Cagayan de Oro spring
A revolution is currently brewing in disaster-stricken Cagayan de Oro. And this revolution could become a new template for ousting abusive local government officials.
Days after Tropical Storm “Sendong” struck, public outrage spread in the city like a wildfire, seeking accountability for the 3,000 dead and missing. Ironically, the public indignation was roused by no less than the city mayor himself, Vicente Y. Emano. By consigning scores of unidentified dead bodies to the city landfill, the people of Cagayan de Oro were reminded that only an election ago, scores of compact flash cards from automated election machines were seen dumped by a city hall truck in the same landfill. In that election, Emano won by a measly margin of 2,000 votes. Months later, the truck driver was six feet below the ground.
While Sendong struck the two neighboring cities of Cagayan de Oro and Iligan, it was becoming clearer by the day that the similar whipping they got from the tropical storm was the only thing they shared in the experience. No similarly widespread and angry calls for accountability could be heard in Iligan City. Its leaders had immediately started the development and construction of a relocation site. Emano, on the other hand, was still fumbling before a visiting President Aquino, trying to justify his slow-motion response to the latter by insisting that the city had no more public lands available. The truth is, there are such public lands, except that 50 hectares of those had been mortgaged to a bank for projects that were mostly “bid” out to only one construction company.
Manila certainly has turned a blind eye to what is taking place in our provincial cities. After Sendong, it should blink no more.
Sendong was a blessing in disguise for Cagayan de Oro. In power for almost 14 years now, Emano has entrenched a regime that does not tolerate dissent. But a people rising from a disaster have awakened and have started asking questions. Were it not for Sendong, the city would still be on its way for another nine years, and more, of Emano.
Dubbed by a netizen as the Andal Ampatuan of northern Mindanao, the Cagayan de Oro non-native turned to the city for an elective post simply because he had exhausted his three-term limit as governor of Misamis Oriental. Emano, until now, controls the majority of the provincial board of Misamis Oriental and counts on the loyalty of many of the province’s municipal mayors. One provincial board member had to switch sides and become an Emano supporter after the renewal of his business permit met some “delays” and “obstacles.”
The Emano political dynasty is well-entrenched. A brother is a mayor of Tagoloan. Son Yevgeny, often referred to by media as one of Congress’ non-performing assets, is on his second term as representative of Misamis Oriental’s 1st district. Daughter Nadya is city councilor. Nephew Heckert Emano, who is one of the stockholders of SunStar Cagayan de Oro daily, is one of the seven provincial board members loyal to his uncle. City councilor President—yes, that’s his first name—Elipe, who is married to daughter Nadya, is widely perceived to be salivating at either a higher city position or a congressional seat.
Emano has admitted that on the night of Dec. 16, when the eye of the storm was upon the city, he was at the Christmas party of his mayor brother at the Harbor Lights Hotel, which the Emano family owns.
Like a true warlord, Emano moves around the city in a convoy of bodyguards in two black pick-up semis and a police SWAT vehicle. Tyrants often do that, not exactly to deter assassins (for assassinations are only figments of their larger-than-life imaginations), but more as a psychological deterrent to dissent.
But after Sendong, Cagayan de Oro has finally found the heart to speak up against the ruling dynasty. And Emano and his dwindling minions now have to contend with a snowballing opposition that is found not anymore just in the war rooms of his political rivals. Like the Indignados of Barcelona, Spain, the anti-Emano revolution is taking place in social media where many exposés have gone viral. An online podcast, Radyo CdO, has become a hit in the cyber airwaves. Unlike a loyalist radio station owned by a crony, Radyo CdO makes fun of the Emano government, including a favored public works contractor behind many of Emano’s white elephants.
The social media revolution against Emano has so far produced almost 30,000 signatures for an electoral recall drive that needs only 45,000 signatures. It is spearheaded by people most of whom have no association with or interest in politics, but exasperated enough with the one-family rule that has kept Cagayan de Oro in a decrepit state. Under the Emanos, the city is a chaotic mess of traffic snarls and vendors on roads and sidewalks. Thus, it has not been difficult to collect the recall signatures. Even businesses known to be sympathetic to the mayor are now faced with the threat of boycott. When a recall drive volunteer who left signature forms at a restaurant in the city’s busy Limketkai Mall was stopped by management, an Internet posting of the incident was met with boycott calls that instantly became viral. Organizers of the drive expect the city’s business leaders who fear Emano’s “vindictiveness” to soon join the opposition bandwagon.
A city struck by a deadly, rampaging rage of a river is showing the country that in the 21st century, conventional media is not necessarily the norm to effect democratic change. Ousting a local dictator is possible. And it is not Manila showing the way. It is Manila that is watching.
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