The man who ate everything: Confessions of a recovering food addict

Sunday Inquirer Magazine/FEATURES Q&A/Interview by Ma. Ceres P. Doyo

There is a world of difference between loving the goodness of food and indulging in it in an extreme way to meet one’s needs other than simple hunger, nutrition and pleasure.

Food addiction is a disorder seldom spoken about. Persons who are morbidly obese because of food addiction are sometimes wrongly judged as gluttons. There are food addicts who can maintain a normal weight by purging, or forcing themselves to vomit, after bingeing.

This eating disorder is linked to the physical, physiological, emotional, psychological and even the spiritual needs of a person.

In an interview with Sunday Inquirer Magazine, Dr. JR, 35, a single male, a medical doctor and recovering food addict, speaks about the disorder that has plagued him for many years and his struggle to overcome it. Standing 5’11” and weighing 330 lbs. at his heaviest a year ago, Dr. JR is now down to 215 lbs. and losing. He continues to get professional help. – CPD

Sunday Inquirer Magazine (SIM): When did you realize that you were a food addict and that you were not simply overeating?

JR: I realized that I was a food addict when I no longer had control over food. It affected my moods, my emotions, how I related with others and how I generally felt as a person.

SIM: Did anyone call your attention to it?

JR: Yes. I had a realization when (fashion designer) Jeannie Goulbourn and I met and she invited me to one of her detox flushes which, at first, I was hesitant to take.

SIM: Was there a health issue that made you confront this eating problem?

JR: Yes there was. I used to avoid having routine medical check-ups for fear of knowing what was wrong with me. True enough, I discovered that I had a high cholesterol level, elevated uric acid, SGPT and SGOT (liver enzymes), high blood sugar, and high blood pressure.

SIM: Was there a wake-up call? And how did this change you?

JR: Yes. After my father passed away due to complications from diabetes, I realized that if I didn’t change soon, I might end up like him.

SIM: Could you describe your food habits before you decided to seek help or intervention?

JR: I would eat anything and everything you could imagine! I would have heavy meals until late at night. Looking back, I could see the pattern in my eating habits – I would eat the most at dinner and post dinner time. This was when eating was most pleasurable. Maybe this was also the time when I was loneliest. I would binge on almost anything – from unhealthy fries and chips to sweet foods like cakes and pastries. I would do this secretly. I would sneak in my loot and eat in the privacy of my room. It was just horrible. I just ate and ate relentlessly.

SIM: Was there food deprivation in your childhood?

JR: None. It was the opposite. I was surrounded by food wherever I went.

SIM: When and how did this excessive food intake begin?

JR: I remember that as a child, people around me (relatives, friends, office staff) thought I was cute because I was chubby and plump. I remember I didn’t like toys that much during my childhood. Rather, I liked food. I always felt secure and safe around food. I thought I was just a voracious eater, a foodie as you call it. As I grew up, I learned more about food, learned how to cook and consequently, started eating more.

Food was at the center of all family gatherings. And being the cook at these gatherings gave me the license to eat more. Surprisingly, I’m the only fat person in my family and among our relatives.

SIM: What types of food do you particularly like to eat?

JR: Oh my… lechon (roast pig)! We used to have lechon every Sunday morning for breakfast after the morning Mass. Eating lechon was a “happy time” for me while I was growing up, and it was so until adulthood. But there was no food that I didn’t like. I liked everything.

SIM: How long has this been going on? Were you ever in denial?

JR: Oh yes, I was in denial for so long. I would hide my actual weight when asked. It was so bad that I didn’t even want to look at myself in the mirror! In my mind, I’ve always conditioned myself to think that I wasn’t overweight or, if I was, that I would be liked and loved anyway. That was how distorted my thinking was. I hid from reality, and now I see that.

SIM: What was your heaviest weight?

JR: I was 330 lbs. at 5’11”. This was just a year ago. I was dealing with the death of my father and the cancer scare of my mother.

SIM: As a medical doctor, how did you see your food and weight problem at that time?

JR: I just didn’t mind it. I believed that I could always lose weight if I just found time to exercise, which I never did. Theoretically, I knew that I had an addiction because of the symptoms I was presenting, but still I didn’t pay attention to them. I was in denial.

SIM: Did you do research on your condition?

JR: No. There’s been little research or studies made on food addiction or compulsion, and I didn’t see myself then as a food addict.

SIM: Can you describe the psychological root of your food craving?

JR: Well, basically I know now that I am an emotional eater. I eat whenever I’m feeling sad or down, but I also I eat when I’m happy.

SIM: Aside from gaining weight, how did this food addiction affect you?

JR: I became moody, impulsive, almost bi-polar with mood swings. There were times I was depressed and didn’t feel loved by anyone. I know now that this was due to certain hormones and chemical imbalances in my brain.

SIM: What was it like at its worst? Did you reach a breaking point that made you finally seek help?

JR: Physically, it was grueling. I had the most terrible back pain you could ever imagine. I couldn’t even climb two flights of stairs without shortness of breath. All my blood works were high (sugar, cholesterol, liver enzymes, uric acid). I was very frustrated because I couldn’t even enjoy simple pleasures like shopping for clothes without being stared at. Emotionally, I felt ugly and made food my companion and confidante. I felt good when I ate, so I ate more and more…

SIM: Who helped you make changes in the way you used food?

