Weaving Dreams (Why I Love my Job)

True, there might be days (like today) when I'd feel as if there is nothing but endless work deliverables. If truth be told however, I certainly wouldn't want to be doing anything else. Development work can indeed be very taxing not just to the body, and not just emotionally but your soul gets bruise every now and then as well. This morning though, something happened that again reiterated to me why I chose to be involved in what I do and why I wouldn't want to be anywhere but where I am now.

We are on a monitoring visit, visiting one of our Partner NGO's area of intervention. It wasn't the first time for me. I've visited this particular site several times in the past. What makes it special this time, however, is the fact that I am with two photo journalists who are also from Davao. We have an upcoming event come March and part of which is featuring the lives of some women farmers and women fishers. This morning, we are there to interview one of those women.

Without necessarily pre-empting the whole thing, Manang Dolores' story is really compelling. Hers is that of a single mother, giving all she's got in order to ensure the well being of her children. Living in the rural areas, the opportunities are not exactly abounding. She had to make do with subsistence farming in order to make ends meet. The good thing about her -- and the number of women like her in their area who involved themselves in rubber farming -- is the fact that they did not just stop and contend themselves with what life dishes out at them. Instead, they started creating opportunities for themselves and for their families.

During my first visit in the area I was already amazed at the kind of spirit that these women have displayed. But my admiration for them grew even more when I got to know them more intimately.

Rubber is a long gestating crop. With proper handling and following the right protocols, one can only start earning an income from it after five years. That's long alright, especially when viewed against the daily subsistence needs of the children and families of these women. Feeding their children is a daily concern. Sending them to school is a daily concern as well. Attending to the well being of their families is something that these women contend with everyday. It is not something they could postpone for five years -- the same amount of time they would spend waiting for their rubber trees to start becoming productive and bringing in income for the family.

And yet, despite this, these women persevere. After attending to daily household chores, they would walk 2 to 3 kilometers in order to visit their farms and tend to their growing rubber trees. One of the women even shared to me how precious their rubber trees are to them. She pointed out that at times, she had to leave her little children behind just to tend to her rubber trees. That made me wonder. How come these women put so much value on their rubber trees so much so that while they obviously have certain misgivings about leaving their children behind, they would do so, just so they could religiously tend to their rubber farms. Then I suddenly remembered attending several FGD sessions with these rubber farmers (both women and men) a few months back. I remembered how a good number of them have shared that for them, the rubber trees are their "ticket to the future." A good number of the participants had then shared that they look at rubber as something that would ensure the future of their children and even that of their grandchildren. To these women (and men), the rubber trees hold far more significance than its promise of income in the next five years.

I can't help but admire as well our partner NGO for having successfully instilled such value into the people in the community. I've seen several projects and programs in the past and instilling this kind of ownership in the partner communities is something that I very rarely see. More often than not, the energies of the people are only fuelled by their sense of obligation or some kind of gratis to the organizations funding their projects. Once the organizers leave, the projects also die down and the energies of the people are no longer sustained. But this, this is different. The people are totally sold out to the intervention and are giving more and more of themselves into the activities of the project.

I thought to myself that the reason for this is simply because to these farmers, the rubber trees represent their dreams of the future. It was impressed upon them that if they will not do their share, give their best, there is no way that these dreams will ever materialize. These realizations made me appreciate more our Partner NGO's efforts. It made me realize as well how development work, when use properly, can really motivate people to work hard for their dreams. If one manages to do that, to convince even one person to do just that, then I think he had already accomplished more than enough.

It had been said before and several times already in the past but I will nonetheless pen it down again: that development work is really not just about handing out formulas or "solutions-in-a-box" to people to help them achieve success and improve their quality of life. This experience taught me that teaching them how to dream, and to impress upon them that they also needed to invest in that dream by giving all they've got in order to achieve it, is actually doing them more good and would eventually lead to creating a greater impact in their lives. I salute the kind of development workers who are mindful of this and who dedicates time and effort into the whole "enterprise." To me, they are dreamweavers, planting dreams into the heart of people and teaching them to once again hope in the future...

A Day in a Life (Late Post)

Holy Wednesday 2011
Hinatuan

I could feel my sweat literally traversing down my spine. Some “droplets” are forming over my forehead. The overhead fan is doing very little to help ease the heat. Still, it’s slightly better over here than when we were out at sea earlier. The sun had been relentless. The not-so-good-thing was that the banca we hired for the activity had no roof at all. So there we were, getting baked as we made our way back to the town proper of Hinatuan.



