By Danilo P. Padua, PhD
September 2, 2016 was a day of infamy in Davao City. It was a red day, literally. Senseless and mindless person/s made that possible.
It was a day when the lives of about 15 unsuspecting civilians were forcefully snuffed out together with their dreams and the hopes of their families. Another 70 people were mercilessly forced to lie on sick beds in hospitals, some of them gasping for dear life. It was a day of carnage, only a sub-human can perpetrate. People around the world condemned it and commiserated with the victims. All self-respecting humans should really condemn in unison such despicable act of inhumanity, and act accordingly to prevent further occurrences of the same.
The date was actually a day before I left for Manila on my way back to La Trinidad, Benguet from an international symposium on tropical fruits held in the city.
Around 11pm on that day a Davao-based friend phoned and asked me: “Are you shocked?”. I shot back, “shocked about what?” Of course, I was shocked by the question itself. I was even more shocked when told that the night market in Davao city near Ateneo, Marco Polo Hotel, and Aldevinco shopping arcade (the very popular souvenir hunting place) was bombed. Why? I intended to go that night in that same market at 9pm. I was staying in a place about 1 km away, so given the waiting time for a ride, and travel time, I might have been there around 9:30pm.
There is a lot of ukay-ukay merchandise in that night market. It is this one that I intended to see to compare it with what we have in Baguio. And perhaps to buy something that is useful. A visit there would have taken some time to go around. In most likelihood, when the bomb exploded at around 10:20pm, I would have been there. That was shocking! It was providential that my supposed nap for a few minutes at around 8pm extended beyond 11pm. I thank God for that.
This reminds me of the Plaza Miranda bombing back in 1971. It was the miting de avanci of the LP ticket then. One of my friends in high school (I had my secondary schooling at Quirino High in Proj. 3, Quezon City) was convincing me to go and see what such event was all about. I consented but decided at the last minute not to go. He went alone. Unfortunately, the affair was rocked by a bomb and he got badly hurt. I ended up writing his story in our school organ as I was then its news editor. A more recent one in 2007, was eerily akin to this. I was then a visiting scientist at the International Crops Research Institute for the Semi-Arid Tropics. On a Saturday, I, together with a World Bank visitor and 2 other scientists, visited a tourist area in the city of Hyderabad, India. The day after our visit, a bomb exploded beside the place where we savored an excellent Iranian-blended tea, killing scores of people. I believe that it was more than providential that I was not in those places when insanity reared its ugly multi-head there.
Interestingly, the Davao blast did not deter the foreign participants (mostly members of the board of trustees of the International Tropical Fruit Network) in the fruit symposium to experience more of Davao. “We are not afraid of the bombs”, they chorused. Most local residents appear not worried at all, or unduly concerned of the violence. Even discussion of the blast among waiting passengers in the airport, early the next morning was muted. Apparently, they thought that the incident was just a widely isolated case. In effect, they believed that the strong-willed, rockstar president Digong can handle the security pretty well.
Davao media though were relentless in their indignation of the incident. An interactive radio program was on in the taxi that I was riding in to the airport. When a caller mischievously said, “what happened to the safest city in the Philippines?” he was immediately rebuked, and rightly so, for seemingly making fun of a very serious situation involving lives.
Before the blast incident, people were very proud to say that you can walk anytime of day or night in the city without fear of being mugged or molested. That of course is common knowledge. There is a big integrated bus terminal there for trips going to important cities in Mindanao and even to Manila and parts of the Visayas. One can sleep overnight in the terminal by renting a folding bed for only fifty pesos. Your bags will not be touched while sleeping. That is how peaceful and orderly Davao is. This same pleasant character of the city, however, becomes a liability sometimes as people devoid of humane sense can easily take advantage to the point of exploding bombs with ease
President Duterte is everywhere in Davao. Up to now, congratulatory tarpaulins are still proudly and prominently hanging in cafes, souvenir shops and other private establishments. His life-size effigies welcome guests in hotels and convention venues. His house, which had become a tourist attraction, is really unpretentious. One may even fault him for not building a bigger, more presentable one despite his being a mayor for so long and a congressman for some time. His neighbors’ houses are so much larger, one can mistake his as that of servants’ quarters. But such is the character of the man, the mayor president.
My curiosity urged me to take a glance at his house. Going there, I had to wade through a river of people brought there by several buses.
He is in his own, almost solitary league as a politician. Instead of building big palaces, he spent some of his money for the poor. I was told by ordinary Davao residents that every December, president Duterte brings down indigenous people from their mountain abodes, place them in big gymnasiums and provide them with food in a festive mood. He mingles with them, eat with them as time allows. After new year, he ferries them back to their places. That partly explains why, acid tongue and all, he is adored by people.**