JR: I am so grateful to have met members of my support group who are now my friends in my struggle against food addiction. One of them is Dr. Dale Flores, who is my holistic nutritionist, and Jeannie Goulbourn of Global Vital Source. Without them I would still be in my previous unhealthy state today.

SIM: What type of intervention or therapy did you go through? How long did this take?

JR: First I had to accept that I needed help for my addiction, and have the humility to seek help. That was the time I met nutritionist Dr. Dale Flores, about a year ago. He dealt with the physical treatment of food addiction. I cleared my body of the toxic substances that I had been taking in for the past 35 years. All the meat, junk food and sodas that were poisoning me had to be eliminated for my body to naturally heal itself. Alongside this treatment, I had to be aware of the triggers that lead to my compulsive eating and avoid them.

SIM: Can you identify some of these triggers?

JR: To give you an example: When I was stressed at work (which is everyday), I would usually stop by a drive-through restaurant or a grocery to buy junk food and unhealthy stuff, and eat them when I get home where no one could see me.

Now I avoid that route home when I’m tired or stressed out. Eating out has proved to be a challenge since I love to dine out with friends and try the latest restos in the metro. My solution? I’d eat dinner before going out so I’m not that hungry by the time I meet my friends.

SIM: Do you consider yourself recovered or are you still dealing with some issues?

JR: I’m still in the process of losing my last 20 lbs. As for the craving for unhealthy food, I sometimes give in to it but now I realize that I don’t have to feel guilty, as long as I don’t overdo it. This requires discipline and focus towards the goal. This I do with meditation and yoga exercises. Now I also swim and play badminton.

SIM: How much weight have you lost, and are you happy with where you are now?

JR: To date and within a year’s time, I’ve lost 115 lbs. I’m in the best shape I’ve ever been. I also have a lot of energy to do things. I still have 20 lbs. to lose but I think this will be a walk in the park compared to losing 115 lbs!

SIM: Describe the work that you do at present.

JR: I am an internal medicine specialist and presently a consultant at Global Vital Source, the same wellness clinic that helped me overcome my addiction. I am now helping others who are stuck in the same situation that I was in.

SIM: Why do you call your food craving an addiction? Is obesity simply a result of overeating and metabolism issues, or is there something deeper?

JR: The root of addiction is emotion. Emotions constantly seep into our consciousness and our brain triggers the eating. Eating tries to satisfy the brain’s pleasure center (hypothalamus) in the quest to fill in the emotional void within the individual.

SIM: Can you describe that as a doctor, from the psychological and physiological standpoint?

JR: Emotional eating is about out-of-control, hedonistic eating. We eat because we are angry, bored, stressed, depressed, frustrated, busy or not busy enough. The list goes on and on. It’s a craving actually that we tend to satisfy by eating – usually a sugary, starchy, salty, or fat-laden food. No one has heard of a craving for celery sticks and cucumber, right?

There are five chemicals in our brain that trigger our emotions to eat, or consequently, not to eat.

*Norepinephrine — responsible for the fight-or-flight response of the body

*Serotonin – a feel good chemical

*Dopamine – the pleasure-reward system of the brain. Helps you feel no pain.

*GABA (gamma-aminobutyric acid) – makes you numb to the outside world.

*Nitric oxide – calms you and relaxes the blood vessels.

A delicate balance of these chemicals in the brain (particularly in the hypothalamus) signals a person to reach for a candy bar. Or not. If most or all of these chemicals are elevated, you feel calm, good, relaxed, etc.

But when these chemicals are too low, you feel miserable, depressed, agitated, and that’s when you reach for your fix. This is activated by neurotransmitters from a part of the brain called the locus coeruleus. For some people, the fix may be drugs, cigarettes, alcohol, or even sex, but for some it is food. Once the addicts have stabilized their chemical levels, they are back to their normal self. This cycle goes on and on and turns into addiction.

SIM: As one who’s been there and slowly making your way to recovery, what is your message to those dealing with food addiction?

JR: Accept that you have a problem and don’t be afraid to seek help from individuals and institutions. Never lose your faith in God. Remember that there is hope in any addiction. I am living proof of it!

Cool school for IP students

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

TALAANDIG, SUBANEN, Badjao, Mandaya, Mansaka, Tagakaolo, Mangyan, Aeta, Tiduray, Bagobo, Ifugao… Many of the Philippines’ indigenous communities are represented in this special campus. Here about a hundred young people from some 30 tribes from all over the Philippines are studying to earn college degrees in order to become useful to their communities.

The Pamulaan Center for Indigenous Peoples (IP) Education is a campus within a campus devoted to the college education of IPs. I wrote a feature story about Pamulaan a couple of years ago but I am again writing about it as we prepare for school opening and to share the good news: two batches have graduated since this special tertiary learning center opened five years ago. Five of Pamulaan’s graduates have passed the licensure examination for teachers.

