By: Telly Gonzaga-Ocampo

Enough Telenovelas because Our Ballpens

Can End the Senate Circus

When does the drama end?

I catch myself asking the above question every time the Senate hearing flickers on my screen. Another episode. Another plot twist. Another hearing that feels less like governance and more like a telenovela we never asked to binge. My eyes are tired. They’ve aged with every headline. But it’s my heart that feels heavier.

Let me tell you what heaviness looks like today: 61 pesos to one dollar. Sixty-one. I can’t help but imagine the money being grabbed in broad daylight, already converted into dollars, tucked away far from the jeepney fares and market prices we struggle with.

How painful is that?

We taxpayers wake up and tighten our belts again. Rice costs more. Gas costs more. Everything costs more. And as if that weren’t enough, we’re told to also worry about peace and security. Petty theft on every corner. Clothes disappear from the line. Cellphones vanish from pockets. Even chickens, bananas, and moringa leaves from backyard gardens aren’t safe anymore.

Is this the life we were promised?

Here’s the cruelest part. Small thieves choose their victims. They take from neighbors who have little to begin with. But the big thieves? They don’t choose. They take everything. Then they board private jets to Europe or the USA, their goodbyes paid for with money that should have built classrooms, hospitals, and roads.

And what gives them that power? 

Our votes. Votes bought with welfare packs and empty promises. Votes cast for faces we recognize from TV, for last names we’ve seen too long, for candidates who rotate from one position to another like it’s their birthright. Shameless. Thick-faced. Bragging as if we wouldn’t notice.

In every breath we take, there’s a tax. Environmental tax. Movement tax. Survival tax. We pay for all these in our own country. I could go on, but what’s the point if our hearts won’t feel lighter after?

Last Sunday, I read the editorial in the Bohol Tribune. One line stayed with me: the root of all this is right there in our ballpen. The moment we shade a name on the ballot, we choose the next chapter of this story.

I know I’m just one vote. One of the “insignificant minorities.” But I would not trade that. My ballpen will never shade movie stars, their spouses, or political dynasties who’ve been circling power for decades. I’ve looked back at our history long enough to know what that gives us: more drama, more debt, more goodbyes at the airport.

When will we be governed by statesmen again? Not celebrities. Not dynasties. Statesmen. Men and women who serve because it’s a duty, not a stage.

Last Friday was Independence Day, June 12. A day meant for flags, parades, and remembering what freedom cost. But this year, the celebration is drowning in Senate drama. The noise is so loud, we can barely hear the Philippine NationalAanthem.

Maybe it’s time to change the channel.

Enough telenovelas. The script for the next season is still unwritten, and the pen is in our hands. Not theirs.