Philippine Daily Inquirer/Opinion
by Ma. Ceres P. Doyo
ONE OF MY FIRST ASSIGNMENTS AS A STAFF writer of the Sunday Inquirer Magazine (first published in March 1986, right after the Edsa People Power Revolution) was to check out Malacañang Palace and do a morning-after story. I also had to fly to Leyte twice to check out Imelda Marcos’ fabled haunts where she threw opulent parties (Olot) and kept a dazzling art collection (the Sto. Niño Shrine).
by Ma. Ceres P. Doyo
ONE OF MY FIRST ASSIGNMENTS AS A STAFF writer of the Sunday Inquirer Magazine (first published in March 1986, right after the Edsa People Power Revolution) was to check out Malacañang Palace and do a morning-after story. I also had to fly to Leyte twice to check out Imelda Marcos’ fabled haunts where she threw opulent parties (Olot) and kept a dazzling art collection (the Sto. Niño Shrine).
If, as they say, journalism is history written in a hurry, then the Inquirer has lots of People Power history in its archives, written not by historians but by journalists in a hurry to meet deadlines.
This week, as we celebrate the 24th anniversary of People Power that ended the Marcos dictatorship, stuff written 24 years ago are being re-read or read for the first time by those who were not yet around. I can imagine more of these coming out next year for the 25th. Along with lots of nostalgia pieces, too.
Yesterday, the Inquirer came out with the nostalgia piece, “The Filipino is worth crying for,” by David Briscoe, Associated Press bureau chief in the 1980s. Last Sunday we had lunch with the Hawaii-based Briscoe couple, David and Noree (our Women in Media colleague), who were here for a visit. We had fun going down memory lane. They later met up with Inquirer founding chair Eggie Apostol and editor in chief Letty J. Magsanoc.
One of the pieces I wrote for the magazine, edited then by Letty, was “Greatest show in town” with a kilometric subtitle about the hoi polloi trooping to Malacañang Palace to gawk at what the Marcoses left behind. The large photos were by AP’s Bullit Marquez and Reuters’ Willy Vicoy. I can’t reprint the entire hurried piece, so here are excerpts:
Teodora Cruz, 65, sidewalk vendor from Port Area, burst into tears after touring Malacañang Palace. “Nakita ko ang mga santo. Yun din ang nagparusa sa kanya. Dapat mangyari sa kanya yun.” (I saw the religious statues. They brought down punishment on Imelda. She deserved it.)
Teodora was one of hundreds on the dry run tour of the famed Palace on Thursday last week. Aghast and shocked by the opulence and the intimations of the scandalous lifestyle that the Marcoses, especially Imelda, led, Teodora says: “Nangingilabot ako. Tingnan mo ang paghihirap namin, ako, ang mga anak ko, ang pagtitiis namin. Yan lahat, utang sa aming mahihirap na walang sapat na ulam at bigas. Sa ngalan ng Diyos, nakapasok din ako.” (I had goose bumps. Look how poor we are, me, my children. All those things, she owes us who don’t have enough to eat. With God’s help, I finally got in.)
Wim Grundeman, officer of a European development agency, exclaims: “They are absolutely sick. I’m a Dutchman. If our queen has about six gowns, that’s about all.”
On grand opening day, Friday, thousands came early by the Palace gates only to find that thousands more came earlier than they did. As first days usually turn out, Friday was pandemonium as uniformed guards, white-clad women volunteers tried to keep the surging crowd at bay. It was bedlam, it was mayhem, as the impatient crowd outside Gate 2 tried to push the gate open, refusing to transfer to where they were supposed to pass. For a while it looked like The Storming of the Palace, Part II.
Tempers rose, perspiration flowed like the Pasig, stomachs grumbled. Women fainted, children lost their mothers, journalists cursed for getting trapped in the human traffic. This was just the gate…
A few meters from the Palace doors the exclamations die down a bit. An elderly man in circa 1970 double-knit pants takes out his pocket comb, tidies his hair and pulls down his shirt in place. Aaah, he says. A woman in rubber slippers wrings her dress dripping with sweat. If only the sun were kinder….
The visitors gawk, gaze, stare. There’s a sudden hush here, a snicker and an outburst there. From the entrance of the chandeliered halls, to Imelda’s and Ferdinand’s bedroom, from the toilet to the mini-Rustan’s that contains Imelda’s wardrobe, the reactions are like a litany of curses, shock, awe and anger. There is humor, too…
A man in shabby attire… suddenly blurts out upon beholding a painting of Marcos as “Malakas” of the Philippine legend: “Baka sisirain ko ang mukha niya!” (I might destroy his face!) A companion takes him away saying, “Relax lang, pare.”
A woman from the Visayas: “Baw, ginoo, lilintian, ang kuwarto ni Imelda.” (Goddamn, look at Imelda’s room.)
Aling Coring, laundrywoman: “Parang sa panaginip. Nangutang ng nangutang, diyan lang pala napunta.” (It’s like a dream. They borrowed heavily and this is where the money went.)
Tony Fajardo, 49, taxi driver: “Nalunasan na ang paghihirap ko ng kaligayahan nang makita ko ang loob.” (The difficulty I had in coming here has been compensated when I saw what’s inside.)
Never again, should this happen, never again, should anybody live like this, they say. And so Malacañang will never be the same again, and hopefully, too, the lives of those who came and saw.
More next year. A glorious 24th People Power Anniversary!
My blog. Today being an auspicious day, I’d like to say that I now have a blog, “Human Face by Ceres” (www.ceresdoyo.com) where I post my weekly columns, features, special reports, photos and other stuff. The template still needs tweaking and so much more have to be uploaded. Thanks to my Canada-based friend Mila Alvarez-Magno who tutored me every step of the way by e-mail, helped me post hundreds of my articles even while watching the Winter Olympics on TV. I hope the blog will serve some purpose. Tell me what you think.
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