency, by putting together a vehicle that runs on a marine engine used on pumpboats.  Since that kind of marine engine does not require licensing, these intrepid road-hoggers have found a way to operate without any regulation and supervision, other than within their fiefdoms called the barangays.  These land-based pumpboats now cruise our highways adding to the traffic turmoil already experienced.

Taken together, over the years the clamor to regulate or all together remove the rela has been building to a crescendo.  The exasperated citizens are slowly letting their voices heard, condemning the relas and their step brothers as the bane in our traffic mess.

Some revealing facts we cite here all conspire to lend more credibility and loudness to the voices of change or removal of the ugly monster the rela transport has become.

Over the years but more so in the unlamented administration of the previous mayor, the rela business had suddenly gained the unseemly notice of the public not only for its numbers but also for the reckless traffic behavior of their drivers, known more for their utter and reckless disregard of basic traffic rules, regulations, and courtesies.

Initially allowed to continue its operations in spite of the inability to license its cab from the motor vehicle agency, the city had preempted that agency by taking upon itself the licensing authority for such transport.  Thus while LTC licenses the bike used, the cab and thus the business are all regulated by the city, initially as benevolent accommodation for some local families who pleaded from city authorities to allow them to earn income by operating a rela business.  Thus, you may have noticed that each rela unit carries the complete name of the owner/operator, conspicuously painted on both sides, as assurance to the city that indeed the family authorized to operate truly does.  Now, we learn that many owner/operators own multiple units, many of these may not even be licensed by the city.  One previous councilor grudgingly admitted that many relas plying our streets are not licensed or authorized by the city.  How many?  Said councilor admitted that there may be as many as 3,000 licensed relas, but that twice that number may be running in our streets.   So who knows really how many relas are clogging our streets.

Trisikads are of course even worse.  Licensing is done solely by the barangays and controls are at best minimal, or worse, none at all.  That goes for those land-based pumpboats operated in the eastern section of the city toward Puerto.

Over the years operators of relas, or sikads, or whatever, have formed themselves into politically strong associations, throwing around their weights in the political arena for political favors.  The previous administration is a glaring example of how policies detrimental to the public good are shunted aside in response to complaints from said associations.  And this has contributed to our overall problematic situation.

 

 

 

 

TAGUANAO : PLACE OF MY BIRTH

 

 

No one local place has earned for me both dismissive derision and then to close personal attachment in my life.  A place which as I kid, I couldn’t write out because I couldn’t spell it.  Was it Taghuanaw?  Or Tagwanao?  Or what?  We of course, now know its most accepted spelling as Taguanao.

With my very close but at times rascally cousins, I would be teased to no end with the “humbleness” of my birth.  You see I was born in that place during the last great war.  A place not only very rural and remote, but even quite unknown to even the locals.  The teasing would be constant and knew no bounds.  It evoked guffaws and laughter from listeners, thus was always quite an effective default joke during family gatherings.  Thus, the mere mention of the place came to be dreaded by me, and discussions on places of birth were avoided. But the puerile tauntings continued and lingered on. 

Because you see, once upon a time, my father’s family, members of some illustrious families locally, owned a vast tract of land in that general area, bounded on the west by the defining Cagayan River.  It must have been vast, since when the patriarch died and the seemingly borderless land was subdivided among the heirs, each still held quite a large tract.  Graciano A. Neri, youngest brother of my father, during our youth still had over 100 hectares of landholdings in that area.  It was huge and though not really mattering much in economic terms, it was an enviable place to go horseback riding and camping.

Anyway, however sketchy this is how I am able to piece together the circumstances leading to my humble birth.

When the war broke out and scary news about the atrocities of the enemy started filtering locally, harangued families started their mass “evacuation” to forestall the eventual coming of the feared enemy.  Families gathered together and sought refuge and cover in places which were familiar to them and for the rich ones, places they owned and controlled.  I am surmising that in the early war years, the family of my father force-marched to this vast landholding, intending to sit out the duration of the war in that secure setting.

