“This place was part of him, and would always be. A rough place, a stern place, where it was monumental task just to survive. And it had given him some of its strength.” Max Braithwaite, All the Way Home (1986).
By Rey Moreno
“Don’t judge me until you learn the facts and circumstances of my life. Don’t take the high moral ground when your life is easy and very comfortable. How dare you say you’re a better person than I am when you haven’t experienced the slings and arrows of a difficult life such as mine? Yes, I am a licker of boots, so what? It helps me get over the hump of poverty. The end justifies the means. You all make calculations for your own personal and political interests. I am no exception. I have to do whatever it takes to survive. If that is to become a scum of this earth, so be it.”
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We lived in the slum community of Tondo. Every day was a struggle to survive. Not only that. We also must stomach the filthy conditions of our surroundings and the violence that was the hallmark of our existence. As a young boy, I learned the smell of ensuing fights. I avoided violence as much as I could in order not to be harmed or jailed. But I could fight like a madman if I must. I was never scared and the gangs knew it. They never bothered me nor asked me to join them. I learned to adapt and get along with everybody in difficult circumstances. I grew up a master survivor.
There’s this rising politician and he’s looking for bodyguards. He interviewed me and liked what he saw in me. From then on, I was never far away every time he stepped outside of his house. I was always watching for eventualities that might be detrimental to his being. This frequent wariness honed my tiger-like vision of any danger ahead, just like when there’s an attempt in his life which I easily foiled. My quick reaction of disarming my boss’s assailant earned me a life-long gratitude and a promotion. In few years, I became the head of his security detail, especially when he became a senator.
My life changed for the better. I got more money than I could imagine. I bought a decent house in Quezon City and settled down. Soon my family expanded with two sons and a daughter. My favourite was my daughter. She just brought out my gentle nature that was hidden for a long time, but only when she was alone with me. Otherwise, I remained tough and gritty with everybody else, including my two sons. I was moving up to a higher level of respectability. People idolized the smell of success. My past was getting obscured as I earned more money.
My boss had ambition to become the president of the country one day. So he aligned his dream with a rich and powerful man in Bacolod City. They became business and political partners. They amassed wealth in both legal and illegal ways, bribed politicians and elected officials to gain influence all over the country and rigged the legal system to avoid civil and criminal lawsuits.
My family was invited to attend a Christmas party hosted by my boss’s partner. It was such a privilege to be on the VIP list. My wife and daughter looked splendid in their white and black gowns; while my sons and I were wearing custom-made black, blue and white tuxedos. The house was spacious and sparkling in its polished marble and mighty oak construction. The servers were in their white outfits and their hands in white gloves. There was a mountain of all-you-can-eat shrimps, lobsters, king-crab legs, and many more seafood items; a fountain of champagne endlessly flowing to quench one’s thirst of whimsical delight; a long table of entrees, appetizers and desserts to satisfy anyone’s gastronomical appetites.
There was dancing after dinner. All the guests were somewhat inebriated and loosening up. The band was only playing the music in the 70’s, the all-time favourite by whatever age category one belonged. My wife and I were in the dancing floor in all the songs played until we got tired. When we were resting, I saw my daughter slowly dancing and having her arms wrapped around a good-looking young man of the same age. They were oblivious of their surroundings – a typical moment of young hearts in love. Ever protective of my daughter, I asked my boss who was the young man. He told me he was the youngest of his partner’s three sons. The eldest son was a lawyer and being groomed to be the heir-apparent; the middle son was a business man like the father and in-charge of the construction business; and the youngest son was a dilettante. Right there and then, alarm bells echoed in my ears. I should watch this young man very carefully.
My boss treated me like a family and trusted me to witness all the dirty deals he transacted together with his partner. In return, I made a solemn promise to my boss not to betray that trust. I knew that my boss was biding his time and assessing the right political condition when he would enter the presidential fray.
The moment came too fast, too soon. An exposé revealed in intricate details a money-laundering scheme involving the president, his family and friends. The news cycles were relentless and people started demonstrating daily and calling for his resignation. The protests went on for several weeks. The political pressures got to the president, leading up to his premature resignation. My boss moved quickly to put himself ahead of the line for would-be contenders.
I was always away from home; busily attending to my boss’s seemingly endless demands, especially now that he was running to become the next president. I finally had a day-off but noticed my daughter was glum and very quiet. I was careful in interrogating her, showing her all the respect and kindness of a loving father. It took a while but finally she confided in me reluctantly.
“I was raped, Dad. I thought he loved me and would respect my delikadesa. But I was just a sex object to him and he forced his insatiable manliness inside me even with my strong objection. Then the worst part was he was now ignoring me completely as if I were just some kind of a whore. I talked to him to take responsibility and man-up. But he just laughed at me and left me in the lurch. I felt disrespected.”
I was furious and went to see my boss immediately to exact revenge. But my boss strongly dissuaded me and told me in no uncertain terms would I do harm to his partner’s youngest son. I felt helpless and went home conflicted and disturbed from what I heard from my boss. Upon stepping inside my house, I was met with the sad news that my daughter committed suicide.
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“So here I am, testifying before this august body about the facts and proofs of my boss’s corruption. You may think of me as a scoundrel for betraying his trust. But just you know I will take a bullet for him if I must. But what happened to my daughter is the worst nightmare a father should not suffer for the rest of his life. How will you react if you were on my shoes? Is my daughter less deserving of justice simply because I wasn’t born rich? How can I trade the life of my daughter for power and corruption? I may be a low-life in your eyes, but when it comes to my family’s being, you don’t want me to be your enemy. You just booted out a corrupt president, would you risk another more corrupt leader to govern you? Where is your sense of decency and adherence to your duty? Will you sell your soul for just a piece of silver?”
After my testimony to Congress, I was at a loss where to go next. Unconsciously I drove to Tondo and parked in a shady place overlooking my house of long ago. I had come a long way and said goodbye to my past. That past made me tough and strengthened me to overcome my poverty. My life became better and my daughter was the beacon of light that shone immensely the dark side of my life. Now she’s gone and my life had become darker once again.
Suddenly, two men appeared on both sides of my car. I became aware of what they were about to do, but it was too late for me to do anything. Shots rang out loudly, but the folks of Tondo didn’t seem to care about the noise. After all, Tondo is a place where violence is a daily occurrence and the norm of a hopeless life.
9 September 2021