Wishing on morning stars

Least corrupt. That was the accomplishment of the Department of Education according to a poster stuck on the fence of a public school in Carcar. The smiling faces of former President Gloria Arroyo and former Education Secretary Jesli Lapus trumpeted this "accomplishment." The source of the information was written at the bottom of the poster in a smaller font and the car I was riding was not close enough for me to read what it said. It must have been a survey about how government agencies were perceived. I'm not aware of any study comparing the actual cost of corruption in different government agencies.

It was upsetting to see a poster treating corruption lightly. It taught the students that a little corruption is not a bad thing. It makes distinctions between most corrupt and least corrupt and everything else in between. We have several laws saying that corruption is wrong but the agency charged with teaching Filipino children values teaches them that it is okay so long as it is not done on a large scale.

We were on our way to Boljoon for my grandmother's eighty-fifth birthday. Saturday afternoon traffic from the city to Carcar was moderate and would have been bearable if not for the maniacal driving of mini-bus drivers going to the south. They weaved in and out of their lanes and seemed to be at the threshold of colliding with other vehicles every few minutes. A mass transport system, by rail or a bus system that works efficiently, should be on the wish list of every commuter subjected to the recklessness of untrained public utility vehicle drivers.

Traffic eased after we passed the Carcar rotunda. I would have wanted to stop for ampao but the area around the rotunda was congested and it was impossible to get to the outer lane. Buying from the ambulant vendors who chased after cars seemed like being an accessory to their possible death or injury. It was not the picturesque, idyllic Carcar rotunda of my childhood. It reminded me of traffic along Quiapo Church on a Friday.

Our first stop was the Sibonga cemetery. We lit candles at the graves of my great grandparents and other relatives. Makeshift stalls selling colorful plastic toys lined the Spanish colonial-era stone gate of the cemetery. I used to see those toys only during fiestas. The solemnity I associated with cemeteries on November 1 and the days leading to it was gone.

The trees and the beaches along the highway of southwestern Cebu made me forget about crazy drivers and silly posters. Seeing Eli, the limestone cliff, after passing through Boljoon's winding roads reassured me that there are some views that I can count on to be constant. Or at least until some narcissistic politician thinks of carving his face upon it or zealous road widening advocates decide to blast it away. We reached Palanas in the mountains of Boljoon at dusk. Our chicken tinola and bulad dinner complemented the cold, drizzly night. Tired from the trip, most of us fell asleep quickly.

I awakened at dawn to the sound of singing and guitar-playing as my aunts, uncles, cousins, and other members of the household sang festive Cebuano songs and woke my grandmother up to greet her a happy birthday. Unable to go back to sleep, I walked to the kitchen and noticed that the sky had cleared and was filled with stars. There were no shooting stars but I made several wishes anyway.

I wished for continued good health for my grandparents. I wished that I'd look as young as my grandmother does now if I live to be 85. And I wished that I would not have to wait until I'm 85 before Filipino school children are correctly taught the differences between right and wrong.

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