Is there another cliché that best describes this?

That was perhaps the weirdest homecoming ever.

Yesterday marked the first time I stepped in the DLSU campus since eight months ago, when I claimed my graduation photos. I didn’t get lost, obviously, but almost everything else changed along with it: the familiar faces were gone, the students are younger than me, and there were a smattering of new trash cans for bottles. Oh, and the big, black pro-USG tarp hanging at the amphitheater.

Yes, I was at the DLSU for the miting de avance. I figured that, at the moment I was finally convinced to return the coverage for this year’s elections, I should be there for at least one day. I only had to justify my excursion: it can’t simply be because I need a break from work. I ended up getting some money from a previous gig, plus my yearbook, so at least it wasn’t entirely about the elections. Or, maybe it was. I did need a break from work after all – I’ve only filed a leave twice, the first because I was getting my driver’s license.

I was practically wandering around like a lost dog for most of the morning. I didn’t know what I was doing there, apart from the election coverage – and I don’t even have any idea how to approach it. It took a conversation with Santugon‘s Sarah Santos to get me in the mood: while she claims to have turned her back on politics to focus on studies, she’s still wearing an old iChoose Derecho shirt, and was bent on getting into the debate. Suddenly, our discussion on her partymates’ chances shifted to a fairly trivial moment.

“Naka-lock kasi yung pintuan,” she said, not realizing – until ten minutes later – that she was knocking the doors at the Waldo Perfecto Seminar Room, and not the William Shaw Little Theater. We laughed at the idea that she doesn’t know where is which even if she’s been a student for four years, and will be for another one.

But the debate wasn’t what I went there for. I had Adette cover that, although by now I can spill that the Debate Society split the debate for both parties, with Tapat taking the pie for their arguments on the dress code, and Santugon doing well for their points on mandate voting, or whatever that’s called. I was there for the tail end of the open forum, though, and I was surprised to see some familiar faces from the yellow side. A couple of former candidates: Christine Lacson and Jessa Reña were part of last year’s all-female Santugon slate that took a more aggressive stance and took a fall in return.

Jessa has also graduated, and she’s also taken a leave from work. At least I’m not the only one who did the same thing. The most fascinating part of our encounter is me not knowing she’ll be a pretty crucial character in the upcoming miting de avance. Before that, though, I still had to deal with a few idle hours, and maybe meet with a few people.

This year’s climax was a little different from the outset. There were no “stupid things,” as one of the people I talked to put it, before the miting de avance. No orange build-up at the amphitheater nor a big yellow prayer along SJ Walk. The sun was hotter than usual, and yet Tapat supporters have taken their slots on their usual side of the amphitheater. The Santugon supporters followed, some armed with huge yellow umbrellas, since their side of the bleachers were directly under the sun. Of course, they were complaining about it.

Tapat also decided to wear red, rather than black. I don’t remember how Anil Ratanchandani, the party’s president, explained it – something about being sprightly, or bright, or it’s just me. As for Santugon, the so-called “Santugays” weren’t around to host. Apparently they were in the bleachers, but candidate introduction duties fell on both Sarah and Jessa. I think it was because of how last year’s went, if I remember correctly.

The COMELEC was also, surprisingly, more hands on from the outset. At times it felt like a rock concert, with the white-shirted folks in stage asking for cheers from the audience. The stumble is, the cheers weren’t as loud as expected. For some peculiar reason, both parties were less energetic than in the past meets, and that first moment ushered in a miting de avance with a considerable amount of awkward silence and less enthusiastic cheers, although they were still trying to be as loud as they can.

Perhaps the most important thing I’ve noticed yesterday: there were more students watching. Or maybe alumni-slash-supporters in plain clothes.

The first person to take the stage was a relative unknown, though: Samantha Ang is an independent candidate aiming to take a Legislative Assembly slot for 61st ENG. She was in purple, and I thought she wasn’t prepared to talk on stage, partly because she’s an independent candidate. After polite applause from both parties, it was time to watch the main acts perform.

