Repost: Are we ready for divorce?

(I wrote this for my column in the Standard in August last year. I am re-posting it because the topic is once again gaining steam.)

Yes, because there is something else that makes a sham of the institution of marriage.

The separation of husband and wife is never a happy matter. At worst, it is the failure of the most basic social institution, a source of trauma for the spouses and for the children, and the trigger to unleash the ugly sides to human nature – bitterness and vindictiveness, among others. At best, it is the liberation from a miserable relationship and the opportunity to start life over -- as though it were ever truly possible.

In the Philippines, there are three legal means by which marriages can be ended.

A declaration of nullity voids a marriage. It is as if there was no marriage between the parties to begin with. There are conditions that can make a marriage null and void, such as defects in the process, but the most popular ground for nullity is psychological incapacity of one or both parties. Article 36 of the Family Code of the Philippines, enacted in 1988, makes this possible. The effect is that it is as though the parties have been single all along, that the marriage was one bad dream.

An annulment recognizes the existence of a marriage until the time it is invalidated. The consent of one or both parties to the marriage must be proven somehow vitiated at the time of the exchange of vows, so that “they did not fully know what they were getting into.” After an annulment, parties are restored to their single status.

Legal separation, on the other hand, does not dissolve the marriage. It is still there, but the parties are allowed by law to live separately from one another. Because the marriage ties remain, neither of the parties are free to re-marry.

Now comes House Bill 1799, filed by Reps. Luzviminda Ilagan and Emerenciana de Jesus of the Gabriela Party List. The lawmakers believe that divorce should be made an additional option for couples with failed and irreparable relationships.

The bill says divorce can be an option in the event of:
 separation in fact: parties have been separated for 5 years wherein reconciliation is highly improbable;
 legal separation for at least two years wherein reconciliation is highly improbable;
 when the grounds for legal separation cause the irreparable breakdown of the marriage;
 psychological incapacity; and
 when parties suffer from irreconcilable differences that cause the irreparable breakdown of the marriage.

According to the bill’s supporters, there is no constitutional prohibition on divorce and that in fact, under Presidential Decree 1083, Filipino Muslims are allowed to get a divorce under certain conditions.

Opposition to the bill is vociferous -- and predictably so. The objection comes mainly from the Catholic Church and from politicians either with puritan Catholic views or with great fear of the political backlash of supporting such a bill. After all, some priests and bishops use the privilege of the pulpit to denounce politicians who advocate controversial causes, badmouthing them to the people whose votes they need to stay in office.

That divorce is a threat to the sanctity of marriage and the integrity of the family has often been cited. Critics of the bill say that this will cause young people not to take marriage seriously, knowing they can easily get out of it. Couples having problems would not try harder to save the relationship, there already being an easy way out.

Unfortunately, those who mouth these tired, old arguments don’t really know what they are talking about.

What causes the breakdown of a relationship is not the availability of divorce as an option but a behavior that emboldens a spouse to not treat his or her partner with respect and love. It is committing violence in any form, or infidelity. Indeed marriages fail because one or both of the parties do not get their act together.

Likewise, taking marriage seriously is an attitude molded in an individual – by his family, by his education, by his religion and society. We must change our views on why couples should get married in the first place. For example, and this applies especially to provinces, an unplanned pregnancy, BY ITSELF, is not enough reason to get hitched. At the onset, there should be a genuine commitment to stay on despite difficulties, work out differences – and that severance of the ties should be the very last resort.

The Philippines is one of only two countries in the world without absolute divorce (Malta is the other one). As for those who say that the predominance of Catholicism here should prevent us from even considering the urgency of the bill, take the example of Italy and Spain, two Catholic nations. The JLP blog (www.jlp-law.com) reports that “Italy registers a 7 percent [divorce] rate while Spain registers 15 percent. The figures reflect the strong influence of religious beliefs and culture on individuals in deciding to terminate marital relations.”

**

The most reasonable challenge posed to the divorce bill is that there are enough laws in place should a marital bond turn sour, so that there is no need for one more. Is this true? Do the grounds for declaration of nullity, annulment or legal separation cover the grounds wished to be addressed by divorce? Won’t they have the same effect, anyway?

I believe the most compelling argument for divorce, against a mere declaration of nullity, is the mockery caused by the very large margin of interpretation accorded to “psychological incapacity.” It has become a catch-all phrase to cover anything and everything from plain incompatibility to severe personality disorder. Indeed it is “subject to creativity,” says the Women’s Legal Bureau in an earlier paper.

It is the clinical psychologist who determines, through a battery of tests and interviews, whether a person is psychologically incapacitated. And there is a world of a difference between a couple whose marital woes are caused by legitimate and basic personality disorders from those who simply fell out of love or woke up to realize they don’t like the sound of their spouse’s voice anymore.

This freedom to determine what constitutes incapacity gives rise to ingenious ways a couple employs if the parties are desperate to get out of the marriage. They may exaggerate the facts of the marriage to make the conditions grave and reconciliation impossible. Thus, the creative clinical psychologists – expert witnesses, so they are called in court – are much sought after and generously paid.

The practice is also a source of corruption in the Judiciary. We have known about parties filing their petitions for nullity in far-flung areas, or in places they don’t really live or work or have property in, just because the judges there are more accommodating to “prior arrangements.”

If there is something that makes a sham out of the institution of marriage, these do. Why exaggerate the story of your life just to claim incapacity? Why pretend there was no marriage in the first place when there was, and it was probably good in the beginning, too? Why deny the plain truth that sometimes things just don’t work out and that people make mistakes? Finally, why lie or and invoke the power of money just to regain freedom when other similarly situated (or worse), but without the money, would simply be trapped into a loveless bond? Is this not the biggest mockery of all?


**

In the halls of Congress, where the battle must first be won, does the proposal even stand a chance? Or is it just one of those things that make a lot of noise in media but are really non-issues as far as lawmakers are concerned?

The bulk of the work now lies in convincing our lawmakers to give the matter some serious thought, shunning trite arguments for or against the proposal. After all, proponents of the divorce bill emphasize that the safeguards will be stringent and that people (and the courts) will resort to this option responsibly.

Appreciated properly, divorce will strengthen the family even more. Married couples, even when they have problems – and what couple doesn’t have problems? – will work on their differences and stay together despite the availability of the option to leave. The specter of divorce should motivate spouses to show good behavior toward their partner and not take anything for granted.

As for those unlucky enough to have made bad choices, divorce does provide a second chance, and the opportunity not necessarily to re-marry but to have peace of mind and regain their old selves back. Such healing is possible only through acknowledging and embracing past failures and experiences – and not denying that they happened in the first place.


adellechua@gmail.com

Have a happy hour

We can all consciously decide to be happy – in small, regular doses.


There's a My Happy Hour page on Facebook which anybody can like. The profile picture is that of a boy in a red shirt, squatting on the sand and looking up, smiling. Once one is part of the community, one can post on the My Happy Hour wall. Facebook asks "What's on your mind?" This one is more specific -- "How did you spend your happy hour?"

