Memoirs of an Amnesiac

The first thing that greeted me this morning (aside from the usual urban fumes and noisy neighborhood banters) was the sight of people with the same shirts, in full bright colors. And I began to process in my hazy brain (whose concerns at the moment was to catch the bus and to make up for the day what the previous sleep paralysis attack has caused for my brain) what the whole throng of people meant. Then it hit me. It is time once again for that season of empty promises and surreptitious blatant remarks for the enemy camp: ELECTION CAMPAIGNS.

It is time once again to put those earplugs (or for a lesser cost, some rolls of cotton balls) on one's ear and repaint walls with POST NO BILL signs as most allies of politicians wouldn't mind them, even with the guidelines set to them by the Commission on Elections (to only post where designated).

I had once tried campaigning for a politician in our city. I went through the usual distribution of sample ballots and handshakes, feeling like the real runner. Uncannily though, they also liked my handshake. It was our "strategy" before (Obama and his camp had the "touchy-feely" strategy where they hugged every one warmly, as if putting up a message: I FEEL FOR YOU, SO GO AHEAD AND VOTE ME). I was dismayed that after all those sun-bathing under the scorching heat of the sun, they only made me eat and paid me 50 pesos for the day's work. Truly, it's difficult to earn money these days. That experience taught me so much about politicians: They shake your hand before the elections and then your confidence thereafter.

From that day on, I vowed never to campaign for anyone, even when they are advocates of Mother Theresa. It's better to be non-partisan (sounds like cheese). In my utter disappointment and disgust at politics and the politicians, I had promised to boycott one election year but then again it happened that it was the year that the PCOS machines (Remember them? They made most of us hungry in our precinct rooms right? Because we had to wait in a long queue due to the shortage of machines) were used. I was curious whether it worked and whether it was worth my hard-earned-money-turned tax.

I had been told that it would be better to cast one's votes to exercise one's right of suffrage than to forever live in the clamor of Whatcouldhavebeen. So, each year I vow to boycott, only to break it on election day. I tried accepting money but voted for the other camp. Ha ha.

Just a while ago as I was heading home, I've noticed that the politicians have changed strategies. They have deployed what they call the DIVIDE and CONQUER Scheme. Before, they usually announce to homeowners that they would do a campaign presentation inside the village, together. Now, you can see them under almost every post in the area, armed with some portable stereos and a trusty microphone. They keep talking, even when no one is listening. They remind me so much of those preaching on streets in usually white dresses or suits with white head coverings (as they always do that under the heat of the sun) while scaring every motorists with their predictions of doom's day should taxpayers refuse to cast their votes on them.

Politicians promise us everything. They give us all we need to hear. Do you want the garbage in your place collected on time? Vote for me. Do you want the roads paved? Vote for me, I will pave everything including your acne-prone face! Do you want that your neighbor will stop singing until the wee hours of the morning? I will make him deaf-mute if need be! Just cast your votes on me!

Lies, darn lies.