I have visited Pamulaan and interacted with the students, some faculty and staff and I can say that this school is the only one of its kind in this part of the world. At the heart of Pamulaan is the Indigenous Peoples Living Heritage Center which is more than just a museum. It is a center for research, documentation and publication of indigenous knowledge systems, history and culture. It also develops education and training materials.

I flew to Davao City to attend the inauguration of the center. It was awesome. College students belonging to indigenous communities and their teachers pulled all the stops to showcase their rich culture and heritage. Indigenous costumes, music, dance, food, reading materials and works of art competed with computerized interactive displays to stress the importance of the occasion. The event also brought forth the importance of education using both indigenous knowledge and high-tech instruments. And not to forget, the meaning of community and nationhood.

Founded by anthropologist, former Jesuit scholastic and 2004 Ramon Magsaysay Awardee for Emergent Leadership Benjamin Abadiano, Pamulaan is located inside the University of Southeastern Philippines’ (USEP) Mintal campus in Davao City.

Although the Pamulaan scholars have their living quarters, library and special facilities within their special campus within USEP, they are enrolled in basic subjects taught in the USEP main campus. They interact with non-IP students every day. But Pamulaan students take special subjects which are necessary for their future work. Among these subjects are anthropology, development and history of Mindanao. They do their practicum in their places of origin.

Redemptorist Brother Karl Gaspar, a veteran development worker in Mindanao and writer, teaches Mindanao history and about cultures of the indigenous peoples and the lumad (IP) social movement. The medium of instruction is English, Pilipino and Visayan.

A noted resource person on spirituality, Gaspar noted that the students bring with them their culture’s spirituality. “And so we bring in their belief system in their studies,” Gaspar said. “They have a very strong desire to give back.”

I remember a Subanen student who said to me, “My goal is to serve.”

Pamulaan is the first institution in the Philippines to offer tertiary education for IPs and in a focused way. Pamulaan’s main thrust is to create culturally appropriate and relevant pathways of training and formation for indigenous children, youth, community leaders and development workers. Pamulaan hopes to produce graduates equipped with knowledge and abilities to initiate action toward sustainable development of IP communities.

The name Pamulaan, Abadiano explained, comes from a lumad-Matigsalog word that means seedbed. “We use the term to stress the program’s commitment to root the development of the students in the realities of their life and culture.” Abadiano also founded Tugdaan (which also means seedbed), a thriving learning and production center for Mangyans in Paitan, Oriental Mindoro.

Pamulaan does not refer only to the Davao-based tertiary institution, it also refers to the network of IP community schools in several places in the Philippines. In this network are the early childhood and elementary education programs for Aetas in Capas, Tarlac, high schools for the lumad youth in Camarines Norte, Mindanao and Mindoro, and the Tugdaan Mangyan Center for Learning and Development in Mindoro.

The Pamulaan program provides a variety of academic and non-academic approaches that address the needs of IP communities. It uses a “cycle” and “system of learning that starts from experience leading to theory, application, evaluation and reflection.” Practical training is done in IP communities.

Pamulaan offers bachelor’s degrees with majors in education, agricultural technology, anthropology and peace education.

Students get special training in functional literacy, cultural integrity, land tenure, culture of peace, leadership, governance and values formation, environment and resource management, sustainable agriculture, basic health and sanitation, community and organizational development and program and financial management.

Pamulaan also offers LEAP (local educators’ advancement program) for facilitators, para-teachers and education managers.

If you need information because you want to help send students to Pamulaan, log on to www.pamulaan.org.

It’s been a long way since Abadiano saw glimmers of Pamulaan in his dreams. Part of his RM Award cash prize went into the realization of this dream. Last March, Pamulaan had its second harvest of college graduates. The hills were alive with the sound of gongs and strings and winds. The graduates are now starting to give back to their communities.

Send feedback to cerespd@gmail.com or www.ceresdoyo.com

Human Face
Cool school for IP students
By: Ma. Ceres P. Doyo
Philippine Daily Inquirer
2:01 am | Thursday, May 26th, 2011
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TALAANDIG, SUBANEN, Badjao, Mandaya, Mansaka, Tagakaolo, Mangyan, Aeta, Tiduray, Bagobo, Ifugao… Many of the Philippines’ indigenous communities are represented in this special campus. Here about a hundred young people from some 30 tribes from all over the Philippines are studying to earn college degrees in order to become useful to their communities.

The Pamulaan Center for Indigenous Peoples (IP) Education is a campus within a campus devoted to the college education of IPs. I wrote a feature story about Pamulaan a couple of years ago but I am again writing about it as we prepare for school opening and to share the good news: two batches have graduated since this special tertiary learning center opened five years ago. Five of Pamulaan’s graduates have passed the licensure examination for teachers.

I have visited Pamulaan and interacted with the students, some faculty and staff and I can say that this school is the only one of its kind in this part of the world. At the heart of Pamulaan is the Indigenous Peoples Living Heritage Center which is more than just a museum. It is a center for research, documentation and publication of indigenous knowledge systems, history and culture. It also develops education and training materials.

I flew to Davao City to attend the inauguration of the center. It was awesome. College students belonging to indigenous communities and their teachers pulled all the stops to showcase their rich culture and heritage. Indigenous costumes, music, dance, food, reading materials and works of art competed with computerized interactive displays to stress the importance of the occasion. The event also brought forth the importance of education using both indigenous knowledge and high-tech instruments. And not to forget, the meaning of community and nationhood.

