A mythical tale: Our land, people and leaders
From the molten depths of sunken volcanoes and treacherous wind, rain and drought rose the mother serpent, ‘Anino ng Ginto,’ its scales glittering with contracts, its hiss promising prosperity.
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From the molten depths of sunken volcanoes and treacherous wind, rain and drought rose the mother serpent, ‘Anino ng Ginto,’ its scales glittering with contracts, its hiss promising prosperity.
This is a mythical tale about a country and its beautiful, kind and good-natured people of different cultures who have been gifted by Bathala with an archipelago of over seven thousand isles blessed with bountiful natural resources of lush palm trees, abundant rice and corn fields, gold, silver, copper, and wondrous seas and sand. So lush and lovely that it attracted hordes of plunderers and pillagers over the centuries.
To ensure that its people would enjoy the benefits of its wealth, “Bathala” decreed a covenant that its leaders, the Hari and the “Datu,” must obey. They would protect the people and do so with fairness; in return, the land would yield abundance. But from the molten depths of sunken volcanoes and treacherous wind, rain, and drought rose the mother serpent, “Anino ng Ginto,” its scales glittering with contracts, its hiss promising prosperity.
All over the archipelago, gathered its numerous serpent offspring, cloaked in deceptive grandeur but deep in their hearts all eager, greedy, with a rapacious lust for power. Rajah “Mapang‑Akin,” who hoards wealth while his people starve. “Diwata Balatkayo,” whose words are sweet, full of promises, but of hollow deeds never fulfilled. “Datu Sakim,” who measures success not in service but in spoils.
These serpents wearing masks of reform adroitly conceal their hunger for power. But their mansions reverberate with the echoes of their outrageously insensitive feasts and scandalous display of wealth as struggling citizens eke out a daily meager sustenance barely enough to survive and to keep from drowning in uncompleted flood control projects, while hapless children trudge through flooded streets to study beneath leaking, rotting roofs.
Then, from the slums and the desperate, lowly rose Bayani Malasakit, a hero not of fancy self-proclaiming banners and grandiose promises but of a simple presence among the people. He carried no wads of cash nor a sword of steel, only the weapon of understanding, and like-minded togetherness. No shiny shield, only the armor of honesty.
His strength was gentle and benevolent, like a summer drizzle that provides nourishment and relief from the punishing heat of the sun. He walked among the poor, listening to the travails of the hand-to-mouth existence of jeepney drivers, and sharing bread with bakers and street vendors from dawn to dusk, standing beside mothers in classrooms without roofs as they waited for their tots to ensure a safe return home, and encouraging underpaid teachers to responsibly educate the impressionable minds of the young.
His deeds and words were simple, yet they sparked and inspired a zeal in the hearts of many for the Bayanihan spirit of helping and looking after one another.
Inspired by Malasakit, the people began to see themselves also as heroes. The baker set aside a warm pandesal for the hungry child. The jeepney driver waited for the elderly to safely settle in before shifting gears. The teacher stayed after class to guide a struggling student.
In the market, a vendor pressed the exact change into a customer’s palm, refusing to cheat by even a single peso or a few centavos. A farmer, sweat dripping onto the scales, measures rice and corn fairly, knowing that honesty feeds trust as surely as every kernel of rice or corn can provide nourishment for the body to survive.
These were not grand gestures but daily acts, woven into the fabric of life. Each act became a stone in the foundation of a new covenant, one that bound the people together against the serpent’s coils.
This awakening is the Bagong Diwa. It rose not from decrees but from solidarity. Neighbor helping neighbor during floods. Families sharing meals with those who had none. Volunteers protecting the neighborhood from thieves and drug addicts. All in the community standing together as one against deceit and evil.
The power-hungry rajahs and fake diwatas tremble, because evil and greed thrive in isolation, but unity starves them. The serpent’s scales are blunted, its coils loosened, as the community chooses compassion over compromise, honesty over deception.
But the serpent of corruption does not disappear. It still lurks in fake and unfulfilled public works contracts and under-the-table commissions, as the insidious hunger of human greed is merely tamed.
For as long as the people demand and reignite the flame for clean governance every single day, their own power, People Power, and the strength of everyday heroes shall always shine through.
Until at last, the saga of the corrupt shall no longer be the fate of the archipelago bound to political dynasties.
The question is no longer whether one leader can slay the beast, but whether the citizens will continue to nurture this Bagong Diwa until the curse of greed is broken, when the people themselves shall have become the protagonists, forging a new value norm, the ‘pakikipagkapwa,’ the recognition of a shared humanity.
Until next week… OBF!
