Taking the road less traveled: Dr. Manuel Dayrit’s stories of service
SERVE is a book of essays written by campus editors during the period from the First Quarter Storm until the imposition of martial rule, from 1969 to 1972. Among the 19 authors is Manuel M. Dayrit who shared his experience as a countryside doctor, public health practitioner and educator. Serving Where I Must, the title that he chose, includes “stories of a physician who came of age during martial law.”
His essay begins with a Covid vignette. In March 2021, Reden, his 45year old barber, called him for help. “I encouraged him to be patient, to rest and to eat well,” Dr. Dayrit recalls. By mid-april, Reden could walk around the ward, having been weaned away from oxygen, and was eventually discharged.
Interviewed by media after the World Health Organization (WHO) declared Covid-19 as a Public Health Emergency of International Concern, Dr. Dayrit shared his apprehension that the country’s public health system could be “overrun just by the sheer number of cases.” He disclosed his unease that despite assurances from the Department of Health (DOH), “I saw no evidence that the government had sprung into emergency mode.”
Yet, he restrained himself against projecting “a pessimism that might spawn fear, rancor , and controversy, particularly in media and social media, making a bad situation worse.”
Coincidentally, another global health crisis, the Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome (SARS) had broken out in March 2003 during his watch as Health Secretary. Consul General Victoria Sisante-bataclan alerted the DOH that nurse Adela Catalon was coming home to the Philippines from Canada through Hong Kong. Hence, it was imperative to nip in the bud any possible community spread.
Parenthetically, Ms. Bataclan, was this writer’s fellow member of the UP Student Council, during the First Quarter Storm when Dr. Dayrit was a staffer of Ateneo’s Guidon during his undergraduate days.
Banking on his experience as a public health practitioner, he devised a strategy of “rapid response, proactive action on SARS suspects, effective contact tracing and isolation, and treatment.” The Philippines was removed from the international watch list on May 20, 2003. President Arroyo’s approval rating received a plus-28 percent boost as a result of the successful control of SARS.
On his Cabinet stint as Secretary of Health during the Arroyo presidency, he reminisces: “Th(os)e four years and three months…were the most intense years of my life. Leadership at a national level, constant public scrutiny, media relations, bureaucratic challenges, interactions with politicians, and calls to account for targets and budgets came with the duty to serve.”
But the core of Manolet’s story – the deep well from which he learned many life lessons — was his stint in Davao del Norte, now called Davao de Oro, from 1978 to 1981. This was preceded by a six-month rural service engagement that all medical school graduates are required to perform. He shares his reflections:
“The fork in the road opens to two different paths, both significant and both demanding full-time attention. One path led to the hospital; the other to the community. To be true to the values I held dear, I chose the less-traveled path.” Moreover, he writes:
“What made me make that careerchanging decision to stay in Mindanao? Why did I forego residency training at the Philippine General Hospital to become a clinical specialist? It was passion. That is the only way I can answer. Sheer passion to improve health care among the country’s poor and neglected rural communities. This was a mission to which I had a strong personal drive to contribute, about which I felt a deep sense of urgency. I needed to get the work done and done immediately. In there was also the solidarity I felt with classmates and kindred spirits making their own personal commitment to the mission before us.”
Reading his vivid recollection interspersed with reflective insights was like viewing his life story on a television or cinema screen. He described the long bus rides on wide open, well-paved highways, as well as the perilous forays into mountainous trails undertaken by volunteers who administered anti-polio vaccines to children. while being shadowed by army soldiers, in areas patrolled by the New People’s Army (NPA).
He was devoted to the cause of establishing well-functioning community-based health programs by immersing in the day-to-day lives of the people “so we could see the world through their eyes and accompany them in their struggles.” He realized that this was the essence of Serve the People, “the slogan we learned during our days as student activists; it called for altruism, boldness and even selfsacrifice.”
Partnering with church-based religious personalities and organizations, Dr. Dayrit formed a team of health professionals composed of a doctor, nurses, community organizers that would be capable of assisting their neighbors when they fall ill and, if needed, refer them for treatment in the government health center.
Together with Dr. Ellerie Sto. Niño, his girlfriend who he married in December 1980, Dr. Dayrit worked in one of the first community-based health centers in lower Tuganay, in the municipality of Carmen, 40 minutes from Tagum.
While reading through Manolet’s accounts, I recalled Senator Juan Flavier’s book, Doctor to the Barrios, who served as secretary of Health during the Ramos administration. While Dr. Flavier’s book was made memorable by humorous stories, Dr. Dayrit generously shared his insights and reflections.
After serving as Health Secretary, he worked for the World Health Organization in Geneva as director for Human Resources for Health. Then he served as dean of the Ateneo School of Medicine and Public Health. He relishes being a mentor to young medical students and fresh graduates, as this activates his “beginner’s mind.”
“Divine grace moves in mysterious and amazing ways,” he concludes. What I have done and what I have become has been divine grace moving in me. I thank God for it.”
‘The fork in the road opens to two different paths, both significant and both demanding fulltime attention. One path led to the hospital; the other to the community. To be true to the values I held dear, I chose the less-traveled path.’