I arrived here Monday night. Yesterday, we visited the island of Mahaba. Today, we went all the way to Cabgan. I’m here for work, a writing engagement. I’ll be coming up with two stories featuring a day in a life of two women here in Hinatuan. It’s in conjunction with what I’m doing for Women at the Center, a climate change adaptation project concerning women. The stories we are going to write now will feature what constitutes two women’s everyday life – that of Nanay Nida and Nanay Aida. Nanay Nida hails from Mahaba while Nanay Aida is from Cabgan, both island purok’s here in Hinatuan.


Both visits yielded a well of inspiration for me. There were a lot to be learned from the stories of both women. However, what struck me the most during my visit in Mahaba was the attitude of the children there. Particularly, that of Nanay Nida’s which I think could be attributed a lot to her kind of parenting. In the course of our conversation with her, she would often remark at how she had a lot of things to do -- having to help her husband in augmenting their household income and owing to her involvement with the organization for women – and thus she had to teach her children to take over some of the hings she needed to do a home.


Needs vs. Wants. The first thing I noticed about the kids are their eagerness to help their parents – in doing the household chores, and most specially in shell gleaning (“panghinhas” in the local dialect). At one point while we were doing the photoshoot, one of Nanay Nida’s kids refused to participate in shooting the part where the kids fetch water. He stood his ground and said he wanted to gather shells instead.

In hindsight, he must have known full well that it is the height of the low tide at that time which is perfect for shell gleaning. Delaying a bit more would mean not finishing up till noon and that would have been too hot to do any gleaning. But I did not know it yet at that time. All I knew is that the kids seems very eager to do the task and I wondered a lot about what their motivation was. I watched closely as the children eagerly and very diligently comb the shallow waters of the atoll, stooping every now and then as they collect shells. In just a short time, they were able to fill a very large pail with shells. Again, I wondered what motivates them to work so hard.

My immediate thought was that they would probably be earning something from it. I thought they probably get a share from what they'd earn from selling the shells and thus the eagerness. I was surprised when later that day I was told they do not get a cent out of it. Apparently, the kids hand whatever they earn from shell gleaning to their parents. Yup, every cent of it. And they do it not because they were forced to do it. They just do it naturally, even joyfully and most specially, not begrudgingly. I was told that once they hand over the money to Nanay Nida, they would only ask for some money to buy bread for themselves. Yep, just bread. The whole thing blew me away.

It is such a far cry from what I know about the kids back in the city. The kids back home are not like the kids in Mahaba. Well, most of them at least and this includes my son. My 5-year-old son is entrepreneurial. When school was through, he set up a DVD-for-rent stand outside our house. I watched in amusement as he prepared his collection of DVD cartoon originals and a sticker ID he stuck to his chest bearing his hand-written name. I watched as he prepared his water bottle and some hand-fan. When he saw me eying these, he immediately retorted, “Baka mauhaw ako, Nay and para di mainit.” I did not have the heart to point out to him that his stand is just a stone’s throw away from the house and the water dispenser.

Anyhow, unlike the kids back in Mahaba, my son’s perspective is that his earning is his own. I do not blame him though because his motivation is that his Nanay doesn’t buy him everything that he wants and so he had to earn money. Anything he earns he keeps. Some of it he saves while the rest he buys the stuff I wouldn’t buy for him like game cards. For the kids in Mahaba it is different. They knew how difficult it is at home. Their parents have to work hard so they could afford to buy rice and other things they needed for the home. The difference between them and the kids I know is that they work hard so they could buy the things they need. My son does so he could buy the things he wants.

Not having things easy. Yup, the kids in Mahaba don’t have things easy. And fetching water is just one of them. The kids and/or the women – including Nanay Nida - had to do some paddling for quite a distance in order to fetch drinking water from the other side of the island. And they would have to do it at a particular time – when it is high tide. Doing it during low tide meant the women or the children would have to carry a heavy container filled with water while trudging over a very muddy path, sinking as low as thigh-deep in some parts of it. It also meant they would have to struggle in carrying their banca – probably stuck in “dry” land – back to much deeper water.

That’s what happened to us when we did the photo shoot. We had to linger for a while in order to take the pictures and thus the water had receded a lot farther than we have anticipated. Being unfamiliar with the path, we had to endure getting stuck knee-deep in the muck. It felt squishy. Half the time I was filled with an uneasy feeling, not wanting to know at all what kind of organism is stuck in between my toes hehehe

We were almost where our banca was when the photographer remarked how he would not look at turning on tap water the same way again and I so agreed with him. Indeed, there are a lot of things that we get so used to that we simply take them for granted. We do not know that in some obscure place somewhere, some people don’t have it quite easy.


