Open Letter To Gibo

Dear Gibo,

Before I start, let me make myself clear. I have yet to decide who I will be voting for as president of this maddeningly dear republic of mine. I have an idea of who I will not be voting for and you are not in that list. Yet.

I remember the first time I saw you. That was three years ago or so.  You were one of the many speakers at our convention. It was also the time that my group was pushing for a piece of legislation. Our minds were so numb by the lectures that we looked forward to the politicians’ speeches to relieve our boredom. It WAS that boring. You were then, I think, a congressman, unknown to us.

Politician after politician sang praises to us. We were so selfless, so dedicated,  and yes, they will do their best to pass the bill we were angling for. Yes, they said, the bill is almost good as a law. Oh, we did clap at the promises. We cheered too. But my eyebrows were raised. I was doubtful. We have heard too many promises about that bill. The promises could be empty ones. Then you stepped on the podium. You were different. You thanked us for our work and our dedication, but you did not sing allelulia. Then, you dashed our raised hopes by saying: Yes, you deserve the bill that you are moving for but you really shouldn’t expect too much as the government has other more urgent priorities and it really does not have the money your legislation needs.

Gibo, your words hurt us then. But I appreciated your honesty. You were blunt, yes. But you at least, told us the truth, not what we wanted to hear. THAT made you different.  

A few weeks ago, I saw you again. And you made another speech. The circumstances were different. I was not after something from you and you are running for president. I was watching you closely, trying to find out if you have changed.

You did not mention anything about you running, nor try to sell yourself to us. You did not even try to explain the NDCC’s delayed reaction to Ondoy victims. You did not sing praises to the people who invited you. You told us to be thankful for what we were given. You told us to improve things, to look forward. That we should  not be greedy. Oh and you spoke in our dialect. That was a nice surprise.

My point Gibo is this: I like you for your honesty, for calling a spade a spade. Thank you for not insulting our intelligence by pandering to us. i hope that you will not exchange that quality for your political ambitions.

Respectfully,

Biyay

P.S. The bill became a law a few months after the convention.