PARADOXICAL

(A anti-travelogue of sorts that I wrote before I left Manila in 2016 based on unfiled police reports pieced together from my diary)

~1997: ‘Blonde’ Bystander Snatches Boy’s Red Cap

One of the earliest crimes I have ever witnessed face to face in Metro Manila is this little snatching incident.

Inside a jeep bound for home at 7 PM, I saw a teenage boy wearing a red cap on his head, one of those imported NBA baseball caps that must have cost Php1,000 apiece at American Boulevard. The boy looked clean-cut in that generic style preferred by the ‘rich kids’ residing in Paranaque’s exclusive villages.

We passengers were busily avoiding one another’s stolen stares because we were stuck in the area’s usual traffic, the red light at the nearest junction itself staring at all of us unblinkingly. Then the traffic light suddenly turned green.

In a flash, a boy in dirty shirt and blond-dyed hair emerge from the shadows in the street and, with a deft hand, grabbed the ‘rich kid’s’ red cap. Just in time, the jeepney driver revved up the engine and drove on as though in a car chase.

Mission accomplished for the thief.



2008: An Arresting MRT Story

It was the weirdest sentence ever constructed, and it boomed in the white noise of the afternoon: “Ikaw, ikaw, ikaw, ikaw, at ikaw, sumama kayo sa ‘kin!” ("You, you, you, you, and you, come with me!")

It was an order from a tall, muscular man in black, pointing at, tapping, and then commandeering five tambays (hangers-on) parked beside me one lazy afternoon, as I stood just outside the Pasay Taft MRT turnstiles waiting for a friend. The man in black appeared to be on his own, but knowing it’s his turf, he must have been surrounded by his men, also disguised in plain clothes. The tambays had unkempt wear and unruly hair.

“Me?” I thought, stunned and, of course, alarmed and incredulous. "What do you mean 'you,' you idiotic old piranha?" I thought. "If you would so much as round me up among the usual suspects, I'll be sure to embarrass your whole family including your ugly pet iguana."

Through the mercy of God, the bouncer-built policeman excluded me. I sighed, relieved after being nearly choked by breathlessness. I walked away fast from the persons being arrested, which included one woman who looked like she could use some nose pore strips. Exoneration by dissociation.

Then a little commotion ensued. This certainly called for some serious investigative journalism. Being at the wrong place at the wrong time, I just had to stick around. People from all walks, converging all of a sudden from the four corners of the wind, followed the arresting officer as he hauled off five people -- all by himself -- who were too shocked to respond. He didn't restrain them with handcuffs and ball chains. Not yet. There's no need. The ugly morons were caught pointblank. Human nature, I guess. It's the way hostage-takers are hostaged themselves into surrendering. Within a narrow window of a few seconds, as criminologists learn in class.

Soon a respectably sized crowd fenced in the arrest scene, which shortly led into the cramped police booth inside the MRT concourse area. Another similarly built police officer came in as reinforcement. But the woman was smart. All of a sudden, in the ensuing commotion, she managed to break away free. I don't know how she did it, but she vanished into thin air just like that. Split-second superpowers maybe, like Darna's. And no one bothered to catch her, maybe because everyone thought she's a woman who probably had a baby waiting to milk her malnourished self to death.

But the mob and the police were unforgiving to the men. I heard all sorts of premature judgments while accusations and denials were hurled in opposite directions.

"Own up to your crime now!"
"These people should just be killed!"
"Just dump them down the Pasig River!"

I thought, "Shut up you evil, judgmental fools! Look at yourselves in the mirror! Don't you cheat on your wives too, steal kisses from some other chick, or worse, steal a one-nighter with a Php100 slut after a pimp offered you with his familiar, ‘Sir, chicks? Kahit pangkape lang?’ Shut up, you pimps, or you're next to be creamed." Obviously I found the proceedings much too fascinating to just leave and mind my own business.