The idea is to set aside an hour every day to exert an effort to do that simple, often overlooked thing which gives one great satisfaction. It's part of the "Be Happy!" movement of the Natasha Goulbourn Foundation – founded in 2007 in the memory of Natasha Goulbourn who suffered from depression -- to help people cultivate a culture of happiness by having little doses of it every day.

At a forum two weeks ago at the Palm Grove, Rockwell Club, Lou Casimiro-Querubin, psychiatrist at The Medical City and associate professor at the Ateneo School of Medicine and Public Health, depicted depression as a hidden illness, which does not confine itself to a specific group of people. One could be, for instance, a young professional who is always tired and irritable, a middle-aged businessman who constantly complains of an upset stomach, a teenager who is restless and unable to concentrate at school, even a senior citizen who has led an active, full life but who suddenly suffers from digestive problems after his, say, 90th birthday.

The symptoms are so common that it is easy to mistake them for an ordinary feeling of "the blues" that we all have at some point in our lives. Physically, there may be frequent headaches, fatigue, disturbed sleep, lack of energy, dizziness, pain, gastrointestinal complaints, sexual dysfunction and menstrual problems Emotionally, there may be a constant "low" feeling, anhedonia or inability to derive pleasure out of things that used to give one great satisfaction, a sense of guilt, hopelessness, low self-esteem, impaired memory, difficulty concentrating, anxiety, anger and irritability. It takes anywhere between two weeks and two years of these symptoms before the onset of a major depressive episode, Querubin added.

A major episode may refer to a suicide attempt, for instance, or a breakdown.

Through the Happy Hour campaign, the foundation believes these symptoms may be offset – better yet, prevented. Furthermore, it seeks to build a community of individuals who reinforce each other in celebrating the little joys of life.

**

We Filipinos pride ourselves in being a happy bunch. Do we not often remark that only in the Philippines can people poke fun at themselves in the direst of situations, like a natural disaster or a political upheaval? We also rank 14th in the 2009 Happy Planet Index, showing Filipinos' tendency to look at the bright side.

Despite this, some studies suggest that anywhere between 5 and 10 percent of Filipinos have at one point in their lives experienced mental illness – though, of course, the real numbers are hard to come by. How could this be? What it tells us is that we tend to put on a happy face before the world despite our troubles. We always want to look happy, because being otherwise is a sign of weakness.

Such only shows the stigma that is attached to having depression – or any mental disorder for that matter. We tend to think having a mental disorder is similar to being crazy. We dismiss the fact that such illnesses, including serious cases of depression, are in fact treatable through medical attention and counseling. It s not the person's fault, and that person has got nothing to be ashamed about.

This is what the Natasha Goulbourn Foundation wants to do -- educate the public to remove the stigma. With that out of the way, help could be given better and faster. The foundation also seeks to empower individuals suffering from depression, as well as their families and friends whose love and support are crucial.

In pursuit of these goals, the foundation conducts public lectures and seminars and has established hotlines through which it can provide phone counseling services to those who want at least a voice at the other end of the line.

Recently, as well, the foundation has started reaching out to children of overseas Filipino workers. Katrina Goulbourn Feist, Natasha's sister and member of the foundation's board, says it's the children who suffer most from the physical separation from one or both of their parents. Worse, this is not even factored into the so-called economic benefits derived from the earnings of these migrant workers. The costs are just too huge, she says.

**

One hundred ninety-four people have liked My Happy Hour as of Tuesday night. The foundation hopes the number could grow bigger, given the exponential powers of social media. Here's what people have written so far: Playing with nephews and nieces. Spending time with old friends. Eating comfort food. Watching favorite television programs. In all, it's really just making yourself or someone else happy.

It could be argued, of course, that true happiness has less to do with a cheerful mood than with a sense of flourishing, of having meaning – but that's probably for another column. Fact is, at least where depression is concerned, little things do matter. In Filipino, there is a term – "mababaw ang kaligayahan" – used to describe somebody who is easy to please, and who derives happiness from the most mundane things.

It used to be a bad thing, a derogatory statement – but now not so anymore. We can liken the campaign to making a conscious effort to stay afloat instead of allowing yourself to sink. Indeed we should refuse to take anything for granted and psych ourselves to find happiness in little things.

So how about you? How will you spend your happy hour?


adellechua@gmail.com

Happiest when busiest

To say that the past few days have been busy is an understatement. I suppose I should let my schedule speak for itself:

Friday, May 20

brought Sophia to the Center for Culinary Arts on Katipunan Avenue, Quezon City for her last day of baking class. Her schedule was 1pm and since it was the last day, a graduation of sorts would be taking place at 430 that same afternoon.

dashed to Makati for a 2pm meeting with management on preparations for the newspaper's 25th anniversary celebration. I was assigned to head the committee for the essay writing contest for high school and college students.

gathered all five opinion columns as well as the editorial, coordinated with the cartoonist, and produced the weekend op-ed page.

left the office at 4pm to dash back to Katipunan for the graduation.

of course I didn't make it. By the time I arrived, the ceremony was finished and the kids were just enjoying the various dishes they prepared for the day. Fortunately my oldest daughter Bea was there to see her sister receive her certificate. Bea brought along her dude, Edward. We all went to the mall before going home.

Saturday, May 21

conducted a whole-day workshop on editorial writing before a group of student journalists and their school paper advisers.

in the evening, acted as judge for Binibining Marulas 2011. It was nice to see Miss Rose Tiongson, my history teacher in high school, as my co-judge. Turned out we both knew Van Sy, a dear friend of my late mother and uncle; he was her kumpare. I also brought my own fleet along – Sophie, Ate Helen, Bea (with Edward), Josh (with Clai). After the pageant Van treated us to Jollibee and drove us all home.

Sunday, May 22

brought Elmo to the office so we could do some school shopping before I went in.

Josh and Clai met us in Greenbelt where we had dinner.

Monday, May 23

saw off our helper Cathy as she left for a one-week vacation in her hometown in Sariaya, Quezon.

spent the morning doing English translations for a project I was engaged in. I had earlier written the 7,000-word text in Filipino.

went to the office much later than usual and was lucky that I was able to produce the next day's editorial well before the much-earlier deadline with the presses.

Tuesday, May 24

took Sophie shopping for school things and some clothes and shoes at the St. Francis Square and SM Megamall.

Rushed to Makati for a 2pm meeting at Tower One, Philippine Stock Exchange for the
project I had been working on the day before. The book will be launched June 7. I was able to obtain comments regarding my initial draft and was given a few days' allowance to incorporate the principals' revisions. Also obtained pointers in going about an additional, related assignment.

made it to the office with plenty of time to spare. I had written my column in advance and so that Tuesday was a breeze. I simply edited myself as though I were another person.