To have and to hold. Cabgan is another story. What struck me the most was the relationship between Nanay Aida and her husband. When the couple was introduced to us, we were informed that while it is going to be Nanay Aida’s first time to be featured in a story, her husband, Tatay Milo is not new to it. We learned that he often gets invited to national conferences and even had his story featured in a book. I smile now recalling how, upon the mention of the book, Tatay Milo got his copy of it and showed it to us. I knew that he took a great pride in it and who wouldn’t?

In the course of the conversation, it was pointed out that it is Nanay Aida’s time to shine this time. That’s when we learned of her reluctance to go to Manila for the launching. The stories will be featured in an advocacy campaign to be launched there in June. Nanay Aida said she doesn’t want to leave as she had a lot of things to attend do – their seaweed farm and their home. She said that what she hated the most about leaving is how the work gets piled up upon her return. She pointed out that she’s the lone female at home as all her children are boys and as they are, they would just flit off to their tasks without minding the household chores. This was not lost on me. It is indeed most women’s dilemma. Once they get very active in activities in their community, they would have to contend with household chores waiting for them at home.

Anyway, we soon find out that Nanay Aida’s day unfolds very early. She had to do the cooking and tend to the chicken they raise for "special occasions."  As their house is directly on the water, the cages of the chicken are located in some kind of a veranda just outside their kitchen. A few more steps away is where they keep their banca. A little further on is where they dry their seaweeds and where Nanay Aida’s potted vegetables are found. They also have a mini sari-sari store and Nanay Aida had to tend to this as well.

As we went about with the photo shoot and the interview, I learned that seaweed farming is a family activity. Nanay Aida and Tatay Milo go to their seaweed farms early in the morning. They would inspect and clean every line to ensure that the seaweeds would grow very well. Unkept farms would mean the likelihood of having the seaweeds contaminated by certain organisms that attach to them.

I watched as Tatay Milo and Nanay Aida both lowered their banca to the water. I noticed every nuance – the way Tatay Milo held out his hand to Nanay Aida so he could help her keep her balance as she lowered herself to the banca; how Tatay Milo first paddled them towards their seaweed farm located at a distance from their house; and how Nanay Aida took over the paddling so that Tatay Milo can raise the lines and start cleaning the seaweeds. Watching them was like watching some kind of a choreographed dance number. They’re so used to the task --having done it a thousand times by now-- that they readily know how to compliment each other in accomplishing it. It felt nice watching them. It’s as if they are illustrating what true partnership should be.

Once back at the house, Nanay Aida, Tatay Milo, and their two grown sons went back to tying seaweeds on the lines stretched in front of their house. I watched as they sat a few feet apart from each other and diligently get on with the task. The topic of Nanay’s reluctance to go to Manila was again brought up. The COs assisting the community were jokingly enumerating what Nanay Aida would experience should she agree to go to Manila – sleeping in a nice hotel, meeting some of the celebrity who will be attending the launch as well and the chance to ride an airplane. At this, Tatay Milo shared how it was for him the first time he rode an airplane. He laughed as he recalled being reprimanded for trying to pass through the x-ray machine as they made their way inside the airport. Yup, they were that naïve. The good thing about Tatay Milo was that he wasn’t embarrassed at all by the experience. He shared everything to us good-naturedly. He even shared how they also stepped on the scale along with their bags at the airport's check-in counter.

Yes, again, not a lot of us have things very easily. Some of the things we take for granted are for some a great privilege already. On that note, I was once again overcome by the feeling of gratitude. I counted my blessings and one of them is my being there to hear about other people’s story and to learn a lot from them.

They were almost done with the lines and about to move on to the other task for the photo shoot when Tatay Milo was asked whether he agreed that Nanay Aida should go to Manila for the launching or not. He replied that if he is to have his way, he would want her to go to the launching so that she will have a chance to get exposed to a lot of things. He pointed out that it is different being stuck in the island. He said that her going would mean affording her the chance to expand her world and see more than just the four corners of their house. Now, that is my kind of guy... unselfish and truly loving…

Deserving

“The officials don’t know how we are struggling to live in the communities. They sit comfortably in their air-conditioned rooms and all they care about is politicking and money.”


