Dreaming of gold, drone shots, corrupt mothers and receipts
‘Receipt” is the newest word to enter the ordinary man’s lexicon in the electoral process recently held. it does not refer to that small sheet stores issue you when you buy a commodity (or it could also be that, which is not given to you in the market despite your purchase of anything from a store). Receipt, known more in the local language as “resibo,” is a proof of an act, dismal or admirable, that a candidate or a voter commits in the process of engaging in a political event. this could be a charitable work that a woman did in the past. this could also be an uncharitable rant a man had unleased in a long-ago moment but captured by an observer ever ready with his mobile phone to document any interestingly lurid or shamelessly vulgar action.
the past few months saw the campaigns waged by candidates and their handlers to be not so much what these future leaders promise to do in the future but what they had committed in the past, now haunting them as they present a new template of their persona. Or, as they attempt to reinvent themselves.
Many phenomena developed in the course of the 2022 presidential election. First on the list is the participation of actors and other entertainers. Suffice it to say that the world of show business was divided in terms of those who supported Leni Robredo and those who were conscripted to rally behind the Marcos resurgence. Or rebranding. Again, resibo was the dividing line between these two parties, with actors and singers for Robredo proudly claiming they were pure volunteers in the strictest sense of the word—unpaid and of their own volition going out to convince others for Leni. this bragging right swept the crowd who would chant with such vigor the phrase “Hindi kami bayad” (We are not paid). the massive crowds that gathered for every Robredo sortie prompted the accusation from rival (mostly Marcos defenders) candidates that money was being used to attract these supporters. the sheer number of people which continued to swell for Robredo as the campaign was coming to an end negated the accusation. Where would this underdog candidate get the moolah?
The student of mass communication had a field day analyzing the stage presentations of the two parties. Robredo’s stage had clean fun and sheer entertainment. the strong LGBTQIA+ positioning of Leni was evident in the fabulous presence of drag queens and impersonators opening the political meetings.
With most of the topnotch singers and entertainers on the side of Robredo, the currently hot flash-mob style became a de rigueur attraction for the group. in front of public market stalls or in malls, the performers materialized one by one until a huge chorus was soon filling the space and rendering lines that were moving as they were impeccably sung. And, please, let there be the piano man (in the person of National Artist, Ryan Cayabyab).
But not all good artists were on the side of Robredo. i would discover for myself that independent filmmakers from the regions became part of malicious propaganda against some candidates opposing Marcos. i can understand a comedian whose claim to fame is some shallow contests on tv but for a young filmmaker to display such ignorance of history was baffling. Having spent years doing film education and who became fond of the fresh, raw talents from the periphery, i took this as personal.
How can a filmmaker who values truth and is able to present the compelling beauty of violence, oppression and bigotry in films participate in the distortion of histories, the very same narrative that has allowed him or her to grow into an artist able to depict realities?
But such is the shame of histories that we have all inherited.
With the actors divided, the writers, especially movie journalists, were also divided. You realize a genial man you knew was into erasures of history, and that some of your cousins were into Marcos and retired teachers believed in the Marcos gold! if believing in the preposterous story of the hidden gold was not dumb enough, some were giddy at the thought that the return of a Marcos (perhaps they really never left) would bring back a real Age of Gold. Meaning, wealth would be distributed to all. And we would all be wearing golden rings and necklaces. 18 carat. Ready for pawning.
And, yes, all these acts have been issued receipts. For all the resibo, however, counting became an art form for Filipinos. the sheer crowd captured by cameras was not enough for all candidates. cameratoting drones were the favored mediator: drones soared above the crowd of a particular rally to show to the whole world how huge the assembly of people was. Filipinos of a particular generation though have an aversion, which was brought about by a lack of knowledge, of technology, the drone notwithstanding. And so in these documents, there were institutions that issued their own estimates of the crowd. Or, in cases of these organizations being not on the side of a candidate, they would deny the presence of a throng and declare the images seen from above as an arrangement of onions perhaps set up by a madman?
A letter from a son to his mother was released as the campaign was winding down. the letter was written by a son exposing the corruption of his mother, who he despises. this time the country was divided, or at least the part of the philippines that is online. Some cursed the son for hating his mother. Mothers bristled not at the alleged bad choices of the Mater Publicae but at the act against the being who gave birth to the son, a reasoning that cannot be disputed but at the same time irrelevant to the issue at hand.
No one saw the big picture, which was a man who saw his mother so corrupt that he was willing to denounce her. No one appreciated the metaphor.
Ultimately though, the final resibo for the season was in the result of the elections. there are the receipts for the jubilation of those who think electing an official is an individual act, that one’s vote is about one’s own happiness or security, forgetting that such a choice could impose a restriction to the dreams of those that had become the minority.
As for me, my resibo is the feeling of waking up late this morning of the 10th of May, stepping out of the sofa which i used for bed the night before, feeling as if i had just been released reluctantly from an emergency room, and now graciously, gradually trying to recover, hoping against hope that i could function the next six years or more. ■