It was more than just a sign.
It was a gift — a piece of Dumaguete’s soul shaped in steel and pride — born out of love, sacrifice, and homesickness by Dumagueteños abroad who never forgot where they came from.
Nearly a decade ago, the Negros Oriental Association-USA (NOA-USA) raised funds not from politics or profit, but from potlucks, reunions, and hearts that beat halfway across the Pacific. They worked long hours, sent remittances home, and in return, gave something lasting — the #DumaGetMe signage at the Pantawan, dedicated “to the peace-loving people of Dumaguete City.”
And yet today, it is gone.
No courtesy call. No letter. Not even a text.
The donors — the very people who built it — found out only after it was destroyed.
Why destroy what could have been preserved?
Why not relocate what could have inspired?
This was not just the demolition of metal; it was the desecration of memory. A petty, immature act from those who have mistaken authority for ownership — forgetting that public spaces belong to the people, not to the few who happen to hold office.
Where was decency? Where was respect?
Through the years, the donors in California stood proud of that sign. They even hosted Sagarbarria and staffs in Newport Beach, a gesture of friendship and goodwill. The city officials knew how to reach them — they were just one text or message away.
And yet, silence.
A silence louder than any hammer blow that tore the sign apart.
That plaque bore names — not of politicians, but of ordinary citizens who gave out of love. Now, it stands as a ghost of what Dumaguete once symbolized: humility, respect, and gratitude.
This is not about nostalgia. It’s about propriety — about knowing that leadership without courtesy is tyranny in disguise.
One destroyed sign, but a thousand hearts broken.
The city that once “captured” people’s hearts (#DumaGetMe) now stands accused of snatching away the very spirit that made it beautiful.
