'The man who planted trees'

Philippine Daily Inquirer/OPINION/by Ma. Ceres P. Doyo

I wrote the piece below for this space 20 years ago, in 1991 (with a different title). I share this again to honor those who have been guarding our forests with their lives, in memory of the thousands (almost 2,000 dead and some 1,000 still missing) who perished in the Dec. 16 flash floods, landslides and log slides that roared into parts of Northern Mindanao and the Visayas, and in solidarity with the grieving, hungry, homeless and hopeless.

Tropical Storm “Sendong” is not entirely to blame. Earth watchers have been crying out in the wilderness, subsisting on the proverbial locusts and wild honey, unheeded in their own woebegone country.

While re-working this piece I was listening to the Enya album, “The Memory of Trees” and thinking of all the real Christmas trees out there that have protected us. I pray for brightness on the road ahead, “charged with the grandeur of God.”

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When you remembered that all this had sprung from the hands and the soul of this one man, without technical resources, you understood that men could be as effectual as God in other realms than that of destruction. —from “The Man Who Planted Trees”

A story I read as a little girl and which I remember very well to this day (in fact the copy is still preserved at home in the province) is that of Johnny Appleseed. I remember his saucepan of a cap, his bright eyes and the fistful of apple seeds he strew around wherever he went.

Children keep things in their hearts and remember even when they become adults. After these many years I still remember how good I felt reading that picture story in the Junior Classics Illustrated. How Johnny Appleseed made the bare fields bloom and when he was old, how he marveled at the work of his hands and how he died a happy man and how the birds in the apple trees chirped his name long after he was gone.

I remember as I go over this warm little book which my friend, a farmer, lent to me. The book, “The Man Who Planted Trees,” comes with audio (text and music) which can be played while one is reading the book. Listening and reading—slowly, meditatively—takes 40 minutes. (This is now on YouTube!) The story is by Jean Giono, the illustrations (such exquisite wood engravings) by Michael McCurdy. A noted French writer, Giono has written more than 30 novels. He died in 1970 at 75.

The name of the man who planted trees is Elzeard Bouffier. Giono said the purpose of his story “was to make people love the tree, or more precisely, to make them love planting trees.” Through Giono, we first meet Elzeard Bouffier before the outbreak of the First World War, then when the war is over, then again before the outbreak of the Second World War and finally at the end of it.

Giono, the storyteller, describes where he first met Bouffier: “About 40 years ago I was taking a long trip on foot over mountain heights quite unknown to tourists, in that ancient region where the Alps thrust down into Provence. All this, at the time I embarked upon my long walk through these deserted regions, was barren colorless land. Nothing grew there but wild lavender.”

In this god-forsaken land lived Bouffier, “a man of great simplicity and determination.” Bouffier, who had lost his wife and children, resettled in this desolate place in Southern France. With only his dog and sheep for company, he started his monumental work—planting a hundred acorns every day of his life.

It is Giono who tells us about the transformation of the region—from a once arid vastness into a verdant land bristling with promise. Alone, unaided and in complete anonymity, Bouffier planted and did not allow the cruel wars to interrupt what he was doing.

When Giono goes back after the wars this is what he sees: “Everything was changed. Even the air. Instead of the harsh dry winds that used to attack me, a gentle breeze was blowing, laden with scents. A sound like water came from the mountains; it was the wind in the forest. Most amazing of all, I heard the actual sound of water falling into a pool. I saw that a fountain had been built, that it flowed freely and—what touched me most—that someone had planted a linden beside it, a linden that must have been four years old, already in full leaf, the incontestable symbol of resurrection.

“When I reflect that one man, armed only with his own physical and moral resources, was able to cause this land of Canaan to spring from the wasteland, I am convinced that in spite of everything, humanity is admirable. But when I compute the unfailing greatness of spirit and the tenacity of benevolence that it must have taken to achieve this result, I am taken with an immense respect for that old and unlearned peasant who was able to complete a work worthy of God.”

Incidentally, among Giono’s countless works, “The Man Who Planted Trees” was the one that got into trouble with editors. So he sort of gave it away. Said he: “It is one of my stories of which I am the proudest. It does not bring me in one single penny and that is why it has accomplished what it was written for.” It has been translated into more than a dozen languages.

The book (printed on acid-free and recycled paper, of course) is published by Chelsea Green and Global ReLeaf, a group which aims to stop global warming by planting millions of trees. The two groups have put up the yearly Jean Giono Award for the best tree-planting effort by an individual.

Love that tree.

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Season of immense grieving, immense giving

Philippine Daily Inquirer/OPINION/by Ma. Ceres P. Doyo

Storm “Sendong” struck in the wee hours when most people were asleep. Weather experts and forecasters were stunned upon beholding the aftermath of Sendong’s force and fury. But it was not Sendong’s wrath from the sky alone that caused the destruction. Elements on the ground conspired—silted rivers and congested riverbanks, poor urban drainage systems, denuded forests. It was not all Sendong’s fault. There surely will be a time for fault-finding. It didn’t have to be as bad as this.

And yes, this had been predicted three years ago, foretold, if you may, not by armchair doomsday soothsayers, but by individuals and groups that have been working on the ground and using science so that the authorities and their constituencies could be forewarned and be prepared. They were laughed out of the room. (Read “Sendong disaster foretold 3 years ago” by Kristine L. Alave, Inquirer, 12/20/11.)

Everything in words has been said about the immensity of the grief of the people who survived last weekend’s calamity that visited the cities of Cagayan de Oro and Iligan as well as other Mindanao and Visayan areas. But there are not enough words.

Almost a thousand dead and countless still missing. The counting continues. The live images of devastation that stream on the TV screen, the still images on print, the wailing, the weeping. Dead people, dead animals, debris, mud, water, wreckage, decay. Hunger, thirst, disease, and worst of all, immeasurable loss. How to go on living when one’s loved ones have been suddenly swept away without warning, only to be found lifeless in the most unlikely places, disfigured and wrapped in sticky mud?

We think we have seen enough tragedies in this world. But sometimes our defenses are pulled away suddenly and we experience the rawness of it all. On TV one beholds a solitary mother squatting and cradling her muddied baby, limp and lifeless. There are no tears in her eyes, no words from her lips, but on her mouth is a frozen scream. You find yourself breaking into sobs.

Journalists don’t easily shed tears. Or we seldom do. Not when we are on coverage. There is a protective shield that we put between us and the subject matter before us so that we don’t cross the divide. The shield or armor could take the form of a tape recorder, a microphone, a camera, a notebook, a moving pen. The deadline. The press ID. These set us comfortably apart. And when everything is over, we think we can stand up and easily leave, leave behind all that we have caught in our electronic gadgets or on paper and proceed to write in isolation about the discomfiting scenes we have witnessed, the tearing grief, the despair.

But that is not always the case. There are times when one has to lay down one’s arms, so to speak, and simply listen and be there because that is the best way to catch it all (the journalist switching to another mode). Or because it is the human thing to do.

I recall the time I was at the Payatas dump right after it collapsed on hundreds of waste pickers and on hundreds of homes around it. That was in July 2000. The most heart-rending scene for me was not how the dead bodies were being pulled out one after another from under the foul heap. It was watching a man who was waiting for his dead mother, pregnant wife and child to be brought into the chapel. They were among the first to be found, placed in coffins and brought to the chapel near the dump.

There were no media people in the chapel except myself. Everybody was at the disaster site, waiting for more bodies to be retrieved. A small man in black T-shirt and slippers was standing alone by the chapel entrance, watching. Are they yours, I whispered. He nodded. I stood beside him. Then he began to sob softly. I squeezed his shoulder and turned around to wipe my face. I could not picture anything sadder.

