A TRICYCLE DRIVER LEADER RAN AND BURNED THEIR BARANGAY CAPTAIN’S HOUSE BECAUSE HE WAS ALLEGEDLY CORRUPT WITH THE LIGHTING AND ROADS BUDGET BUT WHEN THEY DESTROYED THE WALL OF HIS “MANSYON”, A SECRET HOSPITAL WAS REVEALED

The road in Barangay San Roque in Caloocan was dark and dusty. Rico, the president of the Tricycle Operators and Drivers Association (TODA), was furious. Just a while ago, his tricycle tire went flat because of a big pothole in the road. It was dark, and there was no streetlight. They had been complaining to Captain Berto for years, but his answer was always: “There is no budget. Sorry.”

“You are so arrogant!” Rico shouted into a megaphone while in front of the municipal building. He was accompanied by fifty residents carrying placards. “Captain Berto is building a high wall around his house, but our road is like the moon with so many craters! The barangay is dark, but his house is definitely air-conditioned!”

Rumors spread that the reason the barangay is always “out of budget” is because Captain Berto pocketed the money to build his private villa inside its compound. Others say there is even a swimming pool inside.

Out of anger and emotional outburst, Rico and the men decided to rush to Captain Berto’s house that night.

“Let’s attack! Let’s show him that we are not afraid!” Rico shouted.

Using sledgehammers and iron, they broke down the gate of Captain Berto’s compound. They expected to see expensive cars, landscaped gardens, and swimming pools.

But when the gate fell, everyone fell silent.

No swimming pool. No fancy garden. No luxury car.

What opened up to them was a wide concrete area filled with cots and folding beds. The surroundings smelled of alcohol and medicine. There were dextrose hanging. There were oxygen tanks on the side.

They saw Captain Berto, wearing only a shirt and shorts, changing the diaper of an old bedridden person.

“Rico?” Captain Berto asked in surprise, holding a mug and a bimpo.

Rico approached, confused. “What… what does this mean, Kap? Where is the barangay money? Where is the road budget?”

Captain Berto sighed. He pointed to the patients.

“There,” Captain said softly. “There is your road. There is your lamppost.”

Rico saw the faces of the patients. He recognized Aling Nena who had stage 4 cancer. He recognized Mang Jose’s daughter who had leukemia. He recognized the mother of his friend who needed dialysis. They were all residents who thought everyone was “helped by the DSWD” or “getting free medicine at city hall.”

Page: SAY – Story Around You | Original Story

“Our barangay budget is only two million a year,” explained Captain Berto while wiping away sweat. “If I had the road repaired and I had nice lights installed, the money would run out. There would be nothing left for Aling Nena’s chemotherapy. There would be no more insulin for Tatay Gusting. Your mother would no longer have dialysis, Rico.”

Rico was stunned. His mother. He remembered that every month an envelope would arrive to them that said it was from an “anonymous donor” for his mother’s treatment.

“You…” Rico pointed shakily at the Captain. “You are the one giving it?”

“I am the one signing the voucher, Rico,” replied the Captain. “I realigned the funds. Illegal on paper, yes. I could go to jail for technical malversation. But I can’t stand to see that our roads are beautiful, the streetlights are bright, but the people walking here are dying of disease because there is no money to buy medicine. I would rather be ‘corrupt’ in your eyes, than be ‘heartless’ to those in need.”

The Captain showed the inside of his house. There were no appliances. No TV. No sofa. The floor was covered with mats where the patient’s guards slept. The “mansion” they thought was luxury, had become a makeshift hospice care for residents who had been turned away by public hospitals because they were full.

Rico knelt on the cement. He let go of the mallet. The anger that had been burning in his chest earlier was replaced by intense shame.

The potholed road that he complained about every day was the reason why his mother’s life was still prolonged. The darkness of the streetlight was the light of hope for children with cancer.

“Captain… forgive me…” Rico sobbed. “Forgive us.”

The residents approached and shook hands with Captain Berto one by one. Some helped take care of the patients. Others repaired the broken gate.

“It’s okay, Rico,” Captain Berto smiled, very tired. “I’m sorry if your tricycle ride is bumpy. But as long as I’m the Captain, I’ll prioritize life over cement. Because the road, you can cover it with asphalt tomorrow. But a human life, once lost, can never be brought back.”

The next day, no one complained about the pothole in Barangay San Roque. Instead, the tricycle drivers themselves brought sacks of dirt to fill the holes, while Captain Berto continued his quiet mission inside his “mansion” of love.