Just as I was leaving, the higher ups said they wanted to squeeze in a letter to the editor – with the response of the reporter whose article was being questioned – on my page. I had to rewrite the convoluted response several times over. This greatly delayed my page, and by then the rain was pouring hard. I was 15 minutes behind my deadline with the presses. Fortunately my boss offered to let me and Sophie and all our shopping bags hitch a ride to EDSA-Quezon Ave. That saved us the trouble of taking a cab to the MRT station in all that rain, and riding the crowded coaches. We were able to go home before 10pm.

spent that time until around midnight working on the additional section for the book.

Wednesday, May 25

revisited my 500-word draft from the night before, polished it and sent the email before 8am.

went back to sleep half-wishing my maid was back so she could go to the wet market.

decided I had to conserve my energy. Told the kids there would be no cooking and washing done that day – we were all going to the mall for lunch. The announcement was met with jubilation.

had lunch at KFC with Bea, Sophie and Elmo. (Josh had gone off to his review classes for college entrance examinations. He's an incoming high school senior).

went to the grocery for some supplies. It was 2pm, looked like it was about to rain, but I still had one more stop – to the three younger kids' school to enrol them. Of course I still had to go to the Standard office afterwards.

asked Bea to start the enrollment process already, filling out forms, while I prepared myself and got into office attire. I met her at the school (across the street from our house) and coughed up the money for tuition and books and oversaw the small kids' fitting of their new PE uniforms. By this time, the rain was bearing down, and hard. I could not have left anyway. I finalized everything until the rain stopped. I thought, there goes several mountains of books and notebooks to wrap. I know it's weird but I looked forward to the menial task. I am a wrapping master of sorts.

It was then I remembered that I was also supposed to go back to school. I was so busy worrying about my kids' requirements that I had almost forgotten about winning the Journalism Fellowship! I panicked that registration was over and I had missed my chance. I called Ateneo and was relieved to find out that I was supposed to go there on June 9 and classes would not begin until the 13th.

arrived at the office just as the clock struck 5. I thought, it's a miracle I am able to churn out halfway decent editorials on demand. I guess I'm just really blessed.

pulled an all-nighter writing the first two chapters of the book (yet another project) I am writing, a sequel of sorts to the one I had already published earlier this year AND revising the Filipino draft given the principals' suggestions.

Thursday, 26 May

decided to catch some sleep at 6:15 am, after emailing the revised draft.

set my alarm clock to 9am. I had an 1130 meeting in Makati.

was awake by 8 anyhow. Went downstairs and reveled at how the house was quiet and serene, but noticed that the laundry was piling up -- big time. Decided I had no time to worry about it now. Cathy was due to return the following day.

The lack of sleep took its toll. Realized I brought my laptop but forgot its charger. Packed a rain gear (typhoon Chedeng was threatening to hammer Luzon) but left it on the couch. Lost my pre-paid train ticket and had to queue up again, the very inconvenience I sought to avoid.

arrived perfectly on time for my lunch meeting with my co-author for the sequel. He was happy with the first two chapters and, quite frankly, so was I.

While I was enjoying a healthy Vietnamese lunch, Josh called, panicking because he had lost his house keys. He was already late for his review and nobody would be left at home. He was seeking clearance for a “brilliant solution”. Told him I was too far away already to bother with it, and that he should just take responsibility for his “solution.”

Meeting ended earlier than planned. By 1pm I was free but groggy and achy all over. I decided to give myself a break and got a one-hour traditional Thai back massage.

Office work, it being a Thursday, was mercifully light.

Dinner with a friend! A long-overdue meeting with my dear friend Jenny. I had good news to share. We feasted on Bon Chon Chicken and had coffee until her kids, who saw a performance in Greenbelt, came for her. Took a cab straight home. Figured I deserved it.

Friday, May 27

Bea's day. My eldest daughter was turning 17 in three days (feel so old. What was I doing when I was 17?). She is an incoming philosophy sophomore. We went to St. Francis Square and to Megamall for her clothes and shoes, then to Makati for bags and school supplies. Actually, I had to be somewhere else at 2pm. but I could not leave her as this was her day. I chose to stay with her.

received some heartening news about the authorship. It told me people really appreciated the work I did.

After office, in Trinoma, Bea and I met up with another dear friend, Bates. She'd been my friend since the third grade when I promised her that if I had a child she would be its godmother. And so Bea and I had a nice dinner with her ninang and then she left to roam around Trinoma to give Bates and me some time to talk alone.

Needless to say, I was wiped out when I got home. I was thankful that the following day, Saturday, was my day off.

issued a decree that nobody should dare wake up before noon.

Saturday, May 28

But I was the one who violated that decree, because at 630 am Saturday I was awake, reveling in my aloneness. I saw Letters to Juliet on Star Movies, promised myself I would someday visit rural Italy and was moved by the story of two people who waited 50 long years to be with each other again (maybe it was inspired by Love in the Time of Cholera). I looked forward to going out with Elmo later in the day to see Kung Fu Panda.

Life's good.

**

Last week was perhaps one of the busiest weeks in my entire life. And it was not all work, either. There were also demands of being a mother, a single mother specifically, especially now that school is about to open. There were the joys of family togetherness. There was the satisfaction of spending time with one's few but long-standing, closest friends. In between, I was also able to do some writing for this blog, writing that I DID NOT have to do. This is the best, most gratifying kind.

Finally, there is the peace in finding time for myself – even if sometimes I have to fight for it. I think this is crucial in maintaining sanity, especially when you wear many hats and are many things to different people.

All in all, the past week was a microcosm of the rest of my life. Hectic, demanding, but also fruitful, balanced, productive and simply...happy.

I have no time for distractions. I know better than make myself unnecessarily vulnerable to anything else. And why should I? I have everything I need.

Repost: An ethical question

(this was an earlier blog entry, circa October 2009, which I feel deserves to be resurrected in the present context.)

How next door to happiness lives sorrow
- R. Kelly
Gotham City

I saw an indie film last week (I wrote about it separately in my newspaper column) which had some scene taken inside a prison compound. I've also been following a show, Locked Up Abroad at the National Geographic Channel, where people narrate the circumstances of their landing in jail in a foreign country. Last Monday's episode was shot in the Laguna provincial jail even as the story was supposed to be set in Bali, Indonesia. The inmates were even talking in Filipino. I suppose the NatGeo people thought their first-world audience would not be able to tell the difference between Bahasa and Tagalog.

I digress. I am especially attentive of jails because I've actually been in one -- at the men's prison facility of the Quezon City Police Department. It's quite near Edsa, at the foot of the Kamuning flyover, on the right side if you are headed south.

February 2005. I was a freshman at the UP College of Law. My legal ethics teacher broke the class up into groups. My group was tasked to explore inmates' access to legal advice. See, inmates in city jails are just charged but not yet convicted. They were on trial or awaiting verdict. They either had no money for bail or were locked up for non-bailable offenses. The statistics are lost on me now but I know that some of the men there could be free, albeit temporarily, for a few thousand pesos...if only their families could raise the amount. The same story applies even to those who had been wrongly accused. I mean, how were we to know?

