No Baby Talk
By Georgene Rhena P. Quilaton-Tambiga
Best ever
The CNC fiasco is one of the best moments I've had
by far as a community journalist.
All the right ingredients for a front page story were
there-violence, conflict, prominence, controversy, victims, guns and goons,
bombs and bottles, controversy and corruption.
For a journalist in a quiet town, what a thrill!
Taller than Margarito Broce shouting invectives to Mario
Ledesma. Taller than his son Orven who knew nothing better in defending their
claim than throw empty bottles to the streets. Taller even than Ledesma himself
who said he never claim to be the school's owner but acts more than an owner.
And, taller than Socorro Ledesma who shockingly sent the student-leaders out of
the campus as if they hadn't paid the school for their education.
Who are the tallest (not to mention heavy) ones? They are, of
course, the figure of 'the policemen.'
I shall not forget for the whole life of mine the picture of a
high-ranking policeman from afar who asked an involved person for some cash for
gasoline.
"Pang gasolina lang."
As the blood drained from my heat beaten face, the involved
person instantly drew three large bills from a tote bag and handed the heavy
one the cash.
Well, who can ever say you don't deserve gasoline allowance for
having come a long way to meddle in an affair out of your jurisdiction?
To you, I say: Sir, pantubig man da be, o!
And I shall not stop mulling over in my head the words of
another involved person.
"Sige lang. Maadto man si Sir sa birthday ko."
Of course, I can't and won't put words into a horse's mouth.
So, I can only draw inferences at the back of my thick skull and not mention
them in my column. At the most, I can only beg you, readers, to imagine the
words being said and mull the meaning over in your own thick or thin head.
**********
In the article Cutting Classes, I mentioned how I
deleted from my college days itinerary street combing with left-leaning
students. What a waste of time indeed it was to head to the streets when and
where the university provides for all sorts of venues for students to air
grievances including representation in the Board of Regents, countless open
forums attended by school officials ready to be sautéed in a pan, and student
paper that exercises the full right of the students to freedom of the press and
expression.
I couldn't help but shed tears for college students here in the
city. How young, yet how powerless!
The first time (that I know of) students took their cause to
the streets they are met with incredulity, that their cause is not genuine,
haphazard even. But as once I had been a student, I give them the benefit of
the doubt. So, when I saw them rally and heard what they had to say, I recon
they may not be wasting time this time.
To the students who refuse to bend, I say:
When and where you are branded as charlatans that you forward
not your cause but that of the few who only want to use you as front, know your
own purpose and goal. Better yet, you should truly know why you took the fight
to the streets in the first place.
When and where a wall of disbelievers tells you that you should
be punished for taking your cause to the streets, know your rights.
When and where you are told you are just wasting time, prove
them otherwise.
Remember, thousands upon thousands of students before you in
all parts of the world had won their battle for reform. There is no reason you
couldn't.
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