Then a hapless but furious-looking fellow in a muscle shirt burst into the scene. In contrast to the suspects and the gathering crowd, every single strand of his hair was combed and meticulously gelled in place. "Have they been caught yet?!" he asked aloud excitedly, addressing no one in particular.

Soon he was inside the cramped room too, disputing all the blatant lies of the herded animals. A few irate men from the clearly thrilled onlookers lining the room stroke a mean blow to the bare-faced liars now and then. No one minded. The interrogation continued. The man in tight-fitting shirt furiously claimed that the backpack, the cell phone, and the wallet were all his, his, his. He provided incontrovertible proofs, like calling the number of his wife and the like.

"Aalis na lang ako eh, nanakawan nyo pa ko, ha?!" ("I was just about to leave, and here you are snatching my things, huh?!") He then slapped one of the guys' face, which surprisingly brooked no resistance.

All the accused were now as a flock of lambs. Yet they were nonetheless adamant. "Wala po akong kinalaman diyan," ("I am innocent until proven otherwise,") they all said.

"What?!" What asinine liars!" I thought. "I swear to God I'm gonna kill you myself with my own bare hands by crushing all your testicles! Why don't you just admit it and rationalize by tugging at telenovela heartstrings and say you needed the money because your mother is in the hospital nursing amoebiasis?"

The two policemen now kept on urging the four to admit their crime. "I believe in human rights and adamant about my position on capital punishment (anti, not pro), but you can torture these jerks later, off the record," I communicated to the officers telepathically. "You can just deny the violation later and falsely claim that everything was self-inflicted, nothing extra-judicial. Demand and extract honesty by whichever means, then be dishonest about it later." Right.

I was clearly enjoying all this. This happened for a mysterious reason or purpose, most likely to entertain the hell out of me and the captive audience.

The hooligans remained in denial up to the last minute. What did we expect? Isn't that the routine scene on the nightly news? People claiming they're innocent despite the hard evidence and pronouncing they were actually the victims?

But for a few long minutes, nothing like that was happening. Even the poor victim was getting impatient. "My flight is at 7," he kept on saying. The road to the Ninoy Aquino International Airport was certainly cramped at this hour. But the police wouldn't hear a word. They insisted on having everything put in black in white, in the police blotter.

There was no media person in sight to document the whole thing. I guess that would be me. Citizen journalist, yes? No choice. But too bad I had no portable digicam with me. And I lost the only cell phone with camera I could afford. Yes!... I lost it to scheming snatchers like these…these… ugly manimals! Argh!

Then I noticed the greenish luminous plastic rosary one of guys was wearing around his neck. A talisman for his holy adventures, no doubt. I didn’t know whether to snicker or cry “Profane!” Obviously, his talisman didn't work so far. 

There were nasty punches and verbal blows from the audience now and then. They were cheered on by the rest of the kibitzers in a restrained way, clearly a concretization of all the imagined revenge by anyone who ever figured helplessly in a snatching, mugging, or petty crime scene with this nasty band of perpetrators like this elsewhere in the big city. We were not the aggrieved party in this case, but who cares? We were all victims once.

And who cares if we are equally guilty of committing petty crimes ourselves from time to time, so long as we are not caught? That's what matters.

Everybody else was getting impatient. Even the crowd was thinning out.

But one man thought of something inspired before disengaging himself. He offered the guy within his reach a powerful one-two punch on his back for the last time. Ha-ha. Dramatic exit, you could say. "What a vengeful bastard!" I thought. Even the poor suspect, the recipient of the final blow, didn't expect that. I began to feel stirrings of pity for the alleged criminal. Alleged, because I suddenly remembered the legal rules: presumed innocent until proven guilty.

But neither did the arrested person signal the slightest desire to fight back. A-ha! I thought. People who are not guilty don't react that way: By instinct, they will fume mad at the wrong accusation.

