The metamorphosis of Corona

The camp of beleaguered Chief Justice Renato Corona must be backed by a very professional and experienced damage control team. This seems obvious in the very clever maneuvers being employed now to switch the focus from his highly controversial Statement of Assets and Liabilities to those of other officials, particularly those on the prosecution panel. But, apparently, Senate-Court head Juan Ponce Enrile, is up to their manipulations. He showed this by asking them to focus on Corona’s SALN only.

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After all, it is the Chief Justice who is on trial, and being questioned on alleged irregularities in his declarations on his SALN, and on the huge deposits in the banks that do not appear to jibe with his income from the various positions he had been holding in the past years, and up to now. One cannot help being surprised at the way Corona has metamorphosed from that seemingly meek and gentle person who quietly said he wasn’t reacting to the attacks on him in public by President Aquino, because it was Christmas.

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In contrast to that humble and self-effacing pose then, we now see a Corona who has come out swinging, in what some critics have described as a very un-chief justice-like justice-like manner. Are these his true colors, or are there experts coaching him on what to do and say now? He can even talk about one-man rule and things like that, try to rouse women judges into coming to his support, if not defense. Such moves do not seem to jibe with the character of the man who, initially, tried to appear harmless, even saintly, having masses said in public areas, and putting his hands together in front and bowing to his staff, which is not a gesture associated with his professed religion.

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Well, it looks as if there is a long way to go yet before the trial comes to an end, and we hope the conclusion of cynics that this will end in a political decision, with the senator-judges voting according to party policies, will not also be what will happen. At this point we can only pray for the enlightenment of those judging the case, that they will vote on it, according to their own conscience, and not the conscience of their party leaders.

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Well! Congratulations to the Azkals for winning their game versus the Palestinians. It seemed to be a not very tight game, with the Azkals making four goals and the Palestinian three. But at least we made third place, which is not really something to brag about, but is not as bad as being fourth – if there is any such place. Which reminds me of my former English teacher who was from Bulacan province but was recruited to teach in La Consolacion College here. We knew she came from a well-to-do family in her province, but she was a good mixer, so when her co-teachers decided to spend summer vacation in Manila, they bought third class boat tickers, to save their money, and she also joined them.

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When they arrived at the pier in Manila, they were met by her relatives who looked appalled at the conditions in the third class section where passengers of various ages and conditions were huddled in cots, some in double bunks. Until now, I can picture the expressions of the relatives who could not believe she could put up with people, wailing babies and cargo all together in the same area. One of them asked, “Nena (not her real name) how could you go third class? “One of her naughty companions snapped, “Because there is no fourth class!” At least the Azkals did not get that.

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Yesterday was the feast of St. Joseph, husband of the Blessed Virgin Mary, and foster father of Jesus. In the Philippines, and especially in Western Visayas, many families continue observing the “San Jose” tradition of gathering friends and relatives to prayer and a meal during which an old man, a young girl and a little boy, representing Joseph, Mary and Jesus, are treated as the honored guests, fed and welcomed by everyone while hymns and prayers are offered, an act which I believe is a sort of making up for the hospitality that Joseph and Mary did not receive when they got to Bethlehem. Isn’t that a beautiful practice?

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Our family inherited this from our paternal grandparents who had been observing it as far as I can remember. My grandmother, Margarita Leonardia, told us that this was a pledge she made when my father was born a blue baby and not believed to survive. Despite the bum heart, he lived to his seventies, and that is why my own parents, continued the tradition, and we, their children, will surely continue it, too.*

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