And there he goes again, thinking he can simply soar through the sky's limit. Cowardly, Mr. Romualdez. Cowardly. Don’t you just love some deep-seated drama? The kind in which your innocence is tough, so you stand firm in your beliefs and heed no care to those who try to oppress you—obviously, his story was not leading up to that ending.
Then-House Speaker Martin Romualdez is a title I didn’t think felt so great to call. Corruption should never be welcome in my land—our land at that. Even a speck of it causes rashes, and I especially find it rewarding to achieve such “great” feats in today’s modern world—really stretching what classifies as “great” here, not going to lie.
If Martin Romualdez was truly clean, he would have squared up to ruthlessly retaliate against these “liars”. It sounds like fiction, but it really isn’t. The House Speaker paints a story of how not only does the Philippines lack faithful leaders but also committed ones.
Think of it for a second: enter this world with immense love for our country; seeing the good in everything and seeking to be part of that good, only to view the bigger picture marked by chaotic strokes. These incompetencies make turns that range from small ones to drastic changes that slowly but surely deviate from the paradise we were promised. Although Romualdez’s case can seem even, it still doesn’t change the fact that the stench has lingered.
What should we make of this then? To me, it seems like a case of three things: misconception, money, and misconduct. Through this lens, we can create comprehensive ideas without the belief that these large-scale problems are as easy as one, two, three.
Misconception because politics, especially in the Philippines, is not poetic. There is no such thing as “taking one for the team” or “I can fix him” in partaking in the leadership of a hundred million people. Politicians must be extra aware of the dangers they could encounter: dissimilar opinions, assassination, and, ironically, corruption. Trust me, if these politicians committed themselves to their work, then maybe they would catch a glimpse of that poetic story they intend to write.
Money. It is the face of every crocodilian activity. Who really needs millions and millions in their bank account? If you said you do, hypocrite! Living a modest life is the true essence of fulfillment. Politics, above any career, should be treated with utmost modesty.
The involved construction firms and contractors are also at fault in this matter. As humans, we all have to play a part in rising as a nation, so when the intelligent become ever-so dense just for a couple hundred pesos, what would become of this “rising as one” motion. “This is cliché!” I hear you say, only because you stand by the side of these oppressors, or maybe you have bitten to the temptation of greed, or maybe even both!
That needed a breather—but there’s no sleeping in journalism. I too have a lot to say regarding misconduct. I still cannot fathom how these greedy contractors were able to pass through the radar for years. But in reality, part of the reason we are in this situation is because of the great incompetence the delegates reflect. Mind you, contractors were able to pursue their scummy behavior because of the lack of inspection in inspections. Had DPWH officers displayed more security and loyalty to the people, maybe we would see a different painting being drawn.
All this, reflected in Mr. Romualdez. I’m not trying to talk trash—what would become of me as a journalist if I were so? Rather, I’m here to present his story—what shines above and lurks beneath—and suggest changes on how others write their own, backed up by rationale. Martin Romualdez isn’t even safe from incrimination—it just makes his bad ending far imminent. The moral of the story? You cannot just write a good ending for your badly written plot.