The men suffer the squalid conditions prisons in third-world countries are known for. There are too many people in too few square inches of space. It is not an exaggeration to say that these guys take turns sleeping, or else they would all have to do it standing up. The inmates subsist on very spartan meals.

Maybe to provide some comfort, the compound has specific sections for specific gangs, usually determined by the inmates' province of origin. Regionalism is nowhere as alive as it is here. There are attempts to make the place livable. There was a basketball court where inmates pass the time. Some quarters also have sari-sari stores. The enterprising ones sell coffee,sugar, laundry powder,biscuits. Talk about underground commerce.

And the smell! It is a potent mixture of grime and sweat and human waste and garbage and enclosure. Of course, one tries not to cover one's nose – lest one offend the men. Shirtless and tattooed and menacing and so dangerously close,they could have done anything to Nikki (my groupmate) and me.

Yup, Nikki and I were right there inside the prison, not just looking into it. We roamed the cells, with only two prison guards to make sure we are not touched nor taken hostage by the inmates. I was deathly afraid of this possibility and I tried to calm myself by thinking these guys may not be as desperate as they would be if they were convicted already. Still, I stayed close to the policeman. The men followed us with their eyes; Nikki and I tried not to meet them. It was an all-male compound. What else could they be thinking?

We were led upstairs. More prisoners, I expected, crowded into less spacious quarters. But no, on the third (or was it fourth) floor of the compound, one can actually feel the wind on one's face. There were railings, yes, but they could also pass for windows. There were cots, folding beds. Orocan drawers to organize the inmates' clothes and personal effects. Electric fans. Television sets.

None of the people on the privileged floor were Filipinos. They were Chinese, charged with trafficking drugs, who did not even speak English (or so they claimed).

As everywhere, some prisoners are more imprisoned than others at the Quezon City Jail.

I think about this experience now and I cringe at how I could have taken it all so nonchalantly at the time. (Nikki was even giggling because the officer whom we interviewed was named Colonel Panti.) Maybe because I was evaluating the experience as nothing more than a means to make the grade. How shall we present all this to the class? What medium should our group use? What ethical issues may be raised? Would Ma'am Jardaleza be impressed or has she heard it all before?

I know. I am guilty of belated reaction. That in itself is an ethical question. Where has my social conscience been for the past four and a half years? Why have I kept silent?

The truth is, I might have kept these memories carefully tucked away in a corner of my brain. It is, after all, an inconvenient knowledge; it is easier to refuse to let them haunt me. I probably would not have remembered had I not seen those scenes on tv and in the film.

And I realize that now that I am in media, through this blog and the more traditional newspaper, I actually have a voice. I now wonder whether writing abut these things can actually make a difference. To the deplorable jail conditions. To the inclination to lock up an innocent man just to be able to say a case is closed. To the snail-paced procedures in our legal system, where one day or one week does not mean much to lawyers and judges but mean the world to the inmates' families. To the disparity in living conditions between the haves and the have nots, even in a controlled facility such as prison.

It is a curse to be born poor and ignorant in this country. But the greater curse is to feel so strongly about certain things and be scared that one day that passion is going to be extinguished by the acceptance that the evils you rile against are just so formidable. So formidable that you give up.

Facilitating with style

Class picture (thanks to Mr. Nelson Ravina, one of the participants, for uploading the photos on Facebook.)

I spent my Saturday speaking before a group of elementary and high school campus journalists as well as their school paper advisers on editorial writing. The activity was part of a series offered by Ignite Media. Participants came from Metro Manila, Cavite, Batangas, Laguna. One even came from Surigao.

The title of my presentation was "Persuading with style."

At the onset, I made it clear that I was not delivering a lecture. I do not believe anybody can really teach another person how to write, much more do so effectively. I like to think of myself as a facilitator. I also made it clear that my inputs were not in any way the prescribed norm for writing editorials. I just drew from my four-and-a-half year experience with the Standard. Simply put, I just told stories, I described processes as they worked for me.

And since the gathering was, first and foremost, a workshop, much time was spent by participants brainstorming for a topic, narrowing it down, outlining their piece and ultimately writing their own editorials. They read each one aloud for the group's (not necessarily my) appreciation and comments. Some of the pieces written were very, very good ones -- and touched on topics that I did not even know existed. Who says we can't learn from those we teach?

I have never really been very confident about my public speaking skills, but everybody seemed genuinely happy and appreciative during the mini-graduation rites. I take comfort in the fact that I was once like these kids, spending my weekends learning more about the craft, competing with different schools, wondering whether if I would really build a career out of it or if this was just something to do while in school.

Wouldn't you know it, I'm still doing the same thing, and deriving as much satisfaction from it as I did many, many years ago.

Age-appropriate sex education

for publication, MST, 25 May 2011

Reproductive health education is less about sex and contraception than it is about building life skills.

Among the provisions of the controversial reproductive health bill is the institutionalization of “age appropriate sex education” among the Filipino youth, specifically students of public elementary and secondary schools.

This has elicited diverse reactions from all sectors of society. Some agree that these things are better discussed in the objectivity of the classroom setting. Others say that talking to children about such sensitive matters is the sole responsibility of the parents.

But when we say “age-appropriate sex education,” what exactly do we mean?

Department of Education Undersecretary for Programs and Projects Yolanda Quijano does not even want to use the term “sex education” because of its negative connotation. “Reproductive health” would be a more palatable term – although that is, in itself, debatable after the acrimony that has been spurred by the controversial bill.

Quijano says that even before all the noisy debate and the posturing, the DepEd, under then-Secretary Mona Valisno, has in fact gone ahead with its program called “Institutionalizing Adolescent Reproductive Health Through Life Skills-Based Education Project.” The project, which began in school year 2005-2006, was undertaken by the department with the help of the United Nations Population Fund (UNFPA) and Australian Aid.

Most of us think state-sanctioned sex education is just something that would dawn upon the nation only if the RH bill is passed. The fact is, it's well under way. As of 2010, there were 80 pilot elementary and 79 pilot secondary schools in ten of the poorest provinces in the Philippines: Ifugao, Mt. Province, Masbate, Bohol, Eastern Samar, Maguindanao, Lanao del Sur, Sulu, Tawi-tawi and Sultan Kudarat for the ARH program. The municipalities were chosen on the basis of poverty incidence, functional literacy, maternal mortality ratio, contraceptive prevalence rate, life expectancy at birth.

Evaluations are ongoing, Quijano says, and such would determine whether the program is meeting its objectives of enhancing the overall wellness of Filipino adolescents aged 9 to 24 years – physically, mentally, emotionally, socially and spiritually, as well as contributing to better learning outcomes, reduced drop-out rates, increased completion rate and improved quality of learning.

