The Way We Do It
abueno@theguidon.com
During a particular time in my life, my family—the five of us—lived in a small, dingy room, less than the size of an ordinary classroom. My father borrowed money and did odd jobs to ensure our next meal. We survived.
My most significant memory of that time is that of an early rainy morning, with me lying on a mat, wishing the rains would stop. Children would rejoice over the suspension of classes, but I wanted to go to school.
VP Achoot Cuyegkeng, during the scholars and benefactors’ get-together on March 20, echoed this particular experience. Her own family had experienced living in a single room. This experience, I am sure, resonates among many students: not just scholars, not just Ateneans.
The Philippines is a nation stricken with poverty. While some families, like mine, are lucky to get out of it, some others are not. These families are still out there, squatting on a land not theirs, trying to fit into a small room. Some children are out there, wanting to go to school, but cannot.
Being a scholar all my life, I cannot express my gratitude enough for all the schools that provided room for me to learn without the cost. Our batch valedictorian Kim Buñag (a scholar, too), speaking during the get-together as well, somehow summed how all of us scholars felt: “Maraming salamat. Gagalingan ko pa po.”
“Gagalingan ko pa po (I will do better),” in this sense, can mean performing better academically, thus doing justice to your scholarship, and (to non-scholars) to the staggering cost of your education. Here in the Ateneo, there is one lesson I will remember best: we all have an infinite responsibility for the Other (Emmanuel Levinas, from Philo102). We are all obligated to the marginalized. This is where we can all do better.
I may have learned a lot in Ateneo, but I have also been deeply frustrated many times. I cannot understand why we have to be forced to vote both for the Sanggu and for the national government, or even for a mock election. I cannot understand how we can complain about the dress code, baunans, aircons, parking spaces, smockets, long lines. The intensity of how we complain about these issues I can never see on issues more significant: voter registration, contractual labor in the Ateneo, land reform, election violence, poverty.
Dear reader, I know it is not your fault that you were born the way you were—rich or poor, scholar or not. All I ask is you devote a portion of your time thinking about an advocacy that you can be accountable for—be it on the theater arts, on the media, on management, on politics, on biology, on religion. All I ask is for you to see things in perspective: a few are too rich, too many are too poor. All I ask is for you to do what you can, because no one is too young to do something.
All I ask is for you to stop saying, “I don’t care,” because your English block mate has all the reasons not to, but—because of the privilege of a free education—doesn’t, and even finds more reasons to care. Because many others like you have realized how dire the situation is.
Still, if you think that the situation of the Philippines and the world does not merit your attention at all, think of this: a small room. A family with barely enough to live. A child wanting to go to school. Your classmate. Ate Alma.
We are not mere statistics on a news report. Here are our faces. You should act. We should all do.
