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Remembering the Iturralde Sisters

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Invariably, whenever I would bump into an older graduate of the College of the Holy Spirit where I studied, I would be asked, “How is Miss Maria Luz? How is Dean Julia Iturralde?” And then they would launch on how the two sisters left an indelible impression on them, how much they missed them, and how thankful they are for the values and learning they received.   Sadly I would tell them that my two aunts, younger sisters of my father, had passed on.

My brothers and I grew up in the family compound right behind the Basilica of San Sebastian. My mother was widowed early, and so we were raised in a maternal environment: my mom, my father’s mom Lola Ingga, my father’s aunt Lola Teta, and my two maiden aunts: Julia and Maria Luz. My father had another sibling, Tita Rory, but she had entered the nunnery and became a Sister Servant of the Holy Spirit (SSpS) and so we hardly saw her.

My two aunts figured largely in my growing up years, and this is my tribute to the two women who I love dearly.

Maria Luz Iturralde

My godmother and aunt, Maria Luz Alvaro Iturralde died in the wee hours of December 31, 2008 while I was in Texas. I can still remember my sister Pinky’s sobbing voice trying to tell me the sad news over the phone, which she had received from Paz, my sister-in-law in San Francisco, who had in turn been called by my brother Paul. The news had traveled swiftly around the world.

I quickly called my mother in Manila. She had not even heard the news yet. All she knew was that my brother Paul had brought Maria Luz to the hospital at midnight. Then, I woke up Bea and asked her to go to Quiapo to be with my mom and help out with arrangements. Like real troopers, my daughters Bea and Cara, with their cousin Monchoy, took charge of the wake while my brother Paul made the funeral arrangements.

The rest of us siblings (Johnny, Pepito, Pinky and I) felt helpless being so far away. All I could do from the other side of the globe was write down my memories of our aunt for an online memorial. Maria Luz loved to write. This was the best way I could think of to pay her tribute.

Maria Luz or Lucy or Frenchie as her friends would call her or Dada Uds as her grand nieces and nephews called her was a writer non par. She was the longest running moderator of Action (1947-51), Veritas (1980-94), The Profile, and The Faculty Review. Udsy was also the editor of The Search and We the Alumnae. She was an excellent writer and would write under the monicker Sub-Rosa (or chismis queen). I remember many trips to the National Printing Press in Quezon Avenue to check on various publications. She guided the exhibit for the College of the Holy Spirit’s 75th anniversary.

An English teacher at the College of the Holy Spirit, Udsy dedicated herself to helping students learn to love the English language. Quick-witted, she entertained her students with stories about family and life, making her dearly beloved to all of them. She was my English teacher as well, from the time I learned how to speak, read and write. In college, I studied English under her. She prodded me into writing and editing for the school paper. My baptismal godmother, she was always there to watch over me and guide me. And I had to study extra hard to make sure that I earned good grades.

She taught for 49 years at the school that she loved with all her heart, and was guidance counselor for a long time. I remember her anguished crying when she was replaced as the guidance counselor. Her life revolved around that school, and when she was forced to retire, she was terribly disheartened. Writing and editing kept her alive, and when she was removed by the CHS Alumnae Foundation as editor-in-chief of We the Alumnae on the pretext that the newsletter would now be computerized, she lost all interest in life.

As a young girl, Udsy excelled at sketching. Sports-minded, she won two trophies for marathon running. She studied Elementary Education for Teaching Children at Holy Ghost College (now College of the Holy Spirit).

A frequent visitor of the school’s bodega when she was a youngster, Udsy was always sent there for being the naughtiest girl in school. She was the bane of Erundina Fernandez (who later, for a time, became my mother-in-law and wrecked her revenge on me), Teofisto Guingona who called her “kabayo” because of her kicking him with her boston, and Alejandro Reyes who later became dean at San Beda.

Udsy was brave to the point of carelessness. During the Japanese occupation, a man was shot by the Japanese on our street. Without thinking of her own safety, she ran to him to give him the Last Rites. She would always take the side of the oppressed, and if she felt any of us were being given a hard time, she would take it upon herself to defend us.

Udsy loved to clean. Cleaning was her thing. She was very OC about this. The wooden staircase was not acceptable until it was gleaming. Her room was off limits to all us, unless it was story-telling time. She never liked the kitchen, and could not cook as far as I know. Kitchen duties were reserved for her sister Julia. But, oh, how she loved to eat! To the very end, she was always hungry, even if she had just eaten five minutes before.