Even the incumbent Secretary of the department, Brother Armin Luistro, a member of the religious community, has not seen anything objectionable in the experimental curriculum, Quijano says. His only directive upon assuming office was to put off expansion of the program until a thorough evaluation is obtained.

A Quezon City court does not find anything objectionable with the program as well. Last year, so-called pro-life advocates Jo Imbong and other parents asked for a temporary restraining order; they wanted the court to stop the Deped from implementing its pilot sex-education program. But Judge Rosanna Fe Romero-Maglaya dismissed the petition outright, saying that none of the petitioners’ children even attend the pilot schools in the first place.

**

According to the ARH, reproductive health concepts are integrated in two subjects for elementary school students.

Under Science and Health, fifth graders are taught about the human reproductive system, physical and emotional changes upon the onset of puberty, proper hygiene and common disorders associated with the reproductive system.

Under Edukasyong Pagpapakatao, fourth graders are taught “pisikal na kapakanan ng nagdadalaga at nagbibinata, paghubog na pag-uugali, barkada.” (physical well-being of adolescents, molding behavior, friendships). For fifth graders, “kapakanan at pananagutan ng nagbibinata at nagdadalaga na may kinalaman sa Adolescent Reproductive Health. Ano ang dapat gawin? Makilahok, makiisa!” (responsibilities of adolescents. Making decisions. Joining causes.) For sixth graders: “Mag-ingat ka! Pagpapahiwatig ng kaisipan at damdamin, malayang pagpapahayag, paglinang ng sariling lakas, paglahok sa samahan.” (taking care of oneself, expressing ideas, free expression, self-improvement, honing one’s strengths, joining groups)

On the other hand, the Teen Wellness Program for high school students spans at least six subject areas:

For Math: demography, population and profile of Filipino adolescents.

For Music, Arts, Physical Education and Health: substance abuse, self concept and identity, physical mental and social development in preparation for adulthood, sexual harassment, statistics of early pregnancy, ill effects of sexually-transmitted diseases.

For Filipino: “karapatan at pananagutan ng nagbibinata at nagdadalaga, papel ng magulang at institusyon, demograpiya ng nagbibinata at nagdadalaga.” (rights and responsibilities of adolescents, the role of parents and institutions, demographic profile of Filipino adolescents)

For Technology and Livelihood Economics: home and family living, making wise decisions, home management, child care, physical and psychosocial well being, development of desirable personal values.

For English: avoiding violence, establishing self concept, identity and decisions.

For Values Education: “kahinaan at kalakasan ng kabataan, sikolohikal na aspeto ng kabataan,” (strengths and weaknesses of adolescents, psychological; development of the youth) as well as psychosocial well being and sexual responsibility.

**

Children and teenagers need guidance, says Quijano. The ARH program is not designed to teach them sex per se, or even the various forms of artificial contraception. Rather, what are being imparted are life skills that kids need to make sound decisions based on facts.

If and when the reproductive health bill is passed, the Deped would most likely be tasked with drafting the IRR for the “sex-education” aspect of it. The department won’t be starting from scratch. It will just be taking off from what is already contained in the program, with a few additions in the topics of as marriage, counseling and family life, as the initial feedback indicates.


The danger is that there is often a lack of openness within families, Quijano adds. Schools should fill that gap, with confidence and secrecy. The program imparts dignity and forthrightness: there is no malice in the exchange of questions and answers. The program hopes to help students with the following: life skills, self awareness, decision making, critical thinking, problem solving, interpersonal relationships, creative thinking, effective communication, coping with emotions and stress, empathy and productivity.

Now what is abominable, disgusting and immoral about that?


adellechua@gmail.com

Elephant in the room

CNN is having a field day with the disgraced head of the International Monetary Fund. What is being played again and again is the footage of the handcuffed Frenchman Dominique Strauss Kahn being led into a car by policemen at either side.

It gets more interesting as the business reporters give their updates. In Brussels, a meeting of finance ministers of countries from the European Union is going on as I write. Strauss Kahn is supposed to give a keynote address to some gathering. He will be missed, especially since as head of the IMF – an able head at that, who saw the Fund through the most recent global economic crisis – he is deemed an authority in the debt crisis situations of Greece and Portugal.

It's the elephant in the room, correspondent John Defterios says, because everybody knows that Strauss-Kahn is detained in New York and is not flying out anytime soon.
The judge said he was a flight risk. His absence is like a gaping hole, nobody among the ministers is officially talking about it, but everyone knows what's going on.

The French are said to be tolerant of what their officials (DSK is also a politician believed to have great chances of being drafted against the current President Sarkozy in the next elections) do in their private lives. In fact, the man has benefited much from this tolerance. He has been known to “have his way with women.” But the assault on a hotel maid seems to be too much.

Who can thus blame CNN or any other media company from cashing on the worldwide audience's fascination with the salacious details of the private lives of prominent people?

(Imagine the humiliation of being arrested and led out of that plane! Then again, imagine the ordeal of that hotel maid as well.)

I think it's fascinating and yet also so true that no matter how great we build ourselves up in our respective fields of expertise, what will demolish us is a single fatal error in judgment -- due to base instincts or otherwise. Ultimately your expertise, professional savvy and prominence will be secondary only to the kind of person you really are.

And then your popularity will turn into notoriety.

(Beyond that, it's up to you how you learn from your mistakes, reinvent yourself or simply make your lemonade. Look at Eliot Spitzer, the governor reported to have been a regular customer of a high end prostitution ring. He has since effected a career change and is now a so-called political entertainer with – you guessed it right, CNN.)

Postscript to Bea Brews

Bea here is singing Freestyle's "So Slow" as Josh strums the guitar.



Guess who's the old lady who took this picture.


Weeks ago I wrote about my daughter Bea's job as barista for a local coffee shop near our place. She quit last week, however, for a host of reasons, but primarily because of her impending load as a university sophomore (with some making up to do!) She is also involved in a handful of organizations in school.

She was forthright with her bosses and because of this, no bridges were burned at all. That's another life lesson there -- we all have to move on in various directions, but it's crucial that we maintain our ties with the people we used to work with.

Saturday thus was the first open-mic day at La Nilad Coffee and Tea -- where anybody could just go up front and entertain the shop's guests. Bea was still invited to sing, and she brought along her brother Josh to play the guitar. They performed four songs together.

It was not only Josh she brought along, as well. I was there, with Elmo, and Sophie came afterward with her father J and her father's friend. My friend May came as well, as well as her husband Ron, who used to go to elementary school with J. (They were our common friends.)

The kids' music teacher, Mara, came too and even sang one song of her own, accompanied by Josh, much later.

Finally -- rather, of course -- there were Bea's and Josh's "others." (These things take some getting used to, but I think I am on my way.)

I thought of how proud I was of my talented, confident and congenial big kids. I looked at them from across the next table and wished they are as grounded and as responsible as I think they are, minor growing pains notwithstanding. They will soon be on their own and it is likely they will do fine.