But pitiful me smelled stirrings of Stockholm syndrome somewhere. For a minute there, I had to remind myself who the real victim was: It was the OFW (overseas contract worker) missing his flight, the Filipino who was about to leave everything behind only to be rudely pulled back to his country of origin at the last minute with one final assault, no less from five of his countrymen. All the more reason to leave, he must have thought.

"EVERYONE BACK OFF!" the first arresting officer suddenly shouted, apprehending all the shameless kibitzers. That included me, of course.

I couldn't honestly reply with "We're all citizen journalists here -- that's a crime too?"

We all did disperse like swatted flies.

PART 3 of 3: 2016 photos ba 'ka mo? O ayan. Puro hindi tungkol sa akin pero nasa likod ako ng camera most of the time, except for those rare moments na nahagip ng sinaunang camera ni JV. Basta kung nasan ang ganap ng mayor for the day, andun ako.

***

Back to 2016
(Ano Ba 'Tong Pinasok Ko? A reflection on my 2016 work-related photos)

Sari-saring alaala at emosyon ang naglaban-laban, naghalu-halo, at nagtagisan sa aking isipan nang buksan kong muli ang folder na "2016" sa aking lumang external drive. Deleted na ang mga files na ito sa lumang desktop at laptop ko, kaya't buti at naisave ko ang karamihan ng mga larawan at artikulo. Ngunit tanda ko na may ilang mga 'pics' din ang nawawala at di ko na mahanap pa sa di malamang dahilan. (Navirus? Nadelete ko nang 'di nalalaman?)

Tandang-tanda ko pa ang pagdating ko rito sa munisipyo ng Bayambang sa probinsya ng Pangasinan noong Agosto ng 2016 matapos ang 25 na taong pamamalagi sa Maynila. Pagod na 'ko nun sa mahabang panahon ng pakikipaglaban sa siyudad, kaya't parang grasyang dumating sa buhay ko ang oportunidad na makapaglingkod dito sa sarili kong bayan. (Actually, ikalawang bayang pinagmulan, dahil ipinanganak ako sa Pandacan.)

Down na down ako nun kasi nanalo sa eleksyon si Digong Duterte, pero gets ko naman kung bakit: na-disillusion ang mga tao sa mga "Dilawan" lalo na sa mga naging insensitive actions at statements ni "PNoy" noon, at siyempre malaking factor yung mga paninira online ng Marcos forces sa mga Aquino.

Anyway, ni wala sa hinagap ko itong pagbabalik ko, kasi feeling ko noon wala naman akong mahihita rito sa bayan ng Bayambang; walang kahit anumang oportunidad. Napakarami kong kakaibang experience sa Metro Manila that scraped the highs and lows of life na naging malaking tulong sa naging papel ko sa buhay bilang isang writer, at malaki ang pasasalamat ko run. Pero napakalaki rin ng pasasalamat ko nung umuwi ako rito, dahil 'di ko na rin kaya yung buhay sa siyudad -- yung natatrap araw-araw ng hanggang dalawang oras sa traffic sa EDSA at kahit saang lupalop -- papasok pa lang yun, mataas na gastusin, sari-saring polusyon, overcrowding, ingay, init at alinsangan, krimen, at sobrang kumpetisyon sa trabaho...

Tumatanda na rin kasi ako nun. Kumbaga, hindi na rin ako mabenta sa merkado. Kaya subconsciously siguro, hinahanap-hanap ko na ang simpleng buhay probinsya. Kaya siguro nag-LSS ako sa kantang "Take Me Home, Country Roads" ni John Denver noon, isang kantang di ko naman kapanahunan.

Pagdating ko rito, I didn't know what to expect, pero nature ko to give my all in everything I choose to put my heart into, kaya yun ang inatupag ko: ibigay ang buong sarili. Pero bukod dito, napakalaking factor yung malaman kong magsisilbi ako sa isang tao na kumbinsido akong may tunay na puso sa paglilingkod-bayan.