This, from the mouth of a civilian volunteer, working on the ground, actively monitoring the atrocities committed against civilians. He showed pictures and videos taken of very young children, women and men killed and being hit by bombs and stray bullets because they were suspected to be fleeing “renegades.”

The video was graphic. My heart got wrenched looking at tiny children lying on the ground, lifeless after the boat they were riding on was hit by a bomb. I identified with the grandmothers and mothers who were mourning their death. They were crying and wailing. I could only imagine the extent of the pain they are feeling. I am a mother and my heart would lurch in pain just to see my son hurt himself mistakenly in play. How much more for these mothers who have lost their sons in a senseless war?

The words of the civilian volunteer resonated within me. Having the work that I do, I’ve been exposed to a lot of things. (Not even half of all that he had seen) And indeed, there is a big difference between seeing what’s happening on the ground firsthand than just staying in an air-conditioned office and debating about these matters theoretically.

I felt the same frustration and resentment that the volunteer felt for “politicians” up there who think of nothing but enriching themselves and taking advantage of the power that they yield. They are so far removed from the realities on the ground that they could think of nobody but themselves and furthering their own self-interests.

The election is just around the corner and I’ve seen candidates debate on issues – mostly bordering on the personal and other trivialities. I cant help but be cynical noting how trivial their concerns are compared to those that the people at the grassroots had to live with everyday.

I sit here now and wonder -- how many of these candidates deserve the seat they are aiming for? How many of them have the heart, the wisdom and the sincerity to be able to give the position they will be occupying justice? How many of them are aware that when they “court” the people to vote for them, they are also playing with their emotions, stringing along the people’s aspirations and dreams?

True, the government could only do so much. All of us must work hand-in-hand in order to achieve, a just and humane society. And yet, individuals who have the nerve to declare themselves as candidates – who spend millions in campaign materials (when they would be put to better use addressing the needs of the 600 thousand IDPs in Central Mindanao) – also have the responsibility to do justice to the position they will be occupying.

Leading the people especially as fragmented, as multi-sectoral, multi-cultural, and as broken as the Philippines is such a grave responsibility. It's a wonder to me how a lot of them are risking their necks for the post.

I am praying that whoever wins is truly the most deserving and equipped. God help the Philippines, particularly Mindanao.

On Respect and Sensibilities (Being Culturally Sensitive)

Are Muslims considered IP’s?” The moment the resource person voiced that out in front of purely Muslim participants, an atmosphere of “discomfort” permeated the air. I felt uneasy and I’m sure some of the participants did also. To their credit, the participants took the question at face value. One of them explained that Muslims are more of a “cultural minority” than an IP.

That was not the first time in this training that I noted how a lot of us here in Davao could still learn where being “culturally-sensitive” is concerned. I want it clear that I am not passing on any judgment. I do not take it against the RP that she had to ask that question. To her, it was an innocent inquiry. It was pretty evident that she simply does not know and had to clarify that since it had something to do with her lecture. Based on how she proceeded with her lecture, it was obvious that her original thinking was that Muslims are really considered IPs.

In the same training, another RP had repeatedly coined a certain reference document as the agency’s “Bible.” And twice made the gesture of the cross when during the open forum, a few participants raised questions about certain practices in their locality and how these were bordering on the illegal. I knew the RP just did not know any better and it led me to wonder how many of us here also do not.

I am lucky since my work exposes me to a lot of groups. Not only does it add more to my knowledge, I feel that it also enriches me as a person. It broadened my horizon and freed me from the prejudices introduced to me in my youth. I became aware that there are belief systems and practices that are entirely different from my own. And that being different does not necessarily mean something is wrong with the other’s beliefs or practices. We are just different, period. And being so, one does not necessarily have to be better than the other.

In one of my work engagements, one participant took time to explain to me what Islam is all about and I fell in love with it. Dabbling with meditation and yoga also introduced me to Buddhism and Hinduism. They’re both equally beautiful belief systems. And I guess it is understandably so, because God is beautiful, no matter in what form S/He may choose to represent Himself/Herself.

