In Memory of Frank O. de Leon
Rubbing his weary eyes with his shaking wrinkled hands, he knew that it was already daylight. He then sat up, straightened his tired back. Stretched his semi-numbed arms, and broadly look around the seemingly deserted “municipio”(municipal building. In that early chilly morning, he was certain that there must be someone around aside from himself. But he did not check nor care either. His long dreamless sleep in the public wooden bench in the hall’s corridor gave him the armful rest he needed because of his age and physical condition. As he stoop up, he could feel his wobbly legs, his painful joints, his back muscles stretching with some numbness. With his partly torn cotton shirt, and soiled khaki pants held by a narrow worn out leather belt and unshaven face reflected a once dignified look. Alone, penniless, destitute, and in need of medical care, this man, most everyone knew, was Mang Andong, the former Mayor of the Municipality.
Only two decades back, this man was the town’s most admired, respected chief executive officer, and definitely, the most outstanding resident in that sedate barrio. But that fame and power, as well as honour belonged to the glorious yesterday, to many, what mattered more was the present, the actual, living and realizable present. The past may bury its dead but here was a man from that past who was still alive, dishonoured and disdained if not maligned by the very same people he had served so dutifully well and who used to idolize him.
Incongruous as it was, not so long ago, in that same building, he would stand surrounded by many prominent citizens, businessman, cronies, employees and admirers. Now, he stood with shaky legs, and in deep thought where to get his next meal. All those people who used to flock around him disappeared as if he had the plague. Maybe, the wheels of fortune were not on Mang Andong’s side, or this was how his guiding stars would have put it, yet observers could not believe that the twist of fortune would be that unkind and unfair to a man who had served the town ably and long.
Servando Aligaen or Mang Andong was the man of the hour and the toast of the town; his integrity, drive, leadership qualities, and personality catapulted him to be a Mayor. Mang Andong defeated the incumbent and other candidates with a terrific margin echoing the general sentiment of the people for a change in the municipal administration. During the canvassing of the memorable election, residents from many barrios came in carrying torches, banners and rattlers rallying behind the new town chief executive.
In his residential house that night, Mang Andong never for a moment felt that he would lose; he was confident of a landslides victory, for the people campaign for him to end the administration of the incumbent. His wife, Racquel and grown-up children were all happy on the outcome of the election for after the inauguration, they would become the town’s first family.
“Thank you for all you, I did not win this election; you did!” was his short talk to the rallying and eager crowd. There was unabated shouting, clapping and betting of drums of the band, and the blowing of horns.
Refreshments were served, courtesy of the local merchants and businessmen. The newly elected man shook hands with the many people, thanking them for their support. As a shrewd politician, having been a Councillor before, over confidence and nonchalance were not in his vocabulary. He knew all the dirty tricks in the local political contest, for in spite of his popularity and the overwhelming desire for a change in the town’s stewardship, he campaigned hard and relentlessly up to the farthest barrios and sitios of the town.
“This is the best attended inauguration I have witnessed”, remarked an elderly citizen elbowing his way in the crowded town hall plaza.
“Looked at those multi-colour buntings and the happy faces of the crowd”, evoked another barrio resident wearing his Sunday’s best retrieved from his dusty trunk.
“I am here to serve you”, the Mayor started after he took his oath of office before the Justice of the Peace. Clapping and shouting interrupted the Mayor speech and had to raise both of his hands to silence among the large audience.
“From now on, the Municipal Hall is yours and you can enter it anytime you need something or you want to see me” followed up the Mayor, and with those well-timed words, pandemonium broke loose.
It took some moment to calm the frenzied crowd and the Mayor then outlined his program of government that was interrupted many times. The Mayor had to cut short his speech, as he could not be heard anymore due to the unabated shouting of the milling crowd.
This was followed by an open house at the town hall where refreshments were served, courtesy by many local merchants, civic groups, and market vendors. The new Mayor started his term right with the people’s approval and admiration. How could he fail when the people were behind him? What would go wrong when Lady Fortune was smiling at the new Mayor?
“Intensify and simplify tax collection”, the Mayor instructed the municipal treasurer. “Without the needed funds, we might as well close this hall”, he affirmed.
