yellow ribbons, red ribbons, and the brown people

          Change is coming, they said. The lame regime of the liberals who wear uncomfortable polo shirts embroidered with the Philippine archipelago topped with a yellow ribbon has come to an end. The people's rage, impatience and loathing that boiled for six years are now all pacified. A new leader takes the throne, his stern face and tiny red ribbon bearing a promise to turn the nation upside-down, terminate corruption, alleviate crime rates, and rid the country of drugs and drug lords.

          Change does come. It barges in through the door and catches the suspected drug addict unawares. If by chance it doesn't feel like bringing him to the station for interrogation, it tightens its grip on its aimed gun, pulls the trigger and gives the judicial court more leisure time with one less little case to worry about. With only a body, lifeless and cannot talk, is brought to the headquarters, change will do its paperwork and the report will speak its own truth. And the deceased suspect is rewarded a gun for his bravery to fight back.

          Only the culprit knows who is behind it, who is defaming the glorious change Filipinos hope for. Is it the drug lords? The drug addicts themselves? Or the government? The court is yet to know. Meanwhile, the brown people is left to dread; for the new six years has just begun and more change is coming.