"I hope that history will judge me as favorably as our people still regard me, because, as God is my witness, I honestly did the best I could. No more can be asked of any man." - President Aquino in her farewell SONA, 1991
Galunggong
Sequestered
Revolutionary government
My people
My soldiers
Democratic institutions
Unsolicited advice
The Council of Trent
Courtesy resignation
Ambush interview
Coup d’etat. Coup rumors. Coup pals. RAM
These words I remember from your presidency. I was a snot-nosed radio reporter at the tail end of your term.
My notebooks then referred to you in shorthand as PCA. And so did my colleagues. It was not something we agreed on, it just became the norm for us to append the P before your initials as a form of respect, while the papers preferred to use your nickname in its banners.
My friends and I thought fate wasn't kind to you, for all the pain you had to live through, including those you had to endure the last five weeks of your life ensconced in your hospital room with your family. You are right, I thought there's a quota on pain and that you have had yours.
"Hindi bagay sa kanya, ang bait niya eh," Dondi said.
"Hindi talaga, kasi iyong pain na lang na ibinigay sa kanya ni Kris, sobra na," another one said, trying to lighten the mood.
"Alam mo, she may not have been the most brilliant of presidents, but I agree with her, she did her best," I said, recalling your farewell speeches.
"Yes, I just disagreed with her apology to Erap," someone said.
"I agree. Bakit ba niya kasi ginawa iyon?" Joey said.
"Patawarin niyo na, maybe she was just thinking GMA is evil and Erap, while corrupt, was at least manageable," Dondi said.
"Tama ba, magpatawad dahil mamamatay ang isang tao?" someone asked.
"Oo, kasi hindi naman siya masamang tao," Dondi said.
And so we talked about democracy, and how you worked so hard to restore democratic institutions, and how you stood your ground defending it against efforts to push us back to the dark days of martial law, and its more evil cousin, a military junta.
I was assigned to cover your return to Times Street after the turnover at the Luneta. It was there I learned that former presidents are granted two PSG men until the end of their days.
I thank you for the ambush interview after your presidency at the Bantayog ng mga Bayani.
You probably realized I wasn't going to leave without an interview, so you led me by my elbow to usher me away from your friends.
"Layo tayo sa kanila, maingay sila," you said.
It was a scoop of sorts. No one else was there to cover your visit.
There were days I was frustrated with your government, bungling as it did on some major issues, like allowing the Marcoses to return. And the debates that went on and on and on about the Bataan Nuclear Power Plant. The bickering in the cabinet, the coup rumors, the coup pals, the Americans flying their planes to end the December 89 coup, Enrile's arrest, and the now infamous case file under the heading ‘rebellion complexed with murder” etc, etc.
But there were so many days I was proud to be a Filipino, too. And you made that happen.
I remember how even your most bitter critic at the Lower House, Rodolfo Albano, just by meeting you once, had glowing stories about you the following day. He was even proud to tell us about the chance encounter that changed the way he regarded you, and how after that meeting in a social occasion, he no longer knew how to criticize you.
You are an aberration, Mrs. President.
You gave us press freedom, and we immediately proceeded to criticize most of the things your administration did. Yet you never hit back in any foul way. I don't recall anyone from the Palace calling any newspaper or TV station demanding the transfer of any reporter who crossed you, unlike the presidents that came after you. Yet you faced us, and I remember seeing you on TV all the time, facing the media, answering questions, unable to tell lies.
You faced the nation and urged its citizens to be calm, even when Noynoy was shot five times, his three bodyguards all dead, on his way to the Palace to be with you in the middle of a coup. You almost broke down and shed tears telling the nation that, but you immediately corrected yourself and we saw the steely side of you. where you got your composure and calm strength I will never know.
You are an aberration, Mrs. President.
I remember you twitching a corner of your mouth when you didn't like a question. Or raising an eyebrow to show your displeasure over something that was asked. Or just waving a question away, and then walking on. But you never could lie.
Without even asking, you made many people quit their high-paying private sector jobs to heed your call to serve the people, for a pittance. But with you around, they knew they were not alone in making sacrifices to make a difference, to try and change things for the better.
A Palace insider once told me that in fetching Kris from school, they were not allowed to use sirens, that they have to stop at red lights, like the rest of us. You even instructed Kris to tell you if they use those wang-wangs. As Citizen Cory, you stopped at red lights, freed from the convoy that you had to travel with as Chief Executive.
While the Palace assigned a close-in photographer to cover your official affairs, you demanded that you pay for the pictures taken of your personal moments with your family.
Maybe this is why when Jiggy was a tiny boy, when he saw chocolates on a table he promptly asked you: “Lola, do these belong to the Filipino people?” How many politicians today teach their young ones that things that belong to the Filipino people are off limits?
Recently, Kris talked of moments you as a family spent praying for a grandson to get the job he wanted. You prayed. For a job. For a grandson. In this day, place and age where politicians elbow out others for jobs and perks for family members, you are an aberration.
Yes, you are an aberration.
And strangely, sadly, your term as My President was the last time I often felt proud to be a Filipino. It was also the last time I remember feeling, knowing, that the Philippines and its President had the respect of the world.
That era is an aberration now.
When all of us in the media could only say “Thank you” at the end of your life sums it all up. We are grateful. And that is a lot, considering how this job makes one so jaded to the core.
We are grateful that you restored press freedom although its ink and air time stung you some of the time. You gamely took us on, again with so much grace.
I can say you were the best president for the country at the time destiny put you in power. We are a young nation and I live – and will die – forever hoping this country will have a visionary and effective leader in the future, and I hope not too far away in time, because we are continually living from one crisis to another. And I hope that leader’s courage, honesty, and moral compass can equal yours.
You are so far the most loved President this country has had because you did your best, with courage and grace – and with a lot of prayers.
Others, more critical than I, may choose to focus on the gaps you may have had as a leader. I refuse to do that.
But I can say this with certainty, and again with gratitude: you held the fort with courage, honesty, and integrity, and worked hard to re-institute democratic institutions after decades of martial law, and tried to awaken the sense of patriotism in a bureaucracy long used to serving just one man and his family.
That you did this amid nine coup attempts, refusing to buckle, be set back, is a legacy generations will enjoy, unless we become apathetic again and squander it again.
And yes, Mrs. Aquino, I know you did your best.
And for that, I thank you. We all thank you.
Goodbye.
