I still remember the first time I saw the underpass project at the Mabuhay–Bulaong Road and the Digos–Makar National Highway junction. For someone like me who has traveled to bigger cities such as Davao, Cebu, and Manila, the sight of such a modern infrastructure in my own hometown of General Santos stirred pride. At last, I thought, our medium-sized city was stepping into the future, with projects that promised to ease congestion, stimulate business, and elevate the quality of life of the Generals.
That was in 2022. Fast forward to today, and that pride has soured into frustration. Instead of being a symbol of progress, the underpass has become a monument of poor planning, abandonment, and broken promises. What was supposed to be a solution has become a problem of its own, worsening traffic, flooding key intersections, and forcing businesses to shutter. The dream that once brought hope has now turned into an everyday nightmare for commuters, entrepreneurs, and ordinary residents.
A ₱681-Million Problem That Refuses to Move
The numbers themselves tell the story of betrayal. Between 2021 and 2024, over ₱814 million was allocated, while DPWH pegged the official cost at ₱681 million. This is the single biggest infrastructure project in General Santos City—yet progress has crawled to a halt. The supposed completion date of September 2024 has already been pushed back to December 2025, and even that feels like an empty promise.
Worse, the Philippine Anti-Corruption Czar’s (PACC) investigation confirmed what residents have long felt: the site was abandoned for months, safety measures were ignored, the drainage was never properly planned, and the design itself is fundamentally defective. In short, we are paying the price of a project that was doomed from the start.
The Human Cost: Businesses Closed, Lives Disrupted
The impact goes beyond inconvenience. Entire businesses located within the construction zone have closed permanently. Others are bleeding losses, struggling to survive as customers avoid the gridlock and flooding. Instead of economic growth, the underpass has become a trigger for economic dislocation.
For commuters, what was once billed as a traffic decongestion project has worsened congestion. Residents describe the site as an “Olympic-size swimming pool” every time it rains, a cruel irony given that flooding was never a problem in that area before. Parents fetching their children, workers rushing to jobs, and even ambulances trying to reach hospitals—all are now trapped in the daily paralysis that this project has caused.
A Culture of Excuses and Evasion
What perhaps stings most is not only the delays, but the sheer lack of accountability. When residents confronted DPWH Region 12 officials, they were reportedly told: “Wala na kini sa among kamot, kay national project kini” (This is no longer in our hands, because it is a national project). That response sums up the very crisis we face: nobody wants to take responsibility, and everybody passes the blame.
But who suffers in the end? Not the contractors. Not the government officials. It is the people of General Santos—the taxpayers, the entrepreneurs, the daily commuters—who bear the cost of every wasted peso, every wasted day.
Broken Promises, Broken Trust
The underpass was sold to us as a two-year project. We are now entering its third year, with no clear end in sight. The sight of misaligned columns, scattered materials, and unsafe site conditions is not just a construction failure—it is a symbol of broken trust.
What was meant to represent progress has become a daily reminder that governance without accountability leads only to waste and despair. The more time passes, the more normalized this dysfunction becomes, until people begin to shrug their shoulders as if to say, “Mao na gyud ni, wala na tay mahimo”. That resignation is perhaps the greatest tragedy of all.
The Call for Accountability and Action
The PACC has laid out strong recommendations: penalize the contractor, audit the funds, relieve the negligent DPWH officials, hold the project consultant liable, and, most importantly, demand a time-bound corrective plan. These recommendations are not just bureaucratic steps; they are the minimum required to salvage public trust and ensure that the project can still serve its intended purpose.
But recommendations alone will not change things. What is needed is political will—both from national authorities and from our local leaders. Silence is complicity. Our city officials must speak up, pressure the agencies involved, and stand with the people they serve. After all, they too sit in the same traffic and breathe the same air thick with dust and frustration.
From Pride to Protest
I began this journey with pride—pride that my city was finally catching up with bigger ones, pride that we too deserved modern infrastructure. But pride, when betrayed, naturally transforms into protest.
We, the people of General Santos, should not simply endure this mess. We should demand transparency on how funds were spent, clarity on why progress has stalled, and accountability for every decision and indecision that has brought us here.
The underpass is no longer just a physical structure; it is a test of governance. Will our leaders allow it to stand as a monument of failure, or will they act decisively to turn it into a true symbol of progress?
For now, the answer remains unfinished—just like the underpass itself. But one thing is clear: the people of General Santos deserve better. We deserve leaders who deliver not just projects, but results. And we deserve a city whose biggest infrastructure does not drown us in frustration, but lifts us up with pride once more.