Messy
By Noralyn Mustafa

I HAVE seen her head tucked into the armpit of George Bush; and on CNN's "Comedy Corner," the host referred to her as "this tiny, tiny, tiny lady," adding "in fact I've got her right here," as he reached into his coat pocket, to much canned laughter.

But I never realized Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo was so small until I saw her posing in that photo with the just proclaimed senators-elect (PDI, 05/25/04, P.13), flanked by Bong Revilla and Mar Roxas. Of course it could have been worse had she stood between the willowy Pia Cayetano and the equally tall Jamby Madrigal, both of whom I'm glad I voted for.

Before that, there was the last episode of Max Soliven's "Impact 2004" which, as soon as she made her entrance into the huge and empty hall, promised to be as much of a disaster as the one she previously guested.

And when she told Soliven, "Let me show you my study room" (nobody to the manor-born -- or elected -- calls the study "my study room"), somehow I saw spiders crawling all over the place. Believe me, I hate this feeling.

Then I thought of how such enormous power has been vested in this small woman and I became truly, truly scared. And not because of what is going to happen in the next six years -- already too dismal to contemplate but not for us to foretell -- but because of what has been wrought so far.

A few days before election day, a local veteran politician with whom I keep in touch, advised me by text message that he was not coming home to vote. "What for? GMA will win anyway," he replied when I asked why. Asked how come he was so sure, instead of "texting," he called and, in his usual authoritative tone, told me:

"Before, we always mentioned the so-called three Gs -- guns, goons and gold -- as the guarantee for winning elections. No more. She has completely changed Philippine politics. Now it is the seven Ms -- money, machinery, military, Manalo, Mahinay, Mike and Malacañang. No way will she lose. Better dial M for miracle."

That would have been a pathetic exercise in futility, but if what I witnessed in Jolo also happened in many other towns of the country, then the miracle is that Fernando Poe Jr. could even come that close to denying GMA her heart's desire: "a clear majority mandate."

At the canvassing center inside the brigade headquarters, there was no tally board for national candidates. There was no more space on the wall, according to a member of the provincial board of canvassers when I asked about this omission. And when I wanted to get the score, especially as to how my main senatorial candidate Senator Aquilino Pimentel Jr., was faring in the province, I was allowed to copy the tally handwritten on a piece of yellow pad.

It was the summary of only eight municipal returns, I was told. Five more, already in, had not yet been included. But as I was copying it, the returns for Talipao arrived, and I jotted down the additional figures as the PBC chair read it out, indicating the date and time: 5:30 p.m., May 16.

I just lingered long enough to witness the proclamation of Second District Representative Abdulmunir Arbison, after which I left, happy in the thought that he had won another term, that Pimentel got more than enough votes to get to the top 12 of the senatorial line-up, and that the townmates of Amina Rasul and Dr. Parouk Hussin did not fail them by placing them in second and third places.

Despite the unusually big number of votes for GMA from Talipao, FPJ was still ahead by 11,808 votes. That confirmed what we already knew long before May 10. There was no way GMA could win over Panday in this macho country of Sulu.

I sent the figures by text to my friend the vet pol. "Don't count on it," he punned, ever the political sage. Ha, ha, I replied.

But then when I saw my friend Annie at the residence of the brigade commander, where she was staying, I at once had this inexplicable sense of misgiving, even as she lamented that three gubernatorial candidates who had promised GMA her heart's desire in Sulu had failed to deliver.

I first met Annie during the 1998 elections when her boss won as vice president. Very likeable, she is known as some sort of girl Friday of GMA in these parts; detractors call her "Gloria's bag woman." But for her own anecdotes about her episodic life, I think of her as some kind of miracle lady.

She had been to SouthCom, she said, to remind the officers there that they didn't want "a sixth-grader to be their commander in chief."

Three days later I asked her by text, "Ilan ang lamang ni FPJ kay GMA?"

"Nanalo si GMA," she replied. "Paano nangyari 'yon?" I followed up with another text. She didn't reply anymore, and I felt shivers up and down my spine.

Like Brother Eddie Villanueva, Raul Roco and Susan Roces said, this is not just about winning the elections. And in her own way but for an entirely different reason, GMA said "the only problem is to make it credible."

But certainly, threatening the unbelievers "with the full force of the law" is not the way to make it so. All those comical scenarios about destabilization being floated all over are becoming very boring. Labeling protesters as anarchists who risk being charged with sedition is very, very dangerous.

I doubt if GMA cooks. I do. And I had the most horrifying experience of seeing my pressure cooker explode, with me standing barely two feet away. I have a tiny kitchen, of course; but I'm sure that even in a manor house, the explosion would have been no less frightening. Take my word for it -- it was very, very, very messy.

Comments to nm19@mysmart.com.ph