Dumbol!

By Bingo Alcordo / September 21, 2006

‘‘DUMBOL! Dumbol!’’

The conductor of the Bugo liner I was riding in shouted these words and the vehicle suddenly lurched forward and sped off, sending most of the unwary passengers towards the back portion––bodies banging with each other.

This blatant disregard of lives and limbs elicited a chorus of curses from us but the driver seems unaware––our voices hardly audible under the deafening sound of rock music inside the jeepney.

I glared at the conductor who’s barely in his teens and noticed that he was grinning from ear to ear. I almost kicked him with my pointed dingo boots but thought the better of it. He is definitely a minor.   

I thought, perhaps I deserve this. Earlier, I just came out from an automotive shop in Lapasan district to check on my second-hand car which lately had been causing me trouble. The mechanic was polite enough in not suggesting that it’s time for a new unit so decided to flag for a ride back to the city. A Bugo liner came along, enticing me to come aboard with its blaring rock music and disorienting black lights. I thought, no way baby. I am quite aware of this notorious Bugo liner––a cheap sustitute of a "rolling coffin."

Then i heard the words...‘‘Dumbol!... Dumbol!"...and the jeepney lurched forward and accelerated at a high speed in just a couple of seconds. Then another Bugo liner passed by at a faster speed and didn’t even bother to pick me up. It was obvious that second vehicle was racing against the first in a competition for more passengers.

So that’s what dumbol (bump) is all about. It refers to a competing vehicle plying the same route which is tailing the first and so on. Every jeepney conductor is obligated to warn his driver that a competitor is right behind them. This should also explain why during night time, a jeepney which is traling another unit usually have its headlights off so as not to reveal its position. A very dangerous practice indeed.

So that’s how I found myself that late afternoon, waiting for a comfortable ride back to the city. But none came. When it became evident that the overcast sky was about to bring in the promise of a heavy downpour, I took a chance on a Bugo liner––right into the arms of a speed maniac.

I took another glance at the conductor and saw what I suspected all along. He had the body language of a juvenile from the slums and the tell-tale signs of poverty written all over his face.

I can understand the face of poverty. As a beat reporter covering the police precincts in the ’70s, I saw how otherwise sweet young boys turned into tough and mean street pugs just to survive the streets. I too can understand the language of the unschooled. As a Rotarian, we have literacy programs geared towards young adults who never had the chance even to enter high school. I can understand how the absence of formal education can slowly erode the moral fibre of the uneducated. Sort of "walay batasan kay kulang sa edukasyon."

But what I can’t unmderstand is why these "young road terrorists" methodically bully the riding public––the very people who can ensure that they could eat three square meals a day. Are these teen-age thugs a reflection of the environment they were brought up?

As a parent, I can’t help but compare these young pugs to my two sons who are in college. Fortunately, unlike me, both my sons have no vices whatsoever. They simply refuse to follow my lifestyle as a matter of choice, even if they have reasons to do so.

Looking back at these insolent young goons, I’m pretty sure that in a jeepney confrontation––my six-footer second son who plays physical varsity basketball could easilly squash these undersized bullies into pulp bits. No parent would wish such a situation to happen, yet sometimes in life one has to learn the language of the streets––same as I did in my younger days.

Anyway, I made it back to the city in one piece. I noticed that the driver turned off the grating rock music and was cruising the busy city streets at normal speed. The object of his caution was the green-black clad RTA operative standing by the corner. The driver wryly told his conductor: ‘‘’Tol, ayaw pick-up ug pasahero kay dunay nag-atang nga patay-gutom."

Whatever, the RTA operative came over and motioned the driver to pull over. I was witnessing another version of dumbol.

Need I say more?

Dishonorable honorable

By Bingo Alcordo / September 15, 2006

THE recent near physical confrontation during the regular session of the Sangguniang Panlalawigan between provincial board members Pepito Gambe and Jigjag Pelaez was replicated Monday this week, this time in the august halls of the city council.

The city council version had a raging Majority Floor Leader Edgar Cabanlas rushing towards the direction of opposition councilor Zaldy Ocon apparently to physically confront the latter. As usual, proverbial cooler heads prevented what would have been an ugly brawl.

The city council incident was triggered by scathing allegations aired by Ocon against the city administration during his privilege speech. Clearly, political issues were involved that almost led to a boxing bout between the two honorables.