Later, when all the other guests have left, I was left with Sophie and Elmo at my table. We found ourselves sharing a mocha drink and laughing like we were at home. I thought, too, of how grateful I am for the ability to enjoy simple things such as this.

What a nice way to spend a Saturday evening.

My purple ribbon

published 18 May 2011, MST

Thank God for choices.

The irony that I attended a gathering of advocates of the reproductive health bill with my 17-year-old daughter Beatrice, whom I conceived when I was just 17 myself, hit me a bit too late.

After all, if there had been an RH bill back then, and if my family were vocal about such sensitive topics, if young, dreamy-eyed girls like me who were longing for their soulmates were armed with better decision-making skills, there probably would have been no Bea to begin with. I would have probably gone on to finish university with honors, head straight to law school or snag some fellowship in some European country, and begin the path to greatness with nary an obstacle in sight.

Would I have been happier? I don’t think so, but that’s another story. As it is now, I cannot imagine life without my kids Bea or Josh or Sophie or Elmo, as I cannot imagine being in another scenario apart from our warm, rough-and-tumble, cramped apartment. We are precisely where we are and how we are as a result of the choices I made in my youth.

Still it is sheer serendipity that we turned out okay, that we are happy despite my absolute lack of foresight and circumspection as a teen. I had been blessed with above-average intellect, access to education, extraordinary coping skills and the ability to find something good in adversity. Not everybody is like that.

Even so, when I was 17, brash and reckless, I never imagined that raising a child would exert an immense pressure on me – financially, psychologically. Try multiplying that by four.

Nine years later, at age 26, I knew what I wanted – or rather what I did not want anymore. Children. What parent does not want to give her children the best? Besides, one’s resources, presence and attention are finite. How can you give everything to four different people and ensure they turn out well without being a little depleted, yourself?

And so I put my foot down and told my doctor I wanted a tubal ligation. My ex, seeing me resolute and unyielding – a side of me he was not used to seeing – could not do anything but sign that document, concurring with my decision.

Again, I was lucky. I knew when enough was enough. I knew, period. Thank God for choices. That taken care of, I proceeded to try to be an even better mother than I already was. Other family crises came, and see, I am still standing.

The fight for RH has always involved cases of real women who have had to deal with abusive, philandering, good-for-nothing husbands, or simply those with no ability to provide for their needs. To me, the issue is basic. Just lay everything on the table. Nobody has the power to coerce another person to adopt a method inconsistent with her faith. But we have an obligation to keep as many people informed about the choices available to them.

This is why I support the RH bill.

Unfortunately, in the Philippines, the complicated, heart-rending, and, for some, life-or-death matter has been reduced to a fight versus good and evil. What a pathetic oversimplification.

Staunch Catholics are supposed to be the good guys, fighting to uphold the morals of society. Pro-life, they claim they are. But how can you love life if you live in a shanty, don’t have a bathroom, and don’t even know where your next meal is coming from? How to love life when you get so desperate that you try to abort the baby, posing great risks to yourself, to the detriment of your other children?

(I remember somebody very dear to me, who took something to abort her second baby because she and her husband, a laborer, could not afford to raise another child. Doing so, she put herself in great danger. She was hospitalized for weeks because she lost a great amount of blood. Had she known there were better ways to manage her family, that she could actually refuse to be simply washed out by the tide, she would now be healthier, happier, reaching for her full potential. She is not—she is hardly getting by, and I weep for her.)

The evil ones are the advocates of what is being played out to be a malevolent bill out to corrupt our souls. That includes me – my 16 years of Catholic education notwithstanding.

But if the country is really so much better without the RH bill, then why have we not been in a happy place all these years?

Last week’s gathering saw the unveiling of the so-called purple ribbon – a symbol of the fight to get the controversial bill finally passed at the House of Representatives. The measure will be put to a vote soon and even as the clamor has been getting louder, the Catholic church has put up a tough dogmatic front. It still fancies it wields a power over politicians – because they make or break people from their pulpits. Our President has said he supports the bill, but somehow I cannot really believe he does until he does something concrete to back up his pronouncements.

The guest list was impressive. In the ballroom was former President Fidel Ramos along with various members of the House of Representatives pushing the bill, some members of the Aquino Cabinet, former government officials, singers, artists, writers. Everybody was willing to lend his or her celebrity to the cause. The former Health Secretary Esperanza Cabral, a woman who’s probably got more balls than most men in government, chided a bishop for offering to adopt all the unplanned,unwanted babies. Tony award recipient Lea Salonga sang John Lennon’s Imagine in a way that brought tears to my eyes. Local musician Noel Cabangon exhorted everybody to be a good Filipino with his “Ako’y Isang Mabuting Pilipino”. My daughter had a field day and had her picture taken with The Dawn vocalist Jet Pangan and Carlos Celdran, who last year shouted “Damaso!” in the middle of a Catholic religious event.

It was a large room with many stars, but I was not blinded. I was happy that those stars, instead of outshining each other, championed a singular commonsensical, humane cause. If this isn’t loving life, I don’t know what is.

”Pass the RH bill now!” is not an empty battle cry, one that is designed only to make you feel good or give you a high for being part of something big and noble. No, it is more than that. The RH cause is MY RH cause. I have an intimate, personal appreciation of why our women need to be empowered—now. Enough bigotry. Enough getting carried away and being tossed by the wind. Because of this, I wave my purple ribbon as vigorously and as earnestly as I can.

adellechua@gmail.com

'Wanting light so badly'

Sister Emily cries in desperation and self-doubt when she cannot meet the demands of the pilgrims who have trekked to the mountain to see her talk to the Virgin Mary. But she herself cannot tell when the Virgin will appear, if she will ever appear again at all.

The supposed visionary from the Mountain of Revelation has been the subject of documentaries the world over. The blind, the crippled, the curious all make the tedious trip to get healed—or at least get convinced. George, for instance, a retired English teacher from New Jersey, has flown to the Philippines with his wife and her entire family. He has gone up the mountain even if it meant hobbling his way up there with a painful, swollen leg. No doctor has been able to tell him what was wrong. Unable to believe in anything else, he is convinced that only the Lady could heal him.

Lobo drapes himself with leaves, like the stone-age-like Tasadays he and his fellow farmers were made out to be instead of the farmers they actually were. He believes that the world has written him off as a bad guy, only finding consolation that the Virgin does not think so.

Lobo’s friend, the 42-year-old Miguel, challenges Emily and nearly breaks her spirit when he takes her to task for her supposed visions. He keeps alluding to a bitter experience of believing in the past. And just as Emily nearly crumbles under Miguel’s pointed questions, no longer knowing whether she is real or fake, she is seized anew by an apparition. The smell of roses permeates the air. Rose petals descend on her. A flower appears from between her breasts. She speaks in tongues, sees the Virgin and then collapses.

