It seems foolish for me to believe that just as long as there is one person who hasn’t given up on the Philippines, then there is hope for the country.  Seems foolish, but the core of me completely and wholeheartedly believes it.  Just one person.  Because it can all start there.

Love our country, people; Mahalin naman natin ang Pilipinas. And just like loving a person, it’s not all about what the country is or isn’t giving you.  It’s not all about your demands.  It’s also about what you can give.

Yesterday, I attended mass at Guanella Center, a school and a shelter for indigent people with disabilities.  The gym where it was held was packed; families occupied the off-white plastic chairs lined up facing the altar.  It was much like any other mass, except a blind girl did the second reading, and, right in front of the altar, there were men, women, girls, and boys in wheelchairs and some seemingly in their own worlds.  What caught my attention and triggered a reaction was this man wearing an orange shirt, in a wheelchair, with a semi-permanent pained expression on his face.  During the entire mass, every time there was a song playing, he sang with all his might, his head tilting backwards, almost like he was struggling with all his might to let his voice out in song.  And there I was, standing silently, choosing which songs I would sing.  Papuri sa Diyos played and his head was rocking back and forth, his face an undecipherable picture of pain and immense joy, and all his energy going into giving thanks and praise.  And there I was, standing silently, holding back emotion, a little bit stunned.

There is so much to be thankful for.  There is so much we take for granted.

In this world, anyone can truly be happy.  One just has to choose it, cherish it, and be thankful for it.

I realize that it is becoming harder and harder to weave words together like I used to.  Like I used to when I was missing the Philippines so badly, like I used to when I felt my foreign surroundings were too sterile that I was beginning to wonder what it’s like to breathe real air.

It was much easier to write when I just got back to the country and had to adjust to everything:  the train, bus, and jeepney rides, the different set of sensibilities one needs to relate to all sorts of people here, the absence of a Safeway or a Target, missing my car.  It was easy to write about the transition, as easy as writing about being in transit and, of course, about pining for home and my place in it.

Now that I am here, I have gone silent most days, not because there is nothing to write about, but because there is so much to get caught up in.  I find it is more pressing to live the words than to write them.  But I am recovering from a terrible unidentified viral sickness - no doubt brought about by the filthy flood water I had to wade through a week and a half ago, that I truly have no excuse not to pause, sit still, and write.  Not because I miss home like I used to, but because I am home and I must.

I do not have to recount the havoc that Ondoy and Pepeng have brought upon the country; either you have read, heard, or seen it elsewhere, or if you haven’t, you can read an account here and see photographs here.

What I wish to write about is the courage, sincerity, and unity I’ve witnessed among our people, not just during and after the recent calamity, but everyday, through people I meet at work, mostly.  This is by no means a comprehensive account of these extraordinary people, if anything, it is but an overview.

There is a woman who takes streetchildren out of the streets and into a school she founded, where the children get free education, taking them away from the dangers of their previous lives.  There is a group of people who are working hard on implementing a values formation curriculum in all public schools in the country, because knowledge is nothing without good character and decency.  There are young leaders who go to dangerous areas in Mindanao, teaching their fellow youth on how to develop their communities, how to help themselves progress and succeed.  And then there are those who are more privileged who support these people, who extend their reach beyond their circles to make a difference, to do what they can.

And why do these people do it?  They don’t get publicity, certainly not money, nor any other perks from doing what they are doing.  They do it simply because they care and they can.  They have the ability to mobilize resources, and they have the humanity to do so for others.

For the recent calamity, people of all ages and classes are coming together to repack relief goods and deliver these to those afflicted by the floods.  At the brink of another typhoon hitting, a group of my coworkers still went out to distribute goods to those who haven’t been substantially reached by other relief efforts.  Filipinos and non-Filipinos in the US and elsewhere abroad are sending funds to support numerous relief operations.  From Day 1 up to now, the funds are still coming in.

Filipinos are pulling together in the same direction, towards upliftment, towards progress, towards hope.  Filipinos everywhere, in every corner of the world, are holding out their arms, locking their grip firmly around the foundation of our country, and lifting it - together - with all our might.

I’ve spoken to disillusioned Filipinos before, and I’ve heard so many bad things about our country, our people.  But being here, going through so much and discovering so much goodness in our fellow country men and women in so little time, I stand proudly on our country’s soil.  I stand proudly and say that there is hope for the Philippines.  I firmly believe that there is hope.