There’s no saying how or when it will hit you. It might interest people to know that journalists also need to go through some post-traumatic stress management. You can’t be at the disaster site the whole time and not notice something crumbling inside you. A good cry is a good start, I assure you.

Stunned, confused and listless, we coast in a sea of pain this Christmas season. But the positive side of this is the quick reaction of ordinary people to find concrete ways to send assistance to our badly stricken fellow Filipinos. The government cannot do it all. The NGOs cannot do it all. The churches cannot do it all. It is individuals (with or without connections) who can make the difference. There is no need to say how. This is the time to be creative. I know families that have drastically simplified their Christmas feasting in order to share with those who are disconsolate and need healing.

The grief is immense, but the ocean inside of us holds immense gifts waiting to be shared. For those who have given up their best and given till it hurt to those who have lost everything, this is your moment, your most meaningful Christmas yet.

Makabuluhan at makahulugang Pasko sa inyong lahat. May Jesus’ peace overwhelm and surprise you when you least expect it. Come, Wondrous Healer!

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'Dominus est!"

Philippine Daily Inquirer/OPINION/by Ma. Ceres P. Doyo

“But in our weariness the Lord comes.” That is a quote from the homily of newly installed Manila Archbishop Luis Antonio G. Tagle DD delivered on Dec. 12 at the Manila Cathedral.

At that moment of recognition, at that moment when we finally see clearly, we gasp in awe, “It is the Lord!” Dominus est! This exclamation, Tagle reminds us, is drawn from the Risen Christ’s appearance to some of his weary disciples at the Sea of Tiberias. It is, I must say, one of the most dramatic post-Resurrection scenes in the Bible. “Dominus est!” is Tagle’s episcopal motto.

We are a long way from Eastertide. We are in the Advent season of waiting and crying out, “Maranatha!” But somehow, “Dominus est” seems apropos in this time of weary waiting.

The announcement on the papal appointment of Tagle, 54, as head of the Philippines’ most prominent archdiocese and his installation last Monday was among the few pleasant news events this Advent season. And so we gratefully say goodbye to retiring Archbishop Gaudencio Rosales who is known for his gentle leadership and love for the poor.

For weeks now we have been barraged with unsettling news that put us on edge and in near despair. Even as we embark on seeking justice for past wrongs done by the powerful, even as we long to see evildoers pay for their evil deeds, so many roadblocks are placed along the way. Will the big fish get away?

While Tagle’s homily does not allude to the recent events and the eye-popping live TV moments that showed judicial processes being carried out, I cannot help but find messages between the lines. Seven disciples of Jesus go out to sea to fish but catch nothing after a whole night’s work. And then a stranger appears from nowhere and tells them to cast their nets on the other side of the boat. Tired, despondent and half-believing, the disciples do as they are told and get the catch of their lives. “It is the Lord!” And the stranger is stranger no more.

Are we finally seeing a big catch of big fish? Are we now seeing the day when the corrupt, the cheaters and the betrayers of our trust go through the process of intense purification? They know what they have done and will be hard put justifying their deeds. Why, why the insatiable greed for power and wealth? Why couldn’t they ever have enough? Why didn’t they learn from the sorry fate of their predecessors? Did they think the power and the glory would last forever? What did they learn in kindergarten?

Tagle reminds us: “Human efforts should continue but unless the Lord directs the catch, we labor in vain. We know that the Lord guards His Church. He keeps watch with us on those long nights of confusion and helplessness in mission. When in spite of our good intentions and efforts there are still multitudes of hungry people we cannot feed, homeless people we cannot shelter, battered women and children we cannot protect, cases of corruption and injustice that we cannot remedy, the long night of the disciples in the middle of the sea continues in us. Then we grow in compassion toward our neighbors whose lives seem to be a never ending dark night.

“But in our weariness the Lord comes.”

The day of reckoning has come. Now that the highest court of the land is under the harsh light of scrutiny as it has never been in the past, now that the judicial system is under a cloud of doubt, we must sit tight and watch actively so that justice is not derailed. The impeachment of Chief Justice Renato Corona, chief ally of former President and now Pampanga Rep. Gloria M. Arroyo who is currently under hospital arrest, and the filing of charges of electoral sabotage against former Comelec Chair Benjamin Abalos augur well for those of us who have long despaired over the seeming impunity of those who have wronged us and made fools of us.

If you want to better understand the workings of the Supreme Court in the shadows, a book to read (and give this Christmas) is Marites Danguilan-Vitug’s best-selling “Shadow of Doubt: Probing the Supreme Court” (Newsbreak, 2010).

Reveals Vitug: “When I started to report on the Philippine Supreme Court in 2007 for Newsbreak magazine, I was intrigued—and challenged—by its culture of secrecy and its strong system of hierarchy. I couldn’t know then that three years later a book I wrote to help chisel away at the Court’s wall of secrecy would confirm the Court’s formidable power and its spheres of influence when the publication and distribution of my book were halted.”

The entire judiciary, Vitug says, composed of about 2,000 judges, thousands of court personnel, and headed by the Supreme Court, is cloaked in this secretive culture. It is vastly different from its co-equal branches—the Executive Department and Congress—where Cabinet officials, senators and congressmen freely talk to the media.

“The Supreme Court is in a league of its own with justices who are unelected,” Vitug explains. “During the past administration (2001-2010) they’ve been appointed more for their loyalty to the president (Arroyo) than merit, and they serve until they reach the age of 70.

“The book I wrote, ‘Shadow of Doubt: Probing the Supreme Court’, opened a window on the Supreme Court’s inner workings. It was the first of its kind in the Philippines. The investigative reporting I did to write it revealed the ethical violations of justices and the book examined politicized appointments.”

Vitug, a dear friend since the oppressive martial law years, has several libel suits filed against her by a justice of the Supreme Court. Her book is available at Fully Booked, Solidaridad and Popular Bookstore.

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25 Years: Nobody told me it'd be like this

Philippine Daily Inquirer/OPINION/by Ma. Ceres P. Doyo

Twenty-five years and some 2,000 feature articles, special/investigative reports, and column pieces later, here I am still asking: Why didn’t anyone tell me it would be like this?

I’ve had an amazing time. Amazing, meaning I have been privy to so many things of this world that other mortals are not because “they are not there.” Oh “to be there” where people live and die, feast and famish, laugh and cry, to be there where events unfold and to watch history leave its tracks behind for us to decipher and to be sometimes awed and humbled enough to make us fall on our knees in thanksgiving and sometimes in mourning.

To be there where the heavens opened and hell broke loose. To watch great lives, small lives, dirty lives, fascinating lives, beautiful lives, incredible lives rise and fall, bloom, break into a thousand pieces or become whole again.

On Wednesday, 44 employees, I among them, were honored for 25 years of service to the Philippine Daily Inquirer and its mission. We are this year’s Silvers. Also honored were those who have completed 20, 15 and 10 years with the Inquirer. For every milestone, the Inquirer gifts us with a precious token in gold—real gold. And more.

Dec. 9, 1985 is the actual founding date of the Inquirer, now the country’s biggest in circulation and with a staggering global reach. So Friday is the Inquirer’s 26th anniversary. I’ve been with the Inquirer for 25 years and nine months. I joined on March 5, 1986, a few days after the People Power Revolution that toppled the Marcos dictatorship. Before that, I had already been contributing articles to the Inquirer, a new kid on the block then, and also to its feisty sister, the weekly Mr. & Ms. Special Edition (published by Eggie Apostol and edited by Letty J. Magsanoc) and to the so-called “alternative/mosquito press.” These publications played a huge role in bringing down the dictatorship.

We had paid a price for all that daring. And a price we also later demanded. Last February, a number of us in the press got our first taste of justice in the form of initial compensation from the Marcos estate. We were among the almost 10,000 victims of human rights violations who had filed a class suit against the Marcoses. But that is another story.

