Remembering Tirso

“SINASABI PO ng aking mga kalaban na ako ay mukhang kabayo. Mga sinungaling po ang mga iyan. Kayo na ang mismong nakakakita, hindi ako mukhang kabayo, ako ay mukhang tsonggo.” (My rivals say I look like a horse. They are liars. As you can well see, I don’t look like a horse. I look like a monkey)
“Matatapang po ang aking mga kalaban at sila ay inyong kinatatakutan. Ako po ay hindi natatakot sa kanila, sa katunayan sila ay aking hinahamon. Kung talagang sila’y matatapang, sige nga magpalit kami ng mukha.” (People are terrified of my rivals, but I am not. If they are really that fearsome, I challenge them – to trade their faces with mine.)
“Ako po si Tirso G. Lacanilao. Ang ibig pong sabihin ng G ay guwapo. Ang spelling po nito ay g-a-g-o.” (I am Tirso G. Lacanilao. G stands for handsome. It is spelled stupid.)
“Y Tirso mayap ya, maganaka ya pa, andiyang matsura ya.” (To the tune of rap: Tirso is good, he is kind, even if ugly.)
Only Tirso can get away with murdering himself at the hustings and live to win elections. Independent, ticketless vice mayor in 1992 and 1995, mayor in 1998, 2001 and 2004. So he lost in his sangguniang panlalawigan bid in 2007. It was a half-, nay, quarter-hearted try at best, going through the motions of a campaign that started and ended with the filing of his certificate of candidacy.
In the field of politics where face is a premium, self-deprecation has never been raised this high. And paid most handsomely.
Politics, as practiced here, was the least of Tirso’s concerns. Moved as he was to serve, and serve best, his constituents. In his first term, Apalit was adjudged the cleanest and greenest town in Pampanga, in the whole of Central Luzon and was finalist in the national level, earning a coveted Gawad Pangulo sa Kapaligiran.
In 2001, Apalit was hailed Outstanding LGU for Livelihood Skills Development.
It was also in Tirso’s administration that the municipal coffers increased with improvement in market collections and sound fiscal management. From 1998 to 2003, the annual income of Apalit rose to P301 million, its internal revenue allotment to P209 million.
“Bayan ang amo, utusan si Tirso.” (The people are the master, Tirso is mere slave.) That well summed up Tirso’s political philosophy. All the honors heaped on him he passed on to his people: “Sa Apaliteno ang karangalan, ako ay abang instrumento lamang nila sa adhika at mithiin nilang kapayapaan, kaayusan at kaunlaran.” (Honor is to the people of Apalit as I am merely their instrument in their aspirations towards peace, order and prosperity.)
Thus it was that Tirso made the very antithesis of the traditional politician. That it was that he was called Tatang by his people, honored elder and selfless provider. Even stern disciplinarian.
“ Kung ayaw ninyo ang patakaran ko sa pagdidisiplina sa inyo, huwag ninyo akong iboto. Ikampanya ninyo ang mga kalaban ko. Pero habang ako ang mayor dito, sumunod kayo.” (If you don’t agree with the discipline I am implementing here, don’t vote for me. Campaign for my rivals. But so long as I am mayor, you have to follow me.) That he impacted upon grumbling tricycle drivers who did not want to part with their slippers, shorts and sandos while plying their routes.
Tirso was not spared from being enmeshed in some controversies, the worst of which was his having been reported to have admitted over the radio receiving money from gambling lords.
Tirso’s simple honesty, coupled with his clarity of language, that saved him from a suspension order from the Department of the Interior and Local Government and court summons.
“Ang sinabi ko ay ako ay nakatanggap, hindi tumatanggap.” (What I said was I received (once), not I was receiving regularly.) Further clarifying that he did not know the source of the money that was left in a paper bag on his table; that the money was distributed to the charity seekers then present at his office; that he tasked his men to look for the source of the money who – after two years was identified as one “Dante” – and by then dead. Case closed. End of controversy.
Looking forward to the end of his third term, Tirso told this writer he was already brimming with excitement on the prospect of returning to the job he loved most – being a latero , a smith in his car repair business, and spending more time with his horses, his other passion.
July 31, Thursday, 2:30 p.m. Assassins’ bullets snuffed out all his passions. Good God, why did it have to end this way? Will most surely miss you, Tatang.