Who hasn’t heard of Abra, arguably the most violence-prone province in our country every election period? In the past decade, Abra has dethroned provinces in Mindanao with the most number of election-related violence.
But don’t get me wrong. I am not trying to put Abra in a bad light because, after all, it is where I come from. I am just bothered and saddened that my beloved hometown has become what it is now.
During my high school and college years, whenever friends and acquaintances would ask me which province I come from, I would proudly say “Abra,” and they in turn would say, “Saan `yon?”
My answer: “Doon sa may Ilocos Sur,” to which many would invariably say, “Ahhhh, Ilocos pala.”
Often I would get irritated when someone would insist that the capital of Abra is Benguet and not Bangued. Many Filipinos, it seems, have never heard of my province.
Fast forward to the new millennium. The entire Philippines now seems to know more about Abra than the average Abrenio, thanks to the extensive coverage of the volatile political situation in our province.
In a place like Abra where killings have become a normal occurrence come election time, many of us residents have sadly come to accept this as a fact of life. Sure, many residents will talk and sympathize with the victims, but not much is done, and the outrage is hardly felt anymore. Meanwhile, the dead become a mere statistic in the long list of unresolved killings in this place.
And life goes on.
But visit Abra during calmer times, and you will notice how different the images are from what is shown on TV. Many beautiful houses stand proudly in the province, thanks to Abrenios, who have scattered all over the world to improve their lot back home. It is even slowly becoming a tourist spot, especially with the Majestic Kaparkan Falls.
It could thus be assumed that the chaos is all election-related and is not due to us Abrenios being naturally war freaks.
Unfortunately, elections are held every three years, so the calm is short-lived. Most barangays in the province are small, and almost all the residents are related. Everyone is somebody’s cousin.
But politics knows no filial ties. Most of those who run for political posts in the barangay elections are from a single clan, but this does not stop them from engaging in bitter fights. Many stop talking to each other once they find themselves on opposite sides of the political fence.
Still, I wonder why people would fight bitterly over politics. Is it the power that is perceived to come with the title of barangay captain, or the internal revenue allotment, which could run into millions of pesos, or the perks of being close to the mayor or maybe the provincial leaders?
To answer this question, I first had to look at why we Abrenios have been reduced to fighting over virtual political scraps.
I learned that Abra was once the Shangri-la of the Tinguians or the Itnegs. People here were brave and courageous, despite being constantly harassed by headhunters from Kalinga. The Tinguians then were peaceful people and became tough only because of the need to protect themselves from enemies.
Then came the Ilocanos. These people from Ilocos were also hardy people, veterans of revolutions and skirmishes against Spain. They were people who built their dreams of fortune in the new land, which is now Abra. To be able to move upstream, they only relied on their guts. They were fearless people who bonded together in the new communities that they built.
From the intermarriages between these two courageous and hardworking people came the Abrenios of today.
Though we come from the same stock, we differ in class. Some of us come from the working class, those who want to make a difference and help bring change to our province. The others are simply dependent on politicians, and they survive by harassing the weaker members of our community. They become minions, and sadly, all the people around them become minions too. It doesn’t matter if they live in the province or they live abroad. So, it becomes a choice.
Nobody knows what the future holds, but we continue to wish that our once proud and mighty breed could someday make our province a better place to live in.