I am not perfect. I still have aversion to certain things and situations. But being more aware, I am now able to step back, examine my prejudices and label them as what they really are – baseless, ignorant assumptions. Every person, regardless of color, religion, sexual orientation or preference is worthy of respect. We have no right to pass on any judgment. At the same time, we have the responsibility to try to learn more about the people we closely deal with. We have to take time to know what would adversely affect their sensibilities and try our best to avoid these. I am thinking, if only all of us would bother to do so, this world would certainly be a better place for everyone. (And I can't help but think of this in the context of Mindanao)

Being a mother, I’m thinking of raising Baby being aware of these things very early on. I don’t want him to grow up passing judgment on others. Especially so, that he is growing up where he is – a melting pot of different cultures. It is difficult though. As it is, on the issue of gender sensitivity alone, it is already being tested everyday. He came home one day telling me, “Nanay, di ba okay lang sa boy ang pink? Di ba okay lang ang Dora?” Then he related how a classmate of his told him he is gay because he asked permission to play with her “pink” Dora toy. It’s a good thing he still comes to me to relate all these things. That way I could still reinforce the things I am trying to teach him. What then when he is out there and would be bombarded by views that are not entirely correct? What if he would stop coming home to me and ask my opinion?

It’s a good thing that right now, my son still looks up to me and believe what I tell him. I know there will come a time that he would be forming his own views of things. I could only pray that among these would be the grain of truths I wanted to impart to him. Oh, but life is beautiful. I know it’ll find ways to enrich my son’s own in ways I could only imagine for now.

Circle of Fire...of Life...

We were all huddled in a circle, discussing all sorts of issues on "development." We are in a meeting organized by a foreign-funded development agency. All participants there, myself included, are partners of that agency. Most of us have projects in partnership with them while some just have concluded projects with them.

Everyone was candid, airing out their sentiments outright, openly sharing their views and ideas. While we were making comments on how things could still be improved, it was not in a criticizing manner. Everything was treated objectively. In fact, it was very glaring that everyone there was not intent about just making criticisms but on how things could be better for the smooth implementation of projects. The focus was on how the projects will be delivered to the "beneficiaries" (or as pointed out during the meeting, the politically correct term would be, "partners") the best and fastest, possible way. The stress was on the importance of meeting their needs and addressing important developmental issues. The sincerity of everyone present really struck me. Everyone's candidness imply the fact that these people are indeed serious about working for development and not just being there for monetary reasons alone. Well, I've had some experiences on the latter...

We were intent on our discussion when the feeling of dejavu hit me. I felt myself floating and for a while a vision of the same circle but in another more primitive time drifts in and out of my mind. In the vision, we were huddled close to a bonfire, also engrossed in some sort of conference. I smiled at the vision, noting its possibility.

The activity served a reunion of sorts for most of us. Old classmates, past collegues, members of the same network in the past quite eagerly made a "reconnection" then, rekindling old fires, reminding everyone of one's passion about development that have somehow ebbed over the years. For a moment I thought that day's activity was like a gathering of sorts in a waterhole, for some tired soul warriors to refresh themselves and replenish their weary selves after spending years and the most part of their lives working for Mindanao.

I sat there and I began to re-examine my recent pre-occupation about uprooting my family and moving on to some country to start our lives anew. I must admit I am being pulled in opposite directions nowadays. And I'm afraid the fire that used to light my spirit -- that had been the constant barometer for my decisions in the past -- would sometimes waver when I think about certain realities such as my son's future and my immediate family's direction in life.

I've had, had opportunities to get into some really serious conversations during lull moments at the meeting and at one point I felt an affirmation when I heard someone say, "Now I feel it's high time I think about working for my family and not just for Mindanao. Now, the kids are growing up, and demanding more time from me. I think it's high time that I start thinking for myself..."

I'll always be inlove with Mindanao. For some reason, I feel a special connection to this place. In my youth, I have known right away that my talents and gifts would be for Mindanao and not for some place else. I was never lured by the promises of great wealth and a more comfortable life that being in another country offers. I knew then where my passion lay and I was deadset about it. Up until now. During one of those conversations, I shared how I find it ironic how simple everything was to me in the past when my preoccupation had been that of the macro-perspective -- working for peace and development in Mindanao. Now, that I am forced to look into the micro-details of my life -- being a Mom and a wife -- I found out it's more complicated and time-consuming and more detail-oriented. There are just too many at stake where the latter is concerned. But yeah, I love both aspects of my life now.

If I could have my way, I'd love to chance upon a great windfall of money, where I could continue to work for my passion while at the same time be sure that my family and son will be well-provided for. For sure, I would like to bequeth to my son this passion I have about Mindanao. It's one unique quality that I love about myself and I would like to share that with him. I long for the day when I would be able to tag him along in one of those great causes for Mindanao. I long to teach him about peace, about love for nature, and for a heritage that is so rich but so unfortunately torn by so much unrest. I love my son dearly in the same way that I am so passionate about this land I call "home." I would love for him to share the same passion.