Founded by anthropologist, former Jesuit scholastic and 2004 Ramon Magsaysay Awardee for Emergent Leadership Benjamin Abadiano, Pamulaan is located inside the University of Southeastern Philippines’ (USEP) Mintal campus in Davao City.

Although the Pamulaan scholars have their living quarters, library and special facilities within their special campus within USEP, they are enrolled in basic subjects taught in the USEP main campus. They interact with non-IP students every day. But Pamulaan students take special subjects which are necessary for their future work. Among these subjects are anthropology, development and history of Mindanao. They do their practicum in their places of origin.

Redemptorist Brother Karl Gaspar, a veteran development worker in Mindanao and writer, teaches Mindanao history and about cultures of the indigenous peoples and the lumad (IP) social movement. The medium of instruction is English, Pilipino and Visayan.

A noted resource person on spirituality, Gaspar noted that the students bring with them their culture’s spirituality. “And so we bring in their belief system in their studies,” Gaspar said. “They have a very strong desire to give back.”

I remember a Subanen student who said to me, “My goal is to serve.”

Pamulaan is the first institution in the Philippines to offer tertiary education for IPs and in a focused way. Pamulaan’s main thrust is to create culturally appropriate and relevant pathways of training and formation for indigenous children, youth, community leaders and development workers. Pamulaan hopes to produce graduates equipped with knowledge and abilities to initiate action toward sustainable development of IP communities.

The name Pamulaan, Abadiano explained, comes from a lumad-Matigsalog word that means seedbed. “We use the term to stress the program’s commitment to root the development of the students in the realities of their life and culture.” Abadiano also founded Tugdaan (which also means seedbed), a thriving learning and production center for Mangyans in Paitan, Oriental Mindoro.

Pamulaan does not refer only to the Davao-based tertiary institution, it also refers to the network of IP community schools in several places in the Philippines. In this network are the early childhood and elementary education programs for Aetas in Capas, Tarlac, high schools for the lumad youth in Camarines Norte, Mindanao and Mindoro, and the Tugdaan Mangyan Center for Learning and Development in Mindoro.

The Pamulaan program provides a variety of academic and non-academic approaches that address the needs of IP communities. It uses a “cycle” and “system of learning that starts from experience leading to theory, application, evaluation and reflection.” Practical training is done in IP communities.

Pamulaan offers bachelor’s degrees with majors in education, agricultural technology, anthropology and peace education.

Students get special training in functional literacy, cultural integrity, land tenure, culture of peace, leadership, governance and values formation, environment and resource management, sustainable agriculture, basic health and sanitation, community and organizational development and program and financial management.

Pamulaan also offers LEAP (local educators’ advancement program) for facilitators, para-teachers and education managers.

If you need information because you want to help send students to Pamulaan, log on to www.pamulaan.org.

It’s been a long way since Abadiano saw glimmers of Pamulaan in his dreams. Part of his RM Award cash prize went into the realization of this dream. Last March, Pamulaan had its second harvest of college graduates. The hills were alive with the sound of gongs and strings and winds. The graduates are now starting to give back to their communities.

Send feedback to cerespd@gmail.com or www.ceresdoyo.com

Killer avenue, deadly U-turn

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

WE ARE in shock, we are angry, we feel the loss.

After university professor, media colleague and friend Lourdes “Chit” Estella Simbulan died in a vehicular crash on Commonwealth Avenue in Quezon City last Friday afternoon, there are, again, these hasty moves by authorities to find solutions to prevent more of such accidents.

Chit was not the first one to lose her life on that killer highway, said to be the widest in the Philippines. It is about 12-kilometers long, but—hold your breath—it is wider (nine lanes on each side on some parts) than the regular expressways where motorists pay toll, where there are no traffic lights and no loading and unloading.

The problem with Commonwealth Avenue is that it functions like a regular road where public vehicles can load and unload passengers on certain spots—or, heck, anywhere for that matter—but because it is so very spacious, many motorists do not observe speed limits (despite their being recently imposed). In other words, this avenue that functions like any city road is being used like a super highway.

Chit happened to be a known media person and so the wide uproar over her untimely passing. So was the Makati regional trial court judge who perished with his wife last December while they were on their way to an early dawn Mass. The culprits in both cases were over-speeding bus drivers.

But countless others have lost their lives on that killer avenue. Among the reasons: not enough safeguards, warnings and penalties to prevent homicidal bus drivers from sending their passengers, pedestrians, jaywalkers and small vehicles to the hills beyond. And nothing significant has been done about the avenue’s wideness. Why so wide, pray tell?

A friend of mine said that once she timed her bus ride from the España-Quezon Avenue rotunda to way after the Tandang Sora overpass on Commonweath Avenue, a distance of about 15 kms. She got to her destination in 10 heart-pounding minutes.

Chit was aboard a taxi that was veering slightly right toward the Ayala Technohub along Commonwealth Avenue when a bus rammed the taxi from behind. Another bus had nicked the taxi moments before. The questions being asked are: Were these two buses trying to beat each other to waiting passengers? Will regular monthly wages for bus drivers, as is being proposed, instead of the “boundary” system, solve the problem of speeding?

