by JAILEEN F. JIMENO

	ROSARIO Mayor Felipe Marquez preparing to leave for another sortie. [photo by Jaileen Jimeno]

ROSARIO, BATANGAS — Even in the wee hours of the morning, the dreams of Felipe 'Mamay Ipe' Marquez are often interrupted by knocks on his bedroom window. Sometimes, the unexpected guests are in trouble with the law and ask for his intercession. Usually, though, they ask for things, including money. Some ask for food. Some ask for pigs. Some ask for roofing materials. Many ask for medicines. One housewife asked for eggs for the leche flan she wanted to make for the fiesta. There was even a request for an airconditioner.

Such is life — and politics — for Marquez, the current mayor of this town, some 80 kilometers south of Manila. And while he cannot give those who rouse him from his sleep all that they ask for, he says he is trying to make sure they will have a town — nay, a city — they will be proud of. That means not only revving up business interest in Rosario, but also professionalizing the way the local government works.

Many politicos in Rosario and elsewhere have made similar promises. What makes Marquez — a first-time mayor — different is that, by most indications, he means to keep them.

	Location map of Rosario courtesy of Wikipedia

Early this year, fastfood chain Jollibee opened its doors to locals and tourists. The town center now also has two major drug retailers, a roasted-chicken outlet, and more restaurants. It even has what one finds mostly in Manila: booths selling pirated DVDs.

Except perhaps for the pirated DVDs, Marquez is proud of such visible changes in Rosario. Townspeople themselves see the new Jollibee as a development barometer, and among the first few steps toward cityhood and more business. Indeed, real-estate developers are already throwing their money into this first-class town of over 86,000 people, building subdivisions in anticipation of more development and higher income by residents. In 2004, two subdivisions opened here in Rosario.

Yet what is also astounding is that Marquez rose to lead his town in his twilight years; turning 71 last Tuesday, Labor Day, he is the oldest mayor in the whole of Batangas.

This is also one local chief executive who did not go beyond grade four. That remains a major argument of his opponents in campaigning against him. But this barely schooled mayor did well enough in the business of raising cattle and pigs to send all his four children to college. He is also not short on political experience, having been a barangay captain in the '60s, and serving as vice mayor from 1998 to 2001. In 2004, his win was credited to the townspeople's craving for a change in leadership. He had a margin of almost 8,000 votes against his closest opponent, former mayor Rodolfo Villar. In a town with 24,000 voters, that is no small feat.

Marquez understands and speaks little English. He talks in Filipino with the soothing calmness of the elderly, his sentences peppered with "ala" and "eh," a speech tic common among true-blue Batangueños. He has, however, instinct and wisdom honed by age and experience, which he uses in running the affairs of Rosario and steering it toward becoming a city.

MARQUEZ DID have to accomplish a lot in three years to withstand comparisons between him and previous mayors. Before he came along, Rosario was governed by long-reigning politicos. Felicisimo Luna was mayor from 1960 until his death in 1982. Then came husband and wife Rodolfo and Chlotilde Villar, who ruled for 12 years, Rodolfo from 1992 to 2001, and then Chlotilde from 2001 to 2004.

Just as in many parts of the country, Rosario's politics remains fiercely personal: an official is judged based on favors granted or goods handed out to individuals, and a long-time mayor is bound to have granted more personal favors to constituents than a new one. And in the field of patronage politics, a project, no matter how worthwhile, is often not appreciated when it does not carry direct and immediate benefit to a constituent.

	THE town's municipio was refurbished during Marquez's first year in office. [photo by Jaileen Jimeno]

Marquez had to deconstruct a culture so long entrenched in his town: that a political office is a dispenser of personal favors and compromises. In fact, even some of those in the municipio long for the days when politics was more personal and less policy-oriented. Many still believe a good mayor is one who is able to deliver goods, even if services are overlooked. That a strong mayor is one who delivers speeches with bombast and is able to curb crime, never mind the concept of human rights.

Marquez, however, had other ideas about governance, even if he did end up appointing his daughter, Elizabeth Marquez Morpe, as his administrator, just like more seasoned politicos.

Morpe used to be a coordinator for the office of Senator Ralph Recto. But to help out her father, she had to abandon the construction business she and her husband had nurtured through the years. Her company does not do business in Rosario, in keeping with her father's promise that ethics and honesty would be the centerpiece of his administration. The father and daughter team set out to attract investors. The father provides the vision, the daughter works to make it happen.

Initially, Mayor Marquez fumbled in choosing the right person with whom to entrust the municipio's transactions. Weeks after getting elected into office, he had to part ways with a top staffmember who did not fully embrace his idea of honesty in governance. Marquez needed someone who believed in his principles to help him govern and wade through tons of paperwork that awaited his signature, one who could and would help him avoid shady deals.

"Ako'y nag-survey sa mga mayors, congressman, kung sino ang kanilang administrator. Lahat sila kamag-anak din nila ang kinukuha. Naisip ko ang aking anak. Kaya ako'y masuwerte rin ako na hindi nga ako nakapag-aral, pero lahat ng aking anak ay napag-aral ko. Suwerte ko rin. (I did a survey of mayors and congressmen on who they took in as their administrator. All of them appointed relatives to that position. So I thought of my daughter. I am happy that even though I lack education, I managed to see my children through college. I am lucky)," he says.

Yet unlike many politicians, Marquez did not reward his supporters with juicy positions at the municipio. That policy alienated him from some supporters who grumbled when Marquez kept all his predecessor's department heads in place, with their entire staff intact.

He also did not remove his predecessors' names on government equipment, as well as on the projects they put up. Thus, ambulances and garbage trucks painted with the Villar couple's names still go around the town every day.

"Mamay Ipe said we may put his name on our own administration's projects," says Boots Dalisay-Cabralda, a former journalist who Morpe recruited to handle the mayor's office's day-to-day affairs. "But he said it's not nice to erase the previous mayor's name (on a project or government property) just to replace it with his own."

In his first accomplishment report, Marquez even thanked his immediate predecessor, Chlotilde Villar, who managed the town for the first six months of 2004. It was a gentlemanly gesture that is rare in the country. But he explains that politics matters for just a day. "Pagkatapos ng isang araw, sama-sama na ulit tayo (After that day, we all have to work together)," he says.