Hope in the form of a bamboo cart
A spontaneous movement grew from the Maginhawa Community Pantry. Overnight, the concept spread like wildfire all over social media
Against all odds, in a country where more funds have been allocated for dolomite-filled faux beachfronts rather than free mass testing for Covid-19, Filipinos found hope.
Finally, we saw a tangible way to help one another through the challenges brought about by another year spent social-distancing because of the government’s poor handling of the pandemic.
It came in the form of a quaint, unassuming stall, the Maginhawa Community Pantry, brainchild of Ana Patricia Non. Her mission is straightforward: to serve her community.
Subsequently, the pantry’s only rules, “Give what you can and take what you need,” encouraged people who have more to give what they can, and those in need to take enough for the day’s sustenance.
In times of trials, the word ‘bayanihan’ is tossed around haphazardly — often leading to the worrisome romanticization of Filipino ‘resilience.’
The humble pantry, fashioned from a tan bamboo cart, is stocked with the basics found in a Filipino household — canned sardines, instant noodles, sachets of powdered milk and coffee, vegetables like upo and rice.
In times of trials, the word bayanihan is tossed around haphazardly — often leading to the worrisome romanticization of Filipino “resilience.”
In truth, resilience in the face of extreme indifference of those in power is sadly the only option left. Resilience is the sole path to survival, and many citizens choose to hang tight to that razor’s edge — for they can’t afford to lose anything else.
So, instead of having real systemic change, the poor plight of the many lands on front-page news. After all, who doesn’t love a good underdog narrative?
And so, pictures of bright-eyed children drenched in rain water while standing on rooftops are published along with buzzwords like “bayanihan,” “waterproof spirit” and a personal favorite, “resilience,” are printed alongside the photographs in bold, black letters.
However, one asks: Why is the country always ill-prepared for the annual typhoon season? Why are preventive measures still not in place? Ultimately, how much worse do things have to get to elicit action from the powers that be?
Spontaneous
Parallel to the more performative pleas for change is the spontaneous movement that stemmed from the Maginhawa Community Pantry. Overnight, the concept spread like wildfire all over social media.
It was a refreshing break from the otherwise sickening buffoonery of government officials on any given day.
Bayanihan, in the case of Non’s initiative, has been stripped down to its very essence. It wasn’t about fame or fortune or even a desire to go viral, it was simply about one thing and one thing only: helping the community.
As I write this, the Maginhawa Community Pantry has reopened amid threats of red-tagging and the lack of supposed necessary “permits.”
Several city mayors, namely, Vico Sotto of Pasig and Joy Belmonte of Quezon City, have issued public statements showing their support of the civilian-led endeavor.
Today, this renewed spirit of bayanihan is palpable and fuels the community pantries. On its very first day, the pantry drew people to line up to pick food for their family’s first meal of the day, while others pitched in to replenish the cart.
Have you joined your own community pantry?