A day after the 1986 February Revolution, I received a call from Letty Magsanoc. I was asked to join the Sunday magazine of the three-month-old Inquirer. “You start tomorrow,” she told me. And I was to fly to Leyte right away to look into the fabulous treasures left behind by Imelda Marcos who would have been turned into tiny bits by the mob that descended on Malacañang Palace had she not fled on time.

Although I was a feature writer for the magazine, I also wrote occasionally for the daily. In 1995, I asked to move to the daily so I could write more investigative and special reports. Just recently, I asked to be transferred back to the magazine, although I could also still write features for the daily. I began writing this weekly column, Human Face, in the Opinion section, in July 1991.

It’s been a fantabulous 25 years. I would not have met people so diverse and strange and beautiful and ugly had I stayed in a previous career in psychology or lived a vowed life in the convent. From behavioral science and a vowed life to full-time journalism? It was an easy shift. The reason is obvious.

The 25 years are gently crashing in slow-mo on me now, chasing me all over again. There are stories I consider significant, not because they won honors or anything (like prize money) but because I thought they were high in excitement, danger, the human factor. Or simply because I relished doing them, period. Whether or not people loved or hated me for writing them is another story.

Nobody but nobody told me I’d be climbing mountains and bathing in freezing rivers. Nobody told me I’d be meeting with armed men and women who had spent away their youth and their dreams in uncharted jungles. Nobody told me I’d be able to talk to the powerful and the mighty as well as to the poorest and the most forgotten of the land. Nobody told me that I’d mingle with people who were the epitome of saintliness or that I’d one day come face to face with a 17-time assassin who would tell me his life story.

Nobody told me people would entrust to me their ugly secrets and their deadly sins. Nobody told me I’d confront a snake and slip on a mountain slope on my way to meeting forest dwellers who spoke in songs.

Nobody told me I’d be dining with generals, politicians and movie stars; or that I’d be sleeping with prostitutes and embracing AIDS-stricken women. Nobody told me I’d have to track down members of a death squad and break bread with them. Nobody told me one of my stories would become a multi-awarded blockbuster movie. Nobody told me I’d be watching up close a convicted rapist die by lethal injection.

I’ve learned about the sex lives of the very poor as well as the proclivities of the rich, and that the most obnoxious could be likable and the most attractive reek of bad odor. I’ve learned that people in the hinterlands read the Inquirer. I’ve been honored and praised. I’ve been rebuked and reviled. I am astonished that students are doing theses on my works. (Tip: A lot of my stuff are at the Ateneo Library of Women’s Writings.)

A great and sobering adventure it has been.

Every now and then I’d turn out some literary gems (or so they tell me!). But many are rough shards of so many lives, events and places. What does it matter, I would say, I was there, others were not. And doing the stories gave me great times—of terror and joy and sadness and fun.

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Bukid Kabataan: A place to be strong, to belong

Sunday Inquirer Magazine/FEATURES/by Ma. Ceres P. Doyo

The happy shrieks of children blend with the sonorous mooing of the cows. The striking green of the fields compete with the blueness of the sky. The patter of little feet, the chorus of voices in the classrooms, the rising of the nuns’ chanted prayers at eventide…

Space, quiet, fresh air, dew on the grass, good food, warm arms and the healing embrace of nature. But here above all, is the child, the child who needs to become whole again.

Bukid Kabataan Center (BK), which means children’s farm, is a special place, a home for children who have never known one or who had watched theirs fall apart. Here they slowly claim their stolen childhood, name their pain and bind their wounds with the help of caring adults.

The children vibrate with energy, laughter and songs. But behind the innocent eyes and carefree mien is deep pain that these children are helped to confront. There are bright moments and bad moments. There is a time to drink the sun and a time to weep oceans.

At 9, Melan (not her real name) had already decided for herself how to fix her life, step out of her trauma and move on. Raped repeatedly by her grandfather and ostracized by her family because she was going to make a case of it in court (with help from legal and social services), she found herself in a bind.

Then Melan made a dramatic bargain. She would not testify so that the case against her abuser would be dropped – but on condition that she would never be returned to her family or next of kin, and that her family should release her for legal adoption.

It took some time for Melan’s desire to come true. BK became Melan’s home and school for a couple of years while the adoption process was ongoing, which included matching, visitation, counseling and other legalities.

Melan’s adoptive family came to BK recently to finally take her with them to her new home abroad. She had eagerly waited for this moment to happen, and when it did, BK came alive. A child was on her way to healing, and most of all, to a home.

Considered a foundling, Jassie was about 6 when social workers brought her to BK. She remembers carrying a small bag with some clothes and going to a church with her father. Jassie’s father told her to wait there while he completed some errands. Night fell but Jassie’s father never returned.

A security guard took pity on Jassie and took her home. Every day for several days, the guard brought back Jassie to the church in the hope that her father would return. But he never did. Because he could not afford to take in a child, the guard put Jassie in the care of a family whom he thought would be caring enough. But things did not work out and Jassie again found herself abandoned on some wayside.

A young boy is repeatedly beaten up by his stepfather, a prepubescent girl is rescued from prostitution. The children’s stories about their young lives sound like they come straight out of a tearjerker telenovela, except that they are not a scriptwriter’s imaginings. They are real – and one can only gasp in shock.

Bukid Kabataan is a special ministry of the Religious of the Good Shepherd (RGS) that serves children who have been physically and sexually abused, neglected and abandoned. BK’s services are inspired by the charity and compassion of Jesus the Good Shepherd and are directed towards the healing and total development of both male and female children (aged 6 to 16 more or less).

The ministry looks after the physical, mental, emotional, social and spiritual well-being of those it serves so that they, despite their tortured past, may become enabled and productive members of society. The RGS’ work in BK is in line with the congregation’s thrust towards justice, peace and integrity of creation and special care for women.

Founded in France in 1835 by Saint Mary Euphrasia Pelletier, the Good Shepherd Sisters came to the Philippines in 1912. The mission of the RGS, one of the largest women’s congregations in the world, is “directed to the most neglected and marginalized, in whom the image of God is most obscure.”

BK had its beginnings in 1983 as the Morning Glory Program (MGP) of the Archdiocese of Manila/Caritas Manila and with Good Shepherd Sisters running it. The land on which the MGP set up its ministry was donated by Msgr. Francisco Tantoco, a priest of the Archdiocese of Manila. MGP and BK have since undergone several reorganizations until the Good Shepherd Sisters fully took over in 2000, with Sr. Mercy Ang, RGS at the helm. The Department of Social Welfare and Development then gave it accreditation as a residential child-caring institution.

In BK, children are provided not just food, shelter and clothing but also individual care, education and counseling/therapy. Values and a sense of family and community are inculcated in them. BK hopes to reconcile the children with their parents, but only after a proper home environment is ensured. For some children, however, there may be no homecoming ever.

Located in Sitio (sub-village) de Fuego, Barangay (village) San Francisco, General Trias, Cavite, BK is about two and a half hours’ drive from Manila. The spacious farm setting of 6.5 hectares makes it conducive to healing. Affluent adults have so-called spas for the soul, so why not something similar for poor, wounded children?

The words nature therapy or eco-therapy may have yet to make it big in psychology books and become mainstream, but it is already vicariously being experienced in BK even as empirical data on its efficacy have yet to come in.

Presently assigned in BK are three Good Shepherd Sisters. Sr. Gemma Dinglasan, RGS is superior and program director, while Sr. Myra Luna Atian, RGS and Sr. Erlin Bacol, RGS are residence coordinators. They are assisted by a team that consists of social workers (for case management, records, visits and counseling), house parents, teachers, household staff, farm workers, a driver as well as occasional volunteers.

