Not really a eulogy

No Baby Talk

By Georgene Rhena P. Quilaton-Tambiga

               When someone dies, everybody suddenly remembers an occasion or two with the dead. The casket quickly becomes a vacuum for extracting those long forgotten tales out into the air. And as I was listening and intently taking notes (the old school journalist that I am) during the necrological service, I recalled a particular moment back in 2001 when the late Mayor Rogelio R. Debulgado visited our home when he and the then opposition block campaigned through Endrina Street.

                My late Lola who was an avid fan of then radio commentator Rics Cañizares, now my colleague, noticed that he was with the campaign because he was running for a seat at the City Council. In the manner of every Filipino die-hard fan, she opened our bulky steel gate (which is rarely open by the way) and invited the whole party in. Lola was so happy and grateful at the magnanimity of the local politicians visiting our lowly home. My grandfather, who rarely receives visitors, gave his best and widest smile, happy that Mayor Debulgado visited us.

                My grandparents happen to be politically opinionated despite the really private lives they lead and they are very particular about the political leaders they like or dislike. 

                This Mayor Debulgado, they used to tell me during brown out nights (which were quite often when I was a kid), was up so early in the morning and was all over the city as any farm manager would in the hacienda. Whenever the public market was flooded and when there was fire somewhere, he'd be first to arrive to manage the disaster. Everyone in the market knew him as he knew them. He was approachable and tended to the slightest to the rocket ship of a problem of his constituents. He was such a man of the masa that with his sunburned skin and lanky figure you could not mistake him as one of the elites except when he would ride his expensive pick-up truck.

                This is the portrait of RRD that my grandparents painted for me when I was young and I grew up seeing the longing of some yesterday-once-more citizens that he make a big come-back to the City Hall that he built and turn the city into one dynamic economy once again. And that 2001 election was that one, big opportunity that opened for him and the opposition block. But it was a come-back that did not quite happen until the forces of the gods in San Carlos pushed him hard to go back to the block he once deserted. It was a move that he swore he would never do until his death but knowing politics, he turned out doing it anyway.

                Compared to the storehouse of reminisces of former Mayor Eugenio "Bong" Lacson, who was vice-mayor when RRD was mayor, and of investor Mr. Jose Maria Zabaleta, who is his best friend, mine is just a speck of dust, a mere five minutes in the colorful and busy life of the late leader. But in a way, I did join the excavation movement for memories of RRD, memories both fond and otherwise for some.

                During the burial, as the Debulgado family released effervescent white balloons into the blue summer sky, I stopped ruminating over the memories and started searching in the crowd. I was searching for one particular person, a leader, actually, who can make an impact as huge as that RRD made during his tenure. That leader must be a man or woman of the masses and must be able to drive the sleeping San Carlos people to wake up and start the walk for change to reach progress.

                Unfortunately, during that do or die moment, I did not find the person I was looking for.