Chit was supposed to have dinner with friends at the UP-Ayala Land Technohub. The place is an information technology center, some kind of Silicon Valley, jointly developed by the University of the Philippines Diliman and Ayala Land. It sits on a sprawling 20-hectare portion within the 37.5 hectares of the UP North Science and Technology Park.

The dining places are up front, surrounding a fountain. But it is the cool, verdant areas at the back and the gurgling stream that I find inviting. I’ve been there a number of times. Now I dread going there.

If you are coming from the QC Memorial Circle and going to the hub which is on the left side of the killer highway, you do not make a U-turn on the first slot, the signs tell you to go all the way to the Tandang Sora underpass, several kilometers away, to make a U-turn. You’re safer that way, but, oh, the gas.

But there’s a problem if you are coming from UP’s University Avenue and going out to QC circle/Philcoa. You no longer go safely through an intersection with a traffic light. The intersection has been blocked and the light disabled years ago. You have to make a sharp right turn on Commonwealth Avenue and make a death-defying diagonal path toward a deadly U-turn slot. Say your prayers and have one eye on your left side-view mirror. A rampaging bus, undeterred by a traffic light, can hit you right on the driver’s seat.

Who removed the traffic light at the end of University Avenue? And why? UP authorities should look into this for the safety of the students, faculty and staff.

I asked a friend who teaches in UP to provide me with a safer alternate route. Here it is: If you’re on University Avenue going toward QC Circle/Philcoa, avoid Commonwealth by turning left on CP Garcia. Go straight and turn right on Maginhawa. Take two more short right turns until you hit the main Maginhawa Street. Go straight and turn left on Mayaman Street. Go straight again until you hit Kalayaan Avenue. Turn right on Kalayaan, go straight until you hit QC Circle.

If Mayaman is closed after 10 p.m., continue along Maginhawa till the end. Turn left and then right on Maharlika. At the end is QC Circle.

When I went to view Chit’s remains, I didn’t have enough words to say to her husband, UP professor Roland Simbulan. I just sobbed because I remembered…

I met Chit while I was working with a church-based human rights group and she was with the National Secretariat of Social Action (Nassa) of the Catholic Bishops’ Conference of the Philippines. The year was 1979. Chit and I were together when about six or seven—maybe a dozen—armed military men in civilian clothes seized us along Kamagong Street in Makati. I was driving and my car was loaded with “subversive” booklets that we had just picked up from the press that night. The publication was “Iron Hand, Velvet Glove,” a report on the military abuses under the Marcos dictatorship, co-published by both our organizations.

We were being taken to Camp Crame (where we could be detained for who knows how long), but we refused to go with the armed men because the ASSO (Arrest Seize and Seizure Order) they carried was for Al Senturias. We insisted that we drive back to the press where we negotiated and bluffed our way until Nassa executive secretary Fr. Ralph Salazar and Sr. Christine Tan RGS came to our rescue.

Chit, paalam.

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Pacquiao fighting poverty

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

Filed Under: Pacquiao, Poverty, Hospitals and Clinics, Government Aid, Benigno Aquino III

(Most Read)

IT WAS not his protestation of strength, speed and fist power that impressed me and gave me a hmmm moment. It was what he said about the greatest fight of his life. And he was not referring to any of the countless matches with formidable pugilists that brought him multiple world boxing titles and proved him to be among the world’s greatest boxers of all time.

It was what Manny “Pacman” Pacquiao said at the press conference before last Sunday’s Pacquiao-Mosley match (that he would win, of course) in Las Vegas. He declared that the greatest fight of his life is yet to be, and that is fighting poverty in his beloved country. He said this in a simpler way, in English. I am paraphrasing.

I have no interest in the brutal sport of boxing per se, but one cannot be disinterested in the culture it spawns, the icons it produces and what becomes of them.

Pacquiao was not a stranger to poverty. Everyone knows that the life of penury is all behind him. But he was now declaring before the world a personal war against poverty even while his fans were more preoccupied with their bets and securing seats in countless viewing venues all over the islands. His declaration seemed lost in the din of excitement and anticipation.

But not entirely. We will not forget those two sentences. Already, we are told, Pacquiao is interested to partner with Gawad Kalinga whose massive housing for the poor has earned national and international recognition and drawn volunteers from all over the world.

But I will not be surprised if Pacquiao would want to invent a distinct project of his own that would be supported not just by funds from being a congressman from Sarangani, but from the massive wealth that he has earned from his skull-breaking fights. And while he has survived them all, many of his admirers and supporters, his mother most of all, are praying that he would hang up his gloves. A wayward punch from a lesser opponent could spell brain damage and everything will be for naught. That might be hard to visualize but that could happen. And who knows what those punishing blows have wrought on his body over the years?

When he said his greatest fight would now be against poverty, I knew his soul has not gone the way of his body. (He’s beginning to suffer cramps.)