In contrast, the aborted "mano-mano" inside the session hall of the provincial board between Gambe and Pelaez was far from political in nature. To be specific, it was "garapalan" in nature.

Honestly, I don’t mind witnessing honorables in boxing bouts as an expression of their respective political convictions. This is a common occurence in the legislative halls within the Asian region, particularly Taiwan and South Korea. Dili lang boksing nga one-on-one, rumble pa gayod sa mga party members. I can understand that. What I can’t understand is why honorables squabble among themselves and physically confront each other due to failure in "bahinay." If this not "garapalan," what is?

This writer spent time the most of last week and this week trying to trace a paper trail which could lead to some answers about what "bahinay" is all about. I found out to my chagrin that it entails a lot of hard work to find the vital papers and trace a trail that seems to lead to nowhere. Whoever masterminded the heavy-equipment transaction at the capitol that resulted in a failure in "bahinay" is very clever indeed. Or is he?

For the moment, I’m taking my time sorting out data which I was able to gather from unofficial sources. I fairness to our honorables, I’m trying to avoid a situation where "I shoot first and ask questions later." Not my style, pare.

Meantime, would someone be kind enough to enlighten this writer if there is such an animal that goes by the name ‘‘Dishonorable Honorable’’?

Is there honor among the 'honorables'?

By Bingo Alcordo / September 6, 2006

THE month of August past, is something to ponder upon for such an august body as the Sanguniang Sangguniang Panlalawigan (SP) of Misamis Oriental.

Reports are filtering out that all is not well inside the halls of the SP and relationships among the honorables have reached a point which could lead to violent confrontations while sessions are ongoing.

The latest incident during last week’s regular session involving provincial board members Peping Gambe and Jigjag Pelaez is quite disturbing. Personal accounts from newsmen who covered the session indicated that the Gambe-Pelaez-near-physical-confrontation was triggered by an earlier incident between Kagawad Jimmy Caina and Gambe, too.

According to our media friends, Caina and Gambe who both belong to the pro-Moreno faction were seen arguing in subdued tones just before the start of the session. Apparently, the chamber felt the tension between the two––prompting it to defer all items in the agenda thereby adjourning the session early.

Accordingly, Caina banged and rose from his chair and shouted at the direction of Gambe with this statement: "Ping, taronga na pagbahin ha! (Ping, be careful with the sharing!).’’ Caina then left the session hall in a very agitated mood. Later in the evening, he was rushed to the hospital after complaining of difficulty in breathing and feeling numbness in both his legs.

The Gambe-Pelaez conflict happened after the session when Kagawad Jun Khu innocently asked Pelaez what the Caina-Gambe scene was all about. Pelaez wa overheard as saying "Wala tingali matarong ug bahin (Perhaps, the sharing was not done properly).’’ Feeling alluded to, Gambe stood up and banged his fists on Pelaez’s table while confronting the latter. Instantly, cooler heads led by Kagawad Clyde Abbott intervened to prevent a possible violent confrontation.

"Bahinay"? What is this all about that otherwise sober and respectable honorables would throw the better of caution to the wind and act like spoiled brats?

Early last month, this writer heard ugly rumors about secret deals involving the purchase of six units of heavy equipment by the provincial government purportedly to fasttrack its infrastructure projects.

The rumors even gave details about the supposedly bloated total amount of purchase and the involvement of three suppliers in the deal which was allegedly assigned to three kagawads.

Rumors are rumors. Facts are facts. This writer deals only on facts. And I will have my facts soon.

Meantime, I still find the actuation of our provincial board members inside the session hall as less than honorable. As the saying goes— even among thieves, there is still honor.

Is there honor among our honorables?

The art of winning

By Bingo Alcordo / August 1, 2006

IS there really a standard formula on how to win an electoral contest?

There must be or we won’t be hearing stories of perennial winners and losers after every electoral battle.

Unfortunately, we really don’t know if winning an election is an art or science otherwise it would be a helluva an academic pursuit. In college, we have a course on political science but it doesn’t teach us any scientific method or the art of winning an electoral contest.

It seems that any sure-fire formula is left for any would-be politician to experiment on or simply for first-timers to copy certain patterns laid down by constant electoral winners.

