MASBATE’S BLOODY POLITICS
Woman takes up cudgels for clan
Inquirer
Last updated 03:11am (Mla time) 05/07/2007
MASBATE CITY — When Maloli Espinosa told her boss she was leaving her well-paid corporate job at a television network to run for Congress, he asked her: “Why expose your daughters to this bloody heritage?”
The 47-year-old mother of two adult daughters knew exactly what he was talking about.
For decades, the Espinosa clan has dominated politics in Masbate province.
But like so many provinces in the Philippines where political change tends to come through the barrel of a gun rather than the ballot box, the Espinosas have seen their fair share of death.
Political opponents gunned down Maloli’s father, Rep. Moises Espinosa, at the Masbate airport in 1989, seconds after he had stepped off a flight from Manila. Six years later, her uncle, Rep. Tito Espinosa, was murdered near the Batasang Pambansa complex in Quezon City.
And in 2001, her brother, Moises Espinosa Jr., was cut down in a hail of bullets while attending a town fiesta. He had been mayor of Masbate City for just 40 days.
All were victims of the fierce political rivalries that dominate politics in a country where votes are bought, political patronage is the norm and assassins are hired for a few thousand pesos.
So why, against this bloody background, did she give up her job as vice president for government and corporate affairs and public relations at ABS-CBN, the biggest television network in the country, to enter the murky world of Philippine politics?
“Many of my friends find it difficult to understand, but there is something deep inside me that simply wants to serve the people of Masbate,” Maloli told Agence France Presse in an interview.
“As a little girl growing up, I wanted to be just like my father. But when any question came up about me entering politics, he would change the subject. He didn’t want me in politics,” she said in the spacious living room of the family home just a few kilometers outside of Masbate City.
The two-story gray brick-and-wood house that her father built sits in the middle of a three-hectare walled compound. The metal grates that cover the windows and patio areas are a reminder that in Masbate, politics is a life-or-death business.
A chapel sits inside the compound, built shortly after a hand grenade was thrown at the family as they attended Mass in a church just a few years before her father was murdered.
“Although it didn’t explode, my father was not prepared to take any more risks with the family even in God’s house,” Maloli said. The chapel is where her father and brother are buried.
Since campaigning began in January for the May 14 midterm elections, scores of political workers and candidates have been murdered throughout the country — five of them in Masbate alone.
Half of the 24-seat Senate, all of the 236-member House of Representatives, and more than 18,000 local government posts are up for grabs.
Formidable foe
Maloli knows what she is up against. Her opponent, former Gov. Antonio Kho, is a formidable foe having built a powerful support base in the province. The son of a Chinese trader from Amoy, now the city of Xiamen on the eastern coast of China, his family migrated to the Philippines in the late 1940s.
Out on the campaign trail, she travels in a convoy of three cars. At her feet are two hand guns that belonged to her father, discreetly tucked inside a black plastic carry case. On the front seat are two light-weight Kevlar flack jackets that a friend brought back from Africa.
Her bodyguards, all employed from provinces outside Masbate, are also armed.
“I prefer it that way. Everyone has his price, I know, but I still feel a little safer knowing those protecting me and my workers are from outside the province,” Maloli said.
She recounted an incident recently when her convoy ran into Kho’s convoy.
“At the time, everyone froze. None of us did anything. We just waited to see who would fire first,” she said.
“It was one of those moments when anything could have happened. But the cars reversed and we passed each other and went on our way to our next campaign stop.”
Swimming with friends
Born in Masbate, Maloli spent her early years swimming with friends in the clear sea water off Masbate City, riding horses on the family ranch and accompanying her father.
There were six children in the family — three boys and three girls — but Maloli was her father’s “little girl.”
“It was a wonderful childhood,” she recalled over coffee at the end of a day’s campaigning.
The room is filled with reminders of her father — his saddles and a life-size portrait of him on horseback looking every bit the cowboy.
“They were different days then. Peaceful, beautiful days,” she said.
Knowing that Masbate is the third poorest of the country’s 81 provinces, Maloli wants to change the way politics is done here.
“We have to get away from the violence which has dominated politics here. Education and health are two areas that need to be addressed,” she said.
Drive across the main island of Masbate and the coconut-lined beaches quickly give way to rolling pastures and treeless hills that could be cattle country in America or Australia.
“My father loved this place. He loved his horses, his guns and fighting cocks,” she said. “Although he was tough, he was also loved by most of the people here.
‘We’re still here’
“I guess his political opponents thought that when he was assassinated, it would stop the Espinosas. But it didn’t. We are still here,” Maloli said.
“This should be a place where it is safe to retire to and a place where people can come and enjoy themselves. Not a place to be feared. Masbate is not as bad as many would have you believe.”
Maloli said she wanted people to vote for “me as a person not as an Espinosa.”
“When I am out on the campaign trail, I tell them I was born and bred here. This is where my heart is and I want to make change. I want to improve their lives,” she said.
In a country where votes are bought and election promises rarely kept, Maloli will have a hard time convincing voters that she can make a difference in their drab lives.
“People have told me if you can’t protect your family from violence, how can you protect us?” she said. “I really don’t have an answer for that one.” Agence France-Presse
