Wang-wang with no Noynoy (my experiences with sirens)

My earliest recollection of the siren dates back to my boyhood in the early 1960s in what is now Mandaue City. Then as now, Cebuanos called it "seren" and never heard of wang-wang until Noynoy dignified it with a mention in his inauguration speech.

My world in the 1960s had little use for the seren. Traffic was so sparse I actually developed the ability to tell by its sound the approach of the lone bus bound for Cabadiangan, Compostela while it was still a kilometer away.

As far as I can remember, this ability constituted my main usefulness to visiting relatives on my father's side who would post me by the veranda to listen for the bus while they engaged in endless banter until I ended it with a definitive shout of "Cuatro."

Cuatro refers to the body number of the Cebu Autobus plying the Cebu-Cabadiangan route. I don't know why they called it by its number. I just know that they preferred it that way because when another bus took over the route, my chore shifted to shouting "Siete" as it approached.

Anyway, it was not only the sparseness of traffic that made little use of the seren. The times were also far less violent. There was hardly any occasion for police cars to respond to anything, or for ambulances to speed victims to the hospital.

The times were so peaceful that shootings were unheard of. And when a stabbing did occur, it was so rare the incident would disturb the equilibrium of the entire community so much that it becomes the sole topic of discussion for weeks on end.

The occasion to use the seren was so rare that when it is does break the usual quiet, young boys would drop everything and rush to the street to see what was going on. And frankly, we could actually tell by the sound if the seren was of a police car, an ambulance, or a firetruck.

I remember a fellow reporter named Rene Salgado from early in my career as a journalist. He made a name for himself by jumping in front of a speeding firetruck, forcing it to stop. He hopped on board and became the only journalist in history to go to work with sirens wailing.

My first real experience as a "participant" in anything that required use of a siren was when I was part of the Philippine delegation to the Third Asean Editors Conference in Bali, Indonesia in 1987.

Delegates to the conference always traveled in convoy, complete with police motorcycle escorts with sirens wailing. As I looked out I saw the jaws of Indonesians dropping in awe as we passed. It was my first time to feel like a real big shot.

One thing about sirens in Indonesia — the Indonesians really respect the sound, as well as for what or for whom the noise is all about. Indonesians do not just move aside to let the sirens through, they would actually come to a complete stop on the shoulder of the road.

This is so unlike the effect of sirens on Filipinos. Filipinos seldom move aside. Instead they just slow down and let what emergency vehicle has its siren wailing weave its way in and out of the traffic.

And this one is for the books. After that emergency vehicle succeeds in passing through, only in the Philippines will you discover that it is actually pulling behind it a whole flotilla of speeding cars and motorcycles trying to ride the siren's wake.

My most jarring experience with a siren happened in Washington D.C. on my first trip to the US. Trying to get some sleep after a long flight, I was jolted by the "brraah brraah" of fire engines. This went on the whole night and I wondered if the whole city was on fire.

Well, right now it seems the whole country is on fire about the wang-wang and we have become the laughing stock of the whole world. Why, if even the Indonesians are laughing behind our backs, it must be time to sound the sirens. There has to be something wrong with us.