BK offers elementary schooling from Grades 1 to 6 within the compound. A child is allowed a maximum stay of three years, but exceptional cases are given consideration. An after-care program, educational assistance and family counseling are provided for those who have moved on.

Sister Gemma says that the children take to gardening work without much prodding and head for the gardens after classes. Closely supervised by farm workers, they eagerly tend the plots and love to watch the seedlings grow. Harvesting gives them a thrill.

In BK are 17 big greenhouses built by the “Halaman sa mga Simbahan” program of the Department of Agriculture. Bishop Luis Tagle of the Diocese of Imus (Cavite) – who will be installed as Archbishop of Manila on December 12 – was instrumental in getting this done. Vegetables are grown organically, that is, without chemical fertilizers and pesticides. Organic fertilizers are produced right there and vermiculture (cultivating earthworms) is now in place. The farm produce provides BK with healthy meals and some income.

The children have become appreciative and protective of the natural environment. “One time,” Sr. Gemma recounts, “a child questioned the cutting of some trees. We had to explain the reason behind it and assure him that for every tree that was cut, a dozen or so were planted.”

At one time BK had more than 50 children in its care. Right now there are 39, still quite a handful if one considers the complexity of each case. They could test one’s patience and endurance. Tantrums and mischief are not rare. Sr. Gemma remembers the time she had to chase a bunch of them. Out of breath and not able to catch up, she blacked out and fell to the ground. When she came to she found herself surrounded by children weeping and cradling her in their arms. “They were saying, ‘Sister, sorry po, di na uulitin.’” Sr. Gemma laughs about it now.

“You can tell when it’s gagamba [spider] season,” Sr. Erlin chuckles, “you’d see them carrying around toothpaste boxes.”

But climbing trees is a no-no. Well, why not try the rooftop?

The sisters and staff know every trick in the book and are a step ahead of their wards. When things go awry, a friendly cop is called in to teach the kids that they can’t get away with fist fights. A punching bag is hung for those who need to express their rage. Regular group sessions are held to resolve conflicts or for the children to pick up gems from the Bible. One child had his own profound reflection on Jesus’ going away to rest.

In her years in BK, Sr. Gemma has not known of a child who has tried to escape. “Oh, they love it here,” the nuns say. For these women, the work is very difficult but rewarding.

And how does BK survive? Sister’s quick answer: by God’s providence. There is no steady source of funds (none from the government or foreign funders), but somehow BK continues to thrive on the kindness of low-key donors and even strangers. (Those interested to help can contact BK at tel. no. 046-5093009.)

For those who have issues with the Catholic Church or Christianity in general because of the failures and transgressions of its leaders, the quiet work of mercy and compassion in BK provides a different, more reassuring image of the Church.

“Pasasalamat ay alaala ng puso [Gratitude is the memory of the heart],” a popular saying from Sr. Mary Euphrasia, is now a line from a song that the children of BK often sing. It goes with the heart-rending refrain, “Pamilyang nawala, dito namin natagpuan (The family that we lost, we have found here).”

Their voices rise to a crescendo and their hearts cry out, “To be strong, to belong.” •

Gawad Kalinga's European tour of hope

Philippine Daily Inquirer/OPINION/by Ma. Ceres P. Doyo

As stories about corruption, crime and violence continue to hog the limelight like telenovelas gone awry, we become filled with disgust and search for answers to the question, how have we come to this? But out there are countless stories of hope that remain untold simply because we choose to look at the noisier, bloodier, sexier, more scandalous and titillating side of things.

I recently spoke with Antonio Meloto, founder of Gawad Kalinga (GK), RM Awardee and Inquirer’s 2006 Filipino of the Year and felt a surge of hope. I have written several stories about him and GK, some written long before accolades were heaped on them. The recent one I did was on GK’s Enchanted Farm in Angat, Bulacan, which is a showcase and center for social innovation (CSI). The center is part of GK’s second phase: a 21-year vision with a road map towards a First World Philippines.

There, nestled on 14 hectares of verdant, undulating terrain is a farm, home, village and “university” rolled into one, where people’s dreams and ideas are put to the test, made to grow and become realities.

Many European students and volunteers have spent time not only at the Enchanted Farm but also in remote GK villages where they lived the life of the locals. They brought home with them amazing stories of Filipino resilience, innovation and hope.

When Meloto recently did a hectic tour of 17 universities in France and England, he was met with great enthusiasm. Among those he visited were Oxford, Cambridge, Leeds and Sorbonne. Students, academics, social scientists and regular folk wanted to know more about GK and hear it straight from Meloto.

Meloto’s European tour was arranged by Olivier Girault, an executive of Orange Telecom, who has great affection for the Philippines and deep compassion for the poor. For Meloto to cope with the backbreaking schedule, Girault put Meloto on an “8888 formula: 8 hours of sleep and 8 glasses of water daily; 8 speeches and 8 meetings a week.”

Meloto shared with me his reflections on his university tour. Waxing Shakespearean, he said, “From France to England, GK smells as sweet.” That trip, he said in one breath, was part of “my continuing journey of hope for the world to see the Philippines as the next miracle of Asia and for our people to discover the awesome gift from God and the amazing privilege of being Filipino today.”

I now let Meloto speak in his own words. If you want the whole transcript, send me an e-mail.

“I was in England and France for a speaking tour of 17 business, management and development schools. I spoke about hope in our bottom-of-the-pyramid initiative called Gawad Kalinga and its social business offspring, Human Nature.

“French President Nicolas Sarkozy spoke pro-actively about austerity to students at Strasbourg University on Nov. 8, in the country that invented many global luxury brands. He spoke about depression in the morning; I spoke about hope in the afternoon in the same event.

“The mostly young audiences were eager to hear about innovations and new horizons in the Philippines as they face a fast-changing world where an emerging Asian dragon is offering debt relief to former masters from the West.

“Social entrepreneurs are fascinated with GK’s capacity to achieve scale with its 2,000 communities built to date and its audacious goal to end poverty for 5 million Filipino families by 2024, adopting a nation-building strategy anchored on the politics of caring and the economics of sharing, while working with both the government and the business sector.

“Last year’s award for GK and me as Social Entrepreneur (from Ernst & Young, Schwab Foundation and the World Economic Forum), and the same award this year given to my daughters Anna and Camille (for Human Nature products) simply affirm that we might be going in the right path in creating a template for merging philanthropy and profit in order to do the most good.

“Before GK, many did not know where the Philippines was on the map. Now our country is becoming a popular destination for internship and social immersion, in a cultural setting where Europeans learn to count their blessings and smile with happy people who seem oblivious to suffering.

“This year we had over 100 European interns doing mostly an average stay of six to eight weeks, doing humanitarian service or supporting a social enterprise in a GK village and a week off to enjoy the white beaches…

“They are the most inspiring visitors any country can have. They dug ditches, painted houses, played with the children and loved their adopted families, calling the parents Nanay and Tatay. Thousands more are expected to come soon. We already have a long list of applicants for next year’s summer program, including 33 MBA students.

“There was something remarkable in the responses of future decision-makers from (all the institutions I visited) in the face of present uncertainties and troubles caused by the mistakes of past generations. They were polite and asked questions that showed a great desire to be game-changers for their future to be brighter and their world safer.

“Many now want to pursue causes, not just careers, their lives measured by value added to others, not only money earned for self. To seek happiness in people, not just pleasure in things.

“It is best to discover the Philippines early as the rising star of Asia in beauty, social innovation and hospitality; consider it as a wise destination and (place) to invest in while opportunities abound, (and) make it … home and be part of its ascent in the community of nations.

“I quote Florence, a French intern at the GK Enchanted Farm: ‘The saddest day of my life was coming home to France after learning to be happy in my village in the Philippines.’”