Sari-saring tao ang aking nakilala mula sa iba't ibang antas ng lipunan, kaya't iba't ibang ugali rin ang aking kailangang pakibagayan sa araw-araw. May magalang, may sweet, may super friendly, may medyo maangas at mayabang, may di namamansin na akala mo kung sino (feeling superior siguro?), may aloof (sobrang tahimik at mahirap timplahin), may super-daldal, may medyo bastos.... Napansin kong medyo marami-rami sa mga ito ang ilag sa akin sa 'di ko mawaring dahilan -- bagay na nakapagtataka sa akin dahil hindi ako sanay sa ganoong trato. Kahit saan kasi ako magpunta dati, feeling ko maraming tao ang natural na friendly sa akin kasi ako ay si Mr. Nice Guy at mukhang mahiyain kaya't hindi intimidating.

Kahit nakailang linggo na ako sa trabaho, medyo disoriented pa 'ko nun. Sa halip na CENPELCO, ang nasasabi ko lagi ay MERALCO. Tapos biglang magke-crave at maghahanap ako ng iba't ibang bagay na wala rito o mahirap hanapin. (Tulad na lang ng Vietnamese food like pho, New York pizza ng North Park, oatmeal-raisin cookie at coffee latte sa McCafe, o kaya'y bagel ng Country Style.) Akala ko talaga minsan nasa Maynila pa ako. Subalit bigla akong matatauhan na nasa Pangasinan na talaga ako dahil ang mga naririnig kong pananalita sa Tagalog ay biglang iba ang punto at may kakaibang mga adisyunal na salita. Example: "Bakit ey?" "Ta ni, pupunta ako dun." "Halika na siren."

Sa dami ng kailangang gawin sa araw-araw, wala akong panahon sa sarili ko. Wala rin akong panahon makipagkaibigan ng malaliman. Buti na lang at marami akong alam na anti-stressors o iba't ibang paraan upang magrelax at magreset nang hindi na gumagastos o umaalis ng bahay o upuan. Ang importante sa akin ay magawa ang dapat gawin, makuha ang tamang impormasyon sa informant ng agad-agaran, dahil kumbaga, ang balita ay hindi naghihintay ng oras. Hindi ka rin hihintayin ng mayor kung kelan ka ok. Lahat ng task at request niya ng tulong, kailangang magawa agad.

Besides, tulad ng nasabi ko na, nasa stage na ako ng life na tapos na sa pakikipagcompete sa iba, pagpapa-impress, 'pakikipaglandian' (for lack of a better word), pakikipagplastikan, etc. Galing kasi ako sa mga apat na taon ng psychospiritual counseling noon sa Maynila kung saan pinakamalaking bagay sa akin ang self-awareness at authenticity. ...At bago pa 'yan, top priority ko ang spiritual growth, dahil ilang taon din akong aktibo sa transparochial Catholic charismatic movement. Because of these out of the usual pursuits, ang dami kong naging kaibigan at kakilala hindi lang sa simbahang kinabibilangan ko kundi sa iba't ibang Protestant at iba pang Christian churches, both online at offline. (Para ngang mas marami pa akong nakilala through FB Messenger kahit never ko pa na-meet in person).

This means a bizarre (because previously unthinkable) set-up in which Christians of various denominations got together to pray, even pray for one another. Normally, it shouldn't even happen, given our basic theological differences.

Batid kong hindi ako madaling maispelling ng iba, o ng karamihan. Iyan ay dahil diyan sa background kong iyan na pinili ko -- consciously at by choice talaga. May pagka-monk ang napili kong journey sa gitna ng tinatawag na secular world. Yan kasi ang sa tingin ko na pinaka-akmang "state of life" ko given the unique circumstances in my life.

