Two days after the speech at SMX, the mood across the MOA Complex had shifted from survival to something else—celebration.
The Seaside Park along the Manila Bay, once known for concerts and weekend strolls, had been transformed into a festival ground. Colored tarpaulins were hung between lamp posts, and makeshift lanterns swayed gently in the sea breeze. From the edge of the reclaimed boardwalk to the open plaza near the bayfront, dozens of food stalls lined the paths—grilled fish, roasted corn, boiled peanuts, even skewered meats sizzling on hot steel griddles. The aroma of spices and charcoal filled the air, mixing with the salty sea wind.
Generators hummed steadily in the background, powering everything from rice cookers to lightbulbs. Someone had even managed to get one of the old ice cream freezers working—kids with small plastic spoons crowded around a man in a repurposed Mang Inasal apron as he handed out scoops of vanilla, chocolate, and something vaguely fruity.
