When overnight roads are possible

A few weeks before the May 2025 midterm elections, road improvements were announced along our street in Baguio. Like most residents, I welcomed the news—but with the quiet resignation that comes from experience. We all knew what usually followed: dust, noise, traffic, and a road perpetually “under construction” long after the tarpaulins faded and the elections were over.

When excavation began on one side of the road, things looked ordinary. Then something unusual happened—it moved fast. In a matter of days, rubble was cleared, concrete was poured, and curing followed. Efficient. Almost suspicious. When the contractor began tearing up the remaining sections to continue the work, we assumed momentum had finally arrived.

But if something feels too good to be true, it usually is.

Work suddenly stopped. Backhoes stood parked like abandoned monuments to inefficiency. Days passed. Then weeks. Eventually, a notice appeared: the contractor had been terminated. Quality issues. Missed deadlines. A familiar story. Among the retired seniors I regularly talk to—people who have seen Baguio rise, stall, and repeat the cycle—the consensus was clear. With termination came delay. Months, possibly longer. And just in time for the rainy season.

We sighed and prepared ourselves for the worst. Then came a surprise. A barangay official mentioned that a larger, more experienced contractor would take over. Skeptical doesn’t even begin to describe my reaction. We’ve heard promises before. But on Day One, around twenty workers arrived. By nightfall, the torn sections were cleaned and concrete was poured. Done.

Days later, once vehicles could pass, they moved to the other half. By mid-afternoon, holes were drilled along the entire stretch. I thought, Fine—two or three days just to clear the rubble. That night, on my way home after a few beers at my cousin’s place, I saw trucks hauling debris away. Concrete pouring was already underway.

By morning, the road was—practically—finished.

What usually takes weeks, even months, in the Philippines was accomplished overnight. Not in Japan. Not in Norway. In Baguio.

So, here’s the uncomfortable question: If it is possible, why is it not the standard?

Sometime this week, I heard on the radio—and read on Facebook—that motorists should “expect traffic” due to ongoing road construction elsewhere in the city and its surrounding municipality. Construction that has dragged on for nearly six months.

Again.

Why are we constantly held hostage by inconvenience in the name of development”? Why are we told to be patient when patience has already cost us years? I am not a road engineer, but I know this much: technology has improved. Fast-curing concrete exists. Equipment is more efficient than ever. Funding for these projects runs into the millions.

So, what’s the problem?

It’s not technology. We clearly have access to it. It’s not capability. We’ve seen it done—right here. The rot lies elsewhere: red tape, corruption, profiteering, and a system that rewards delay rather than efficiency. Projects are won, then subcontracted repeatedly, until accountability is diluted and quality collapses. Heavy machinery sits idle in broad daylight, and we’re expected to accept this as normal.

Worse, we romanticize resilience. “Ganun talaga.”

“Baong na lang ng maraming Pasensya.”

“Tiis tiis muna.”

In the local vernacular: “Anusan tayo”

No. Let’s stop pretending that suffering is a Filipino virtue. Enduring dysfunction is not resilience—it is surrender.

And here is the hardest truth: this system survives because we tolerate it. Because as long as the inconvenience doesn’t hit our street, our commute, our livelihood, we look away. We complain, but quietly. We recognize corruption but feel powerless to confront it. Or worse, we’ve been conditioned to believe that we are too small, too weak, too dependent to demand better.

That mindset is the deepest damage colonization left us—not poverty, not even corruption, but the belief that inefficiency and injustice are inevitable.

But that overnight road in Baguio proved otherwise.

We deserve better—not someday, not theoretically, but now. And the first step is refusing to accept delays, excuses, and incompetence as “normal.” Because once we’ve seen what is possible, choosing to settle for less becomes a decision—not a circumstance.

And that, ultimately, is on us.