MY POLITICAL EDUCATION

By Philip Lustre Jr.

My political education did not begin in school or at home. It started in a barbershop in Tondo. I was in high school in the late 1960s, when I started to listen to the habitues' discussions at Danny's barbershop, which is located along Asuncion Street Extension near the iconic Mary Johnston Hospital, which is being run by a Christian denomination.

By eavesdropping, I came to understand the issues of the day. I did not participate, as my elders there tackled many burning issues combined with passion, enthusiasm, and, of course, mastery of details. I was too young then; I did not have the credentials to participate.

The habitues were professionals, who gathered from 5 to 7 pm. Coming from work, they expressed their views on politics, the economy, the international community, and other issues. Others were retirees. 

Mang Danny, the proprietor and a barber himself, hosted the discussions. They were her friends and regular customers.

The barbershop was an institution in a busy street near the Divisoria market. It did not have an air-conditioning unit, but two electric fans made it comfortable. Denizens could read a copy of the Chino Roces's Manila Times, the main newspaper during the days premartial law. Others could play chess or checkers in a small corner.

Mang Danny allowed me to listen to the numerous nuggets of wisdom that were publicly expressed there. I had my haircut there, but it was Orel Mang, Mang Danny's companion, who attended to me.

Everyday, Mang Danny held court in his little kingdom. Slim-built and brown-skinned with a high forehead, Mang Danny struck me as a respectable, intelligent individual, who spoke out his mind. 

He was the resident Pilosopong Tasyo; this was why professionals gravitated to him.

I was told that Mang Danny was a student during his younger days, but he stopped due to financial difficulties. He learned the craft instead of good grooming. 

During weekends, Mang Danny gave a shave or a haircut to these professionals. On weekdays, his customers included the hoi polloi in the area.

Some characters included Atty. Yabut, a lawyer with a balding head and big tummy and an imposing figure, who practiced law in Binondo, Manila's financial district, Mang Pepe, an engineer and professor, who later gave me a lecture on Einstein's relativity theory, Mr. Santos, an entrepreneur, and Mr. Ronas, a retiree whose kids went to university to become scholars.

I gravitated to Mang Jose, then a 60-year tailor, who gave me a fascinating account of the founding rally of the Communist Party of the Philippines in 1931 and Plaza Moriones, which was near our place. 

Mang Jose said he saw the historic rally that turned violent when police broke it up with truncheons and water cannons. He never denied his sympathy; he was a closet sympathizer the revived Communist Party of the Philippines.

The denizens congregated at 5 pm; by six pm, they had become a small crowd, which bantered, or issues discussed. President Ferdinand Marcos, who was not yet a dictator in those days, was fair game. Nobody liked him among them. 

By 7:30 pm, the habitues called it a day and went home for dinner.

I could not recall any instance when they either turned violent or they discussed neighborhood gossips. It was an unwritten rule there to refrain from gossips. 

Mang Danny did not want to intrude into the private lives of his market. The discussions were largely high level.

My early education was on the political dynamics of political power, or how the presidency powers exercised. 

I came to know that Marcos did not hesitate to perpetuate himself. History showed that the denizens' judgment was correct.

Amid the anticommunist hysteria of those days, I came to appreciate that Marxism is not a bad ideology since it addresses human poverty. 

I came to appreciate that Manila has been a hotbed of dissidence. Since Andres Bonifacio founded the Katipunan in Tondo, it has its share in history.

The barbershop burned in 1978. Mang Danny is still alive, but has retired. 

I miss that barbershop.