Urban Dwellers, get involved! We can plan our future!

delivered before the participants of the Public Speaking Seminar at the Pag-IBIG Fund Corporate Headquarters
on October 7, 2009
(upper photo)

Speech No. 2 - Organizing your speech
delivered before the members of Butter N Toast Toastmasters Club
on October 8, 2009
(lower photo)

A day before typhoon Ondoy unleashed its wrath in Metro Manila and nearby provinces, I was preparing my and my six-year-old daughter Luce’s week-end gear. We were to spend the next two days in Makati, as we were supposed to join the 3-km event of the New Balance Power Run. Makati was a more convenient take-off point to the event at the Fort on September 27, rather than our home in Marikina, a couple of hours away. As an afterthought, I placed her Enchanted Kingdom poncho raincoat atop her I Can Serve Foundation shirt. “In case it drizzles during the run,” I told myself.

As we all know, it did not drizzle that week-end of September 26 and 27. The gates of heaven opened wide and poured far-from-heavenly rain on Filipino urbanites, drenching not just our bodies and our homes, but our souls as well. In the aftermath, as the people waded through floodwaters, as they dug through their belongings mixed with mud and garbage, different sectors started blaming each other, pointing an accusing finger on each other’s negligence and supposed role in the tragedy that Ondoy brought us.

The Ondoy experience now proves to be a good wake up call for all of us, whether we are mere citizens of the Philippines or officials, policy drafters, or lawmakers of the land. All of us, no matter our status in life, are stakeholders in our planet, in our country, in our habitat, in our urban dwellings. And as stakeholders, we hold responsibility for our future.

Allow me to share with you these passages from the UN Habitat website: “The United Nations has designated the first Monday of October every year as World Habitat Day. The idea is to reflect on the state of our towns and cities and the basic right of all to adequate shelter. It is also intended to remind the world of its collective responsibility for the future of the human habitat. This year’s theme “Planning our urban future” aims to raise awareness of the need to improve urban planning to deal with new challenges of the 21^st century. This is because urban settlements in all parts of the world are being influenced by new and powerful forces. In both developed and developing countries, cities and towns are increasingly feeling the effects of climate change, resource depletion, food insecurity, population growth and economic instability.”

I now take this opportunity to challenge you, my fellow urban dwellers, to take action towards a well-planned future in urban Philippines. For starters, I share with you three circles of influence within which we can start planning our urban future.

The first circle of influence is the easiest, as it involves only our individual selves.

Perhaps, we can start by taking stock of our personal practices. Do we drive our self to the community mall when we can walk instead? Do we ride the elevator two floors up, while we can take the stairs? Do we run our errands crisscrossing the metropolis, while we can plan our route and maximize our errand time? Do we throw our small items of rubbish here and there, while we can keep them in our pockets and later throw them in a garbage can somewhere? Do we lavishly take long baths and showers, when we can use timba and tabo? Do we prefer motorcycles over bikes, battery-powered items over wind-ups, plastic bags over eco bags? I hope we can proudly answer, “No, I don’t. I care for my habitat.”

A caring individual carries the good habits with him or her, constantly practices them, and eventually becomes their embodiment, possibly inspiring the bigger circles around him or her.

The second circle of influence is not that far from us, as it includes our family and friends.

Let us now widen our circle and invite our families and friends to join us in our quest for a better urban future. Do we place our garbage in one bin instead of segregating them? Do we use separate cars instead of carpooling? Do we spend much time on television or video games instead of playing electricity-free and creative-rich games? Do we prefer a concrete backyard over a greener one, new items over recycled ones? I hope we can proudly answer, “No, my family and friends don’t. We care for our habitat.”

A caring family passes on to the younger generations and even future generations the traits of responsibility and accountability, creating generations of individuals who care.

The third circle of influence is much wider, as it now encompasses our community, be this our residential community, office community, or online community.

Let us next enlist our respective communities in our move to have a better urban future. Do we confine ourselves inside our houses rather than go out and participate in community endeavors? Do we practice kanya-kanya, tayo-tayo, or sila-sila, rather than join forces as one community? Do we tend to complain rather than suggest alternatives or passively receive benefits rather than actively participate in planning? I hope we can proudly answer, “No, our community don’t. We care for our habitat.”

A caring community leads to stronger and more collective action, an advantageous leverage if we want our Congress Representatives to hear our calls for a greener district.

A little over a week after typhoon Ondoy left the Philippine area of responsibility, the world celebrated World Habitat Day last October 5. This year’s theme: “Planning our urban future” now sounds more personal to us, Filipinos. The Filipino urban dwellers face the seemingly unsurmountable task of rebuilding our homes and our lives.

A mere raincoat will not surely protect us from future typhoons, as our urban kingdom has lost its enchantment. However, no mud-filled floodwater could wash away the Filipino people’s strong spirit. Let us be caring individuals from a caring family, in a caring community. Let us do our part as individuals, as a family, as a community. Let us get up, get out, get involved!