Lobo becomes convinced that the Virgin loves him no matter what. George is healed and throws away his cane. Miguel flees. Darkness.

***

Miguel is back in Pontevedra, Negros Occidental, kissing the hand of Concepcion who welcomes him home as though he were her son. The nervous-looking Concepcion has not touched her late husband’s study since that fateful day 25 years ago. She dares ask Miguel whether he, like her, has been somewhat ruined by the man they both believed in.

Jose Marco is Concepcion’s husband, and 25 years ago, Miguel’s mentor. Jose is credited for the discovery of the Code of Kalantiaw and the original manuscript of the La Loba Negra, supposed to have been written by the martyred priest Jose Burgos. The antiquarian Jose is intoxicated by his own greatness and exhorts the young Miguel to dig up old stationery and other old treasures from his relatives’ chests. He tells the boy to be proud of being a Filipino despite the country’s centuries-old colonization.

One day, William Henry Scott, a professor of history from the University of Santo Tomas, arrives from Manila to interview Jose about the apparent inconsistencies in the Code, which Filipino students were being asked to memorize in school. Why are the years inconsistent, why must the punishments be so arbitrarily barbaric, and why is honey an alternative to gold? Scott, well-schooled in the methods of research and fact-checking, exposes Jose Marco for what he is—a fake. Concepcion and the young Miguel are broken.

***

This is not to say that both acts of Fake—the first involving Sister Emily and the second Jose Marco— are seamless. Miguel’s wearing of a soldier’s vest, for instance, is confusing. He might be taken for a soldier or a communist hiding in the mountains. The first act also ends rather more inconclusively than the second, leading one to wonder whether the other way around would have been more effective. If the audience must be left hanging (what now happens to the grown Miguel?) to figure out a few things for themselves, they should at least take that uncertainty away when they leave the theater, instead of casting it aside to make room for the more defined and more historically based second act. Alya Honasan (alternating with Ces Quesada) as Concepcion comes across as simple, nervous and gracious indeed—but she could have been made to age since she appears both in the present and in the flashback. Of course, it could mean that everything has become frozen in time from the day the hoax was exposed. Finally, we do not know what Miguel’s objective was in coming back to Negros, and whether or not this objective was met.

Overall, Fake is perhaps the most moving performance among the season’s presentation of the university theater company. It might be the intimate setting—the Teatro Hermogenes Ylagan at the Faculty Center, UP Diliman was set up like a runway with the small audience seated at either side of a long, narrow strip. The actors, who have to move along the strip, consciously make the effort to address both sides of the audience; neither side feels as though it has missed out or seen only the backs of the actors.

It might be the acting—especially by Shamaine Centenera Buencamino as the conflicted Sister Emily and by Joel Lamangan (alternating with Leo Rialp) as the proud but defeated Jose Marco. Centenera-Buencamino’s portrayal of a conflicted woman of faith, whose father beat her mother and then sexually abused her, could bring tears into one’s eyes. On the other hand, Lamangan’s booming voice and commanding presence does not hide the character’s frailty, either. The irony was overwhelming enough to call forth goosebumps on one’s skin despite the sweltering heat in the small theater on that Saturday afternoon.

Or it might be the language. Most of the riveting dialogue was in English but with occasional Filipino or Ilonggo phrases thrown in. Any which way, it is impossible not to get involved in Fake, produced by the UP Playwrights’ Theater to kick off its 25th year, written by Floy Quintos and directed by Dulaang UP founder Antonio Mabesa.

Both acts challenge faith—in something bigger than ourselves, in another human being, a noble cause. It is a human need without which there would be only cynicism, negativity, lack of joy and purpose. But in as much as the play cautions us about seeing only smoke and mirrors, it gives us the choice of whether to believe—or to have reasonable expectations of everything around us.

Jose says that truth is likened to light, but in the face of darkness, even a flicker will be mistaken for light. Granted that we are desperate for light, how then do we avoid the extremes of believing mindlessly and risking great disappointment on one hand, and being joyless, jaded and dispirited on the other? There are no answers offered; only questions raised.

Viewers only have until this weekend to catch Fake. Shows are at 7 p.m. Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, and at 10 a.m. and 3 p.m. on Saturday and Sunday. Interested parties may get in touch with Cherry at 0917-7500107 or the Dulaang UP Office at 926-1349 or 981-8500 local 2449 or 433-7840.

adellechua@gmail.com

Hubbing

The Technohub.(photo taken from philippine-travel-guide.com.)

It is almost six in the evening. I am sipping iced tea, writing from Figaro at the UP-Ayala Technohub. They are playing some bossa nova. This morning, I got some work done at The Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf while enjoying a cup of chai tea latte. Esperanza Spalding's voice was a good companion. At noon my dear friend Jenny -- despite having to be buried in books in preparation for next week's comprehensive exams for her PhD in communications research -- came. We had lunch at Mister Kabab where I had Persian burger. We then we went down to Starbucks where I had a caramel frap (at half price, and no, the line was not very long today), before we proceeded to UP to see a mind-blowing play that deserves a separate column/ blog entry. While Jenny headed home, I returned here.

My intention is not to chronicle every single morsel of food or drop of drink that found its way to my system today. My point is that there are many ways to spend one's time on a Saturday -- the only day of the week when I do not have to be in a certain place at a certain time -- and I was reminded that the Technohub is a good place to reward yourself, chill out, be quiet, even get some work done. If you love your work, that is, which I fortunately do.

There are many people here, mostly students from UP or Ateneo, and call center employees from the tech companies nearby, but the complex, in a semi-circle around several fountains, is sprawling. One does not feel cloistered at all. IN fact, at the back is a man-made stream where one could here the rustling of running water. There are fish swimming about. Manila's streets are narrow, crowded and grimy? Yes, but not here. Here there are trees, plants and flowers. One breathes deeply and well. Do I sound like I am gushing? I am.

I could do this all day every weekend. In a parallel life, if I did not have all the other responsibilities that I had now, I would be very happy to sit at one of these tables, type or read away, gaze at the fountains of varying heights or be lulled by the sound of running water. It is as if all the ugly things are washed away, and one emerges a little fresher, newer, healthier.

I have to leave in a few minutes to go somewhere else. I do so with a heavy heart.

The expert takes the stand

Last week I had the opportunity to observe clinical psychologist Arnold Lopez -- Doc as we know him -- as he took the witness stand at a Metro Manila family court.

Dr. Lopez is what one would call an “expert witness” whose input is essential to the court's forming of its judgment. That morning, the case on hand was a prayer for declaration of nullity of a marriage, and Doc was to enlighten the court on his findings regarding both the petitioner and the respondent.

Psychological incapacity is practically the only way a married Filipino couple could legally affirm their separation. There is no divorce here, as we know. The incapacity refers to the inability to comprehend, much less perform, the marital obligations – live together, observe mutual love, respect and fidelity, and render mutual help and support -- as provided for in the Family Code of the Philippines.

