Supplies, smiles and surprises in Marawi
THE DAY STARTED EARLY WITH A 4:15 A.M. FLIGHT TO LAGUINDINGAN, FROM WHERE WE PROCEEDED to Camp Pintoy in Iligan City to deliver goods for our soldiers.
The first thing I noticed was the numerous check points en route. Manned by police, the check points actually do what check points are supposed to do: check the vehicle and its occupants.
The police asked drivers where they were headed, asked that windows be rolled down in order to see the passengers (in the case of PUVs, passengers were asked to alight) and cased the vehicle. Despite the early hour, long lines already piled up behind each checkpoint.
Camp Pintoy is home of the 4th Mechanized Infantry Battalion and is named after General Pintoy who was a military zone commander for Mindanao. I found out later that General Pintoy was also the father of the late actor Roland Dantes whose arnis action movies were in vogue during my youth.
We were hosted at the camp by Col. Alex Aduca and later joined by B/Gen. Alunday, Colonel Donato, Colonel Mamon and Colonel Herrera. All were veterans of various wars – Basilan, Mamasapano, etc. All came across as intelligent, articulate, professional and disciplined. The other personnel, the junior officers and enlisted men and women at the base exuded the same aura. Even the reservists – a mix
of teachers, drivers, sales clerks, grandmothers, fresh graduates, returning OFWs, native Lanaoans who have never set foot outside the area – exhibited discipline and pride. Here were soldiers who I was most proud of, soldiers who truly represent the Philippine Armed Forces.
I asked Colonel Aduca what was needed by our soldiers in the front lines. He said there wasn’t a lack of things for our soldiers, that their needs were taken care of by the Army.
But he added that sometimes the logistical and budgetary constraints were such that timely support was most appreciated. He shared how the P150 per day food budget meant that rice and sardines was the meal each
and every day.
He said soldiers sometimes skipped meals while in the heat of battle or maneuvers, so cookies to provide sugar to nourish the solider would be very beneficial. He shared how difficult it was to find potable water for teams cut off from logistical lines.
I’m sure the good colonel could have gone on with a whole laundry list of items but we got the message. Our team brought in the top five items requested by our troops, including packs of dried viands (pusit), cookies, Gatorade, blood clotting agents and water filters.
Our brethren at Smart put in a MEOW (Multi Equipment on Wheels) unit at the camp to help our troops communicate better. Comrades from Makati Med did a medical mission around Camp Evangelista. I am proud to say that the MVP Group undertakes a lot of good activities in the efforts for Marawi.
But, more than physical goods, our soldiers seemed to appreciate most the physical presence, the coming from Manila, of our group – that we have not forgotten, that we were one with them in their area at that time, in this challenging point of their history.
After the turnover, we proceeded to the evacuation area, escorted by five members of Alpha Company. On my prodding, they shared how they were on “leave” as per the Army doctors.
As I probed some more, they revealed how their company suffered through four of their comrades killed in the line of fire.
Hardened by training and war, our escorts kept a watchful eye over us, guarding the perimeter, scanning the crowd, manning entry and egress points, ever watchful for potential threats. In their eyes though were glimpses of pain, vulnerability and sadness. The only other time I had seen such sad eyes were when I was with MSNBC during the Iraq war.
The Maria Cristina Evacuation Center, a basketball court, has been home for more than three months for over 1,200 people.
Men and women, children and elders, Maranaos and Christians live together in this hall. Reputed to be the best evacuation center, Maria Cristina was nevertheless crowded, hot and humid, and offered little to no privacy for its residents who must share 10 bathroom stalls.
But there was a palpable feeling of dignity here. Residents tidied up their areas, children were generally well groomed, living spaces were neat and orderly, absent was the foul smell which aid workers said permeated other evacuation centers, and there was no sense of panic or hysteria as “bakwits” waited for their turn to receive the aid packages (detergents, sanitary pads, daily necessities) we brought for them.
