By Veronica Uy

The colossal fight in the biggest city in the metro has taken an interesting turn. For some months now, Quezon City residents have come to accept the idea that long-time QC public servant Herbert “Bistek” Bautista is going to run for the top QC post.

And for some months too, it is said that uber-rich Congresswoman Annie Susano of the city’s second district would also be gunning for Quezon City mayorship. (Once, in one of the President’s controversial trips abroad which was criticized for the number of um, “congressional aides,” in the entourage, she told reporters asking her about it, “The government did not pay for my trip. I paid for my trip. I can afford it. I can even buy the plane that took me here.”)

Naturally, despite his years of service, the former Kaluskos Musmos star was said to be preparing himself mentally for a bruising battle that is sure to cost lots of moolah—something he doesn’t have a-plenty. He was said to be relying on his track record, performance, and his showbiz background (for the par-for-the-course glitzy endorsements required in Philippine politics).

But guess who is joining the fray now? Political watchers in the city were all agape when former Presidential go-to guy Michael Defensor allegedly stepped into the QC political ring, carrying a huge, heavy bayong (a big traditional Filipino bag usually used when going to the wet market).

By Vinia Datinguinoo-Mukherjee

1989, I was 16, a probee. He was, by campus journalism standards, a seasoned news reporter. The editors had assigned me to be his “buddy” for a story, the topic of which I will probably remember at another time. The afternoon of the deadline, on my way to the Kule (nickname of University of the Philippines’ Collegian) office and finding him perched on a ledge in front of the downstairs cafe with a couple of friends, I asked him when we could perhaps sit down and work on the story. Maybe he sensed the concern on my greenhorn face, as he said in Tagalog without budging one bit, “It’s alright, Vinia, we have time.” I was, of course, frazzled. But that was Alecks, and eventually I would find out, that Alecks and “chill” are synonymous. Years later, he would, in a characteristically self-deprecating manner, take the word Tamad and join it with a second word in honour of Bob Marley to come up with a monicker for himself, Rastamad.

But let that favorite nickname not delude you into thinking that he amounted to nothing. Sure, Alecks liked to take his time. But what he came up with, every time, was exemplary. He was a perfectionist, he broke paths with his knowledge in online journalism, he was dedicated to his profession, and without him, PCIJ would not have become what it now is.

Much, much more than any of that, Alecks was a dear friend. In the 12 years that I worked with him at PCIJ (Philiippine Center for Investigative Journalism), we had our differences. There were stretches of time when we would not speak to each other outside of what was required by our professional relationship. After a spell, however, we would both simply snap out of it and start anew. (Often, it was him cracking a joke that would break the ice. And that is a topic worth a thousand dissertations: Alecks’s singular sense of humour.) All those years, being friends with Alecks was a perpetual bonus in my life as a journalist in the Philippines.

Alecks, you will live on in my heart. As someone very dear told me when I lost my father, there is no forgetting our loved ones, only remembering. And I will have enough memories to remember you by. I could try to write them down but even my best effort will not suffice.

Where you are is an infinitely better place. Rest in eternal peace, Alecks.

To Mira, Marlee, and Kaya, may you be embraced by the thought that your Alecks was one fine man, a husband and father who will love you no end.