The past is my wound as it is my compass. My childhood, though tainted with imperfections, has set the direction of my journey through life.
I was born to a young middle class couple onSeptember 12, 1979 . My father, fresh from the Philippine Constabulary, worked as a security guard at the Provincial Engineer’s Office of Southern Leyte. My mother worked as an Agricultural Technician in the mountain barangays of Maasin.
My younger sister, Elmee, was born onMay 1, 1985 . She was a very welcome gift, and our family could never be happier.
Everything was well until 1989. I was only 10 years old, and Elmee was four. My mother was diagnosed with colon cancer. But only Papa knew about the dreadful disease. Elmee and I were made to believe that because Mama was sick, she had to stay in the hospital for a while, but that she would come home soon and our family would be happy again. The truth was, Mama was ill. She underwent an eight-hour operation in aCebu City
This was one of my childhood’s bitter days. While my parents were inCebu , Elmee and I were left to the care of their friends, and sometimes, our grandparents. I didn’t mind having to wear my old uniform and shoes in the following school years. Nor did I mind the scant food on the table. What pained me most were the parentless nights, PTA meetings, birthdays, recognition days, and Christmas gatherings.
It was a blessing to have my parents back when I graduated from elementary in 1992. I thought then that I would be spared from misery. I was wrong. Days after my graduation, Mama told me that we did not have enough money to send me to the same private school.
I did not mind going to a public high school, but there was none at the poblacion (town’s center) back then. Mama’s pronouncement implied that I may not be able to pursue high school if I wouldn’t get a scholarship.
I was hurt. I felt betrayed by fate. But perhaps I was born a fighter because I didn’t succumb to helplessness. One afternoon, without my parents’ knowledge, and armed only with my guts, I went to see the high school principal. I did not know who she was, but I heard that she was strict and unpopular among the students. I caught her signing enrolment forms in her office. As I walked toward her, I could sense the students being nervous for me. I was nervous, too. My knees trembled, but I needed that moment very badly.
I greeted her, and then started talking. Few minutes later, I started crying. I couldn’t remember what I told her, but I must have looked pathetic, fragile, or weary because she offered me a scholarship.
Then, like a thief in the night, the tragic thing happened. Mama died. It wasDecember 28, 1992 . I welcomed the New Year with grief for the loss of the woman closest to me. But much as I wanted to mourn, I cut short the anguish, as before me were huge responsibilities ready for the taking. I had to be mother-cum-sister to Elmee and a good daughter-cum-friend to Papa.
High school was a battlefield. Since Papa’s income was insufficient, I had to contend with hand-me-down uniforms and books from neighbors. I even had to ask old notebooks from my teachers so I wouldn’t have to buy new ones.
Early on, I realized that being motherless could bring serious consequences to an adolescent girl. I remember vividly how, at one point, I became the clown of the class. It was the start of my sophomore year. Papa managed to spare a little amount to buy me a pair of shoes. I was very happy that at last I did not have a hand-me-down for my shoes. I thought I looked good with them! Ah, but I remember how my classmates laughed and poked fun at me wearing those purple, oversized high-cut shoes, which didn’t match with our blue-and-white checkered uniform. Looking back, I must have looked like the female version of Ronald McDonald.
Plain and funny they may sound, but these instances begot a costly damage. I survived high school, with honors at that, but I was a wounded soul with a wrecked self-esteem for a baggage.
I took up Mass Communication at St. Theresa’s College (STC) inCebu City
First year college was extremely difficult because everything was new to me. I was a neophyte in the city and the school. I was far from my family. I had very few friends.
In the middle of the school year, I befriended four other girls who were also promdis (from the province), and who eventually, became my close circle. Further, I joined in Teatro Aninag Organization (TAO), a progressive theater group, where I had the opportunity to hone my singing, acting, and writing talents.
My friends and the theater group provided me with a sense of belongingness, which helped me regain the pieces of my once-battered self-esteem. However, money remained a problem. I was only receiving P1,500 a month from Papa, and the amount was not enough to cover my rent, transportation, food, and projects. To make ends meet, there were days when I only had bread for meals, or rice with salt. Theater rehearsals were a blessing because snacks were free, and I could save on my budget.
Then, I heard from my bestfriend that the Cebu Newspaper Workers’ Foundation (CENEWOF) offered scholarships for Mass Comm students. I applied. I wrote essays, and went through interviews. I was accepted. I withdrew my tuition (paid for by my college plan), and used the money to sustain me through college.