The child giving birth to the mother

Speech No. 1 – Ice Breaker

delivered before the members of Butter N Toast Toastmasters Club

August 27, 2009

Six years ago today, I held my baby girl in my arms for the first time. We did not expect her until September 29. My husband even hoped she’d have the same birthday as John Lennon, October 9.

However, God had other plans for us. On my sixth month of pregnancy, my amniotic fluid level was not as high as it should be. It was still stubbornly low on my eighth month. Thus, on a Friday afternoon, 21 days after I turned 31, I was hospitalized for rehydration.

Despite the low fluid level in her uterine environment, my little girl was in a fighting form. My earlier ultrasound sessions showed her to be within the normal weight and length for her age. How proud and relieved I felt when her biophysical profile scores always turned out perfect. Not even having come out of my womb yet, my baby was already being graded.

By Sunday night, I had to be injected with drug X to strengthen my baby’s lungs, in preparation for premature birth. The next day, Monday morning of August 25, I still had a low fluid level. A little after noon, I transferred to a nearby hospital. Like a salmon going back to its breeding ground, I wanted to give birth in the hospital where my own mother gave birth to me.

When I was opened up, the doctors told me that my uterus was small. So small that my baby had to get out, to be free, as eight months in my womb are enough time for her to gestate. At 3PM, my baby girl, Luce Domini, was scooped out of my womb. She weighed just 2 kilos and measured 1-foot-5 inches; but her APGAR score was a high 9, remarkable for a prematurely-born infant. “Hello, baby,” I told her when the nurse showed her to me, swathed in hospital-green clothe, so small. Then I drifted to sleep, to be awakened by the Angelus as I was wheeled to my room.

It was not until 2 days later when I would see my baby again. To avoid possible complications, she didn’t room-in with me. Later that day, I held my baby in my arms for the first time.

Fast forward to summer 2009. My husband and I now have a young girl bursting with confidence and showing such negotiating skills, she usually ends up getting the better deal after most collective bargaining agreements.

At that time, she has been attending Kumon Reading sessions for three months. My little girl’s progress is summarized by a graph. Three more lines show advanced levels at one year, two years, or three years, where the child can receive bronze, silver, or gold medals for being ahead of her actual school level.

Luce and I would often look at her graph. That summer, we set goals for her. “Finish Level 2A before your birthday and you’d be getting a bronze,” I showed her.

I wanted her to learn to read, to enjoy the printed word as much as I do, or even more. Thus, I’ve surrounded Luce with books since she was a baby. In fact, I started reading to her in utero. Oh, I’d read to her the places she’d go; I’d tell her of Yertle the Turtle and Daisy McFuzz. Now, oh, the joy I feel, the pride that makes my heart swell when she reads to me the exploits of Cat in the hat, or the little red hen, or the house that Jack built.

I guess, like any mother, I want a mini version of me in my daughter. Since she’s undoubtedly her father’s daughter in looks, in humming to tunes, and in tapping to the rhythm, I explored other avenues to create a little Faye in my Luce.

As I guided my child towards enhancing her reading skills, I began contemplating on my own enhancement. There was my daughter, progressing towards a bronze medal before August ends. What about me? Towards what goal am I moving forward to? Am I moving in the first place? I didn’t think so.

Last summer, I felt stuck in the quagmire of self doubts. I felt immobile as my spirit was like a flat tire, devoid of air, no wind to life me up. I felt sad, tired, lost.

Yet my daughter, true to her name, Luce, light, she enlightened me. I once wrote a poem for my husband, referring to him as my north star, my lighthouse. Last summer, as I felt lost, adrift at sea, my daughter beamed her own light. Smaller than her father’s, yes. But as bright, as lively, as inspiring.

My little Luce, my little lighthouse, lighted my path. My little Luce, my young daughter, showed me the way. My little Luce, my very own child, gave birth to a new me.

I embarked on a new mission. Codename: Finding Faye.

I aimed to shed my old self and looked forward to seeing the new me. I bade goodbye to some scars, literally and figuratively, as I uncovered the real me. I started with a leg peeling treatment, followed by a writing workshop, and then a speech course. By the time my legs had been scrubbed clean of dermal debris, I have finally transformed a few ideas into several written pieces, and with enough confidence to pitch my written work to others.

Last month, I finally attended Butter N Toast sessions, a plan I have wanted to do since 2007. Like my daughter with her Kumon, I am now working towards a goal, towards becoming a CC after a year, towards becoming a CL a year after that. I turned 37 last August 1 and have just been born again. I see myself growing in Butter N Toast.

I have swept away the cobwebs in my mind, I have flexed my muscles into action. Here I am. I have found Faye.

And tonight, six years after I first held my baby girl in my arms, I stand before you and present my first speech. It is my hope that as tightly as I embraced my daughter that August night in the hospital nursery, you would equally accept me in your fold.