President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. recently gave Filipinos a reason to look up. During his State of the Nation Address, he announced that Cagayan will become the country’s gateway to space, with the Philippines preparing to build its first spaceport. A sounding rocket launch is expected next year in partnership with a South Korean aerospace company.
It’s a bold vision.
The Philippines is preparing for liftoff.
Meanwhile, Cebu is still preparing for another rainy afternoon.
Every time dark clouds gather over the Queen City of the South, another countdown begins, not for a rocket launch, but for the first Facebook post asking, “Asa na’y baha?”
And, as always, Cebu never disappoints.
The South Road Properties suddenly becomes the South River Properties. M.J. Cuenco turns into a water obstacle course where every driver silently prays that the flood is shallower than it looks. Parts of F. Cabahug become an audition for jet skis. Colon Street, the country’s oldest road, occasionally resembles the route Noah probably took before boarding the Ark. Even Google Maps deserves sympathy because there is no app that says, “Turn left after the floating refrigerator.”
Don’t get me wrong. I fully support a Philippine space program.
Every progressive nation must dream beyond the horizon. Space exploration inspires innovation, science, and young Filipinos who dare to imagine that someday, the words “Made in the Philippines” might also include rockets.
But here’s the irony.
We are preparing to send technology hundreds of kilometers above the Earth while many Cebuanos still struggle to travel a few kilometers home after an hour of rain.
Rocket science is unforgiving. Every bolt is inspected. Every calculation is checked. Every second is measured because failure is not an option.
Flood control, however, seems to operate on another scientific principle entirely.
Conduct another study.
Announce another master plan.
Hold another groundbreaking.
Cut another ribbon.
Then wait for the next heavy rain to discover that the flood attended the ceremony, but the drainage system apparently did not.
At least the rain has an excellent attendance record.
Perhaps our engineers should borrow Nasa’s checklist. Rockets undergo endless simulations before launch. In Cebu, we wait for the first thunderstorm to identify which drainage canal has not been cleaned, which estero has been forgotten, and which flood control project exists only in PowerPoint presentations.
A nation should never have to choose between ambition and basic services. We should be able to celebrate space exploration while expecting roads that do not transform into rivers every habagat season.
Because reaching for the stars should never mean ignoring the puddles beneath our feet.
So yes, let us build a spaceport. Let us launch rockets. Let us inspire the next generation of Filipino scientists, engineers, and astronauts.
But while we are preparing for liftoff, let us not forget the people who are still trying to get home.
Maybe our first Filipino astronaut should not train in Cagayan.
Let him report to Cebu instead.
Give him a sedan, not a rover, and ask him to drive from M.J. Cuenco to the South Road Properties after an hour of continuous rain. Let him cross F. Cabahug without losing a muffler, navigate Colon Street without creating a wake, and make it through Mabolo while avoiding stalled vehicles that look as if they have requested docking permission.
If he completes that mission without stalling the engine, calling a tow truck, or abandoning the car altogether, do not just give him astronaut wings.
Give him a hero’s welcome.
Because after surviving Cebu traffic in a thunderstorm, space will no longer feel like the final frontier.
It will feel like a vacation.