Pacquiao is now one of the richest citizens of the Philippines, his hundreds of millions (now a billion or so, we are told) earned from his fights, product endorsements and pay-per-view revenues. What can one do with all that except to share some of it? One should not begrudge the lavish feasting at home after every victory and his mother Dionisia’s fun parties. That means that here at home a lot of money goes around and down to the humble street sweeper. (Hermes bags costing millions of pesos and made in Europe are another story.)

So how will Pacquiao wage war against poverty? His efforts deserve watching. President Benigno Aquino III had pledged P200 million for Pacquiao’s hospital project in Sarangani that would serve the poor. But that’s not Pacquiao’s money.

Many would be eager to know how Pacquiao and his anti-poverty advisers would create an anti-poverty program that is sustainable. Sustainability is a not-so-new catchword that is not easy to spell on the keyboard (it’s a finger-twisting word even for me who types fast), a 14-letter word that journalists would rather have a substitute for. But there is no substitute for sustainability.

Wikipedia defines sustainability as: “the capacity to endure. In ecology, the word describes how biological systems remain diverse and productive over time. Long-lived and healthy wetlands and forests are examples of sustainable biological systems. For humans, sustainability is the potential for long-term maintenance of wellbeing, which has environmental, economic and social dimensions.”

And so there is sustainable agriculture, sustainable ecology and sustainable development. The most-often quoted definition of sustainable development is development that “meets the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs.”

The translation in Filipino that got the most votes in Yahoo Answers is “mapapanatiling pag-unlad o makakayanang pag-unlad.” Oh well, just say sustainable this or that. Or whatever Pacquiao prefers to use in his fight against poverty.

There is nothing one can teach Pacquiao about poverty. He was born into it. There is nothing most of us can teach him about being a billionaire because we are not. But there is a lot Pacquiao can learn from the not-poor who have worked and walked among the poor because it is their choice and calling. There are many anti-poverty foundations with great track records on sustainability that he can learn from. There are projects on microfinance, sustainable agriculture among farmers, housing for the homeless, health and food security, women’s livelihood, education, children, the aging, OFWs.

All Pacquiao should do is ask. If Congressman Pacquiao did a crash course on governance to prepare himself for politics, he (or his advisers) should also do a crash course on poverty alleviation programs that are sustainable.

But sometimes one despairs a little. The Philippines being sometimes called the NGO capital of Southeast Asia, and with the countless anti-poverty projects and the millions of foreign funding poured into it, why have the majority not moved far from the poverty line?

Anyway, I end this rumination by sharing what I learned from my interview, years ago, with Gustavo Gutierrez, father of liberation theology, friend of the poor, priest and proudly Peruvian. “Poverty,” he told me “is the first violence.”

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Hearf of Mary Villa: Where mothering is optional

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

Filed Under: Women, Charity, Overseas Employment, Religions

“HAVE it aborted.”

“How do I know I am the father?”

“You have brought shame to this family.”

“I am a married man. I can’t be there for the baby.”

“There are no maternity benefits for you and you have to resign from your job.”

What painful words for a woman who is pregnant, unwed and with no one to turn to. Amidst the confusion and turmoil, her heart cries out: “I want my baby to live, but where shall I go?”

The Heart of Mary Villa (HMV) is a ready answer. Run by the Religious of the Good Shepherd (RGS), HMV is a place for pregnant women who have been cast away, abused, despised or made to feel worthless. Women who just need time, space and stillness to weigh their options and plan out their future. Women who will be bringing forth precious lives into this world but who, because of the difficult and complicated circumstances they are in, need special care, comfort and assurance that there is a meaningful life ahead of them and their offspring.

Sr. Mary Lorenza Sangalang RGS, HMV directress, describes what HMV can offer the women (and girls) who come to stay during their pregnancy and after: “We give counseling and offer therapy when indicated. This facilitates the healing of wounds sometimes sustained from childhood. This also ensures that the mother has pursued, mentally and emotionally, the options of keeping or giving up her baby for adoption.”

The expectant mothers who find their way to HMV come from all walks of life. Poor, rich, with little or no education, highly educated and smart (e.g., a summa cum laude candidate), with ages ranging from 11 to 44. They come in different stages of pregnancy. They can choose to use an alias while inside HMV.

As varied as the women themselves are the circumstances surrounding their pregnancy, which may be a result of extra-marital relationships, spur-of-the-moment sexual intimacy, and rape, incest, paid sex, and so on. The pregnancy is thus unexpected, unplanned and, in the beginning, most likely unwanted.

A recent phenomenon is unplanned pregnancies that are a result of relationships that developed through the mobile phone and the Internet.

“Now we have young women who meet their so-called boyfriends via texting,” reveals Sr. Lorenza. After what seems like a courtship, “eyeballing,” or meeting personally, follows. The pair might end up in a motel, says HMV social worker Leni Paduyas. Theirs could be a one-day affair or a series of intimate meetings.

Adds social worker Grace Villapando, “Some have ended up being brought to an abandoned place. For some it’s their first and only sexual experience.”

After the torrid episode, the man is never heard from again. The poor victim may not even find out if the man was using his real name.

The Good Shepherd Sisters, who run a separate center for Overseas Filipino workers (OFWs), also offer HMV’s services to OFWs who get pregnant abroad because of either forcible or consensual sex. In Metro Manila, many pregnant women in distress seek help from the parish office of the Quiapo, Baclaran and Sta. Cruz churches. Parish social services then refer them to HMV.

