Michael Keon And Fighting For My Place In This World To Serve

Michael Keon, a good friend, once told me I should have been a lobbyist. He described me as this 'formidable b--tch', who would have been good, too, in a negotiating panel for whatever 'talks' there are of general concern to this country. I remember this second or third official meeting with him when he was Governor,  very well. I was requesting for some financial support for a road project in one of his municipalities, because the local government unit could not raise the required counterpart on its own. He said, 'ok, how much do they need?'. I said, 'A million pesos, sir'. He replied, 'oh, that's too much. how about half of that?'. I said, 'sir, what about 800thousand then?'. Again, he said, 'madame, I cannot just give 1million to one municipality and not give the others'. So I said, 'ok, Governor, yes, 500thousand. i will wait for the check'. So he held out his hand to me like we had a deal. I told him, 'not yet, sir. I don't have the check in my hand.' He was quite surprised with my reply, stared at me and yelled to his assistant, 'get me the treasurer in here, now.' He looked at me for a second, then signed papers stacked on his desk. The treasurer came in. He instructed that a check be issued immediately for the municipality. The treasurer protested, saying that she did not have the documents to justify the release. I handed the Governor the complete set of documents the treasurer needed. I had it with me. So, grudgingly, the treasurer left, after almost two hours, came back with the check. During the two hours of waiting, there was not much exchange between Michael and I. I was staring at his table, his papers, stood up, looked at artwork displayed, paintings on his office walls. He said nothing. I said nothing. Finally, with the check in hand, I said, 'thank you sir, I will have be back with the official receipt from the municipality'. He then said, 'you are welcome. I had to act on that fast because you might convince me to give more'. We laughed. I left his office, with this passion for my work overflowing. 

I lost that passion two years back. I lost it, yes. I changed from that 'formidable b--tch' whom Michael described to someone else. I was so comfortable in Ilocos Norte, that when I was moved to Ilocos Sur, I felt like fire within me was suddenly doused with cold water. I went through the motions in Ilocos Sur, uninspired and indifferent. 

The passion I had in Ilocos Norte was fuelled by many things, but mostly by my desire to prove my worth. I had to put Ilocos Norte on the map of DAR. That was the challenge I posed to myself.  I was 'kicked out' as an OIC Asst. Regional Director simply because I needed to be 'PARO' (provincial director) first, before an ARD. Well, at least, that was what I was told by the USEC who recommended my transfer.  It will be hypocrisy to say that my passion then was because of my love of farmers. That came after a year, when I began to see the impact of every little decision I made to their lives. Another year in Ilocos Norte and I started to love my colleagues. Having been assigned for the first time away from home, perhaps they all filled the void. Six long years, of working with the dedicated, brilliant people there. The USEC was right, I needed to be PARO first. 

I write this now because for six long years, I had a family there. Goodness, I even imbibed their Ilocano accent. I cared so much for my staff there that nobody, and I mean, nobody could ever demean them in any way, because I would shield them from all that. I did everything I could to prop up the people I knew who had the mind and the guts to get the work we had done. I knew everything about their personal lives that I went as far as reaching out to anyone who needed me, my help, even at the risk of being taunted by the rest. 

When I left, and moved to this old, sleepy, quiet city of Vigan, to take care of Ilocos Sur, many among those I left behind professed undying love and loyalty. Tears were shed. An avalanche of gratitude poured forth, for me. I told them I would be forever grateful to them, it was not supposed to be the other way around. 

Two years in Ilocos Sur, and with God's grace, I worked on rekindling the fire in me. I think that in the two years past, and all that has happened in between, I now recognize the authenticity there is in this province. Like Vigan, and the rest of this province, DAR people here are real. (Well, not all, most of them, hehe.) Like the cobblestones I walk on each afternoon, they are 'rough' at the edges, they are 'backward', (we have the last of the surviving typewriters in DAR here; and our TEVs are handwritten, not typed/computer encoded; we do not have a photocopier; my division chiefs do not have iPhones, ako lang ang meron, and they had their own tablets just recently; they ride tetanus-riddled RP jeepneys; my roof at my office is forever leaking with rainwater that I have a floormat to catch the drip here and there, etc.); they do not care much about 'glamour' (but we always have the support of the good-looking Governor Ryan Singson and Vice-Governor DV who happens to be married to Dina Bonnevie, how's that for glamour?) and yes, one might call them, 'jurassic'. Like the heritage they have been passed with through generations, easily gleaned  from the structures here, they all have deepseated resilience and have endured many challenges. Yey they remain a noisy, unruly, sarcastic, pesky but happy bunch. Their friendships have endured, raised their families together (even when they have differences and yell at each other in arguments), and they have extended that family to try to include me. 

Now here's the thing: I will bleed first before anyone of them here in Ilocos Sur will. I have been silent for a long time about how I feel about them. They deserve to know it now, more than any other time. Because while I look behind me six years past with a thankful heart, I now ask myself if all 'that' was worth it. I do not know the answer to that. I need to find it still.  I do know that I have been quietly looking back, silent, but I was not blind. I do know that now, I am quietly looking forward to each day here, silent, and still, I am not blind. Perhaps one of these days here, I will have the privilege of fighting for what I am supposed to, in the first place. Not forcing myself on people to prove myself; not to help when I cannot;  not to walk the extra mile for my colleagues; but to be fair, just and decent to them. I need to fight for my place to serve. After all, this is what DAR is all about. Sometimes in the middle of so many concerns we have: reports, appointments, 'kissing-ass', throwing mud at each other, we forget what we are here for.