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Filep Karma, prisoner of conscience

Philippine Daily Inquirer/OPINION/by Ma. Ceres P. Doyo

Again, to explain: The columnists’ mug shots show closed eyes this entire week, our way of proclaiming solidarity with victims of crimes and their families who have doubly suffered because of the culture of impunity which has allowed those guilty to remain unpunished or to be above the law. This week also marks the second anniversary of the massacre of 58 innocents, 32 of them media practitioners, which happened in Ampatuan, Maguindanao. Although some masterminds and other suspects are now behind bars, the judicial process proceeds at a slow pace and the families of the victims have yet to get the justice they are crying for.

We close our eyes to pray, reflect and remember.

And while we continue to keep vigil for our suffering fellow Filipinos, it is also fitting that we take up the plight of our immediate neighbors. An Indonesian journalist, who now works for Human Rights Watch and specializes in human rights abuses in West Papua, asked me if I could spare some space for a Papuan political prisoner. (We met in East Timor in 1995.Our Filipino group and several foreign Human Rights Watch workers were, at that time, among those hastily kicked out of the island after our presence was discovered by Indonesian intelligence.)

The man of the hour is Filep Karma, proudly Papuan (but with Indonesian citizenship), who has been languishing in jail for some six years because he expressed his desire to see his fellow Papuans and his homeland free from Indonesian rule.

Last week, Karma won his legal case in the United Nations Working Group on Arbitrary Detention. Karma, sometimes called “the Nelson Mandela of West Papua,” is probably the most well-known political prisoner in Indonesia. It used to be Xanana Gusmao, whose case I had followed and whom I had written about during Timor Leste’s protracted bloody struggle to gain independence from Indonesia. Heavily tortured while in prison, Gusmao would later become the first president of his new country. I wept upon seeing their flag raised for the first time.

It is now West Papua’s turn to be heard. Karma is the voice of a people’s hope for freedom. Karma is detained at the Abepura prison in Jayapura. He wishes his Filipino friends and alma mater to know about his plight and take up his cause. Karma lived in the Philippines from 1997 to 1998 while studying at the Asian Institute of Management in Makati.

Karma was thrown into prison on Dec. 1, 2004, after he raised high the Papuan Morning Star flag at a political rally that commemorated the Papuans’ independence from Dutch rule.

Karma, who has explicitly denounced the use of violence, was convicted for crimes of hostility against the state and sedition. He is now serving a 15-year sentence despite calls for his release from NGOs and government officials. He is suffering from a prostate problem.

Karma recently won his case before the UN Working Group with the help of his pro bono lawyers from Freedom Now, a Washington-based NGO which also represents Nobel Peace Prize laureate Liu Xiaobo of China. The same group represented Aung San Suu Kyi of Burma.

Freedom Now executive director Maran Turner stated: “The UN Working Group on Arbitrary Detention has found Indonesia’s actions a clear violation of international law. Mr. Karma is a non-violent advocate who was arrested for his views and convicted in a trial marred by judicial bias, denial of appeal without reason, and intimidation tactics.”

Freedom Now said that the UN Working Group had determined that Karma’s arrest was due to his exercise of the fundamental rights of freedom of expression, peaceful assembly and association. The UN group said that the provisions used to convict and detain Karma (which cited “feelings of hate”) were “drafted in such general and vague terms that they can be used arbitrarily to restrict the freedoms of opinion, expression, assembly and association.”

Karma’s detention violates the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, a multi-party treaty by which Indonesia is bound, as well as the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.

In August 2011, 26 members of the US Congress urged Indonesian President Susilo Yudhoyono to release Karma. In 2008, 40 members of Congress signed a similar petition. US President Barack Obama’s presence at last week’s 2011 Asean Summit in Bali, Indonesia, raised some hopes that human rights discussions might take place.

Last year Human Rights Watch issued a 43-page report, “Prosecuting Political Aspiration: Indonesia’s Political Prisoners,” which criticized the arrest and prosecution of activists who peacefully raised banned symbols such as the Papuan Morning Star and the South Moluccan RMS flags. The report also gave details of torture of prisoners.

A backgrounder: The Indonesian provinces of Papua and West Papua, sometimes collectively called Papua, are on the western half of the island of New Guinea. Unlike the rest of Indonesia, which became independent in 1945, Papua was under Dutch control until the 1960s. On Dec. 1, 1961, the Papuan Council, a body sponsored by the Dutch colonial authorities, declared that the Papuan people were ready to create a sovereign state, and issued a national flag called the Morning Star. Indonesian President Sukarno accused the Dutch of creating a puppet state and ordered his troops to invade Papua. In a 1959 referendum, 1,054 hand-picked Papuans gave their unanimous yes to join Indonesia. Many Papuans called this a fraudulent justification for Indonesia’s annexation of Papua.

Every Dec. 1, supporters of the Free Papua Movement raise the Papuan Morning Star.

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Smokey Mountain's rainwater eco-laundromat

Philippine Daily Inquirer/OPINION/by Ma. Ceres P. Doyo

Smokey Mountain, the internationally known garbage dump that the media, social scientists, activists, environmental advocates, politicians and religious groups had so often visited, is no more, but the name, the symbol, the actual spot remains. For a long time, many visitors who experienced the shocking poverty and amazing endurance of those who earned their living through scavenging there had hoped that Smokey Mountain, this shameful symbol of Philippine misery, would vanish, if not transmogrify into something else.

Well, it did, thanks to the efforts of many concerned groups, individuals and the government. Tondo’s Smokey Mountain, the garage dump, is no more. The story of its transformation, the stories about the lives of the people who once lived on garbage could fill books. (There is a coffee-table book.) Where once there was a dump whose toxic fumes quietly killed many, there are now some two dozen five-story tenement buildings that house more than 2,000 families.

But the place is far from pleasant because poverty is still the lot of those who live there. Many of the residents still thrive on garbage, but now in a more organized, ecologically friendly way. Now in place is a materials recovery facility (MRF) where useful garbage (collected from institutions, homes, streets) are deposited, classified and segregated.

Last week I was in what used to be the Smokey Mountain dump. The last time I was on Smokey Mountain was when it was still a garbage mountain. Many “alternative” activities had been done there in the past, like exposure trips for visiting NGOs and the like. I remember joining a Holy Week Stations of the Cross there, organized by a militant church group immersed among the urban poor. At the end of the para-liturgy, Jesus Christ’s cross was fittingly planted on top of the dump. That gave us a feel of Calvary cum deadly fumes.

Today there is still a small portion of the mound that remains unleveled, but it is covered with grass, shrubs and some trees. The sad thing is that poor families are starting to set up homes there. There’s still a lot that can be scavenged and excavated, I was told, like pieces of wood that can be turned into charcoal. In fact, many are now into charcoal-making, a very unhealthy and environmentally damaging endeavor that needs to be checked. Young children who help out emerge from their smoke-filled lean-tos looking like troll dolls covered with soot. I hope to go back there to check things out.

So what bright spot am I talking about?

Inaugurated and blessed last week was the Smokey Mountain Eco-Laundromat Service Center. Anita Celdran, director of Sustainable Project Management (SPM), invited me over. SPM is into “innovative partnerships for sustainable development and poverty reduction.” The Laundromat is a pilot project of SPM in collaboration with Juniclair Foundation, Wise philanthropy advisors and with the full support of the community and private and government agencies. It was constructed following sound ecological principles.

Have you ever visited a depressed urban community? While traversing the narrow alleys you would notice women squatting in front of wash basins. They are washing, washing, washing all day notwithstanding the scarcity and high cost of water in their areas (more than five times what we pay for). One can’t help thinking, is that all the women do all day long? So backbreaking and time-consuming.