Anyway, iyan ang tunay na ako pagdating ko sa Bayambang na hindi alam ng mga taong nakakasalamuha ko. Alam kong medyo kakaiba at di maiintindihan ng marami. Isang taong di na bumabata, kaya't di na mahilig magpapicture, pumorma ng husto para magmukhang guwapo, at let's just say may mga iniinda na ring sakit. Iba na kasi ang naging prayoridad ko sa buhay: knowing God, evangelization, spirituality, service, community, as well as wholeness, psychospiritual growth, healing from various traumas of childhood, grief work, self-actualization, search for deeper meaning and purpose in life, peace of mind.

Pagrepaso ko sa mga photos sa archive ko sa trabaho sa ilalim ng taong 2016, kapansin-pansin sa akin na marami sa mga nakilala ko at nakatrabaho ay wala na sa munisipyo, at nakalulungkot na ang ilan sa kanila ay wala na rin sa mundong ito. Ang isa pa nga sa kanila ay suking duktor ko pa, na isa sa mga nabiktima ng covid-19 noong pandemya. Ang isa naman ay pumanaw matapos madisgrasya sa motorsiklo, at ang isa ay namatay dahil sa karahasan -- binaril ng kung sinumang demonyo sa 'di malamang kadahilanan.

Sa loob pala ng sampung taon, ang dami-daming maaaring mangyari, kaya't laking pasalamat ko sa Diyos na andito pa ako at marami pa rin naman sa mga nakagisnan kong makasama sa trabaho. Marami na rin ang dumagdag na pumalit, ngunit 'di ko maiwasang malungkot sa mga wala na, lalo pa't mayroon silang kanya-kanyang naiambag.

Kapansin-pansin din na wala sa ni isa mang photo ang taong nag-chat sa akin sa FB na mayroong opening sa munisipyo: ang noo'y Tourism Officer na si Chris Gozum. Parang walang naging pagkakataon, o kaya'y isa yun sa mga nawawala dahil nadelete unintentionally.

Makikita rin sa mga photos ang laki ng pinagbago ng munisipyo mula sa taong iyon. Dahil sa tapat at mabuting pamamahala, ang laki rin at ambilis ang pinagbago ng bayan ng Bayambang kahit na sa mga di inaasahang bagay.

Designated as the town's Public Information Officer (meaning unofficial, without the Sangguniang Bayan's institutionalization via legislation or ordinance), I also wrote most of the mayor's speeches. It tickled me no end that it was my own words the townfolk listened to without knowing each time the mayor read his speech from a prepared script. It felt weird each time I had to listen to myself on the biggest occasions as the mayor delivered a speech, and no one else knew it except for those few individuals who had knowledge of the inner workings of the local government.

Dahil mahilig nga akong pagsulat, I attempted to make a diary as a PIO, pero di ko kinayang isustain dahil siyempre nakafocus ako lagi sa mga araw-araw na gawain ng Munisipyo. I was too busy documenting the mayor's first 100 days in office. Nakakapagod, pero somehow, I felt at home, like figuratively and literally.

Anyway, hindi nagtagal ay napagtanto kong dito ako inilagay ng Diyos sa dahilang Siya lang ang nakakaalam. From my own point of view, it's an entirely different battleground, but it is not much different from a religious missionary work after all. In public service, I have found, it is the same life of service, hard work, selflessness, hiddenness, a constant battle with the egotistical self in the name of serving others, serving God's people, it is the same dependence on God for provision of needs and most especially wisdom.

In this new battlefield, not everything is, of course, "coming up roses" -- that's par for the course. For example, I found myself in the middle of a fierce political war in a town where everybody knows everybody, something which was very difficult on my mental health, on top of my huge workload, thus causing me sleepless nights. It's because the 'war' involved things that are supposed to be anathema to me: hatred, vindictiveness, hidden agenda, intrigue, lies/slander/false charges... Every day, there was also a clash of ideas, of personalities, of perceptions and interpretations, and most especially assumptions and presumptions. 'Pag sobrang hirap ng sitwasyon, napapatanong na lang ako bigla ng, "Ano ba 'tong pinasok ko? Akala ko ba puro petiks lang ang trabaho sa gobyerno?" Pero kalauna'y nareresolba din at nagagawan ng paraan.