Or maybe not. I didn’t exactly have a reason to look forward to the miting de avance: besides, I’m a graduate, and all I can possibly make the most of is the show itself. And then there’s what I thought was the samey platforms from both parties, which I’ve elaborated on in the last two entries. I figured we’ll see the candidates say the usual things, with big buzzwords and repeated taglines and name drops that we’ve gotten tired of during the RTRs. Now, looking back at the hundreds of photos that I’ve ended up taking – half of which are terrible – I’m having a pretty hard time thinking of moments that stood out and contribute to the discussion, except for the more obvious ones, of course.

Say, the breath of fresh air that was Gil Bautista’s speech. Santugon’s bet for operations vice president decided to jump straight to his proposed reforms and programs, and I was actually paying attention. Perhaps I’ve just grown more cynical, now that I’m away from school and can see the political exercises from a different perch, but I actually appreciated his minimal reliance on those tried-and-tested lines, although I still had to go through the moment of enlightenment – in this case, when he helped a fellow CCS elected official – Nadia something, I missed the last name – get up the Gokongwei building after a serious car accident left her in a wheelchair.

And then there was Lorenz de Castro, Santugon’s bet for the CLA assembly presidency. Although he eventually fell towards the wayside with the buzzwords, he was perhaps the only speaker who started a speech in his normal voice, and kept it that way for quite a while. An attempt to show some sincerity, perhaps? Maybe. I thought his “kapwa n’yong estudyante” line was a good touch.

And then there were Tapat’s Chichi Tullao and Leah Villalon, whose speeches seemed to have confused me, at least initially. For some reason, most of the orange party’s speeches reached a climax and didn’t conclude things, or so it felt. Then again, they managed to raise a question: what exactly are these offices ought to do? Chichi wanted to expand external linkages, and said that’s what an operations vice president should do, rather than take care of the school’s facilities, liker Gil wanted. And Leah insisted that the academics vice president should be busy with reviewing the school’s academic offerings, perhaps a stab at Nadia Ong and her hopes to institutionalize the Achiever Scholar Program. (And, perhaps, her attempts to make light the fact that this is her third straight year running for a slot in the executive board. Third time lucky?)

Two toss-ups, however, have piqued my interest, or at least based on the conversations I’ve had with the usual contacts the morning before the miting de avance.

The first one involves the candidates for executive secretary: Mae Ong is running for Santugon, while Cabe Aquino is running for Tapat. Now, the prerequisite disclaimer: Mae and I are friends, since we took up pretty much the same course, and I’ve sent her a handful of good luck messages before the campaign period. I’m not interested because of that, however; if it was the case, then I should probably be paying close attention to the Nadia Ong-Leah Villalon race, although I still couldn’t wrap my fingers around it.

Upon closer inspection, both candidates aim to do the same things if they take their seats, although their parties’ platforms change the approach significantly. Apart from that, though, this is an unabashed personality competition. You can, however, say the same for the entire elections, but this one takes it further. Being from the CLA, I know Mae is a pretty popular figure in our college, but I didn’t think Cabe had a similar position; besides, from my viewpoint she came out of nowhere. Sarah put it in perspective the morning before: “Most of my classes are in [the La Salle building], and sikat sa CBE si Cabe,” she said. “She’s pretty popular. And pretty, too.”

Obviously, the nature of their race reflected in their speeches during the miting de avance. Mae played up her experience both as an elected officer and as an ordinary student – she was only elected to a position, as FAST 2005 batch representative, last year – while being quite nervous about the thing. She was the only candidate who explicitly relied on a script, with a strip of paper obviously on her hands. To make things more obvious, she apologized for her reliance on the said piece of paper, and pointed out that she isn’t really good at public speaking, But, she said, she has heart.

Cabe was next to come to the stage – or, technically, the grass – and she was introduced as having “no drama, just platform.” She swiftly aimed to make an impression: “I only have one word to say … accountability.” She started expanding her definition of the term – another buzzword that’s been making the rounds, especially now that the USG overhaul is still looming – and then she stops, seemingly forgetting her words.