Story telling was her thing. And for this, no one came even close. She was a master storyteller. And we lapped it all up.

I always credited my love of reading and literature to Udsy. When my brothers and I were young, we didn’t enjoy the usual fairytales like Goldilocks and the Three Bears, or Cinderella or Snow White. Instead, Udsy would regale us with stories of Greek, Norse and Roman mythology. Zeus, Hera, Aphrodite, Poseidon, Apollo, Athena, Hades and Ulysses. These were our heroes and heroines. The Three Fates – Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos – caused me nightmares. When would Atropos cut the string of my life, I anguished? Why, before The Lord of the Rings became a hit serial movie, we knew the entire story from beginning to end.

We eagerly looked forward to her payday because she would bring us to Goodwill in Escolta or to Bookmark and Alemars in Avenida Rizal and let us buy whatever book we desired to read. We had a complete collection of Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew books. When I got into my teens, she even indulged my love of Barbara Cartland and pocketbook love stories. On my 16th birthday, she got me a dozen pocketbooks. That was a special day!

Hot-tempered, Udsy easily got agitated. But when she was calm, she was very gregarious. She was always the life of the party, or so I remember. She would force my brothers and I to perform for her guests (mostly nuns, teachers and students) during parties at home. We had to recite a poem, dance or sing. Rock-a-bye-baby and Joyce Kilmer’s Tree Poem were favorites of mine.

When Udsy was angry, she was like a grenade, hurting everyone within reach. It was wise to stay out of her way. She would run over everyone. She would fly off the handle if she could not find a book, and would accuse us of getting it without permission. But when she would find it, her way of apologizing was to treat us to a Coke. And, oh, how she loved to drink Coke!

She wanted us to be serious about our studies, and thought anything unrelated to school work was the Devil’s work. One time, I was invited to become a model. Udsy was so angry, she threw a basin of water from her second floor window over the agents who came to take my photo. Naturally, that was the end of my budding modeling career.

Near-sighted in one eye, Udsy always wore glasses for as long as I can remember. Red lipstick was her trademark. She kept her shiny black hair short and hated it when white hair started to appear. She commissioned us to pick out her white hair with tweezers and would pay us a centavo for every three white hair we got out. She had her breasts removed when she was in her early twenties because of a cancer scare. She told me the surgeon made a mistake and took out her good breast, and when he realized his error, removed her other breast. She heard him talking about his mistake during her operation through the haze of her anesthesia. This caused her lifelong fear of doctors and medicine. Otherwise, she was in the pink of health for most of her life, all 5’4” and 98 lbs.

Udsy secretly admired my late husband, Mike, and would cut out his articles from different newspapers, save them in a brown envelope and give them to me each time I visited San Sebastian.

In her later years, Udsy became schizophrenic, thinking everyone was out to get her. It was truly sad seeing her fall into deep depression. She would physically hurt her caregivers, and so we decided to put her into a nursing home in Calamba run by nuns. We felt then that she and my aunt Julia would have better care there. We brought the family’s Christ the King statue to Calamba to watch over them. I was relieved though when my brother decided to bring them back home to San Sebastian. This was their home where they were happy.

Julia Alvaro Iturralde

On February 8, 2015 while vacationing in Rome. I received word from my mom that my father’s only remaining sibling, Julia Alvaro Iturralde had passed away. In a way, I was relieved. She had been ill for a very long time, her brilliant mind long gone, her once robust body withered and thin. She still managed a cherubic toothless smile whenever I would visit and remind her that I was Monette, her niece. Sometimes she would remember me. The last time, she did not, and it saddened me greatly. She asked why it was taking her parents long to fetch her.

Julia was born on October 7, 1931 to Jose Manalo Iturralde and Dominga Alvaro. The youngest in a brood of six, Julia or Jill as she was fondly called, was an extremely intelligent individual. She graduated Magna Cum Laude with an AB-BSE degree from Holy Ghost College, and finished two masteral programs: Master in Sociology from Ateneo University and Master of East Asian Studies from Radcliffe, where she enjoyed a scholarship. Jill held the deanship of the Liberal Arts Department of the College of the Holy Spirit for 23 years. She was also moderator of Action, Veritas and The Profile from 1964-67. A prolific poetess, Jill expressed her emotions in beautiful words.

