Blogssssss….

Ten in the morning in Jose Bastida Elementary School at a day like May 14, 2007 was nothing like any other day for an election coverage volunteer.  I probed the whole school in hopes of seeing election frauds in action–vote buyers lurking the entrances of the school or a man in possession of a carbon paper, better yet, a marked ballot being dragged through the pavement by the relentless wind, or simply a civilian presumably a party member inconspicuously distributing signed ballots. But it has been two hours already and the only progress I have so far was getting my skin tanned by the terrible heat of the summer, which by the way is not part of my plans. Five more minutes and I may already be a candidate for skin cancer.

The number of voters weren’t as many as expected but there is no doubt a busy atmosphere surrounded the area. Voters were preoccupied in finding their names on the computerized voters’ list posted outside the precincts. Many have been present as early as seven in the morning yet three hours have passed and they have not yet filled the names of their candidates on their ballots. It is not surprising if they didn’t want to be bothered by a person with a handful of questions regarding the election. Thus, “Mamaya nalang…” and “ayoko…siya nalang oh” (later.., sorry…, talk to the other person…) were the most common remarks I got from the busy and tired electors.

I left the pool of voters thinking that maybe the BEIs (Board of Election Inspectors) can give me a better answer. So I headed to the nearest precinct and asked if I may interview the chairman of BEI regarding the flow of the election. But even before I can introduce myself and my affiliation, the BEI seeing my name tag already had her mind set on driving me out of the room. “We are not allowed to give interviews.” she said. And without a choice, I simply raised my eyebrow—a simple notion of being doubtful over such stupid rule.

Sweaty, weary, I was little by little losing hope of getting any interviews at all. I was sitting on a stool intended for watchers when a distressed woman trying to find her name on the list approached me, and said “I’ve been here for about two hours already and I couldn’t find my name on every precinct!” What luck! I thought this was the perfect opportunity to start an interrogation. She introduced herself as Arlene Ducano, 28 years old and victim of limited opportunities in the country, in other words ‘unemployed’. At first she talked about her difficulty of locating her name and her disappointment over the watchers who were not assisting her. “They are snotty and unkind. It was supposed to be their job to assist us voters…”

Since she was so open about her emotions and opinions, I asked her in subtle way if she was able to witness any kind of election fraud in the vicinity. She leaned towards me and said in a silent whisper, “Don’t tell anyone.” Right then and there, I knew this was the story I’ve been waiting for. I listened intently on every detail of a politician’s unfair play that she was divulging. “There is a group coming from this politician who went over to our subdivision’s covered court last night. His group dispersed food packs with money ranging from 50 pesos to 100 taped under the styrophore container,” said Ducano. She said that along with the food is a note stating the name of the politician who expects their support on the coming election.

I was really captured by her story that I stayed on to chat happily with her for more or less fifteen minutes. After I got the essential details, I thanked her and gave up a huge smile for my own victory over the election.

I looked at her as she wandered over the school and until there were people who covered her from my sight. I turned around and saw a group of bystanders staring at me. I was dumbfounded for a second or two after one guy broke the silence and told me, “Miss, that girl Arlene Ducano is my neighbor. And she has a mental problem.”