Says Paduyas, “One was referred by a candle seller to the Department of Social Welfare and Development (DSWD), which then referred the woman to HMV.”

Not a few have attempted abortion by taking strange concoctions or inserting tablets and other fabled abortifacients into their private parts. That is another story in itself.

“We rejoice when someone comes,” Sr. Lorenza exclaims. This means a child is given a chance to live. The RGS sisters however add that HMV does not take in psychiatric patients and those with heart ailments.

The Good Shepherd Sisters began ministering to single expectant mothers in 1953 in what was then called Charter House, just across the Good Shepherd convent on Aurora Boulevard in Quezon City. More than 100 women were served until the ministry was transferred to Maysilo in Malabon in 1957, through the generosity of the Archdiocese of Manila. The place was named Heart of Mary Villa in honor of Jesus’ mother and her compassionate heart.

During a span of more than 50 years, over 6,000 women found a home in HMV, not counting those who came for counseling, therapy or consultation. Just as many babies began their lives there. Families, too, experienced healing in that special place.

Malabon being a flood-prone area, HMV was not spared the frequent inundation in recent years. In 2009 when most parts of Metro Manila went underwater because of typhoon Ondoy, HMV was barely afloat. It was time to seek higher ground.

HMV recently transferred to the sprawling Good Shepherd compound in Quezon City where a new building that serves as nursery was inaugurated last February. Without a regular source of funds, HMV thrives on God’s providence. With about 25 expectant mothers and dozens of babies to care for at any one time, HMV needs all the help it can get.

The Good Shepherd Sisters have many other ministries to sustain. Founded in France in 1835 by Saint Mary Euphrasia Pelletier, the Good Shepherd nuns came to the Philippines in 1912. They are among the largest women’s congregation in the world. Their mission is “directed to the most neglected and marginalized, in whom the image of God is most obscure.”

Mothers and their babies are HMV’s primary concern. In a letter, a former resident sums up the essence of HMV. “The day I first came to you, I thought I was alone and everybody was against me. I found myself sheltered from the storm. I found real peace of soul. Problems poured out to you became stepping stones to a realization and a thirst for truth. It was there that I found it.”

While in HMV, residents are provided caring, teaching and healing services. They are helped to weigh their options: to bring home their babies or give them up for adoption. Because the decision is not an easy one, the women are given time after delivery while they nurse their newborn.

Mothers who at the outset say they do not ever want to hold their babies have no choice but to breastfeed them for at least a month. Fear of getting attached to a baby one intends to give up is no reason not to nurse, according to HMV sources. After one to two weeks, the babies for adoption are moved to the nursery.

Of the 5,108 mothers who came to HMV in the past 50 years, 64 percent brought home their babies while 36 percent gave them up for adoption. (See statistics in the sidebar.)

Naturally, most mothers go through the “empty arms” experience, Sr. Lorenza says. A mother’s decision to give up her baby is not irrevocable. She is given time to think it over and change her mind even after she has turned over her baby. It is a long post-partum process. Grief therapy is part of the healing process.

Turning over a baby is always an emotional moment for a mother. A solemn private ritual is held, with the nuns, counselors and caregivers prayerfully gathered around the mother and her baby. Tears flow.

Recalls a mother: “I held my son tight, observing every feature of his little face, and taking in his baby scent. And then I put him in the arms of the Sister.”

Many former HMV residents still ache when they remember words from a song they had learned: “I prayed God would strengthen me to do what I must do. I made a choice that I believed would be the best for you… A kind of pure unselfish love helped me let you go.”

HMV used to be among the government-accredited adopting agencies, but now it concentrates mainly on the care of mothers and babies for adoption. Still, HMV social workers regularly participate in the matching process that precedes formal adoption. HMV functions as a child-caring agency while DSWD and several accredited NGOs (e.g., Norfil, Kaisahang Buhay Foundation) serve as child-placement agencies.

Unlike in the past when the adoption process was shrouded in secrecy and records were tightly kept under lock and key, a policy of openness now helps adoptees as well as adoptive and biological parents find answers to their questions.

“Search and reunion” efforts are part of HMVs services. HMV is currently handling some 200 searches initiated by both offspring and biological parents. Information seeking is a prelude to reunion. One has to consent to be found for the seeking party to be allowed to re-connect. HMV has been witness to a good number of reunions and unexpected surprises.

Says a 38-year-old woman who spent her infancy in HMV: “There are questions in my heart. I would like my biological mom to feel happy about where I am now, not to be sad that she gave me away when I was two weeks old because she has done a good thing for my future. I would like her to meet my adoptive mommy who has done good things in my life.”

There are parents, too, in search of their offspring. A father muses: “After much thought I decided to look for my son. I need to tell him that he was not unwanted, that his mother gave him up to give him a better future. I also need to ask for forgiveness.”

Oh, the questions the grown-up adoptees ask and the stories the biological parents tell! Volumes could be written about the lives that have passed through the portals of Heart of Mary Villa where, in the words of St. Mary Euphrasia, ministering to the broken means “having a great and merciful heart, a healing touch that raises and restores to wholeness and gives the courage to start again.”