When my time to be born came, I was told once that my father had to travel back to the city on horseback in the inky darkness of pre-dawn, to seek out the family doctor.  Given that I was fifth in the family, that doctor must have had quite an experience with our family.  And four more would come later.  Who was the doctor?  I wasn’t told, but from my mother’s mouth much later, the name of Dr. Emilio Dayrit was mentioned as the family doctor and assisted the births of those who came later after me.

Whether the doctor’s trek to our evacuation place was timely enough to assist in my birth, I was never told.

Thus, inauspiciously I was delivered into the world, amidst the heavy drums of war, in a place quite unknown even to the locals. 

BTW, the place was selected because there was a very nice secluded place with a constantly running underground spring providing fresh potable water.  And much later during our camping trips there I had noticed a little structure built close to the spring which had been adorned with a catchment area re-enforced with rocks on the sides.  This is now the site of the Lawndale spring which had all been cemented over as part of the Kagayhaan Resort of the city.

This dread of the place would be carried by me into adulthood.

Then we started visiting the place which during those times had no real access road leading to it.  So we went by horseback from Macasandig and followed paths that went thru uneven terrain.  As we neared the place, excitement grew because once we reached its clearing, a horse race was in the offing, allowing us to break the horses into a full gallop to reach the spring.

Those were exhilarating trips with close relatives which at times lasted a few days.  Even our aunt tugged along with us at times, but riding on a carabao instead.  We had been assured by our handlers that the carabao was more sure-footed than the horse and thus could prevent fatal falls into a deep ravine we had to pass through.

The memorable experiences started the change in my outlook of the place.  I began to have good feelings about the place, the place where I was born.

Then as our current modern times shaped up, it was inevitable that an exponentially growing city would start expanding every which way.  Access roads were built slicing through the huge area.  A bridge would be built spanning the river to the east.   In the process, precious archaeological finds would be reported on the bridge site, close to an old cave that dates back to pre-historic times.   And of course, human population started creeping into all corners of the largely untapped area.  Subdivisions, whether just simple cutting up of bigger areas into smaller lots or more involved ones, now dot the area.  Thus, complicated legal battles ensued, and would carry over to this day.  To a point that my cousins, the heirs of Graciano A. Neri, would sadly note that every piece of plot they possess in that area is now under legal question or litigation.

Today, Taguanao is as commonplace as any of the densely-populated districts of the city.  Not anymore some unknown locus from some faraway location.

But do we even know what kind of a political subdivision it is or how big it is?  It is not a barangay as I found out.  But since it is closest to the Barangay of Indahag I am betting it is part of it. If so, then is it a sitio of Indahag?

To this day, I never cared to find out.  Though there had been times when I would leisurely drive through and around it trying to recall familiar places or landmarks.  Even rode my new motorbike through it for a more physical experience, feeling the wind on my’s face and the power between my legs.

I even consider it now as an alternate route getting to our place in Kauswagan from the poblacion, when at times horrendous traffic jams would clog the regular bridge routes.

A case of a place too far, becoming one closer to the heart.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

500th Blog Entry

I never imagined that when I started this blog I could reach up to 500 blog entries.  But here it is.  At maybe two book pages an entry that’s like having written a full-blown book of a 1000 pages, albeit some stray entries are light-hearted, not serious to the point of being just inane musings.

Still, time was expended on each of them with corresponding efforts to have them self-edited and then published in the blog.

Why would anybody go thru such a wringer?  For what purposes?  Just a couple of stinging questions I have asked myself every time I felt the urge to commit ideas to words.

Self-aggrandizing motives I am sure are integral parts therein and there is no need to spend any more precious time finding out.  But I tell you that personally I have my most defined and avowed reasons for continuing to do so.