In 2008, SPM conducted a survey among Smokey Mountain residents and found that laundry was one of their most time- and money-consuming activities. Washing could only be done on the first floor of their low-income buildings and the clothes hung to dry along corridors. Laundering costs about P1,200 monthly per family. All that time and the money could be better spent on income-generating livelihoods.

Philippine Daily Inquirer/OPINION/by Ma. Ceres P.

And so SPM assisted the residents in putting up the first pilot laundromat on the ground floor of Building 24, Paradise Heights, Smokey Mountain. The laundromat will charge about half of what families would normally spend on their laundry and cheaper than a commercial laundromat.

This rain-fed laundromat is not only cost-effective, it is also environmentally sustainable. Designed by architect Clifford Espinosa, the laundromat has energy-efficient washing machines that will run for three hours a day. A “green architect,” Espinosa used eco-friendly materials for roofing and cooling purposes. The laundromat uses water collected from SPM’s Rainwater Harvesting Project. The captured water is filtered before it goes to the cistern underneath the laundromat. Only biodegradable detergents are used. The soapy water is then filtered and safely disposed of.

Another unique feature of this undertaking is the community’s major stake in it. The residents of the building where the Laundromat is located are organized into a cooperative so that they can manage this micro-enterprise. The income generated goes to building maintenance and other projects. The one in Building 24 is just the first of several that SPM and the residents of Smokey Mountain are planning. Joyet Castor, SPM’s indefatigable project coordinator, has her hands full.

Soon to rise is the parish church building which, Espinosa promises, will be of green architecture. The ground level structure which houses the Samahang Muling Pagkabuhay Cooperative is already there but the church building itself has yet to take shape. I couldn’t help remembering the Stations of the Cross and the trek to Calvary we did on the site many years ago. Now the place is called the Parish of the Risen Lord.

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Crime, showbiz, politics and 'other families'

Philippine Daily Inquirer/OPINION/by Ma. Ceres P. Doyo

Also guns, money, power and treachery. They make for a long-running telenovela.

The only telenovela I ever followed closely was “Falcon Crest,” which ended in the 1990s. The plot got so corny and convoluted toward the end that I lost my interest in the final episodes. That’s why I don’t remember how it ended. I only remember the earthquake that rocked the wine valley.

That was before Mexican telenovelas became so popular and addictive here. After the success of “Mari Mar,” Philippine TV networks imported more of them and the rest is history. Locally produced Filipino teleseryes are now here to stay and competing with Korean soaps almost all hours of the day and night. This phenomenon is a great subject for social researchers.

And now a true-to-life teleserye unfolds in the media, with the Revilla/Bautista clan in the limelight. For about two weeks now, the hourly news and the daily newspapers have been “serializing” the progress in the investigation of the crime that rocked a known political and showbiz clan of Cavite.

The plot and subplots are getting more and more interesting as characters past and present, dead and living, are woven into the story. There should be more to come in the form of flashbacks and fast-forwards. One thing about this real-life teleserye is that it serves up surprise after surprise every step of the way. Those who have been following the developments from Day One can’t seem to have enough of the twists and turns in the plot. A scriptwriter of fiction would be amazed at how this true story is unfolding.

The main plot is the fatal shooting and stabbing last Oct. 28 of Ramgen Bautista, 23, eldest of nine children of action star-turned-senator Ramon Revilla Sr. (Bautista in real life), aged 80 or so, and one-time showbiz aspirant Genelyn Magsaysay, now 42. Shot in the face was Ramgen’s girlfriend, showbiz aspirant Janelle Manahan, now recuperating in the hospital. The crime, carried out by an assailant wearing a Halloween mask, happened in Ramgen’s bedroom, in the Bautistas’ BF Homes residence. Among the main suspects are Ramgen’s two younger siblings, Ramona, 22, and RJ, 18. Ramona has since left the country and was supposedly headed for Turkey via Hong Kong. She’s said to be married to a Turkish national. RJ is in jail. Dispute over money is eyed as the cause of it all.

These Bautistas are “the other family” of Revilla Sr. He built them a big home and provided regular financial support, reportedly in the millions. Who knows how many “other families” he has out there? And will they soon come out of the woodwork? Revilla Sr. is said to have sired 70-plus offspring, some 30 of whom have been recognized. The numbers vary.

The legal family is the one to whom action star and Sen. Ramon “Bong” Revilla Jr., Mayor Strike Revilla and several other siblings belong. Their mother was Azucena Mortel, who died in 1998. Not too long ago these show biz and political Revillas had their own family dramas (an errant sis, unplanned pregnancies) unfolding in the media, but that is another story. Though not the eldest, Senator Bong, married to actress and now Rep. Lani Mercado, seems to be the de facto paterfamilias after the older Revilla became wheelchair-bound. Genelyn is obviously hostile to her senator-stepson, who is much older than she is.

But Genelyn is a story by herself. Some days ago I visited her Facebook account and saw a lot of photos of her, Revilla Sr. (whom she refers to as “Don Ramon”) and their brood of nine in happier times. One shows the aging Revilla Sr. in bed with his young children crawling over him. Genelyn looks like one of his children.

In FB, Genelyn does not hide the fact that her father was the late Sen. Genaro “Gene” Magsaysay, brother of the late charismatic President Ramon Magsaysay. Her father’s photo is posted on FB and so is her photo with cousin Sen. Ramon “Jun” Magsaysay. Genelyn’s mother is former one-time showbiz person Lyn Madrigal. And so the name Genelyn. Senator Gene’s “other family,” they may be called. So many Ramons in Genelyn’s life. She is in the lineage of a political clan. What genes, I thought. How did she and her brood come to this?

Genelyn first emerged as a distraught mother whose eldest son was killed and two of her children implicated in the murder. Rolly polly and looking frumpy, she had yet to compose herself. She was far from showbiz-looking and was many kilos heavier than the comely showbiz teener shown in her FB photo gallery.

But later, after her son’s funeral, with a son in detention and a daughter at large (she also has a son in the Philippine Military Academy), she would come out with guns blazing against Senator Bong, a development that puzzled many. She reminded me of the title of the latest teleserye “Sa Ngalan ng Ina” (In the Name of the Mother) starring Nora Aunor (which I tried watching for a week), which is also about family feuds, crime, death money, treachery, jealousy, dirty schemes, etc.

And so the latest real-life telesersye about the rich and the famous continues to unravel before us. I have written several long series on high-profile crimes (death, drugs, guns, high society) in the past and I can say that the Revilla/Bautista story is one for the books in terms of plot and characters. Horatio Caine (David Caruso) and his team of detectives and forensic scientists in “CSI: Miami” would have their hands full with this case. It would elicit from Caine unforgettable sunglasses moments and one-liners. How about, “We’re going to Cavite?”

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He sees dead people & they confess to him

Sunday Inquirer Magazine/FEATURES/by Ma. Ceres P. Doyo

At three o’clock in the morning, while the world sleeps, troubled souls rouse this priest to relay important messages or confess their sins so they can move on gently and finally to eternity. The otherworldly messengers include Navy officer Phillip Pestaño who came back to tell the world that his death was not a suicide as some officials would have us believe. Another group of souls gathered by the priest’s bedside and told him they were victims of the 2009 Maguindanao massacre.

The apparitions initially puzzled Fr. Efren Borromeo of the Society of Our Lady of the Trinity (SOLT). Affectionately called Fr. Momoy by Bicol folk, he thought it was just one of those things. “I was reluctant to recognize it,” he says. “I know saints have soul visitations, but I am not a saint!”

Ghostbuster, spirit questor or saint, the label doesn’t matter. People whose lives he has touched agree that Fr. Momoy has the gift of healing the sick and seeing souls. He also has the ability to see through human bodies and reveal with uncanny accuracy what ails those who consult him, just like the radiology method called MRI or magnetic resonance imaging.