Sr. Lorenza could only enthuse: “HMV is privileged to journey with beautiful people in their ongoing life and love story. Each encounter is an experience of God’s gratuitous love.” •

For more information or to seek shelter at HMV, please call (02) 9130875.

Boracay Atis barred in their ancestral land

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

Filed Under: indigenous people, Tourism, Conflicts (general), Laws

(Most Read)

PUT ASIDE bleeding-heart sentimentalism and romanticism. Here are questions that are crying out for answers:

Why are the Atis, who have lived in Boracay long before the paradisiacal island became world-renowned, being barred from occupying a piece of land that the government turned over on Feb. 11, 2011 to their community by virtue of a Certificate of Ancestral Domain Title (CADT) made possible by the Indigenous Peoples Republic Act (IPRA)?

Why can’t an indigenous community of 46 families whose ancestors called the island their home long, long before the island became a tourist haven, occupy a tiny 2.1-hectare area that has been designated as their home?

Why does this area called Dead Forest, which has been declared inalienable and officially declared to be the ancestral domain of the Atis, have non-Ati claimants who do not want to let go?

The Atis of Boracay are up against powerful claimants with business interests on the island known for its powder white sand and, in the last decade or so, for being a crowded party island and a hidden paradise no more.

They are called Ati in the Visayas, while their counterparts in Luzon are called Aeta, curly haired, shorter and slightly darker versions of our mainly Malay-Chinese-Hispanic selves. They are said to be the original aborigines of our islands. They were here when time began, so to speak, before the Malay, Chinese and Spanish arrivals. But I leave this subject to the anthropologists and historians.

The 21st-century reality is that the Atis and many other indigenous peoples (IPs) in the Philippines who, in the past, were marginalized, discriminated against, oppressed and belittled, should now be able to invoke their rights that have been written into the Constitution, among them, their right to remain in and protect their ancestral domains. Making this happen has not been easy on the part of the IPs.

This 21st-century reality is now being put to the test in Boracay where every square foot is much coveted by moist-eyed real estate speculators and tourism magnates. Will the Atis have a place in this booming tourist destination, or will they be forced to go to the Aklan mainland and become homeless wanderers in their own home country?

Fifty-year-old Ati woman and community leader Delsa Supitran Justo will not let this happen. She will tell you right away that unlike many of their counterparts in Luzon, the Atis in Boracay do not beg. They fish, farm, go to school, get employed. Although she stopped at Grade 4, all her six children have gone for higher education and her eldest has just finished college with a teaching degree.

How can the Atis of Boracay improve their lot if they are denied their home and source of livelihood?

On April 26, Justo, Ati chieftain and representative of Indigenous Cultural Community/Indigenous Peoples (ICC/IP) of Boracay, wrote a letter to the National Commission in Indigenous Peoples (NCIP) coursed through its chair Roque A. Agton Jr. about the Atis’ problem. The Atis also filed a complaint against several individuals and sought an injunction with prayer for the issuance of a temporary restraining order (TRO) to stop respondents from “further constructing structures and introducing other forms of improvements in the subject area.”

And, just as important, “That an order be issued requiring the installation of the (Ati) complainants in the area” covered by the CADT. The area is located in Barangay Manoc-manoc.

The NCIP issued the CADT covering the said area in the name of the complainants on Aug. 3, 2010. The formal turnover was held inside a chapel in February 2011.

“However,” the Atis wrote, “the complainants are prevented to enter and occupy the property due to the illegal entry and occupation of respondents over the areas within the Ancestral Domain. The ongoing activities and stiff resistance of respondents continue to hamper the efforts of the complainants to lawfully and peacefully recover and possess the area.”

Justo flew to Manila last week to meet with me and several of the Atis’ supporters. It is heartening to know that not all businessmen and hotel owners in Boracay are only for profit. The Atis have gotten continuous support from some hotel owners, among them, Hannah Hotel’s Pocholo Morillo and his family who accompanied Justo when she met with me.

Also supporting the Atis of Boracay are Sr. Victoria Ostan of the Daughters of Charity and two other nuns who have chosen to live simply among the Atis and journey with them. Ramon Magsaysay Awardee Ben Abadiano, president of Assisi Foundation and founder of Pamulaan Center for Indigenous People’s Education, has thrown his support and plans to set up a school in the Ati community in Boracay. I learned that President Aquino’s sister Viel, who is vice president of Assisi Foundation, is also very supportive of the Atis.

Said Morillo who is also the spokesman of the diocese on energy matters, “The Atis need police protection so that they can occupy their ancestral domain.”

“The Atis in Boracay go back five generations,” Justo told me in her local language mixed with Ilonggo (Hiligaynon) which I could understand. “We used to occupy the whole island. We planted corn, tobacco and vegetables. We also fished for a living.”

And this I fully understood and noted down verbatim. “Panginmatyan namon ini kay amon ini” (We will lay down our lives for this because this land is ours).” In that little spot called the Dead Forest on the island paradise, “Mabuhi gid kami (We will indeed live).”

Thus spoke Delsa Justo, chieftain of her people.

Send feedback to cerespd@gmail.com or www.ceresdoyo.com