The face of relocation

It's quite common to read about the problems of illegal settlers and relocatees in the newspaper. Go through a daily or tabloid any given day, and it's likely you'll get to read about squatters in the Metro.

I'm quite familiar with the subject. When we were kids and still living in Morato, there was a squatter's area nearby. I was friends with some of the kids there, and sometimes, I'd hang out at their house to watch TV, or play "patintero" or "agawan base" in the street fronting their community.

Then one day, that area - the whole community - was gone. They dismantled everything to make way for a new building. And when I asked where my friends were, I was told that they were "relocated."

Since then, I've always wondered about "relocation." For me, it was just a word I read or a concept I hear about. That word or concept usually comes with problems, but to me, it was all vague.

Yesterday, "relocation" finally had a face.

I joined our Development Communication class and went to a relocation site in Calauan, Laguna. We were there to facilitate a round table discussion between the Local Government and the relocatees. We also had a briefing with the Don Bosco brothers and Franciscan sisters regarding their projects and missions for that community.

And some of the faces we saw weren't a happy ones.

It was a face that came to that community because of bright promises, but got there to a home that doesn't have any electricity. And 2 years after they moved into the relocation site, they still don't have power in their homes. Because of that, their children can't study at night. They can't keep fresh food in the house. And they're literally living in darkness.

They came to the community thirsting for a new life, but got there thirsting for something more. They didn't have running water. They still don't have running water after 2 years. Some of them just go to the nearby creek to take a bath and wash their clothes. They go to the stream to get water to drink.

Their promised land turned out to be an unfulfilled promise land. Hearing their stories one after the other echoed their anger and desperation, but surprisingly, there was also patience and hope.

And that's the other face that was refreshing to see in that community. The face of hope.

Despite the hand dealt to them, some of the residents there still smile and are thankful for what they have. And they try to make do and flourish with what is given to them. They're optimists with a "can do" attitude.

It helps to have people like Father Pat and Sister Rosario around in the community. They give them faith where they can anchor their hope. As one of the women there told us: "Basta may pag-asa at pananampalataya, wala kaming hindi kayang gawin."

I'm looking forward to the school's further interaction with this community. Personally, I look forward to helping them out in trying to market their small businesses - their shoe factory, their organic farm, and their cafe. When I was talking to them about branding their businesses and the potential that they have, I could see the genuine excitement on their faces.

And that's a face that I'd like to eventually see more of in that community.