MANNY PACQUIAO’S black Hummer was nowhere in sight. The parade that he was supposed to lead had already wound down in front of the town hall here. His seat, the seat of honor, stood vacant on a stage on which singers, three beauty queens and the province’s ruling political class sat waiting. Mr. Pacquiao, possibly the best boxer in the world and a new congressman in the Philippines, had awakened at home a little earlier, still jet-lagged from a trip to the United States, where he had been promoting his next fight. He was the main financial sponsor of the annual “foundation day” festival here in Alabel, the capital of Sarangani, the southern province that was carved out of another in 1992 and that he now represents in the House of Representatives.
Perhaps more than anywhere else in the Philippines, feudal-like dynasties dominate here on the impoverished, violence-ridden island of Mindanao. But by brandishing his vast wealth, Mr. Pacquiao — who came out of one of this area’s poorest slums, finished only elementary school and often appears uncomfortable speaking English — defeated a member of the clan that founded Sarangani and that had held the congressional seat for three decades. Outwardly, the establishment has welcomed Mr. Pacquiao, 31, since he was sworn in as Sarangani’s only congressman less than three months ago.
“It was the public’s choice,” Steve Solon, 39, the vice governor and nephew of the man Mr. Pacquiao beat in a landslide, said at the festival here. “We need to support each other.”
A FEW DAYS earlier, Mr. Pacquiao was getting ready to attend a plenary session in Congress in Manila, the capital, having flown back from the United States the night before. Since taking office, he has given a couple of well-received speeches, including one on human trafficking, and has become a visible presence on the committee to carry out the United Nations Millennium Development Goals, which is led by Imelda Marcos, the former first lady and a newly minted congresswoman.
“So far, so good,” Mr. Pacquiao said in an interview in his office in Congress. With “time management,” he said he would be able to train for his next fight, in November, and fulfill his legislative duties.
Boxing and politics, he said, had been his twin dreams growing up.
“I want to help people, especially in my province,” he said. “There are a lot of poor people. When I’m old, I want my name, Manny Pacquiao, to be known not only as a good boxer but a good public servant.”
He may have become one of the world’s wealthiest athletes — Forbes magazine said he earned $40 million in 2009 — and he may now socialize with Hollywood celebrities, but in the Philippines, his pledge to help the poor resonates because of his now familiar personal history.
He grew up in General Santos City, in a neighborhood that even today is a warren of narrow, dirt roads and ramshackle houses — though now adorned, incongruously, by two mansions belonging to Mr. Pacquiao’s mother and brother. Amateur boxing rings are fixtures of festivals in the countryside, a legacy of the United States’ colonial history in the Philippines. So, like many American boxers, Mr. Pacquiao sought his way out of his old neighborhood through boxing. At 14 years old, he ran away from home, stowing away aboard a ship bound for Manila, where he turned pro a couple of years later.
In the assembly hall, most congressmen sat waiting for the plenary to start. But Mr. Pacquiao moved relentlessly, bantering with colleagues, posing for photos, scanning, in the split seconds he found himself alone, the entire room.
“He can easily become a senator,” said Antonio Tinio, 40, another new congressman, explaining that Senate seats were nationwide offices favoring popular candidates like Mr. Pacquiao. But becoming president or even provincial governor requires the kind of political machine established by dynasties, he added.
Mr. Pacquiao, though, has proven himself a fast learner. He ran for the first time in 2007, naïvely believing that his popularity alone would win him a congressional seat in General Santos City.
“This time, I started forming my machinery two years before the election,” Mr. Pacquiao said.
Choosing to run in Sarangani, his wife’s home province, Mr. Pacquiao wooed local power brokers, showering them and their districts with money.
Reynaldo Constantino, 51, the mayor of one of Sarangani’s seven municipalities, said that since 2007 he has received more than $1.6 million from Mr. Pacquiao to deploy on projects in his district. Whenever the mayor himself needed money for his “image-building,” he turned to Mr. Pacquiao.
“Money in the Philippines is the No. 1 factor in winning elections,” Mr. Constantino, who is known as Bong, said. “Even though he is very popular, he would not have won without his money.”
Like many of Mr. Pacquiao’s constituents, Mr. Constantino said he hoped that the new congressman would now use his personal wealth to develop all of Sarangani, a province dominated by fishing and agriculture. “All of Sarangani will develop now because of Manny and because of Manny’s money,” he said.
MR. PACQUIAO’S black Hummer was finally spotted barreling down the one road from General Santos City, west of here. If there was any doubt that the Hummer was his, the absence of any license plates — a privilege often granted to the powerful here in Mindanao — confirmed it.
Dark clouds had been moving toward Alabel from the other direction and, as if on cue, rain began falling as Mr. Pacquiao took the microphone, nearly two hours late.
Speaking in Visayan, the region’s main language, he said he had been working hard to attract investors to Sarangani. He pledged to build a new hospital here and start other projects to improve people’s lives.
“I will not be an embarrassment to you,” he said.
Later, inside the mayor’s office, Mr. Pacquiao sat at a large desk behind a lechon, a roast suckling pig. People drifted in and out of the office to pick from a buffet. The governor, Miguel Rene Dominguez — the 33-year-old scion of two of the southern Philippines’ oldest and richest families — sat to his left.
The congressman and the governor spoke easily with each other. A conversation about Mr. Pacquiao’s knockout of Ricky Hatton, a British boxer, led to an exchange on the histories of England and Scotland. They talked of the importance of promoting a provincial tourist spot. The governor asked him what he was doing in Manila. Mr. Pacquiao talked about serving on the Millennium Development Goals committee.
Mr. Pacquiao said that he would dedicate all his discretionary pork-barrel budget to Sarangani. Each congressman receives almost $1.6 million a year for pet projects at home, but much of the amount is typically funneled into private accounts.
“I don’t need it anyway,” he said.
Mr. Pacquiao, who was picking at the lechon and chewing on lanzones, a tropical fruit, abruptly stopped eating when the governor stood up and Mr. Pacquiao spotted a switchblade knife in the governor’s right pants pocket. Plucking it out before the governor had noticed, Mr. Pacquiao repeatedly folded and unfolded the switchblade, testing its sharpness with his index finger.
“This is dangerous for children,” he said.
Taking back the knife, the governor showed him how to whip it out of his pocket so that the blade unfolded in a single motion.
“Even if my opponent has this,” Mr. Pacquiao said, “I can beat him as long as he’s physically close to me.”
The governor gave him the switchblade to keep.
“You can thrust it into somebody,” the governor told the new congressman, “and just leave it in there.”
Source: nytimes.com
