We called him Uncle Eddie; when he got his stars he became General Eddie. After the 1986 People Power uprising – of which he was a principal figure – and he took over the national defense portfolio, he was Secretary Eddie. Then he resigned from the Cabinet to run for president; I asked him then what I should call him. “Mister Eddie,” he said, with his trademark unlit cigar and a twinkle in his eye. He won the election in 1992, and for six years he was Mr. President. Nowadays, three elections removed from that office, Fidel Ramos is once more Uncle Eddie. (His wife, on the other hand, has been, still is, and will always be Auntie Ming.)
He invited four of us from The STAR to the 26th floor office of the Ramos Peace and Development Foundation, and from a large picture window he pointed out what he said were the problems of the country – high rises side by side with slum dwellings, the grayish brown haze of pollution, traffic jams... “Poverty gap, health gap, opportunity gap... but the biggest problem of all,” he says with a wink, “tang-gap,” or accepting, referring to bribes. He believes those who give, or even offer, bribes should be punished, more than those who accept bribes, since the latter – referring to ordinary government workers – often do so because of need, while the bribe givers are people or groups with means.
He serves “sexy” coffee – San Mig 3-in-1 laced with virgin coconut oil. He vouches for the health benefits of the brew, and gives visitors photocopies of an article touting the “sexy” benefits of VCO.
His office is a maze of books and mementos, its walls a rogues’ gallery of world leaders and celebrities; presidents, prime ministers and a pope; sultans, emirs and kings. Two photos side by side show the uncanny resemblance he bears to Thai King Bhumibol; he claims – protesting that he’s serious – he was once “offered” the job of being the king’s double. He refused the job because one condition was not met; discretion keeps me from saying what it is.
He points out the photo of him and former Chinese President Jiang Zemin famously singing a duet. He says Jiang (that is what he calls the Chinese leader because “he calls me Ramos”) wanted to be taught some Broadway songs in order to surprise and impress US President Bill Clinton, whom Jiang was scheduled to meet. And what was on his song card? “Love Me Tender” was the first choice, then “Let Me Call You Sweetheart”, then finally “Top of the World.” He chuckles, “But I told him you better not sing that song,” referring to the Carpenters’ hit.
He shows off his collection of golf balls neatly arranged on racks, and explains that he encourages young people to work on a collection because sorting things out and arranging them in logical order will help them organize and manage their finances and their plans. He donates a lot of his books and papers to libraries all over the country. He stresses that the Ramos Foundation is open to students and the general public who want to do research.
Ask him about 2016 and you can get the serious answer -- no, he does not yet see the country’s next leader -- or the typically FVR answer -- “I’m not looking at 2016 but at 2022; I’ll still be around, I don’t know about you” accompanied by a hearty laugh.
We took our “official” picture before a blow up photo of a flag raising ceremony during the Philippine centennial with an assembly of the country’s leaders. He directs the shoot and moves us around -- stand here so you don’t cover this person, and you stand there so that person is covered, his commentary on the political tableau of the country. Finally the picture is taken, and we each get a signed souvenir of our afternoon with Uncle Eddie.