I graduated with honors. I received a special award as “Kapisanan ng mga Boradcasters ng Pilipinas (KBP) Outstanding Graduate”. Our group also received a special citation for the student-thesis, “A Video-Documentary on the Plight of the Newsboys”.
The morning after my graduation, I joined in the ranks of the unemployed. A typical fresh graduate would have taken a break, but I couldn’t do that. I had responsibilities to fulfill.
Fortunately that summer, I got a job tutoring rich kids. However, working in a sheltered, comfortable environment made me guilty. Something was telling me that a more meaningful endeavor was prepared for me, and that I belonged to a different world and people.
The puzzle didn’t take too long to solve. One afternoon, my college research teacher dropped by the school. She encouraged me to apply as Research, Documentation, and Publication Officer in a non-government organization (NGO), where her husband was assistant executive director. I applied and got accepted.
OnJune 1, 2000 , I started working in Fellowship for Organizing Endeavors, Inc. (FORGE), a Cebu City-based NGO that works with the urban poor. Seven years has passed, but I am still with FORGE, and have remained passionate like I was on my first day of work.
So much has happened in the last seven years. For one, witnessing poverty at its meanest, almost-desperate face, I have widened my perspective about life and the world. I realized that people are never born equal; that my personal worries are far lighter than the burdens of the millions wallowing in poverty; that not all of the poor are lazy, alms-dependent scoundrels, like many might think. The point is, I am happy to be here. Nothing is more fulfilling than being able to grow personally and professionally; empower others by making them realize their worth and capacities; and build comradeship all at the same time. That being said, I am resolved that social development work is what I’ve always wanted, and it is here, where I belong.
The last seven years has also been marked with small successes. I was able to send Elmee to College despite my meager income. I used to think that my bout with financial paralysis would end as soon as I got a job, but of course, I was wrong. The field that I have chosen could not guarantee a big salary. So there I was, struggling again just to keep me and Elmee afloat. I remember how creatively I made the budget and stuck to it, never giving in to my wants. I also had loans anywhere---SSS, Pag-ibig, the office, friends---you name it. I diligently paid all of them, though. But the efforts have not been wasted. Elmee finished college, and is now a registered Social Worker.
Just to stress how I mastered the art of budgeting, I am proud to have bought myself a pension plan. I managed to spare an amount to pay for my quarterly premium. I fully paid the plan in January 2006, after five long years. Also, I finished my masters in Development Communication at the University of thePhilippines-Open University
You see, these are simple things, but I am fulfilled. I don’t hold the illusion that someday I will attain victory in the form of a gated mansion, one or two luxury cars, or a fat bank account.
My formula of fulfillment is simple---I celebrate victory as life unfolds each day.
I was born to a young middle class couple on
My younger sister, Elmee, was born on
Everything was well until 1989. I was only 10 years old, and Elmee was four. My mother was diagnosed with colon cancer. But only Papa knew about the dreadful disease. Elmee and I were made to believe that because Mama was sick, she had to stay in the hospital for a while, but that she would come home soon and our family would be happy again. The truth was, Mama was ill. She underwent an eight-hour operation in a
This was one of my childhood’s bitter days. While my parents were in
It was a blessing to have my parents back when I graduated from elementary in 1992. I thought then that I would be spared from misery. I was wrong. Days after my graduation, Mama told me that we did not have enough money to send me to the same private school.
I did not mind going to a public high school, but there was none at the poblacion (town’s center) back then. Mama’s pronouncement implied that I may not be able to pursue high school if I wouldn’t get a scholarship.
I was hurt. I felt betrayed by fate. But perhaps I was born a fighter because I didn’t succumb to helplessness. One afternoon, without my parents’ knowledge, and armed only with my guts, I went to see the high school principal. I did not know who she was, but I heard that she was strict and unpopular among the students. I caught her signing enrolment forms in her office. As I walked toward her, I could sense the students being nervous for me. I was nervous, too. My knees trembled, but I needed that moment very badly.
I greeted her, and then started talking. Few minutes later, I started crying. I couldn’t remember what I told her, but I must have looked pathetic, fragile, or weary because she offered me a scholarship.