It was also a humbling experience to serve in this capacity while being incapacitated or inadequate in some way. I was challenged in so many ways I never expected, starting with the day's topic or subject of news coverage. (At this point, I know it's corny, but the song "A Whole New World" kept playing in my mind.) Lahat kasi bago sa akin. At lahat ay kailangan kong alamin. Nakakagulat na ang lawak pala ng scope ng trabaho ko. Basta kasi may pasabog na balita, kailangan ko itong alamin at sundan, kahit ano pa yan: sesementuhing daan, feeding ng mga malnourished, tulong sa pulis at bumbero, pagsasaayos ng palengke, paggawa ng bus terminal, bagsakan, trike terminal.... Nevertheless, in that way, it seldom got boring for me, a person who gets bored so easily. May mga balita na tuwang-tuwa ako icover, at mayroon ding 'di ko masyadong type, pero lahat ay kailangang gawin ng tama at may puso.

It was a far cry sa mundong dati kong ginagalawan: the length and breadth of Metro Manila, especially the Pasay-Paranaque-Makati areas, BPO/KPO firms, side hustles like editing papers and writing for publications as a freelancer.

Ang hirap pala maging mayor! (Try niyo para maintindihan niyo rin.) It means overseeing more than 30 units/departments, coordinating with several national government agencies, and supervising 77 barangay chiefs of a town with about 120,000 residents. In terms of paper works alone, you need to go over and sign a pile of documents around a foot high every single day. You have to constantly balance the oftentimes conflicting needs, demands, wants, and wishes of different sectors. I don't know why anyone would want all that. One time, I said to myself, I am not that crazy (yet) to even dream of it. Unless you were called into it, para kang kumuha ng batong ipupukpok sa ulo mo. (Sorry na sa lahat ng pulitiko, haha.)

That's what 2016 was all about to me, and this story continues to this day, 10 years hence, a life of living by faith, following one's own unique calling, a life of reliance on something bigger and something outside myself.

"Humility is not thinking of yourself but thinking of yourself less."

 Resty S. Odon is a Filipino writer, journalist, editor, and public information officer from Bayambang, Pangasinan. He has a varied background in writing, publishing, and local government communications: (bayambangmunicipalnews.blogspot.com)

• He’s a seasoned freelance writer and editor whose work has appeared in major Philippine publications such as Philippine Daily Inquirer, Philippine Star, Manila Times, and asianTraveler. (bayambangmunicipalnews.blogspot.com)

• Odon graduated with a B.S. in Biology from UP Baguio as a DOST scholar and later worked in Manila’s knowledge process outsourcing industry before focusing on writing and editing. (bayambangmunicipalnews.blogspot.com)

• Since 2016, he has served as Public Information Officer (PIO) for the Bayambang Local Government Unit (LGU), where he produces historical and cultural publications and manages the town’s official media platforms. (bayambangmunicipalnews.blogspot.com)

• He is an author and essayist; his book Being Filipino This Side of Town reflects on Filipino identity, and he won third prize in the Doreen G. Fernandez Food Writing Award (2024), writing on regional food and culture. (bayambangmunicipalnews.blogspot.com)

• Odon also works on documenting local history and cultural projects, and contributes to both local and national media, including being a guest columnist for Northern Times in 2025. (bayambangmunicipalnews.blogspot.com)

• Beyond journalism, he’s been involved in culture and heritage documentation, such as compiling traditional literature and expressions for regional projects. (Scribd)

In summary, Resty S. Odon is a writer-journalist and communications professional with deep ties to Bayambang’s cultural life, local governance, and media landscape. (bayambangmunicipalnews.blogspot.com)

 Resty S. Odon is a Filipino freelance writer, editor, and public servant who currently serves as the Public Information Officer (PIO) for the Local Government Unit of Bayambang, Pangasinan.¹