It must be the logical explanation why neophyte political candidates and habitual election losers in the city and province would prefer to run under the banner of Dongkoy Emano’s PaDayon Pilipino neighborhood party––obviously, a success story.

Normally, this writer is not one who dishes out unsolicited advices but after more than 30 years as a journalist and as a political operator on the side, perhaps I could share some thoughts on the subject.

Of course, there are a couple of formulas but we could sum these up into five major points under the acronym D.O.L.T.S.

‘‘D’’ stands for Dominant. A candidate for public office has a major edge for an elective position if he or she is the official candidate of a dominant political party––either in the dominant administration or dominant opposition. Being part of a dominant force means availability of pooled resources, funding from various sources, and political clout in the Comelec especially during post-election protests. A third force or an independent candidate is in a very disadvantageous position considering the circumstances just mentioned.

‘‘O’’ for Organization is a given. Only a stupid dreamer hopes to win an electoral contest without any semblance of organization. Election at large needs layers upon layers of political leaders down to the smallest political unit to ensure victory.

‘‘L’’ for Logistics. In this country, where money politics is now a cultural thing––a candidate without money or reasonable logistics is considered a goner long before the election is over.

Even if one is an incumbent with the three Ps (Popularity, Projects, Persistence), this three-some combined will not guarantee success. The addition of money will.

‘‘O’’ and ‘‘L’’ are closely knitted to each other. The absence of one could spell doom to a candidate. A classic example is the Dongkoy Emano-Ruthie Guingona showdown for the gubernatorial post in 1995. Emano had a potent organization province-wide in his PaDayon Pilipino party and a modest amount of logistics––just enough for his political wards to hold the line. Guingona on the other hand, had over a hundred million in logistics (husband Tito was Executive Secretary in Malacañang) but had no existing political organization except for some mayors who were after her money and their own political survival. Emano won by a margin of 15,000 votes.

The lesson is––a candidate needs to have a strong organization with loyal and tested leaders in order that whatever minimal logistics is available, can be filtered down to the smallest political unit. A huge amount of resources without an effective organization to handle it will usually end up in the pockets of pseudo political leaders.

‘‘T’’ is for Timing or sense of timing. This is the most under rated among the five factors simply because it is often neglected in times when personal political pride is involved. Political bravado is evident in statements such as "I will take on anybody" or "I’m ready for anyone" and takes the form of scared arrogance rather than a cerebral analysis of political realities.

Sense of timing is the ability to discern when to engage in a political battle and when not to. Sense of timing is when one tries to avoid stronger opponents and takes on weaker adversaries instead. World-class boxing champions do this most often in order to prolong their reign as champions.

A classic case of having a bad sense of timing is bar topnotcher Koko Pimentel. If only Koko vied for the lone congressional seat in the city or the vice-mayoralty during the incumbency of former City Mayor Ambing Magtajas, I’m sure we would have a different political make-up today and he would be a political force to reckon with. As the case may be, Koko made his move for city mayorship when Dongkoy Emano was the incumbent––bad sense of timing indeed.

Other notable examples include the attempt for the presidency by ‘‘Boss’’ Danding Cojuangco who was pitted against a stronger opponent––Fidel Ramos, a beneficiary of the Edsa 1 phenomenon; Joe de Venecia and Alfredo Lim taking on Erap Estrada, by far a popular candidate of the masa; and lately, the late Fernando Poe, Jr. who tried his luck against GMA––whose campaign was anchored on D.O.L.T.S. Whether she is a legitimate president or not is beside the point. She’s still around because accordingly, she won the post election protest (shades of ‘‘D’’ as in Dominant?).

Finally, ‘‘S’’ for Strategy or to be specific, doable strategy. Double political strategy means, a candidate must follow every detail of his battle plan from start to finish. With it go the basics, which are proper preparation and the initiative to innovate when confronted with the unexpected. Speaking of doable strategy, there is no such thing as a fast-rule for one. Studies show that most modern political kingpins are inclined to apply theories advocated by Niccolo Machiavelli in his treatise, "The Prince" (divide and rule?) and Sun Tzu’s classic "The Art of War."

Whatever, doable strategy is crucial when two political opponents are evenly matched based on the D.O.L.T.S. standard. Moreover, there is no specific blueprint for a doable strategy. What is applicable in one particular electoral contest should not be repeated in the next, to keep the opponent on a guessing game. In this part of the country, this is where Dongkoy Emano excels most.