Then, like a thief in the night, the tragic thing happened. Mama died. It was
High school was a battlefield. Since Papa’s income was insufficient, I had to contend with hand-me-down uniforms and books from neighbors. I even had to ask old notebooks from my teachers so I wouldn’t have to buy new ones.
Early on, I realized that being motherless could bring serious consequences to an adolescent girl. I remember vividly how, at one point, I became the clown of the class. It was the start of my sophomore year. Papa managed to spare a little amount to buy me a pair of shoes. I was very happy that at last I did not have a hand-me-down for my shoes. I thought I looked good with them! Ah, but I remember how my classmates laughed and poked fun at me wearing those purple, oversized high-cut shoes, which didn’t match with our blue-and-white checkered uniform. Looking back, I must have looked like the female version of Ronald McDonald.
Plain and funny they may sound, but these instances begot a costly damage. I survived high school, with honors at that, but I was a wounded soul with a wrecked self-esteem for a baggage.
I took up Mass Communication at St. Theresa’s College (STC) in
First year college was extremely difficult because everything was new to me. I was a neophyte in the city and the school. I was far from my family. I had very few friends.
In the middle of the school year, I befriended four other girls who were also promdis (from the province), and who eventually, became my close circle. Further, I joined in Teatro Aninag Organization (TAO), a progressive theater group, where I had the opportunity to hone my singing, acting, and writing talents.
My friends and the theater group provided me with a sense of belongingness, which helped me regain the pieces of my once-battered self-esteem. However, money remained a problem. I was only receiving P1,500 a month from Papa, and the amount was not enough to cover my rent, transportation, food, and projects. To make ends meet, there were days when I only had bread for meals, or rice with salt. Theater rehearsals were a blessing because snacks were free, and I could save on my budget.
Then, I heard from my bestfriend that the Cebu Newspaper Workers’ Foundation (CENEWOF) offered scholarships for Mass Comm students. I applied. I wrote essays, and went through interviews. I was accepted. I withdrew my tuition (paid for by my college plan), and used the money to sustain me through college.
I graduated with honors. I received a special award as “Kapisanan ng mga Boradcasters ng Pilipinas (KBP) Outstanding Graduate”. Our group also received a special citation for the student-thesis, “A Video-Documentary on the Plight of the Newsboys”.
The morning after my graduation, I joined in the ranks of the unemployed. A typical fresh graduate would have taken a break, but I couldn’t do that. I had responsibilities to fulfill.
Fortunately that summer, I got a job tutoring rich kids. However, working in a sheltered, comfortable environment made me guilty. Something was telling me that a more meaningful endeavor was prepared for me, and that I belonged to a different world and people.
The puzzle didn’t take too long to solve. One afternoon, my college research teacher dropped by the school. She encouraged me to apply as Research, Documentation, and Publication Officer in a non-government organization (NGO), where her husband was assistant executive director. I applied and got accepted.
On
So much has happened in the last seven years. For one, witnessing poverty at its meanest, almost-desperate face, I have widened my perspective about life and the world. I realized that people are never born equal; that my personal worries are far lighter than the burdens of the millions wallowing in poverty; that not all of the poor are lazy, alms-dependent scoundrels, like many might think. The point is, I am happy to be here. Nothing is more fulfilling than being able to grow personally and professionally; empower others by making them realize their worth and capacities; and build comradeship all at the same time. That being said, I am resolved that social development work is what I’ve always wanted, and it is here, where I belong.
The last seven years has also been marked with small successes. I was able to send Elmee to College despite my meager income. I used to think that my bout with financial paralysis would end as soon as I got a job, but of course, I was wrong. The field that I have chosen could not guarantee a big salary. So there I was, struggling again just to keep me and Elmee afloat. I remember how creatively I made the budget and stuck to it, never giving in to my wants. I also had loans anywhere---SSS, Pag-ibig, the office, friends---you name it. I diligently paid all of them, though. But the efforts have not been wasted. Elmee finished college, and is now a registered Social Worker.
Just to stress how I mastered the art of budgeting, I am proud to have bought myself a pension plan. I managed to spare an amount to pay for my quarterly premium. I fully paid the plan in January 2006, after five long years. Also, I finished my masters in Development Communication at the University of the
You see, these are simple things, but I am fulfilled. I don’t hold the illusion that someday I will attain victory in the form of a gated mansion, one or two luxury cars, or a fat bank account.
My formula of fulfillment is simple---I celebrate victory as life unfolds each day.
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