eyes wide open 1.0

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They all lined up just before the first ray of the sun warmed up their faces. All eager to slip in the small door to be able to whisper  their voices in that big piece of paper and feed their prayers in that new, strange black machine that they prayed on with hopes that a better future is just around the corner. For a long time, they’ve been used to cast their votes to these small yellow boxes with padlocks. An object that, for years, lost its purpose in this part of Mindanao.  Curiously enough, these boxes found their way to a small crevice inside a hotel wall in Cotabato.

Our car passed by groups of people walking through a morning drizzle amidst a landscape of colorful banners and tarpaulins. Seemingly eager and excited to vote. We finally found ourselves in Buldon after a long journey through rough terrain and were surprised by the large number of people already lining up outside the polling precincts. The sound of commotion of people grew louder as I walked inside the public school grounds. After an hour of pushing and negotiations, I found myself inside this small and humid room filled to the brink with people waiting for their turn to put their mark on the ballot then finally feeding them to the black machine. After a few moments of shooting, I noticed the black machine found itself flying to the other side of the room. A brawl started. I walked outside barely missing another brawl between several people, then finally reaching our car to hear long bursts of gunfires coming from just a few meters away. The soldiers and residents seemed not to mind, and the election went on.

What election? This has been the cry of most people in central Mindanao when asked who won during the past national and local elections.  This is a place where elections are literally done under the barrel of a gun.  Those who oppose and speak out get killed. But still there are those who manage to let cynicism aside and fulfill their duties.

Anxious and tired, voters in Buldon, Maguindanao made sure their voices were heard. May 10, 2010.

Two days before the election, 53 year old Lorje Obulalang and his small team of election personnel headed their way to Kuhan. He had been traversing the mountains of Upi for more than 20 years to deliver and take care of the ballot boxes assigned to him. A school teacher by profession, he took up the task of making sure that elections would take place in this remote place in Mindanao. He knows the place like the back of his hand. Speaking of how they defended the ballot boxes from armed groups trying to snatch it while walking through bushes and cornfields amidst the scorching sun to our destination. A little village with just a handful of voters.  “Everyone deserves to vote, no matter how far they may be.” he says.

Finally after reaching the village and after spending hours of configuring and figuring out how the new machine works, teacher Lorje finds out that the battery supplied with it is not charged, and needs to walk 17 kilometers back to get a replacement.