The scaffolding that once clung to the San Juanico Bridge now hangs in my mind like a question that refuses to go away. Every time I cross that span between Samar and Leyte, I feel the same unease: if there truly is a resolve to repair it, why does the work seem forever suspended in delay and uncertainty?
I have watched that bridge my entire life. How it rises above the strait with a quiet dignity, how it survives typhoons and turbulent waters, how it remains the lone graceful link between two provinces long denied real development. Yet now, as officials vaguely speak of “repairs,” I cannot help sensing something disturbingly familiar. These are the same tones used in projects where funds move swiftly while progress moves like a dying gecko clinging to a wall. Every long pause, every unexplained extension, every sudden change in projected cost feels like a page torn straight from the old playbook of public works that serves wallets better than it serves people.
Whenever the budget for San Juanico’s “rehabilitation” is mentioned, it seems to balloon, shrink, and grow again—like a creature that changes shape depending on who is doing the talking. I find it troubling that the cost estimates never seem to rest on solid ground, as if the bridge itself were floating on water rather than anchored to bedrock. In public infrastructure, an unstable budget is rarely an innocent clerical oversight; more often, it is the first sign that someone is trying to keep doors open for easy tapping. The longer the figures remain hazy, the easier it is for hands to find their way inside the pot.
I have also noticed how the rhetoric around the project shifts from “repair” to “upgrade” to “comprehensive improvement,” depending on the mood of the press briefing. These word games weaken public confidence. Repairs, after all, should be straightforward: identify what’s broken, fix it, ensure safety. But when labels change as swiftly as weather in the San Juanico strait, I start to wonder whether this is repair at all—or a long, slow creation of a bottomless well into which government funds can quietly disappear. It is not paranoia; it is the pattern that has shaped countless projects across this country.
The bridge itself seems patient, almost forgiving, bearing the weight of suspicion the way it bears the weight of cargo trucks rumbling every hour. I often imagine it asking why humans complicate simple things. It does not need ornamental lights or grand speeches; it needs structural care—a decisive, coordinated effort to preserve an essential piece of Eastern Visayas’ daily life. Yet the decision-makers seem more interested in lingering on the budgeting stage, as if trapped in a cycle they refuse to break because it is too profitable to leave.
I know public officials love to remind us that repair projects take time. But time is not the issue here; integrity is. If efficiency were the real goal, we would have seen a clear timetable, transparent procurement, and consistent updates—not prolonged silence, abrupt budget shifts, and explanations that sound half-hearted even as they are spoken. After years of watching national and local projects suffer from the same disease, I’ve learned to recognize when something has stopped being a public service and has started becoming an income stream.
Still, beyond my frustration lies a more degrading sadness. The San Juanico Bridge is more than steel and concrete; it is a landmark woven into the lives of people from both islands. It deserves responsible stewardship. It deserves leaders who treat it not as an opportunity but as a duty. When I see its rusty patches and feel the slight tremors under heavy traffic, I think of how much more it could give if only it were handled with integrity instead of opportunism.
Yes, it calls for a straightforward approach—clear plans, fixed budgets, independent audits, and timetables that cannot be stretched at will. If there is a genuine desire to preserve this bridge for generations to come, then those in power must demonstrate it through actions that are free from theatrics and schemes. San Juanico Bridge must be treated not just as a symbol of connection but as proof that public trust, once honored, can still hold the weight of a nation.