Though not a medical doctor, Fr. Momoy has basic knowledge of the human anatomy and is in fact, on his way to becoming another kind of doctor. He is finishing his dissertation for a doctorate degree in cosmic anthropology at the Asian Social Institute in Manila.

His cosmic encounters do not scare him, Fr. Momoy confides. In fact, he considers them a nuisance. “I would ask, why do you have to come for confession? Why don’t you go direct to heaven? Nakakaistorbo kayo (You guys are a bother).” But the souls continue to turn up at all hours of day and night. “That’s why I can’t drive,” he says. “I see dead people.”

One group he couldn’t just ignore because of their sheer number showed up in the dead of night. “Who are you, why are you so many?” he had asked. They were, the apparitions answered, the victims of the Maguindanao massacre. (In that November 2009 tragedy, 58 people, most of them media practitioners were brutally killed and buried in shallow graves. The main suspects, the members of the Ampatuan political clan, are now in jail and on trial.)

“I was very tired then so I told them to go, and instead visit the one who had them killed,” Fr. Momoy recalls. “A few days later, I read that one of the alleged perpetrators of that massacre was reportedly being haunted and was asking for a change of room.” He laughs at it now.

Some years ago when the TV game show “Deal or No Deal” was running, Fr. Momoy realized that he could see the contents of the attaché cases that participants were to choose from. For seven nights he followed the show and saw which case had the plum prize in millions. Why didn’t he join then? “That would have been unfair advantage,” he says. “And I might lose my gift.”

Was the gift always there? How did he even know he has it?

“I was born a breech baby,” the 60-year-old priest says. “Those born feet first are believed to have the ability to dislodge fish bones stuck in people’s throats.” The boy Momoy was always called upon for such cases. His grandmother was a hilot or practitioner of indigenous healing. When a locust infestation hit their town in Albay, he was asked to try driving the pests away and he did. There was something about the boy, his father had said.

The youngest of five sons of the late Ernesto Borromeo and Felicitas Bragais, now 93, Momoy was born in Ligao, Albay. “We were not well-off so on weekends I would sell candies and newspapers,” he narrates. “I was sickly and would sometimes be in hospital. My uncle, a doctor, had syringes that I would play with. At home, I would inject the dogs and cats. I had invisible playmates.”

It was not until he had grown in age and grace that his special abilities became more evident.

Fr. Momoy vividly recalls that in 1966, on the Feast of the Sacred Heart, something happened that would change his life. A deranged man stabbed to death Fr. Jose Guerrero, the parish priest in Ligao town, while he was visiting the sick in a hospital. “When I heard the pealing of church bells, I just knew he was dead. There was thunder and lightning. I was devastated.”

At a church meeting held after the burial, parish officials stressed that the town would have to replace the dead priest with one of their own to offset a curse. “Ligao at that time had not produced a priest of its own for 16 years,” Fr. Momoy says. He decided it was going to be him.

He reflects: “Hindsight shows that my fiat, though tainted by misplaced guilt, opened doors to mystery. Almost immediately I experienced a lifting of my serial illnesses. If Saul had to be stricken off his horse to be transformed, I had to be drawn to my own calling by the village in need of a substitute offering – not a scapegoat, I hope!”

His motive may not have been the purest in the beginning. “I saw it as an opportunity to study. In our family, I was the only one who finished college. When my parents objected, I said, it’s the seminaryo or the sementeryo.” Off Momoy went to the St. Gregory Minor Seminary in Legazpi City in Albay, and later, the Holy Rosary Major Seminary in Naga City.

“I was never really sure of my priestly vocation,” Fr. Momoy muses. “In college at the Divine Word University, I was drawn into political activism. After finishing AB Philosophy, I took a leave to think things over.”

While doing his summer apostolate, the seminarian met Fr. Thomas Gier of the SOLT congregation. “I came, I saw and was conquered,” he says. He was a step away from ordination when he proceeded to the SOLT novitiate in Albuquerque in New Mexico in the US. In 1979 Fr. Momoy was ordained by Bishop Teotimo Pacis at the St. Stephen’s Church in Ligao.

Fr. Momoy ministered to the ailing during his brief stay in his congregation’s hospice for AIDS patients in Bangkok. Later, as a parish priest in a remote island in Bicol where there were no doctors, he ministered to the sick. “I carried around a priest’s sick call kit that also contained a stethoscope and other medical paraphernalia. I had even assisted a woman in labor.”

He discovered the wonder of coconut water and made a sugar-salt-water solution for dehydrated patients. Holy water and oil were for the sacraments. In fact, he muses, it was when he was administering the sacraments that his gift of healing slowly came to the fore. And through all these, he says, “I also realized in a special way na pari pala ako (that I was a priest).”

But he had yet to see something dramatic happen before his eyes.

“Once I was called to go to a communist-occupied mountain area. When I arrived, the men who were making a coffin said that I had come too late. I went to the dying man and anointed him. I saw many people surrounding him. After I was done, I saw only three people standing.” The rest who had vanished turned out to be souls. The man died. Or so everybody thought. Recounts Fr. Momoy: “I was about 100 meters away when I heard a commotion. The dead man had come back to life! He is still alive today.” (A TV crew tracked the man down not too long ago.)

Fr. Momoy had his own near-death experience. In 1994, while traveling from Manila to Bicol, pranksters threw stones at the vehicle he was in. “I was hit on the right eyebrow. I felt pain. This was followed by an indescribable feeling. Then I saw myself outside the car looking at my bloody self. I asked, is this it Lord? It’s up to you.”

His companions cried, “Si Mamo, wala nang pulso [Mamo has no pulse]!” After about seven minutes in that blissful state, Fr. Momoy’s spirit reunited with his body. “I was so angry with God for bringing me back.” Another strange thing happened immediately after: He found himself in a doctor’s house that had no signage on it and without anyone giving him directions.

After this episode, Fr. Momoy’s “20-20 vision” of internal organs became sharper. It also erased his self-doubt. “At first I thought seeing souls were just part of being a priest,” he says. He even went to Fr. Jaime Bulatao, SJ, a well-known clinical psychologist and expert on the paranormal, for affirmation, and consulted with two bishops and some friends who assured him that he was sane.

Since then Fr. Momoy has been meeting the souls of dead priests, bishops and ordinary folk, some of whom he doesn’t know. The communication is not verbal. He says, “God’s hand is not shortened by death and (continues to) reach souls in need of forgiveness. His mercy is indeed forever.”

One case that helped affirm Fr. Momoy’s gift of seeing was that of Navy officer Phillip Pestaño who died in 1995 under mysterious circumstances. Military officials ruled out foul play and said it was a suicide but Pestaño’s family believed otherwise. Lawyer Felipe Pestaño, Phillip’s father writes: “A priest, a complete stranger out of nowhere, came to see us at Phillip’s wake. Accompanied by a nun who was a distant relative, he revealed that Phillip had asked him to convey a message: ’Tell my parents I did not commit suicide.’”

Fr. Momoy told the Pestaños that for the first time, someone from the other life was asking him to do something. Phillip had appeared to the priest three times. In his written account, Phillip’s father says he was incredulous even though the priest described in detail how his son was killed. It was when Fr. Momoy described Phillip’s character and personality – without having met him at all – that the older Pestaño finally believed him.

Three years later, at a Senate hearing, a forensic expert who had done work on the O.J. Simpson case gave his own description of how Phillip was murdered. It matched Fr. Momoy’s account. According to Phillip’s father, the Senate ruled that the murder was not committed by just one man.

Fr. Momoy reflects: “Are my ’spirit guests’ on a mission on their own to prod me to minister to their grieving kin for whom the other life is totally disincarnate? Let me now continue viewing these spirit guests without a fearful ego.”