The Mayor fired the market collector for dishonesty and arrogance amidst the rejoicing of the many market vendors and stall owners. He warned all municipal employees to toe the line by serving the public or get fired or suspended. He castigated a town policeman for wearing a soiled uniform while on street duty. The municipal hall was renovated plus a fresh coat of paint to look majestic, the office floors were scrubbed clean and wax the floor, lawn and hedges were artistically trimmed and the fencing whitewashed. The “new look” impressed the people, an acknowledgement that there was indeed a new stewardship in government. Many were pleased.
“War clouds are darkening the Pacific skies”, the Mayor told the councilman in the weekly meeting. “If war breaks out, our country being a commonwealth will be involved too”, he continued with a grim fact for he knew that war would be heartless, relentless, fierce and brutal. The council members were silent with their far-away look thinking deeply what the Mayor verbalized echoed in the conference room.
That was the last time the Mayor and the council met, for it did not take long and the Pacific war broke out.
“Serve your country bravely and well”, the Mayor exhorted the reservists of the town who were called to the colors. He shook their hands individually, after which he saluted the group as they left his office. He felt sad for deep in his heart, he knew that some of these young men would not return home, an aftermath of the holocaust of war.
Bataan and Corregidor capitulated and the Occupation years commence. The Mayor by military order was made to continue in office but under the local military commander whose contingent occupied the municipal building in view of its strategic location and facilities. The Mayor held his office in his residential house relaying to the people orders of the military administration most of which were resented. The Mayor did his best to protect the population from abuses of the troops by coordinating with the unit commander. To prevent fraternization of the troops with the local residents, the military detachment would be replaced by the Occupation authority lock, stock and barrel. The Mayor had to deal again with anew unit head playing the ball to maximize the protection of the population.
The Mayor tried to contact the underground leaders advising him and his men not to inflict harm to the enemy soldiers inside his area of responsibility in view of the cold-blooded and inhuman reprisals that would certainly follow. The guerrilla leader with his staff in that meeting did not say anything, eyeing the Mayor as if he was an enemy collaborator of high water.
“Search all the houses in this barrio near the garrison area and arrest suspicious men”, spelled out the irate commander to his men the night before his troops were ambushed near the boundary of the town on their way back to the detachment carrying provisions for the troops.
The Mayor was placed under house arrest and two soldiers were always guarding the place day and night, and he was not allowed to leave the place. More troops arrived to assist the local soldiers for intensive search. When no firearms or traces of underground activity were found, the guards were recalled from the Mayor’s house office. Suspicion of connivance was unproven.
One time, an out of town peddler was arrested by the military. As the time was precarious, an individual must carry with him an acceptable “ID” card or paper. This man had no papers and no one would identify him. He was put on the wall and shot. It turned out that this man was an operative and the guerrillas blamed the Mayor for not even attempting to save a Filipino man’s life by official appeal or representation to the unit commander of the garrison. Word then circulated through the grapevine that the mayor was included in the guerrilla wanted list.
“I’m not an anti guerrilla, I am here to protect the citizen as a municipal Mayor. If the underground wanted to liquidate me, they have to come and fight me”, threshed out Mang Andong in his fighting mood.
Time and again, there were attempts to liquidate the Mayor and so far, the assassins failed. One time, the Mayor riding in vehicle with others was ambushed while on his way to a barrio meeting. Two riders were killed but two of the ambushers suffered the same faith in the hands of the Mayor’s aides. The garrison troops, upon learning of the incident, made a follow-up raid and many members of the underground were killed and wounded.
Due to the real threat on his life, the Mayor and close sides had to sleep in different places for the night. Night patrols by the garrison forces increased as guerrilla attacks were imminent as revealed by intelligence gathered by the Occupation informants.
“Mayor, you are being asked to surrender to the guerrillas”, relayed his aide while in their undisclosed hideaway for the night. How the underground learned about his temporary retreat that night made the mayor suspect the loyalty of a few men around him.
“Tell them to go to hell! I’ll never surrender to anyone” growled the Mayor as the message was transmitted to the well armed guerrillas surrounding the place he was located which incidentally was the Parish convent made of thick concrete and adobe walls.