Even the kids were well behaved as they lined up to receive the ice cream we gave away. Normalcy was in a stalemate vs. chaos, at least in Maria Cristina.
The stories of the people at Maria Cristina were varied. There was a mother of three who herself was all but 22 years old. There was a young mentally handicapped child lovingly cared for by his parents and grandmother.
There was the newborn who saw the light of the world on July 14. There was a precocious 7-year-old girl who confidently asserted she wanted to be a doctor.
But the story that resonated the most with me was that of a 55-year-
old lola.
One couldn’t help but notice Lola as we went through the events as she gamely joined every event. She even answered Metro Pacific Investments Corporation when asked to name one of the companies in the MVP Group.
But Lola began sobbing as she recalled her story. Trapped for three days in her home amidst air strikes, she trekked eight hours to get to the Iligan evacuation point together with her apo sa tuhod, who turned out to be the precocious 7-year-old girl I talked to earlier.
Lola had a middle class existence – she was once an OFW in Saudi Arabia but was now a business woman in Marawi. She had stocked up on goods in preparation for the sales boom post-Ramadan, but her home and wealth were now mixed with rubble and shrapnel, material casualties of the conflict. She turned to her relatives for help, including her son.
But she was rejected, the son saying he was unable to help as his only source of income was “nagtatanim
ng kamote.” I am unsure what left Lola in tears more – the loss of her material goods or the fact that her relatives turned their backs on her. Failure is indeed an orphan.
The most gratifying part of my visit was playing with the chilThe dren. Perhaps at this newcomer, the kids were the first to ask questions. From there, conversations grew and the circle expanded to over 20 children.
I asked where they were from, what grade they were in, who was in school today and who played hooky, what they wanted to be when they grew up… Nurses, teachers, policemen; many dreamt of working in Saudi or Kuwait, others hoped to work in Manila.
They asked what I had brought for them; I said games and they all smiled; when I said ice cream, their smiles got even bigger.
I held a mini contest (no prizes) to see who could answer simple math questions (the 11-year-olds had some problem with multiplication), who could jump highest, who had the best smile (they all won!).
I told the kids to keep working hard and to go for their dream, that part of our Group’s commitment is to make the Philippines better for children and their children’s children – this was the same overall message I delivered at the program in the center and the military base.
At the very least, I hope to have entertained them and maybe motivate one or two of them. Special mention must be made of the aid workers at the forefront of the relief efforts.
Department of Health, Provincial Social Welfare Department, military and police personnel, members and volunteers of the provincial government (Gov. Adiong’s daughter and granddaughter were both volunteering tirelessly) were all in the evacuation center ensuring that the residents were looked after.
There were also government workers from Marawi who were actively volunteering. Deprived of their homes, their way of life, their savings and security, these accountants, clerks, lawyers, teachers and other civil servants were channeling their emotions, sadness, fear, anger, helplessness towards helping their fellow men.
One of them held back tears as she was helping us give away the relief packs as she just saw the latest pictures from Marawi which showed her ancestral home blasted to smithereens (why was it, she wondered, when her home was far away from the city center?).
Yet she had a ready smile to give to other evacuees. May we all have the same grace as she had if we do face similar challenges in our lives.
I reserve this last vignette for what to me was the “mystical” part of the relief effort.
I do not speak nor understand Arabic and am unfamiliar with Muslim prayer rites so my comments here may come across as naive. But the prayer we had as we began the relief effort was very touching, profoundly meaningful and, to me, transcendental.
Despite not knowing what the words meant, the sincerity, fervor, the faith-force invoked, seeing the passion with which elders and youngsters prayed, some crying quietly, a few crying loudly, left me with the feeling that I knew what was being said, of what graces were being invoked and what thankfulness was being raised up to the One God.
There was, at that moment, a communion with the Most High. As a Catholic, I didn’t quite imagine that I would experience this in the prayer rites of another religion; God does work in mysterious, magnificent ways.
The author is chief investment officer at Metro Pacific Investments Corporation (MPIC).