Inside Malacanang – before Noy came in
Published on: 27th July, 2010
by Eli F.J. Tajanlangit
I was in Malacanang in the dying hours of the Gloria Macapagal Arroyo administration. The atmosphere reminded me of Christmas time in school – you know, the last day before we all go on vacation, when the party is over, the food partaken and the gifts already opened and we linger, waiting for nothing in particular.
I spent an hour or two in the Guest House, where President Noy now holds office. Some of the yellow ladies were already there, looking at which paintings will go where, mentally rearranging the furniture, I suppose, talking in hushed tones. There was an officious mood about the ladies – something that said, we’re not yet there, but we’re sure to get there.
The mood among the GMA functionaries on the other hand can be best described as suspended. They didn’t know how to deal with the newcomers, smiles were plastered on their faces, but they generally left them to themselves. Actually, it seemed like they did not want to say anything. How do you deal with people who are taking over your space?
We all marveled at the historicity of the Inaugural of Noy, but this was where the Peaceful Transfer of Power came down to brass tacks: in the faces of the yellow ladies, giving the palace more than just a once-over, a secretary on their heels, taking down notes. You saw and felt the full import and impact of the Peace Transfer of Power in the faces of the dying dispensation, eager with their smiles, their tones hushed and once or twice you hear the words “career” from them, meaning they’re not political and are not really expected to be yanked out of the palace.
Former Executive Secretary Leandro Mendoza had this big smile on his face and he managed to more than once laugh out loud. He’s going on vacation, he said, a looong vacation so he can take a rest. He had been ES for a few months, the last of GMA’s little presidents. Mark Lapid was also there, in one of the quiet huddles that littered the ES’ inner offices. And there, too, was the Yellow Piano, a Yamaha, which I understand was a gift from Filipinos in Japan to former President Cory Aquino when she was still the occupant of this house.
It’s a unique piano, and I touched it, like I had to touch a friend’s hot pink Benz because you know there isn’t any other quiet like it. But a cause of awe was the thought that the recipient of this piano did not bring it home, she left it here when her time was up and I can’t help but admire her even more. No, more than just admire: an excitement bubbled somewhere in my guts and rose to my chest. Now we can hope again, and dream perhaps, that we will once more walk the right way, where once walked the lady who knew her manners and left when it was time to go, and left behind what were not hers.
I may have been dramatizing it in my mind, but when I got out of the Guest House, I felt a soft breeze as the old trees swayed and the sunlight cast everything in heightened colors. There, on the grounds, I saw the red carpeted platforms where the new VIPs will stand in a matter of hours. Now it felt like New Year’s Day.
Back in the city, on the way to Manila Hotel I saw a succession of convoys and heard the sirens. Dignitaries, somebody said; foreign guests to Noy’s inaugural. That was the last of the wang-wangs I heard in the big city.
I did not go to Noy’s inaugural. I went home to Bacolod and only caught fleeting moments of it on television. Over lunch with friends that day, they shared little stories about the inaugural as they saw it on teevee. Me, I can only think of the unique Yellow Piano in the Guest House and the promise that I shall someday, see, and touch it again and feel right about this country.*