ONE AFTERNOON during our high school days in the late 60s, our poker-faced Pilipino teacher, Mr. Sotto had joked, “if you look out the airplane window whenever you are flying over Cebu, be reminded of my balding head. Down there, they have no more trees, and my old head is nearly out of hair.” We had all laughed heartily back then, and I am sure a few classmates remember that.
How long ago has that been? Nearly six decades ago? At this, one is bound to think, they have survived for almost sixty years without trees in their hills! In all that time, the city’s progress has been the showcase of its commercial success. But all that is immaterial now.
In a weird way, I am reminded of the biblical tale of Lot’s wife turning into a pillar of salt, but mind you, only in reverse. Had the people even glimpsed or checked back to agree with Mr. Sotto’s observation, nature’s payback might not have been as severe.
While there may have been warnings made by some leaders, that too much progress without regard to environment concerns could prove to be fatal and post danger the people, these warnings obviously fell on deaf ears. As we look at it again, sixty years is indeed a short time because when the rains finally fell on the city a few days ago, there were no floodgates to speak of to prevent the hard rain’s rush as it overwhelmed the rivers in its race to the sea.
Sadly, in the aftermath of every calamity, there with always be three types of people who will come out from the mist amidst the rubble. At the forefront are the blamers, then the Pontius Pilates, and lastly, the doers. Either by their actions or even from afar, they are so easy to spot.
The first type might seem enigmatic at first, considering, admit it or not, there’s no exception when it comes to pointing fingers. We sadly live under a culture of blame. It’s always the other guy. If everyone admitted to errors of their ways, there would not be wasteful discourse anywhere.
Pretty much its close relative is who-me Pilate. Interestingly, even when some of these are caught with their hand in the jar, they employ the tactic of the first one, triggering a run-around common in our political arena.
No praises await the last type of people. If one were to rise early each morning, one might meet along the way a silent street sweeper while they clear the pavements assigned to them. Though often, they can be found along the background in our lives, a few also hold higher positions than their counterparts on the streets. Their specie too exists alongside those who are there whenever someone needs assistance or, more importantly, when there’s an emergency. No chest-beating, no fanfare, just work to be done.
In all human settlements, they be modern or still in varying states of development, the interplay between these three actors is only as predictable as the future of the place. Next time one looks out the airplane window to behold what lies below, picture them there as well, pondering the balding state of the mountains.