However, other factors should also be considered, like whether the candidate possesses the two Cs–– credibility and charisma. The presence of the two Cs without D.O.L.T.S. would not guarantee a sure win though. But a combination of D.O.L.T.S. and the two Cs would certainly translate to additional votes. There are instances too that the presence of the two Cs is not necessary for electoral success such as those of former congressmen Congcoy Chaves and Isacio Pelaez. No kidding––Edwin Iyo, a newsman got more captivating charisma than those two former solons combined. It means, you either have it or you don’t.

Of course, there are exceptions to this standard formula such as losing an electoral contest due to outside factors beyond one’s control––the Comelec for example.

Ah, but that is another story.

Class of '68 at 38

By Bingo Alcordo / July 15, 2006

TODAY, this writer will take a respite from the usual heavy political stuff you read in this space.

This weekend will bring me back to the verdant hills of Bohol and its white sandy beaches. Back to the memories of the summer of ’68 and the graduating high school class of the Divine Word College of Tagbilaran (DWCT) or whatever is left to remember by.

I’ve always viewed every reunion with an ambivalent attitude. Sort of preparing myself with the convergence of contradictory emotions every time a familiar face in the distant past emerged to remind me of how kind or cruel life is to each one of us.

Thirty-eight long years and here we are trying to share fragments of the lives we led after that summer of ’68.

I’ve always believed that every class reunion is a personal or private affair. This is one affair where husband, wives, children, and grandchildren could wait for awhile in the background while each member of the batch try to grope for memories of faces and names-trying to tie-up tell-tale signs of the past, somehow creating some relevance of what we see and feel in the present tense. This is one interlude where the loves of our present life just can’t simply comprehend the meaning of the moment. Yet they too will understand later when it’s their turn for a class reunion after 38 years.

The class of ’68 hurdled the apex of the turbulent years of the ’60s leading to the militant ’70s. Some members of the batch became activists and suffered the brunt during the repressive years of martial rule.

Obviously, the batch is a collection of colorful achievers (one of the best that ever came out from the halls of the institution ran by SVD fathers) as can be gleaned now with the success stories of many of its members.

Roy Cimagala, the class valedictorian (he is also a regular opinion writer in this paper), is now an accomplished Jesuit priest. Roy was the embodiment of what a model student should be––unassuming yet very cerebral. If Roy and Fred (class salutatorian) were the students most likely to succeed there were also some of us who were tagged as less likely to succeed.

Particularly, we members of the Exclusives Ltd.––the most-feared gang in high school. Ramon "Boy" Cimafranca was the undisputed leader of the group and very quick with his fists. He is now a successful lawyer and has carried over his fighting ability in court trials. Another member of the gang, Bert Rara, is now a senior prosecutor. Other gang members are now city and municipal mayors, physicians, high-ranking military and police officers, bank executives, engineers, and successful entrepreneurs.

Perhaps, this writer is the only one in our class who pursued a journalistic career. Strange indeed because I never had any formal training in journalism. Apparently, my only training came in the form of composing anonymous love letters to my high school crushes––the likes of Baby Garcia, Adel Maniwang, Chuchi Araneta, Doris Alison, among others. Of course, I also took on some special jobs as ghostwriter for my male classmates (Nonoy Beldia was a frequent client during the Joyce Ceballos episode) who wanted to send their own love letters. One composition is equivalent to one gallon of tuba plus pulutan. It was more of a question and answer session about the emotional profile of my male classmate––his imaginary fears and desires about his current crush. A session was good enough for my creative juice to flow, triggered by the intoxicating high of tuba with Pepsi.

If memory serves me right, I remember composing some 150 love letters all unsigned while in high school. These "masterpieces" were neatly written in expensive stationery (courtesy of Bohol Quality Store) with carbon paper and bond paper pressed behind it so I could retain the duplicate. Undeniably, I was very much at home with the Webster Dictionary than I was with the Holy Bible.

The class of ’68 epitomizes the flower children era––Beatlemania, the beginnings of the First Quarter Storm in Malacañang, hard rock, and women liberation.

Ironically, the class of ’68 also adopted the trappings of conservatism with its crop of spiritually inclined young men and certified young virgins.

I remember Leny Gallares, Ping Po, Rosemarie Penales, Fe Corpuz––very wholesome girls, literally oozing with virginal innocence.