Writing these blogs have over the years been my alternative or counter-measure for sleeplessness, which unwanted condition has hounded me since I can remember.  In early HS I recall being almost in perpetual panicky mode trying to get some sleep for classes the following morning.  I would get to bed as early as past 7pm just to try to get my required 8 hours of sleep, tossing and turning inside my mosquito net.  Then when this failed I would resort to regularly changing the location where I got my sleep, from my bed to the floor on any corner of my room.  Most mornings I still woke up feeling deprived of enough sleep.  And this has been a life-long challenge under varying circumstances.  Nevertheless, it continues to this day.

But different solutions for varying circumstances has been the path taken or attitude applied.

Ever since easy and ready access to the Net has been made available to most everyone, it has been my unflagging companion to lull my mind away from sleeplessness, or the inability to get some sleep.  At the onset of any bout of sleeplessness, I would immediately position myself in front of the nearby PC or laptop and plug away.  And before I know it I have forgotten about my sleeplessness feeling ready and primed to try the sack again.  And this has been how many of the blogs were birthed and given lives of their own.

See, this entry itself was started at almost 11pm last night, after an attempt to go to sleep before 10pm had failed.

So now refreshed from last night’s interrupted sleep, another blog entry completed and down the hole.

 

 

How an odd-named Barangay called Moog came to be the site of Laguindingan Airport.

 

 

It was in 1964 that it all started per my best recall.  On that uneventful year I started my job as agency clerk with an Ayala group of companies all dealing with non-life insurance and reinsurance.  The companies were FGU Insurance Corporation, Philippine Guaranty Co. and Universal Insurance.  Being the only employee of the Cagayan de Oro Agency office, I was made to share some leftover space with another then very popular Ayala life insurance company, Insular Life Assurance.  We both occupied a good portion of the 2^nd floor of the Casino Kitchenette building along the corner of Tiano Bros. and So. Divisoria Sts., in front of the Rizal monument in Divisoria Park.

Suddenly one summer day, our office routines were upended with the arrival of a team of important-looking officials all sent by Ayala Corporation.  It turned out to be quite a high-powered team, when it was assembled in full force.  There were marketing people, a geologist, a lawyer, engineers, etc.  Some dressed ready to travel hard, noticeable by their Las Arenas cowboy hats, which were quite popular then.  Las Arenas was another Ayala company which operated from Davao and though I thought it was in agriculture, also produced those nice looking ten-gallon hats.  Many of us had them to parade around town.

 As far as I can recall, the team had personalities like Antonio Bangoy, Mario Camacho, a brother of Fr. Mondonedo, Mario Noble who joined later, and familiar faces whose names escape me now.  Like a burly and muscled gentleman who was an engineer, and who walked with a clear swagger.  But who was friendly, ever ready with his disarming smile.

This was the team sent by the Head Office with one critical purpose in mind. That was to purchase real estate in the then unheard-of place of Laguindingan, in the barrio of Moog.  As long-time city residents all we knew was that it was close to Alubijid and was indeed part of it at an earlier time.

So for the next several months, this hardy and busy team toiled aided by support team members who drove vehicles, or who knew the locale and the locals, or who were local legal eagles versed in the intricacies of real estate ownership under unique local conditions.

Countless sorties to the area were made, originating from our office which promptly became their local office and their contact station for communications to or from the central office.  Team members also promptly co-opted tables and chairs and office equipment from the regular office workers for their work.  And obscure me in my little corner was not spared.

As the months passed, the developing mysteries lurking in our minds begun to unravel.  So in due time we learned that Ayala group had gotten into a partnership with a Texas-based cement company to open up a local cement factory to rival the then existing cement factories in Iligan.  The new company was named Diamond Cement Corporation supposedly the same name as the US partner. Ayala was tasked with securing the appropriate real estate for its site.  The targeted areas in Laguindingan were found to be geologically ideal and perfect for such a factory, the soil being very rich in limestone.