The logical assumption is that personality disorders that are grave, permanent and incurable can make a party psychologically incapable. There are many personality disorders – nine major ones, I believe, with each having its own checklist of behavioral manifestations and pervasive patterns -- and nothing prevents the expert from saying that one's disorder is a mix of two or even three, dynamically working together to create the perfect Imperfect Spouse.

The court has to establish that the disorders have been present even before the celebration of the marriage (antecedent conditions as narrated would list the clues, in hindsight) even though they were made manifest only during the marriage.

The disorders, in turn, almost always have root causes in the individual's childhood experiences. So parents beware. Even the justice system recognizes the crucial role that you and I play in molding our children's characters.

On that day, Lopez revealed that according to his findings, both the petitioner and the respondent had personality disorders, with the latter's being more manifest during the marriage. The fiscal quizzed him on the disorders' gravity, permanence and incurability, the accuracy of his findings, the safeguards he undertook to make sure he had sound basis for his evaluation, and the different childhood experiences of the parties that may have helped shape them into the persons that they had become.

When Lopez finished his testimony, all the lawyers in the front of the room, even the fiscal, shook his hand and asked for his calling card. IN fact, he ran out of calling cards and had to scribble his name and contact number on some pieces of paper.

“I feel like a rock star here,” he muttered as he took his seat.

I knew why.

Doc did not have to announce his expertise; he exuded it. When he was asked a question, he answered it concisely, directly, and clearly. He may have used shrink jargon in doing so, but he was always, always careful to follow it up with an explanation in layman's terms.

His demeanor was calm and in no way flustered. He gave you the feeling that he had done his homework, he knew his case, and was extremely confident of his findings.

Despite this confidence, however, there was no hint that Doc was showing off. While he looked presentable in a long-sleeved plaid polo and dark pants, there was no swagger to his walk, no conspicuous glare of fancy jewelry, no overpowering smell of some expensive perfume. He spoke only when spoken to, and he was polite, always addressing the lawyer and the fiscal as “ma'am” or “sir” and the judge as “your Honor.”

His voice was low key, the pace of his speech deliberate, and while he knew he could be uttering technical terms that he later on had to explain to people of other disciplines, he did so without the slightest hint of condescension.

The icing on the cake, however, was when he cited a 2006 decision of the Supreme Court which cited his expert testimony on the attributes of a pathological liar.

I think this behavior would define a consummate professional. All that knowledge, hard work and confidence less the strutting around, the ego tripping. Now I do not anymore wonder why Doc's list of clients seems to grow longer by the day.

Dr. Lopez had his day in court – and it was a good day.

Science with a difference

op-ed column for MST, published 4 May 2011

When Leonard Co was given the posthumous National Academy of Science and Technology-Hugh Greenwood Environmental Science Award (an award recognizing outstanding scientific and technological research works that contribute to environmental protection and conservation) at the Hyatt Hotel and Casino Manila on Monday, a powerpoint presentation detailed his accomplishments in the field of botany, taxonomy and conservationism.

Co, 57, was killed in November last year in Kananga, Leyte, in what was believed to be a crossfire between government forces and rebel troops. He and his companions Sofronio Cortes and Julius Borromeo were in a forest plot of the Energy Development Corporation, reportedly gathering seedlings of endangered trees. The matter is still being investigated.

While Co's death may have been an unfortunate event, it was, for many, just one of many sad stories in the continuing history of insurgency in the countryside. Not so for the university and the country's science community. Co's passing was a tragic and senseless loss.

He wrote two books on medicinal plants and the forest trees of Palanan, Isabela, where he spent a great deal of his time. So much time did he spend in the Cordillera region, in fact, that even as he entered the UP as a botany freshman in 1972, he was not able to obtain his bachelor's degree until 2008 – a good 36 years after he first stepped into the university. Because of his practical expertise, he was no longer required to submit a thesis. He simply submitted a copy of his book.

During the decades-long gap, Co worked to enable indigenous Filipinos to cultivate and own proprietary rights on native medicinal herbs. He kept returning to the UP, though, caring for its herbarium. Before his death, he was reportedly working on updating the Enumeration of Philippine Plants, which was first published almost a century ago.

Indeed the contributions of the man are many, deep and far-reaching. He did not even need to brandish an alphabet soup of degrees to make a difference. One of the most touching testaments to Co's impact on the people around him was a video made by his biology students from the UP.

The video showed Co and his students on the field, collecting and investigating different kinds of plants. The students characterized him as a mentor, a friend and father, who always went around with his umbrella and his hand lens. The pictures showed Co breaking bread with his students and holding up a leaf or another, imparting to them his appreciation of plants.

We normally think men of science would be so calculating, objective, even clinical in their dealings with people. Not so Leonard Co, a man valued as much for his friendship and compassion as well as for his expertise.

An endemic plant, one of the biggest flowers in the Philippines, was named after Co – the Rafflesia leonardi. It's a testament to his legacy.

**

The Hyatt event was participated in by a mere handful of scientists, academicians and a sprinkling of government officials. There was none of the fanfare and the outshining that normally characterize a gathering of stellar minds and superstars.

Then again, scientists are not known to be that way.

Three finalists to the NAST Talent Search for Young Scientists were also named that day. Jaymee Encabo, MS of the Institute of Biological Sciences of UP Los Baños led a team of researchers to optimize the basic tool of polymerase chain reaction (the PCR method, which amplifies the DNA of any sample, she says) to detect the disease-causing rice tungro virus.

The virus does not manifest itself early on, she says, so there should be a way to detect it and to come up with resistant varieties of rice. The objective is not to commercialize this method for farmers' use but to enable the breeding of such resistant rice varieties.

On the other hand, Flordeliza Bordey, PhD, used data from 1996 to 2007 in identifying the factors that helped increase domestic rice production. Bordey, who is with the Philippine Rice Research Institute, determined that the factors were irrigation, the use of hybrid rice varieties, third-generation modern inbred rice varieties, certified seeds, and training.

After years of subsidizing the use of hybrid and certified seeds, the national government has now deemed that such practice is financially unsustainable. Hence, the direction is,, according to Bordey, to use community seed banking in continuing the practice.

Finally, Christopher Monterola, PhD of the National Institute of Physics in UP Diliman led a team to duplicate the properties of a landslide system in a table-top, laboratory setting. The team is all-Filipino and its work has been published in European and American scientific journals.

Not much is known about how exactly landslides occur, Monterola says, pointing out that two of the ten worst landslides in history occurred in the Philippines. So does the research enable us now to predict where, when and how a landslide would occur? “I would not want to make that claim,” he replies, in that careful, deliberate manner that only scientists can exude. “But we are a step closer. It's a positive indicator.”

Of course, the real contribution and the eventual goal would be prediction – and the saving of lives. Monterola looks forward to further collaborations with the Department of Geology and Engineering and using data from actual, historical landslides in the Philippines.