I also remember Mam Bella Fabiosa and Sir Jorge Visarra who regularly frowned upon our misdemeanors and the soft-spoken Father Romy Bancali, SVD––a great inspiration throughout our lives.

Finally, I remember Chito Galang and Restie Sarmiento who taught me the Beatles’ song "In My Life."

"There are places I remember... all my life... Though some have changed…"

"Of people and friends that went before…"

"Some are dead and some are living…"

"In my life…

I love them all…"

Mark Jimenez for President?

By Bingo Alcordo / July 11, 2006

A COUPLE of days ago, while I was having my first cup of coffee inside the Mallberry Suites Coffee Shoppe, i saw an old friend whom I’ve worked with during several national elections in the past.

This friend of mine (he requested this writer not to identify him for the moment) is a veteran and tested political operator especializing in covert operations in Mindanao.

We had the usual where-had-you-been-routine and animated discussions of latest political developments when he inadvertently mentioned the name Mark Jimenez a.k.a. MJ.

I gave him that don’t-tell-me-you’re-working-for-him look and was about to dismiss the whole idea as unlikely when another shocker of a statement jolted me to an alert mode.

"Pare, MJ is a good friend of mine and I wish to solicit your opinion about the probability of him running for the highest post in the country," he posed the question matter-of-factly.

It took me several seconds to grope for appropriate answers. Firstly, I hardly know the man except printed descriptions of him that I read in the national dailies. Secondly, in my 35 years years as a mediaman, I’ve never met or interviewed him even once.

Eventually, I told my friend that if MJ is what he is supposed to be based on media accounts then he could be a serious contender for the presidency. Of course, his being a certified billionaire will play a major role if he decides to throw his hat in the presidential derby come 2010.

More than anything else, perception is also a key factor in any political exercise. MJ is percieved as a philanthropist––a modern Santa Claus. Sort of "mataas ang kamay; mababa ang bulsa." He is quick with cash dole-outs wherever he goes in contrast with typical politicians who adopt elaborate methods to evade potential suckers.

The prevailing perception is MJ got his hard-earned billions from his business dealings abroad while our Pinoy politicians got theirs by stealing from the government’s coffers.

Obviously, political detractors of MJ may point out that the latter is an ex-convict, having served a two-year sentence in a US federal prison for illegal campaign contributions. In the US, penalizing perpetrators of illegal campaign contributions make sense but not here in this country. In Philippine politics, when a wealthy political backer spends his millions for his candidate, he is considered a kingmaker not a criminal. I still have to hear of someone being jailed here for illegal campaign contibutions.

Somehow, our distorted sense of justice allows some sort of grey area as far as violation of certain election laws is concerned.

The average Pinoy voter cannot understand why an unknown Filipino like Mark Jimenez went to jail for giving away his millions (dollars) to Bill Clinton (one of the most admired of modern-day American presidents) while political leaders in this country who are notorious thieves are regularly reelected just to steal some more from government funds.

Moreover, for the average Pinoy voter––after more than four decades of living miserable lives under the terms of five uncaring presidents, an unknown political figure could be the final alternative.

Speaking of alternatives, who is this MJ compared to Ferdinand Marcos? Well, Marcos is a certified dictator and thief. MJ is not.

What about Cory Aquino? Cory is the reason why the Edsa revolution became a big joke. She’s a plain housewife, period. MJ is not. And Fidel Ramos? Ramos tried to buy peace by striking an unattainable compromise on both the military and rebel forces. He pampered the military while initiating sugar-coated peace agreements with rebel forces––the reason why we are paying the consequences now. Ramos is an idealistic soldier turned consummate politician. MJ is not.

Perhaps Erap Estrada will fare better with his touted masa appeal? Erap is the epitome of the ultimate "bugoy" or "kanto boy." Typical "bisyoso pero malambot ang puso." In the end, Erap was only for himself. MJ is not.

Finally, GMA. Gloria is incomparable with her tenacious lust for power––legally or illegally. She started her term with a loud bang and is about to end it with a miserable whimper. I likened her to a tigress who devours her own kind. She’s the major factor why I’m composing this piece today. MJ is not.

MJ for president? It may appear to be just a quixotic dream direct from La Mancha––still, we have to start somewhere, somehow.