I WAS in college when I first had a taste of real gin. By real, I mean, not the usual staple from the kanto store. Real, meaning the one that you buy in a real liquor store and needed a sizable pooling of the clique’s allowances. Although, don’t get me wrong, the other one, which had Amorsolo’s illustration of the fiery duel between a saint and the devil stamped on its torso, was still just as real. It was just usual staple. At that time, we were trying to become real men, and no longer boys.
It was my fellow staffer from the school paper, Allan Saballa, who took the first shot, while the rest of us watched him silently, awaiting for that singular facial twitch that indicated the rolling of fire in his throat. So we fell silent after he took a swig. He put the shot glass down, closed his eyes, grimaced tight, and froze. We waited. So how was it, we impatiently asked. After a long pause, Allan broke the silence, “It’s neither democracy nor communism!” We burst in laughter.
The sessions were rowdy. The whole time, we’d have a wide field to survey: politics, Dostoevsky, the US bases, the new campus queen who couldn’t spell, some stupid anti-communist youngsters, the Philippines Free Press to Levi’s 501. We thought ourselves a cut above the rest.
But there was that one person who stood out in that clique.
He didn’t drink, was prim and proper. Allan would tease him about not being able to get a girlfriend because, beside a girl, he just couldn’t stop talking about the US military bases, poverty, social justice, and end up with a dozing damsel at the other side of the table. But Allan would soon write about him in the paper, saying our good friend had the energy of five working committees rolled into one. At that time, we somehow knew our friend was going to be important someday.
After college, Allan would soon be setting up what is perhaps the most successful wine store in Cebu City. Today, our official gin-taster would be a first-rate wine connoisseur and businessman. I’d be caught between the academe and the press.
Our friend, on the other hand, confirmed our expectations.
He would soon be involved in various non-government organizations in the city. There were a hundred causes to pick, but he chose the one on governance—particularly, that concept that allowed the citizens a big role in the process.
Not a few communities in Cebu have seen the technology worked and transformed them. But later, ever the perpetual mover, he’d be traveling abroad and took wider causes, one of those was that of Nobel Peace Prize winner Aung San Su Kyi of Burma.
A few weeks ago, the old clique met up for coffee. It had been all over the papers that our friend was joining politics, particularly the BOPK council slate. I didn’t understand.
He’d been all over Europe and Asia, why should he sit in those boring sessions and be broadcast live in an equally boring cable channel. Seriously, I fear for my friend, and it has something to do with politics being a famished dragon that eats up just about anything.
But my friend writes me an email instead: “I want to believe that the time is ripe for us to engage from within, with the people backing us. I hope to bring my ideals and the people’s agenda in the formal halls of power, but mindful of the realities that this system could either make or break us.
“In the long years of my NGO involvement, I could humbly say that I have earned a better understanding of what the people truly need. I have come to internalize the issues through participatory mechanisms and processes which proved to be very effective in empowering communities. I hope to impart and hopefully institutionalize these participatory technologies when elected into office.”
I can imagine my friend Allan tasting some fine wine this time.
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