There were both frenetic actions and discussions all centering around the selling and acquisition of real estate, with a cadre of lawyers making sure that documentation was proper and legal.  And in those idyllic days the price of real estate, especially outside the city limits was not that enviable, most of the land devoted principally to growing coconuts.   But the many landowners in the area found their golden opportunity to convert their inert and idle lands to ready cash.  So the rush to sell went unabated until there was not much more to sell.

After a year or two, just as quickly the kinetic activities tapered down as things imperceptibly went back to normal.  And I had in the meantime moved on to another pursuit, another job.

But just the same I landed in the lap of another Ayala company, this time their flagship company, Bank of the Philippine Islands.  Again the talk about the proposed cement factory surfaced.  And as I recall we did open an account under the name of Diamond Cement Corporation.  But just the same nothing much developed with regard to the proposed partnership with the US-based company.  Until some global disturbances brought out the news that the protracted waiting would end since the US company had backed out.

Notwithstanding, our banking relationship with the proposed company continued because after all there was some money to be made with the huge estate bought by the Ayalas.  Of course, just how big it was I never knew personally but I shall revisit this topic later.  Since the estate was planted to coconuts, the owners became coconut harvesters, selling copra as their product.

Some years later in the early 70’s, the head honcho of BankPI, Enrique Zobel had an airstrip made in Barrio Moog close to the ocean so he would be able to land his private plane when he visited the BankPI branches of Mindanao or when he went on his private leisure trips.  Like scuba-diving? And usually, officers of the bank would get the honors of picking him up from his private airstrip.

So fast-forward almost 50 years later and that site has become the newest airport, reputedly of international airport caliber, of Cagayan de Oro.  And auspiciously, we see the current head honcho of Ayala in the person of Jaime Augusto Zobel Ayala (JAZA) as one of the more important guests during the airport’s inauguration this week, and who appeared to be all smiles.

And why not! He has all reasons to be happy, not only for having opened recently the newest Ayala mall in the city’s downtown, but because its Laguindingan estate surrounds or abuts this newest airport.

So how big of a real estate goldmine is Ayala sitting on in Barangay Moog, Laguindingan?  The airport complex is listed as being contained in an area of 4.17 square kms. Or translated differently, about 400 hectares.   Now remember part of this was donated – presumably by Ayala.  So can we assume that the original estate of Ayala was about 1000 has. or about 10 square kms. at least? 

Is Laguindingan big enough to accommodate such a size?  Yes, its total area composed of 11 barangays is about 44 square kms.

So funny-sounding Barangay Moog has gained nationwide renown from this point on.  All because of a botched partnership, derailed by a global disturbance? 

Some Thoughts On The Last Local Election

 

 

Though not a complete and sweeping victory for the entire team, we have to be ecstatically thankful for we have removed the dreaded head. In our earnest and honest dream, we never expected to completely dismantle in one stroke the choking system of crony politics set in place over so many years.

But in a very real and revealing way, the locals showed better discernment and choices compared to the electorate in the last US presidential elections where the top candidate judged as underperforming in most critical issues was allowed to get re-elected largely on continued promises of better governance. And for this, we ought to be extra thankful.  And I am happy to be rendered wrong in my dire prediction.

With this very significant and auspicious though incomplete victory, those who suffered temporary setbacks in this election ought to bring the good fight into the next election so that the remaining roots of misgovernance still in place and thriving can be duly removed and replaced.  

Sadly, we note that this same malignant cancer has taken firmer hold in the rest of the province, where the son and his cohorts have co-opted victories in the many provincial positions.  Let us strike a blow against those who want to set in place political dynasties, with personal aggrandizement as primary objectives.   

But in the meantime, we are hopeful that the newly-elected mayor, who also rode on the coattails of these able and deserving but losing candidates, will allow them to show their mettle and competence with various positions in his new government.  If he had firm trust and confidence in their qualifications as his candidates, they should able to mesh perfectly in his upcoming administration.  Awarding such responsibilities would allow them to be known to more people and more importantly, afford them the opportunities to show what they are capable of accomplishing beyond the campaign rhetoric.  What real governance means, as compared to empty rhetoric or rich promises of some largesse in exchange for patronage.

