Dear, Mr. Chairman

I WILL just go right at it, Mr. Chairman. Even though I am just an adopted son of Barangay Consolacion, I have grown fond of our community, having lived here for some 20 odd years now.

Do you still remember how our community––despite being one of the worst-hit barangays in the wake of supertyphoon Sendong in 2011––managed to collectively rise from the devastation? Do you still remember how our barangay chair then, the late Cesar Pagapulaan Sr., and despite his advanced aged managed to rally the barangay bureaucracy to respond to the needs of its people?

Having been survivors ourselves, overcoming that calamity as one community is definitely one of my proudest moments.

I was so proud of what we achieved as a community that time. When news reached me that you have become our barangay chairman, it made my homecoming feel more exciting than it already was for me. I so looked forward to journal your exploits as you push Consolacion to even greater heights as a local government unit that strives to be an example of genuine accountability and transparency in public service.

Even my kids who were not of voting age yet were hopeful when you won.However, I must tell it to you straight, I am mad. I am mad because ever since I came back, our neighborhood appears to be spiralling out of control. Consolacion, I fear, is fast reverting back to its infamous “Hulaw-hulaw” years–a neighborhood full of chaos, vice, crime, and indiferrence.

Yes, I’m mad, but more so disappointed. I’m disappointed at how you have been ignoring your people. The barangay chair, after all, is the most powerful of all elected officials in the Republic–surpassing even the powers of the President.

Barangay chairpersons are the only elected officials in the Republic who gets to be the head of all the three equal and independent branches of government–the executive, judiciary, and legislative. But then again, I guess you know this already.

Pardon a little digression, I refer to “chairpersons” as such because these elected officials are neither skippers of a boat nor a commissioned officer in the armed services.

You get to execute, implement, and enforce resolutions and ordinances the barangay council enacts, which you are also duty-bound to preside. As the chief arbiter of our Lupon Tagapamayapa, you dispense justice and order in our community.

You are Consolacion’s judge and jury, its lawmaker and law enforcer. Last month, I came home to a green dumptruck abandoned right infront of my ex-girlfriend’s doorway. It was exactly where it was two years ago when I last saw it.

We could not see incoming traffic when we come out of our doorway because the dumptruck was blocking the view. In fact, not a few trisikads nearly sideswiped my Lenin whenever she crosses the street.

My ex-girlfriend told me that she already met with you on several occassions to discuss our problem with the abandoned dumptruck. But you have yet to respond.

We had to enlist the direct intervention of City Hall’s Roads and Traffic Administration to finally compel the dumptruck owner to transfer his truck when the matter could have been easily handled at the barangay level. Meanwhile, I have observed that more and more minors–some of them are as young as 10 years old–have continually violated the barangay’s curfew ordinance. Worse, the parents and guardians of these minors do not seem to care that their children are still out in the streets in the late hours of the evening. I find it difficult to sleep every night because of the noise these kids make.

Although it irritates me but I cannot fault them for acting the way they do since our barangay police hardly ever conduct patrols in our streets at night.

As if this continuing disregard to community discipline and order is not enough, a fortnight ago, an acquaintance in Isla Kupa allegedly fired his pistol late in one night. Apparently, he–who happened to be intoxicated–couldn’t sleep because his neighbors were allegedly having a boisterous gambling session of hantak. The man, for reasons only known to him, told local media that he fired his pistol to pacify the gamblers who he thought were fighting over their bets.

Despite how scary that incident probably was for the rest of the residents in Isla Kupa, not to mention potentially lethal, there were no charges were filed.

Responding cops told reporters, the day after, that since no one was willing to step forward to file a formal complaint, the entire incident–from the alleged illegal gambling and public mischief to the alleged indiscrimate firing and alarm and scandal–will remain a mere “hearsay.”

These incidents that show how ineffective your leadership has become only happened because you have given up on us–the people who chose you to be their chairman.

Remember that thing I told you earlier about the awesome powers a barangay chairman wields? That same awesome power emanates from us. We just entrusted it to you. It is not yours to delegate to someone we did not vote and we certainly did not force you to run.

As your friend, I am so disappointed at you. You have abandoned your people, so to speak, Mr. Chairman. You have abdicated your privilege to serve the people.

I trusted you. My family trusted you. Your continuing wanting performance in our community affairs, or the lack of it, has left me no other choice but to lead the call for your immediate resignation.

For the sake of our community–which I know you also love–please step down, Mr. Chairman.