White elephants

I was seething in anger in my last blog over events surrounding the rehabilitation of my volcanic eruption- and lahar avalanche-ravaged town.  This hasn’t ebbed and felt the same rage mounted as soon as I started writing this one.  The construction of a building of the Ricardo P. Rodriguez Memorial Hospital (RPRMH) on its original site, I’ve realized, was just a symptom of an evolving social malaise that first gained national notoriety during the Marcos conjugal dictatorship.  This was particularly what they labeled the high profile projects of Imelda Marcos.

Bacolor is now beginning to teem with its own “white elephants”; these though are definitely not as grand and imeldific.  And they might overpopulate the whole municipality if the town’s P4.6-billion Comprehensive Rehabilitation Master Plan is realized.  But unlike Imelda’s “elephants”, these were not designed to project and showcase the good and the beautiful and mask urban blight from visiting foreign dignitaries. Instead, they were adroitly planned to camouflage the opportunists’ and schemers’ real intent of milking the country’s coffer dry for fast bucks to line their pockets some more and, at the same time and  more importantly, in presenting their selves as champions of my town’s rehabilitation. 

Studies on corruption, including ones conducted by the World Bank and other international financial and development institutions, revealed that as much as 40 percent of the government’s annual appropriations ended up in the pockets of corrupt government officials and their private sector cohorts.  It’s no wonder therefore that they're tripping over building all these “white elephants” in Bacolor for the right over what is now euphemistically referred to as standard operating procedures (SOPs).  Even if the SOPs are pegged at just 10 percent (of P4.6 billion), local political leaders and their principal/s could further solidify their ranks in the list of the nation’s richest politicians—they might even end up unseating the gentleman from Saranggani, who earned his billions fair and square atop the international boxing ring, from the top of the heap. 

If it’s any consolation, at least Imelda’s “elephants” are still utilized as venues of cultural shows and social gatherings even if mostly by the “good and beautiful” crowd.  This will most likely not be the case with the projects in Bacolor.  Take the case of the Bacolor Public Market.  With funds mobilized from the pork barrel of Sen. Juan Flavier, it was rebuilt in 2001(?) on its original site where Governor General Simon de Anda also held court when he took refuge in the town to avoid capture from the invading British forces from 1762 to 1764.

With hardly any people around, which reminded me of the newly rebuilt RPRMH, it never operated.  It never generated a single centavo for the municipal government.  But early this year, portions of it were ordered demolished by the new town administration to widen the stalls, which were allegedly too narrow, to attract stall owners to start doing business.  With the enlargement, will the public market operate soon? 

My conjecture, it will not.

I based my inference from what I learned surrounding the San Simon Public Market while overseeing a social development project of an NGO in that municipality from 1999 to 2004.  The original structure was formerly built at the town’s poblacion, close to the old municipal building.  With the transfer of the town hall along the Mac Arthur Highway, near the North Luzon Expressway San Domingo Exit, the local government found it wise to transfer the aging market there, too.  Using the town’s Internal Revenue Allotment (IRA) as collateral, which some claimed went against the pertinent provisions of the 1991 Local Government Code (RA 7160) and other relevant laws; the local government unit was able to secure a P33-million loan from the Philippine Veterans Bank to build the new market.  The market however merely had a “soft” opening as only a few stalls opened, albeit only briefly.  Business failed to pick up as local residents still persisted in procuring their daily consumer goods from the bigger and more stacked public markets of Apalit and San Fernando. 

In the case of the Bacolor Public Market, it will not only contend with the nearby more established public markets of Guagua and San Fernando but also with the latter’s giant malls.  Market stall and supermarkets owners in San Fernando’s old commercial district have been decrying their dwindling incomes since the opening and continuous expansion of the operations of these malls.  Our solace, when compared with the people of San Simon, is we’re not directly paying, at least at the moment, huge debts for a “white elephant”, a lemon. 

Other examples are the two-classroom buildings that were put up before the construction ban of the 2010 national and local elections was enforced.  I’ve seen one of these at the San Antonio Elementary School and another in my barangay, Potrero. Although classes are already held in Barangay San Antonio, the new classrooms have yet to be used until the end of the past school year.  But their doors had already been replaced! 

The situation is different in Barangay Potrero where population of school aged-children could not rationalize the holding of classes locally.  Our elementary school children, therefore, have to attend classes at the San Antonio Elementary School to continue their education after their families had resettled in the barangay.  If these children are lucky, they could hitch rides from trucks hauling sand from quarries in our barangay, otherwise, they have to wake up early and walk at least four (4) kilometers to be at their school in time.  This reminded me of my father and other children who braved walking at least seven kilometers to attend the only public school in Bacolor—at the poblacion—during the pre-World War II years.

When I ranged this development—idle school buildings—against the alleged lack of classrooms especially in far flung villages, nay, even in the rich cities of Metro Manila, I cannot help but rage some more.  Who says there are no monies for additional classrooms?

The last examples are the barangay roads I have to pass through in going to Potrero from the Olongapo-Gapan Road.  Despite just more than a couple of years since their construction, portions of the few concreted roads are clearly already cracked; the worst are crumbling like the famous puto seko of Barangay Cabalantian when you put them in your mouth.  I don’t want to imagine how these roads would look once their projected use by trucks hauling sands from Porac town—now banned from passing through Angeles City—becomes reality.  But more worthwhile to anticipate are the additional roads to be constructed from the Bacolor Comprehensive Rehabilitation Master Plan.  Would they be able to withstand the wear and tear from these huge cargo trucks after the SOPs had been deducted from the allocated project costs?

Against this backdrop, isn’t it more practical if these “animals” from the comprehensive master plan be the freely roaming kinds that dotted the safari lands of Africa or the sand dunes of the Middle East?  These could have been more valuable and contributed much more to Bacolor’s revival and in bringing back its glorious past—maningning nang bukas ning balen Bakulud—as they could be additional attraction to the half-submerged historic San Guillermo Church and the “Santino” mansion to lure in more foreign and local tourists.  These sightseers could have the times of their lives appreciating these animals as they gracefully trot the expanse of lahar-covered farm lands.  And with the influx of additional visitors, local people could put up enterprises and other livelihoods that will meet and cater their needs. 

Or, would it not be better if the bulk of the P4.6-billion rehabilitation fund could go directly into the development of the people’s sources of sustenance?  Like pursuing an honest-to-goodness animal dispersal project which, of course, will not include elephants!  The proposed P9.5-million Agricultural Lands Development Project—that included P3 million for pasture development and where funds for animal dispersal would be sourced—is too miniscule to impact on the revival and improvement of the primary source of income of most residents before the eruption.   Moreover, what’s the use of the proposed farm-to-market roads in another component if local farms remain underproductive?    

Although a brief scan of the voluminous master plan would show projects sorted into social development, economic development, infrastructure development, environment and natural resources development, land use, and institutional development sectors, a scrutiny into the details will reveal that many of these are basically construction projects.  That is, construction of roads and bridges, of drainage systems, of school buildings, of day care centers, of barangay halls, etc.  We don’t need to be Harvard graduates to know why they prefer such projects and not ones that would directly put money in the pockets of ordinary Bacolorenos.  And it would be as clear as the cloudless noonday’s sun that only the scum bugs’ pockets would be bursting at the seams with their SOPs at the conclusion of the implementation of the master plan.  That is, if we continue to act as if we’re still dazed from the tons of lahar that cascaded from the slopes of Mount Pinatubo and inundated our town 15 years ago.  (30)