By Reisha Mae F. Valdez, UC student
Last week, I stared out of a jeepney window as rainwater slowly covered the road. The traffic barely moved. I could only sigh as I watched people walking beside the road jump away from puddles, often too late to avoid being splashed by muddy water from passing vehicles. Nobody seemed surprised. It felt like every heavy rainfall carried the expectation of flooding.
What surprised me was how normal we have allowed it to become.
I have lived long enough to hear politicians repeatedly promise solutions. Better roads. Better drainage. Better flood control. Every election season, these words are spoken with confidence. Every rainy season, they are washed away.
So when news broke out that Senator Jinggoy Estrada was facing a plunder case linked to flood control projects, I could not help but think about those promises.
According to the Ombudsman, Estrada allegedly received up to P573 million in kickbacks from flood control projects. He has denied the allegations and says he will prove his innocence in court. The courts should decide whether the accusations are true.
Still, I cannot stop thinking about the roads I travel every day. The same roads where commuters are stranded for hours after a strong downpour, where pedestrians risk getting drenched, and where a simple trip home becomes more exhausting than it should be.
Whenever it rains heavily, ordinary Filipinos immediately adjust their lives. Classes are disrupted. Work is delayed. Plans are cancelled.
Yet somehow, the people connected to these controversies continue living comfortably.
Five hundred seventy-three million pesos is a number too large for most Filipinos to imagine. If that money truly found its way into private pockets instead of public projects, then the crime is larger than corruption. It is the theft of safety, opportunities, and peace of mind from people who already have so little.
The saddest part is that many Filipinos no longer react with shock when corruption allegations emerge. We react with familiarity. We have heard too many stories and seen too many officials accused of treating public funds as personal property.
As the case moves through the courts, the truth will eventually reveal itself.
Until then, the next time I sit inside a jeepney during a heavy downpour, watching pedestrians dodge puddles and traffic crawl through the rain, I will find myself asking the same question many Filipinos are asking today:
Where did all the money go?
Because it certainly did not reach the people who needed it most.
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