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HONORING MY MOTHER | What me worry?

By Icoy San Pedro

IRONY of ironies. I was at the marketplace last Saturday to have my saw sharpened when a vehicle of a local candidate/aspirant in the coming elections drove by, with matching megaphones a-blazing. When the multi-cab turned around the corner, and the usual market decibel returned back to its buzz-normal, a regular street guy beside me smiled and then sneered in the direction of the disappearing car, as if to say “would you believe these guys?” And I thought, good for him, his guffaw is definitely much sharper than my saw.

Turns out, that has just been one of the many reactions that I have seen so far during these remaining days before that time in May when we cast our votes and choose a new leader. Of course, aside from the paid hacks who are out busy campaigning for their patrons, just like the multi cab driver, there are the hyperactive supporters who fill the online highways dropping color-coded campaign materials and shoutouts left and right. Not to mention, clogging the comment sections with senseless repartee, fake info and smear campaigns along the way. On the other hand, there are those who are just chill about the whole hoopla. Resigned is more like it. I remember one scene I saw long ago on television. A farmer was asked his opinion on the elections and his answer was a bit haunting. He had said ‘what can we do, the election seems to be up to the rich only…’ or something to that effect.

Shades of 2016, this coming national elections is again turning out to be like a full moon when fangs come out and werewolves abound. Last year, I was actually curious how this year was going to turn out, with covid as a backdrop and a colorful lineup of candidates in the horizon. Now, with memories of the last presidential election replayed in my mind, I can surely say the hype is surely there. Still present is the friendly needling between bros regarding their choice of candidates. Still present is the bulk of un-friending on social media, as though our lives depended on the politics of our chosen few.

An emigre-friend told me not too long ago, ‘I really can’t understand your type of elections, that is why I wisely keep out of the way.’ Back then, I had been tempted to tease him about our archipelagic thinking. That’s who we roll BB. 

So, to end, no matter what happens, this time, I am not going to let the ghosts of 2016 come waltzing back with a vengeance, at least in our household. If plans work out, with house repairs out of the way and my saw has finally cut up all the plyboards, I’ll prepare the popcorn, bring out our remaining beer and soju and watch our “future” unfold. 

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