We also see that locally we have not attained the hoped-for majority in the council. This would have ensured that the resonating voices of change could not be stymied or short-changed by those whose naked aims would simply be to insure failure for the upcoming administration. With the very powerful head summarily removed, these allies should be rendered powerless and exposed to the people for what they truly were, as simply footstools for a despotic ruler.

In the area of tasks, it is easy for us at this stage to dream of big dreams for our city and we truly deserve them for all the efforts expended to bring about this change.

But we have to be grounded in the realities to be faced.

It was with obvious seriousness of heart and gravity of voice, that I heard OCA mention during the campaigns that if he would win, he would be faced with a very grave problem that may not have any easy solutions.  It was the problem of illegal settlers or squatters that have spilled into and infected all parts of the city.  How they can all be equitably relocated and resettled.  Their numbers would include most if not all of those sidewalk/street vendors that we see in our markets, in our parks and public places, and in most other place where they shouldn’t be because their presence have caused us many of the problems we now detest.  Like chaotic traffic in our streets.  Deteriorated and neglected parks and other public places.  Unwanted increased criminality.  Etc.

This ought to have first priority and may consume the best efforts and resources this new administration may be able to muster for its initial tasks of rebuilding this city.

 

The Evolution Of An Unscripted Search For The Ideal Home

  

After a long dry spell, I finally found both the time and urge to create a new blog entry, if only to keep alive the memory and animo of a blog that was started several years ago.

What to write about?

Something that has always been in the recesses of my mind, but never expressed nor allowed to ease into the forefront of things.

What many might suggest as the reflexive answer to the oft-repeated question of what their ideal home ought to be.

As kids and wards of our parents, the whole bit about an ideal abode surely did not occupy our consciousness.  We lived with our parents, and lived we did in the house or houses they provided for us.  It was not our anointed lot to be involved in the process of choosing places to stay.  We simply lived – with them.  And liked it or not, that sufficed for our continued existence.

As we grew and acquired our own families, again that question may have been farthest from our minds.  Why, we were too busy trying to eke out a living to worry about ideals.  There were budgets to worry about.  Work opportunities that probably took us to places we detested.  But we went anyway because work was more paramount.  A no-brainer choice compared to unemployment which could bring one’s family closer to starvation or deprivation.

And years may have rolled faster than we could have imagined before the same question may even have crossed our minds, though it obviously will at one time or other since this frenetic world of consumerism and temporal ideals will not leave anybody in peace.  Alluring advertisements in magazines and on audio-visual media, and even like-minded friends and acquaintances will not let us alone.  And there is no escaping that, unless one lived solitarily and in the mountains.

So now leaden and gray, we are left to ponder about the question again.  This time a new alignment is in our stars, giving us time and space, and maybe some extra resources, to seriously explore the question.

What would be an ideal place to live – for you and the rest of your reduced household, as empty-nesters really?  Not when you were young and ambitious.  Not when such an ideal abode could have provided optimal solace and comfort during your difficult years of raising a growing family or dealing with the multitudinous pressures of work.  But at this present time.

Such is the issue at hand.

Chronologically retracing the places where we had resided and spent precious time with family could help develop a keen perspective not immediately fathomed if we resorted to other methods.

The first real place that our fledgling family could call our own home was an old and tiny half of a duplex located in the periphery of Nazareth Subdivision in Cagayan de Oro, the land of my birth.  Rented for the measly sum of 65 pesos a month, it was very decrepit, sewage was leaky and thus made the place looked very filthy and unsanitary, walls were flimsy thus privacy was compromised, and it was hot and humid, dingy and too small for any comfort.  But we survived it, me, my wife, and two kids.  Overall, it was farthest from what could be considered ideal by any measure.

