SUMMIT

E Pluribus Unum:Out of many, one

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E Pluribus Unum:Out of many, one

“I am only one but I am still one. I cannot do everything but still I can do something. And because I can’t do everything, I will not refuse that something which I can do.”

trip. As I stood on that bus, I noticed that some people are smiling at me. Maybe they just think that I am that good-looking, I thought. =) Oh, come on. I really wondered why.

Until someone who is fat smiled at me (I for-got her name) and said: (I WILL TRANSLATE IT NA LANG TO ENGLISH.. HEHE) “Wow… I love your yellow ribbon and I love Noynoy! Where are you from? You know what, I really am voting for Noynoy because I feel that he alone can bring the change that we really need today. He is my president and he must win!”

She told me about her dismay over the inabil-ity of the present administration and the prob-lems that we are facing today but she said that she is hopeful that Noynoy can bring the change that she wants to see in our country.

After she talked, her child – maybe eight year old -- flashed the “Laban” sign which made me smile. Some people on her back agreed on what she said and it seems that they are really hungry for change.

This happened without me talking and initiat-ing. That yellow ribbon prompted them to do so. For me, a yellow ribbon is more than just a rib-bon. It is a silent campaign material and it sym-bolizes the people’s thirst for genuine change in the government and the people’s audacious hope that with Noynoy, we will be on the right track again.

Yesterday, I received 50 pieces of yellow rib-bons – which is actually made of rubber -- from Miss Bea Azcuna of the Supreme Court of the Philippines and it’s free of charge. Each ribbon is tagged at 50 pesos each and would have left our pockets empty and tattered. =) Me and my friends expected this for about a month and yesterday, we were happy to receive it. Thanks to Ma’am Bea. Ooops, Bea. She is insisting to drop the “ma’am.” =)

This morning, I was accidentally tasked to go to Nabunturan, capital town of the Province of Compostela Valley, and is 35 kilometers away from Tagum City. Of course, I wore the yellow ribbon.

While on my way, the bus conductor told me “ Ganahan ko sa imong yellow ribbon. Asa ka nag-palit?” (I like your yellow ribbon. Where did you bought it?)

I answered with a smile “ Diha ka? Gipadala ra man ni sa ako… pero promise, balikan taka sa terminal next weekend para matagaan taka.” (Re-ally? Someone sent this to me but don’t you worry, I will see you at the terminal to give you one next weekend!”

His reply: “Salamat bay! Kabalo ka, sa amo-ang pamilya, kay Noynoy jud mi! Hulaton taka next week ha!” (Thank you! You know, my family is all-out for Noynoy! I will wait for you next week, ok!”

Without a word, my yellow ribbon made a state-ment. Its impact is really great.

On my way home, I boarded a jam-packed bus and I had no choice but to stand all throughout the

Adieu,CoryIF GREATNESS was thrust upon Corazon

Aquino, and for a while it was, she did her best to parry it. The decisive moment came after eight hours of prayer at St Joseph’s Convent of Perpetual Adoration in Quezon City, the former capital of the Philippines. There the self-pro-claimed “plain housewife” resolved that she would, after all, accede to the request of 1m petitioners and run for president in the elec-tion that the wicked President Ferdinand Mar-cos had just called. Days of humming, hawing and after-youing were at an end, and the people had a champion. She was the lady in the yel-low dress, simple, bespectacled, plain not just in her housewifery but also in her demeanour, a contrast in every way to the stylish Imelda, who was still stuffing the boudoirs of the presi-dential palace with frocks and furs and shoes, shoes, shoes. The power, however, was with the people, and the people were with Cory.

It was a tumultuous time for the Philip-pines, a country that has never been easy to take seriously. Its Spanish-American colonial experience, invigorated by Malay, Chinese and indigenous influences, has produced an Asian variant of the rum-and-Coca-Cola culture. In the 1980s this meant visitors could be for-given for thinking they had arrived on the set of a wacky sitcom, perhaps made for the Cen-tral American market, in which the actors, all speaking American with a Latin twang, were masquerading as the nation’s public figures.

Strangely, though, they had nicknames that evoked either the Broadway characters of Damon Runyon or, more bizarrely, the upper classes of Wodehousian England: Bongbong, Teddyboy, Ting Ting and Ballsy, for example.

But the aristocrats, pallid though they were by Philippine standards, were less Edwardian buffers than mestizos of Spanish-indigenous or Spanish-Chinese blood, whose landholdings and feudal attitudes were reminiscent of nowhere so much as time-warped Pakistan. Adding to the exotic admixture were such minor curiosities as Cardi-nal Sin, whose inspired name suggested someone in the Vatican must have had a sense of humour, and the ouija tables introduced to the Malaca-ñang Palace during the Marcos presidency, which yanked the mind back towards the Chinese occult.

Against such a backdrop, Mrs Aquino—de-vout, shy and apparently devoid of ambition—was on the face of it an improbable tribune of the

Filipinos. But circum-stances propelled her. In August 1983 her husband Benigno, better known as Ninoy, a leading op-ponent of the president, had returned home from three years’ exile in the

Cory Adieu!But the aristocrats, pallid though they were by Philippine standards, were less Edwardian buffers than mestizos of Spanish-indigenous or Spanish-Chinese blood, whose landholdings and feudal attitudes were reminiscent of nowhere so much as time-warped Pakistan. Adding to the exotic admixture were such minor curiosities as Cardi-nal Sin, whose inspired name suggested someone in the Vatican must have had a sense of humour, and the ouija tables introduced to the Malaca-ñang Palace during the Marcos presidency, which yanked the mind back towards the Chinese occult.

Against such a backdrop, Mrs Aquino—de-vout, shy and apparently devoid of ambition—was on the face of it an improbable tribune of the

Filipinos. But circum-stances propelled her. In August 1983 her husband Benigno, better known as Ninoy, a leading op-ponent of the president, had returned home from three years’ exile in the

United States. He was at once shot dead. Over 2m people attended his funeral, which turned out to be, in effect, the first of a series of mass demonstrations against the regime, many of them prominently attended by the woman in the yellow dress. These culminated, after Marcos had tried to steal the election and some soldiers had mutinied, in an outpouring of protesters onto Epifanio de los Santos Avenue, known as EDSA, the huge arterial highway that loops round the capital, Manila. Three days later, on February 25th 1986, Marcos was on his way to Hawaii and Mrs Aquino was presi-

dent (see article).

The guts but not the nous

Cory had not been passive. She had seen off the charges of crypto-communism, faced down the efforts at intimidation and rejected the ill-judged at-tempt by Ronald Reagan’s en-voy to make her share power with Marcos. But her greatness was already at an end. As presi-dent, she introduced a demo-cratic constitution and set the judiciary free. Her land reform, however, failed to break the grip of the aristocrats, and her prom-ises to end the long communist insurrection were soon set aside. Worse, she failed to control the army. Her greatest achievement was to survive seven attempted coups and hand over peacefully at the end of her six-year term.