Now, this is a given, as it always happens during some speeches – either the candidate is collecting thoughts, taking a breather, or trying to remember something. But Cabe’s memory lapse was the most awkward – and, I dare say, the most painful – I’ve ever seen in the four years I’ve covered the campaigns. It lasted so long. While she was trying to remember her next line, I got a call on my mobile phone, and called the person back because I didn’t understand anything. I ended the call, and she was still thinking. There were cheers from the Tapat side, but it was unusually quiet for an executive board candidate.

Some said that some Santugon supporters were cheering on Cabe, if only to encourage her to push on and finish the speech, but by the time I got so exasperated, I already went to the drinking fountain and the comfort room. She was repeating what she said before she had the block. In the end, I told Chris Alcantara, a former batch representative who also came for the photographs, that it was just that – the most painful thing I’ve ever watched. No drama, just platform? It’s quite ironic, I thought.

The second toss-up, obviously, involves the standard bearers – Aimee Chua for Santugon, and Ron Semira for Tapat. This is obviously the biggest story of this season, with so many people asking me for my take on who could possibly win. (My answer: I don’t know, and I couldn’t tell, since I haven’t been around.) And, a considerable amount of people were looking forward to this match-up, never mind if most of them are party insiders.

“It’s the most exciting match-up I’ve ever seen,” Anil said. “Santugon fielded a very good candidate for president. Not that I’m saying that the others aren’t good … but Aimee is very good, and very smart.”

And then there was the surprise factor: Aimee, as we all know, confirmed her candidacy barely before the filing deadline passed. Tapat was expecting Nadia Ong to run as Santugon’s president; Mia Jimenez was being groomed to run as academics vice president. “And then we got a phone call, saying, ‘just so you would know, Aimee Chua is running,’ and I was surprised,” Anil added. “We told Ron, whichever candidate they field, it’s your candidate.”

The presidential race is, expectedly, marked with bashing. The attacks against Ron are minimal, with questions about his performance as COE assembly president, but Aimee’s circumstances have encountered much more scrutiny. She came from a student exchange program in Singapore, which was hit since it shows her lack of commitment to her current position in the Student Council. And then there’s the dress code, and some blaming her for singlehandedly bringing back what Santugon still labels as a “restrictive” policy.

Their speeches were the most dramatic, and understandably so: they are the standard bearers. Agnes de Castro, who ran unsuccessfully last year for the Student Council presidency, was at hand to introduce Aimee: I myself was surprised at the motivational potential of her appearance, since I thought she was only there to watch. Anil, meanwhile, introduced Ron, and with those factors, I’m having this weird idea of losers introducing who they want as winners.

Aimee’s speech was lesser in scale than Agnes’ a year ago. Apart from playing up her credentials, she was playing up the fact that she had returned to serve the Student Council. She also proceeded to indirectly address the bashing – which, as some anecdotes have pointed out, led her to cry in front of the Santugon candidates – by reiterating that it won’t deter her. There’s, of course, the obligatory mention of the party’s battle cry this year, their aim for a “student-centered Student Council”.

Ron was bent on the revolution, which was Tapat’s battle cry last year. I liked his speech more, actually – it summed up the party’s vision nicely, as well as their oft-stated intention of bringing their reforms beyond the school, through their programs’ impact on the students, since the platform is admittedly samey. There’s also him being quite powerful on the grass, verging on inciting the orange shirts to riot – and prompting the yellow shirts to chant Aimee’s name towards the end of the speech.

And with that, the miting de avance wrapped up. Attempts to make things like a rock star aside, it was still the usual. Tapat’s candidates took over the Yuchengco stairs again, while Santugon’s did their “prayer of generosity” in a circle, like they always do. As for me, I proceeded to leave behind the show I’m not supposed to be watching, and went to get my yearbook and start showing it off to friends. Thankfully, Chris was there to make the process easier – and warned me that it’s as heavy as a car battery. But that, of course, is a different blog altogether.

Photos from Friday’s proceedings are now on Fifth Year Holler.

Niko Batallones graduated from the De La Salle University in 2008 with a degree in Communication Arts, and currently works as a writer for an American entertainment website. In his own words, he works as an “outsourced writer,” something he isn’t exactly fond of.

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