Fast forward to the present. Fr. Momoy presides at the Trinitas Integrative Healing Ministry Center under the SOLT in Bonga, Albay. He also does “hospice work” by visiting the sick and the dying in their homes.

Many have experienced healing, among them, Helen Alvarez who at 92 was diagnosed to have Alzheimer’s. Distressed, her daughter Mila A. Magno, asked Fr. Momoy to regularly pray over her mother. He was the family’s house guest in Canada. One day, to everyone’s surprise and joy, Helen emerged from the mist, regained her memory and was again her usual happy self. “Mama lived five more happy and productive years with us before she succumbed to congestive heart failure,” Mila attests. “Up until her death at 97, she remembered everyone by name.”

Although Fr. Momoy does not accept payment, he welcomes donations for the maintenance of the healing center in Albay and his ministry for the poor. He adds sheepishly, “Manay Mila (Magno) gave me an iPad.”

In conducting healing sessions, Fr. Momoy would rather not wade into crowds. He prefers small groups so that he can attend to every individual in a special way. He asks a group of 10 to come forward and scans each patient with his “MRI eye.” He verbalizes what he sees while the rest lay their hands on the patient and pray. Those waiting for their turn are led in prayer and reflection by volunteers and those who have experienced healing.

“This is also a time for evangelization,” says Sr. Sonia Punzalan of the Religious of the Cenacle. A certified teacher of zen meditation, Sr. Sonia is convinced of Fr. Momoy’s gifts and regularly assists him. “Sickness and death offer spaces for finding God in all things, and seeing the world as charged with grandeur! I reiterate Fr. Momoy’s basic orientation: ’There is no space without God.’ As certified Zen teacher of Sanbo Kyodan school, Kamakura, he presents with power the koan: ’Medicine and disease cure each other.’”

Because of his academic background, Fr. Momoy is able to explain the healing phenomenon and articulate it in anthropological, biblical and spiritual terms. His doctoral dissertation is a treasure trove of “eidetic” insights. The priest encourages the “healees” to write down their experiences and reflections so that others may learn from them.

The testimonies, he says, “have challenged my incredulity and made me conscious of my own biases and theological baggage. Gradually, I learned to approach patients, their faith rubbing off on me, not in my own terms but in theirs – their dreams, fears, pains and joys. The shift to the inner realm of the heart is like treading holy ground, and there’s no other way but to go unshod.”

Amazed at his gifts, some noted persons in both the academic and spiritual fields have closely examined Fr. Momoy’s ministry. Zen practitioner Ricardo Gonzalez writes that the healing in Trinitas “is actually (a) quantum mechanics phenomenon.” This means that changes occur via the observer effect, “where a thought is believed to carry an energy force that can influence events and conditions within the physical world.”

Himself a zen practitioner, Fr. Momoy spends an hour in zazen or what he calls in Filipino, pahingalay before healing sessions. He also asks the people to pray over him. “Again, moments before the actual healing, I go into silence, somewhat like a moment of egolessness.” In this state, he says, “There is no longer a separation between healee and myself. For sweeping over me is not just the patient’s pain but also his doubts, resentments and fears. I am so soaked in the experience of oneness such that inner/outer, psycho-emotional/physical separation is non-existent. Then, in an instant, I snap out of that realm and go on with the healing session.

“As the next patient steps forward and whispers his or her health concern, I am brought to a state where words cease to stay on a verbal thinking level. The person becomes a dynamic trigger for images of ailing cells, tissues, organs and systems.”

Dubbed a “Christian Babaylan” by the Baylans of Maramag, Bukidnon, Fr. Momoy says the indigenous rite he went through with them seemed “to open doors that made it possible for me to flow easily through different levels of consciousness. Based on co-gnosis – seeing directly the ailing organs without having to rely on lab reports – whenever the gift floods me, without hesitation, I can now confidently describe the behavior, size, color of tissues and organs. On occasion, the medical doctor assisting me pushes in my hand anatomy charts. I leaf through the pictures and point to the organ in question.”

Fr. Momoy enthuses, “It is with awe and gratitude that I feel the grounding effect of this spirituality shrouded in mystery of grace upon grace. Einstein’s famous words echo in my heart: ‘The most beautiful thing we can experience is the Mysterious. It is the source of all true science.’” •

Fr. Efren Borromeo holds healing sessions at UP Delaney Hall on Monday mornings when he is in Manila. The Trinitas Healing Center is in Bonga, Albay.

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                              Priest claims, 'she has already died'

You could say this woman is “tough as leather,” the material she uses to accent her internationally acclaimed Cora Jacobs handbags made of native palm.  With her international experience in designing for the great fashion houses of Yves Saint Laurent, Christian Dior and Givenchy, she has become known as the pioneer of Philippine handbag design. Cora Jacob rode the swell of business success in the 1980s but has also weathered major storms and upheavals in her incredibly colorful life.

Almost two decades into her business, Cora was forced to close shop because of failing health.  Of her healing journey, Cora writes:

“I remember 1997 as a very stressful period in my life. I was on top of everything-overseeing manufacturing, distribution and retailing. Eventually, the stress took a toll on my health. I was diabetic and losing my eyesight. There was no way I could continue in that way. I had a thousand workers in my factory and some more subcontractors in the depressed areas of Manila. I simply paid everybody and told them I could not support them anymore.

“One afternoon, Dr. Celina Guerrero and her husband, an oncologist practicing in Hawaii, dropped by to introduce their friend, Sr. Sonia. I was to check in at the hospital for surgery on my carotid-a bad case of occlusion. Forthwith we prayed for courage.

“My luggage had been packed for the hospital, but Sr. Sonia convinced me to go see a clairvoyant, Fr. Efren Borromeo in a small chapel in Fairview.  A second opinion would do no harm so my husband and I decided to give it a try.

“Christmas season that was. The ride to Fairview took us a couple of hours. Fr. Efren was in the confessional. Ah, so Sister wanted me to go to confession before the hospital procedures!
“When we saw the last penitent signing himself with the cross, we dashed to the priest as fast as our feet could take us. After we had introduced ourselves, Fr. Efren blurted by way of greeting, ’What business have you got going around like this?!’ He put his hand over my eyes, then my neck.

“Right after our confessions, my husband got exceedingly perplexed when Fr. Efren whispered to him privately: ’Do you know that your wife has already died?’  To me, he said, ’Cora, you have yet a mission in this new life given to you.’

“To my surprise, I in turn could see through him. ’Something seems to be wrong with your stomach, Father.’ Laughing cheerily, Fr. Efren said, ’Yes, this is where all the negative energies of healees go.’

“Three days after this strange encounter, I went for an angiogram. It confirmed that I had total occlusion, and three main arteries were blocked. The doctors were extremely puzzled. Why was I walking about when clinically I should be either dead or comatose and a vegetable?
“I stayed 10 days in the hospital. To this day, no one can explain how I can still do all the things I’ve been doing-and more. I spent the next two years following Fr. Efren around in his mission.  I even spent a whole year teaching inmates at a jail how to make waste baskets and other home accessories.”

Cora, on the basis of laboratory findings, technically remains blind. Yet for more than 10 years now, she has been designing bags and accessories which she showcases in major cities of Europe and the United States.  Amazingly, she not only continues her artistic endeavors but is also able to read auras-a gift she claims she has discovered during her first session with Fr. Momoy.  “Payback time!” she terms it, adding, “I can’t believe that indeed I am now on the mission band of Fr. Efren!”

Plagued with diabetes and a kidney problem, Cora remains undaunted. She has worked her way back to the world of design, feeling refreshed, strong and fearless. “Two years of blindness saw the strengthening of my relationship with the Lord. With that, I have no more fears. I went through great failures so I have learned my lessons and managed to get up again.  I feel I’m starting my life again, except now I have the wisdom of past experiences and a greater faith in God’s will.”#