By
Clarisse Inao, BA Journalism student, Bulacan State University
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| Clarisse Inao with children at the island barangay of Pugad in Hagonoy, Bulacan. Dino Balabo |
I
was never a fan of travelling; I’d rather stay home and read than experience
the hassle of going somewhere. For me, it’s time-consuming and a total waste of
energy, but I can’t believe that a mere trip for a journalism class will turn
things around. Please, don’t laugh, but the place I’ve been referring to is
within my province only.
I
went to Hagonoy, Bulacan and I never was the same again after.
You
might raise your eyebrows knowing where I went. I know it is not as extravagant
or as exciting as going to Boracay, or to Bohol. There was no beach party to
anticipate, no grand hotel to stay in, no selfie-worthy background to snap upon
to. It was almost boring. I admit I was half-hearted while preparing myself
that morning. I can’t imagine how much regret I will feel if I decided to stay
home that day.
Brgy.
Pugad, Hagonoy Bulacan is not a paradise. The councilor even warned us before
the trip that we have to expect the worst; dirty water, garbage, clogged
drainage, and every face of poverty. I felt uncertain, not knowing what to
expect. When I went into the boat, all I was praying is to be back as soon as
possible.
The
moment the motor started, I closed my eyes and felt the breeze of the air. I
smelled the sea. I smelled the coming adventure, still, I’m uncertain. When we
got to the barangay, we were welcomed by old dilapidated houses, and children
eyeing us in questioning looks. It was not a good first impression for me. We
walked under the scorching heat of the sun, with dried fishes at the sidewalks
and children following us. Half-day of not -so-good events and all I want to do
is go back home.
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| BulSU students on board a boat. DBalabo |
Everything
started to turn upside down when I got the chance to interview and interact
with the people.
There
were a lot of stories of loyalty, like how Manang Isabelita told me her
childhood days and why she stayed in Pugad despite the promises and
opportunities the urbanized parts of Bulacan offered. It is because of the
memories that no amount of money can replace.
Stories
of survival were also in every corner. How people managed to survive typhoons
and floods with gigantic waves from Manila Bay hitting their barangay. How they
managed to survive poverty with fishing as one of their main options to live.
Accounts of red tide and the impact of climate change to their only source of
living.
There
was a unique story of camaraderie, how Manang Mercedes is the official burial
coordinator of the barangay. Pugad is an island which is the main reason why
death is more difficult to bear with no cemetery around. They have to transport
the body from Pugad to Hagonoy proper by 1-hour boat ride. Manang Mercedes is
well-known by rendering her service to arrange everything from death to burial
process, sometimes when the family is really in need, for free.
There
was Teacher Josefina who also grew up there. She witnessed how difficult it is
to get education in their barangay with only elementary school for the youth;
she witnessed how politicians made promise every elections to give progress in
the education system, and how those promises were broken everytime. But she is
a living proof that anyone can be successful as long as he dream and work
enough to achieve it. She graduated and became a professional teacher, and she chose
to go back to her roots and teach in Pugad.
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| Pugad kids and sun dried fish. DBalabo |
There
was a tale of faith, how the numerous personal struggles and disasters a
counselor in Pugad experienced restored his beliefs in God. From a drunkard man
then, he’s now a public servant serving his barangay and teaching them how to
believe when life is giving you many reasons not to.
And
what really struck me, is the children. Those questioning eyes I met when we
got there were in reality, eyes of the young ones who were excited to tell
stories to new people, eyes of the young ones who yearns for attention from us.
I told them stories, but they also told them theirs. Their dreams, like
finishing their education and go back in Pugad as successful individuals. Their
dreams for their hometown, their wishful thinking that one day, their barangay
will be more suitable to live at, one day they will not rely to those
politicians anymore as their hope, that they will be the hope their town has
been waiting for so long. Their hopes that someday,people will not be afraid to
go there and listen to their stories, people will visit their barangay not
because of requirement but because they want to witness its beauty amidst
poverty.
I
was ashamed of how I judge Pugad by how it looks like when I first stepped my
foot on it, how I judged the people the first time I saw them. I was humbled,
how I constantly complains about the number of school works I have to do when
there are youth like me who wanted to learn but didn’t had the opportunity to
do so. I was very proud, of how Bulakenyos even in far-flung areas showed
heroism in their own ways, like how our hometown heroes did in the history.
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| BulSU students on damage fishpond dike. DBalabo |
I
came home that day with so many thoughts in my head. I came home exactly just
like how I left it that morning; with few clothes, a notebook, a camera and
some money, but I felt I brought home many more. I came home with lessons,
experiences, stories to tell and a renewed perspective in life.
Funny
how when I got into the boat that morning, all I want to do is go back home
already, but when I got into the boat the second time around to leave, all I
want to do that time is to plan when I will go back to Pugad again.
