Imelda in the mini food court?! Now that was a sight to behold! When I told this the next day to Tata and Inday, their reaction was, "Wow, wala man lang sya nagpa-Benny's na lang? (Wow, shouldn't she have just gone to Benny's?)". Benny's is of course the restaurant named after the husband of one of her Blue Ladies.
To see Imelda at the food court without the pomp and splendor normally attached to her wherever she goes brought up a myriad of emotions. I felt a bit sad seeing this. It reminded me of my Mama's last days. But I quickly snapped out of that sadness because I was reminded of the incident two years ago when at the Ayala Museum, I came early for the Rush Hour series of concerts where Dr. Ingrid Sala Santamaria was to play not just one, but two concertos with the Manila Symphony Orchestra. Being the early bird, I sat at the front row in the best possible seat to allow me a view of the pianist's fingers. There was no sign whatsoever that the seats were reserved. Nada!
The room started filling up over the next 45 minutes until it filled five rows from the front. Then, someone from the Ayala Museum walks up and says, "Ma'am, these seats are reserved". It puzzled me because there was no sign that the seats were reserved at all. So I moved two seats to the left which would then make me miss my view of Ingrid's fingers but instead give me a perfect view of her back. Lady from Ayala Museum says, "Umm, Ma'am, it's the entire row that's reserved."
In my mind I said, "What?!!! You didn't even have a sign here that these were reserved!!!". If there was a sign, I would have taken the second row and still have a nice view of Ingrid's fingers dancing on the keyboard. I wasn't in the mood to argue and make a scene anymore. You know how we are once we get started. Noblesse oblige took over and I just went my way to get a seat at row 6 as rows 2 to 5 were already filled by those who likewise came early enough to earn their space.
Then after 5 minutes, she arrived. SHE arrived! The one for whom the seats were "Reserved" for. Imelda came in a green dress with the signature butterfly sleeves. Gwapa gyapon (still pretty) - though bloated through age. Assisted by the lady who booted me out of my seat, she took the front row.
So here I am at row 6, my view of Ingrid's back, obstructed by the people in the forward rows and most of all, obstructed by the one who took my seat - the Imeldific one. She was in the very same line of sight to viewing Ingrid's back. So I said to myself, "Ahhh, I will just close my eyes when the concert starts so I can just concentrate on the music."
I tried closing my eyes even though the concert hadn't started. Honestly, it made things worse than actually seeing Imelda up ahead in my former seat. With my eyes open, I could see Imelda, I could see the musicians, and I was in the 'moment'. With my I eyes closed, I was quickly teleported out of the Ayala Museum and brought back to Negros of the 1980s where turmoil and uncertainty pervaded the island. I can remember. I can feel it. It's just like it happened yesterday.
Sadly, many Negrenses do not remember. They no longer remember the systematic pillage of the sugar industry that was carried out during the Marcos years through Roberto S. (Bobby) Benedicto a.k.a. RSB. People say, Filipinos have short memories and they do not learn from the lessons of the past. Well, welcome to Negros, the island where people have even shorter memories than the rest of the country.
A large number of Negrenses now based in America forget that the main reason why they are now in the US was because they fled Bacolod in despair and hopelessness. Oh, they will not admit it openly, but that's the truth. They will not admit to despair and hopelessness, only to "seeking greener pastures". Yes, any pasture elsewhere was greener when overlaid against the background of the countryside insurgency and widespread hunger where NGOs and charities had to come in and do a splendid job of helping alleviate the hunger.
People in Negros hardly remember anything. Recently, the Philippine National Bank celebrated 100 years of existence. Despite the centenary, people forget their odd bond between themselves and PNB. Back then, it was said that Negrenses had to "go to mass" three times a week. Once in the Catholic church for spiritual upliftment, and twice at the PNB main building along Lacson street to nurse misery because of their crop loans.
They forget that there was such a thing as the California Overseas Bank which the Marcos crony, the late Bobby Benedicto, created in order to launder funds for former dictator Ferdinand E. Marcos. In 1990, RSB agreed to turn over to the Philippines, the California Overseas Bank as a way to avoid racketeering and conspiracy charges.
RSB as we recall was indicted in 1988 along with Ferdinand and Imelda Marcos on charges of fraud, racketeering and conspiracy in the US. Back then, Benedicto, a fugitive at 73, avoided arrest by using fictitious names and multiple passports to shuttle clandestinely among such places as Hong Kong, Spain and Venezuela, where he had extensive investments - with thanks largely to the Negrense people.
Negrenses even forget that the main reason why there is the successful Negros Trade Fair today, is because the hacienderos wives, stepped up to the challenge to find ways to augment incomes among the farm workers by giving them work through cottage industries. It goes back again to the plunder of Imelda and Ferdie, and of course our very own, RSB.
I write this because I did see the Imeldific one in a momentarily lonely state at Rustan's. But that is not for long. In about a month's time, she will be happy and overjoyed when the apparent remains of Ferdie from that cold box in Ilocos are finally interred at the Libingan Ng Mga Bayani.
When that day comes, it will not be an interment of sadness to the immediate family. It will be an interment of triumph. Definitely, it will be a sad day for those who remember the atrocities and plunder which Marcos has committed.
Tragically, most Negrenses could not care. They could hardly care not primarily because they are detached physically in another island 700 miles away from the Libingan. They could not care anymore because they could not remember.
Welcome to Negros : An Island of People With Super Short Memories.
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