Thrown far into a distant place in pursuit of a better employment future, we rented another apartment.  No better or worse than the first, but maybe a little bigger space-wise.  Made worse by very unreliable electric power, though made more bearable by kindly and very hospitable landlords.  Had recurring bouts of loneliness and strong pining for a more citified environment.  Which promptly disappeared only after that short stint ended.

We were back again to the old hometown.  And the search for an abode close to work ensued.  It was back to the periphery of Nazareth Subdivision, to another duplex which was small, but painted and brand-new.  The small lot on which the building sat was bounded in the back by the city cemetery.  Ugh! Overall, nothing to crow about or a resting place devoid of any redeeming value worth a moment’s remembrance.  Space again was inadequate made worse by the arrival of twins, which doubled the total number of kids.

Finally in desperation, we decided to opt for acquiring our own house.  Not that the family was now oozing with wealth or ease.  But it was the only feasible solution to our multiplying challenges.

It was then that the idea of an ideal house for a growing family became a possibility.

We had purchased on installment two (2) lots totaling over 600 sq. m. in a brand-new and ultra-modern subdivision situated in a prime location very close to the poblacion core where I worked.  Wow!  And 2 lots to boot!

But when construction finally started after a whirlwind of preparatory moves, things had changed drastically.

One lot had been assigned to a sister so she could also construct her own house beside ours.  Though the lot where ours would stand was over 300sq. m. it would be a one-storey duplex, one half to be occupied by my dear mother with our youngest and unmarried sister.

We did live in that cramped space of a house with 4 kids and the help for the next 5 years.  Not ideal but bearable, it was after all our own house.  The first house we ever owned.

Then it was family immigration to another country in our continuing search for better opportunities.

We ended going thru the same rigmarole as when we started as a family – first bunking with relatives, then moving to a flat and then to an apartment.

To finally our own house.  Any house that we could afford – without any consideration or thought about what would be ideal for us.  So we ended in an old house with 1200 sq. feet of living space.  Its sidewalls flushed to both neighboring houses, making the entire block looking like a row of fused houses. Individual backyards provided some breathing spaces or elbow room for the occupants.  And for the next 20 years we would call this home.  Not ideal, but safe and secure comfort.

Halfway into our stay there, it was realized that relocation to another place would do the kids still in school better – better environment for both schooling and neighborhood.  Again, a duplex was the choice, though now it was called a patio home.  And it had more space and more rooms.  The development of a few acres had its own main street and open gates.  Still looking like a cookie-cutter community made more so by strict rules on the color of the houses – which was one color.

After retirement, the empty nesters had more depth and breadth to their visions of where the ideal place to live would be.

Away from the frenzied pace of urbanized living, in a newly developed community which used to be a farming town. Finally we were in a detached single-family house with some yards, and lots of elbow room within its over 2500 sq. feet of living space.  Though still part of a cookie-cutter type of development, except a lot larger in acreage.

Then we had to move back to the old homeland, whether permanently or not is still a floating issue, wafting out there in the firmament of uncertainty.  All our kids and their families are still out there.

But could we now pursue and bring fruition to our ideas about what and where the ideal abode ought to be – for us?  Well, maybe somewhat.

We now live in a nice house that we had built for ourselves – with detailed specifications essentially originating from our perceived likes and dislikes.  Though it bore many construction deficiencies, it can pass as livable and comfortable.  The lot on which it stands is smallish, as subdivision lots go.  It is not far from where the first house we ever owned now stands, though the latter had been renovated and made a lot bigger.  But overall, our place could be made better – like maybe in a better location, with better climate, with more natural amenities, etc.

So maybe, this could be the answer.

 

 

Out there in the mountains with its very cool climate, with a babbling brook in the back and within earshot.  Away from the chaotic hustle and bustle of city life and annoying people.

So who knows what after all this is done and ready for occupancy.  The future holds many answers.

Because as ever, life is a continuing journey.  A work in progress.