In That Coffin

Pork Barrel Scam

by Ignacio Villareal

It seemed like luck was not on my side on that gloomy day years back. As I woke up, I saw ominous dark clouds which seemed like a sign from the heavens that something was wrong. I was the first to rise among my four sisters and I went to wake up my grandmother. After shouting her name about three times, I wondered why she wasn't replying like she usually did. Curious but not worried, I entered her room and repeatedly tried to shake her out of her slumber. It did not work. She was gone.

Tears started dripping from my eyes as I realized that my once jolly and perpetually smiling grandmother was now just a lifeless body. For months now, she had been suffering from tuberculosis. With no money for medicine and no accessible hospital, the nearest being a mountain away, we could only rely on our prayers and the healers in our village. They themselves admitted that it would take actual medical treatment to even have a chance curing her terminal illness.

Thinking of this tragedy haunted me on my way to school. Neither the five kilometer long roads of rock and mud nor the three waist-high rivers we had to cross each day was enough to distract me from being disheartened by the fact that the days I could joke around with my grandmother and see her smile are over. For most of the day, I could not stop my tears.

I was able to get a hold of myself in Social Studies. In that class, we learned about the functions of the government. Politicians are public servants. This discussion also made me want to become a politician. I wanted to be able to serve the people. It became my dream.

Before starting my long journey back to my house on the mountain, I decided to go to a sari-sari store with my friends to get some chips and soda. In the store, my friends and I were watching the news in the small old television the store owner had. The news was about a ten billion peso pork barrel scam wherein the money supposedly for the poor was pocketed by some individuals. My jaw dropped. This money could have been used to spare millions of people from the clutches of poverty, but, instead, it was used to enrich the already rich.

I started to think. What if, even 0.001% of the ten billion pesos would be used to help my grandmother? That would be one hundred thousand pesos that could be used to pay for the hospitalization and medicine of my grandmother. This could have saved her life. Also, what if, 0.01% of the money was allocated to build a school near our town. It wouldn't take an hour to go to school anymore. Unfortunately, this ten billion pesos of Priority Development Assistance Fund (PDAF), more commonly known as pork barrel,  which is supposed to be used for projects to aid the poor, was misused for projects that involved buying high-end cars and multi-million dollar condominiums in the US. The PDAF is not their money but, unfortunately, they act like it is theirs.

Disgusted, I decided to rush back home, trying to digest the information I had just taken in. How could they do such a thing? How can they prioritize luxury bags and ultra expensive clothes over the lives of their constituents who are hungry and suffering? How can they sleep knowing that the money they have is not their money but the money of the people? How can their conscience, if they have one, allow it?

I previously thought politicians were supposed to be public servants. I thought that their bosses were the people. I thought they were the good people; I even considered them as heroes. I was wrong. They are really just mealy-mouthed criminals. They are monsters. They are only there for the money.

My sorrow for the loss of my grandmother was replaced with anger and hatred against those politicians. I hated the fact that we were here suffering, and they were there partying. Our school was not only far away, but also lacked classrooms, books and teachers. We had no hospital. When the typhoons destroy our crops, we starve. There was a part of me that wanted to surge into the offices of these politicians and give them a glimpse of life sans the designer bags and ridiculously expensive jewelry. I want to show them that by maintaining their lifestyle, they are destroying the lifestyles of their "bosses".

My once high regard for these so-called public servants plummeted below sea level after this. If these people continue to hold the reigns of our country, then our country is in big trouble. I was nauseated on how I wanted to become like one of these sickening politicians. And as I watched the remains of my beloved grandmother being lowered six feet below the ground, I decided that my dream of becoming a politician should accompany her in her coffin.

God bless our country.