My first recollection of Tita Jill (and later Dada Nings), as we fondly called her, was playing in my grandmother’s warm kitchen with a white porcelain tea set decorated with flowers that she had given me. I must have been less than three then. Pouring real milk tea in the tiny cups, she sat with me on the floor, and we pretended that we were having guests over. Sometimes, we would collect the moss in the garden, place them on the tiny plates and pretend it was salad. Other times, I got lucky and we actually ate food that had just been cooked in the kitchen.

When she came back from taking her masters at Radcliffe University, she brought home a huge walking doll for me. Oh, how I loved that doll with curly blonde hair! It was almost as tall as I was.

Tita Jill taught me how to pray before I slept: “Angel of God, my guardian dear, to whom God’s love entrusts me here. Ever this day be at my side, to light and guard, to rule and guide. And if I die before I wake, I pray the Lord, my soul to take. Amen.”

Summers, when we were growing up were spent in that kitchen. She would teach us how to bake, decorate cakes, and then let us experiment in the kitchen. I remember crying when my cake didn’t rise because I had forgotten to put baking powder in the mix. My brothers and I would fight as to who would clean up the leftover fudge in the bowl.

I loved watching how she cooked, and she would let me be her little assistant, though I was not allowed to wield a knife. I was assigned to mixing food. Getting egg whites to stiffen up was the hardest task ever. “Whip it 100 times, Monette, and don’t lift the spatula up or the air would escape,” she would admonish me. I would try valiantly to soldier on even if my arms felt like they were about to fall off. Looking back, I realize now that she had nurtured my interest in food.

Dada Nings taught Asian Studies at the College of the Holy Spirit, and to drive home learning, she would host parties at our ancestral home in San Sebastian for her students. They would cook Asian dishes, and wear dresses from the different countries they were assigned. My personal favorite was her sukiyaki. I loved watching them prepare the food, and then perform Asian songs or dances after. Oh, that was a lot of fun!

And she made life fun for her nieces and nephews. On Holy Saturdays, she would herd us into the dining room, give each of us a brush, and we would paint dozens of eggs for the Easter Egg Hunt the next day. I guess she must have hidden the eggs in the garden while we slept because we had fun hunting for them after mass on Easter Day.

We would have our own version of Flores de Mayo. We would dress up as saints using her clothes and stack of ribbons and scarves, parade up and down the house, then have a raffle of little knickknacks that she would collect. Oh, and we were not the only ones who had fun dressing up under her guidance. Her students were also in on it. I remember one Marian festival where she had her students dress up as different versions of Mama Mary and stand up like statues around the garden by the CHS Mendiola chapel.

She was a consummate writer, poet and story teller. She wrote plays about the Old Testament which her students performed in school. She wrote poems for the school paper, the CHS alumnae newsletter, and later for the newsletter she and her sister Maria Luz put up. She penned a book entitled Family Treasures which revealed all of the Iturralde secret recipes, and which I use to this day. Her friends gathered some of her poems and published them together with pieces written by my other two aunts, Maria Luz and Sister Encarnacion.

Early on, she encouraged us to perform during parties at home (Actually, I think a better word would be mandated). We either had to sing, dance, or recite a poem to the guests who invariably were their fellow teachers and nuns from the College of the Holy Spirit.

She was a very kind soul, soft-spoken, and yet you knew you were in deep trouble if you ever crossed the line. When I was in first year college, a classmate from elementary asked if she could visit me at home on a Saturday. I had not seen her for some time and was excited to see her. She came to the house with her father who was an advertising executive. A popular soft drink brand was giving away a car to the lucky person who found the tansan (bottle cap) with the winning mark. Apparently, he was running the contest, and he told me that he would make sure I would win the car, but in return I would have to sell the car and split the proceeds with him. I was to let him know my decision on Monday.

Naturally, I was very much tempted. Since my father died when I was ten, we were hard up. The funds would come in handy so I could pursue my dream of studying law, buy things I’ve always wanted, give my family a more comfortable life. At that time, I was studying on scholarship. I discussed the options with my Tita Jill, who advised me of the importance of being true to the values of honesty and integrity. That night, she gave me two cards she had drawn. Depending on my decision, I was to open one of the cards. That weekend was excruciatingly difficult for me. I decided to turn down the offer, and opened the card. Here’s what was written:

“Dear Monette,

You lost. W-a-a-a-a-h… sob sob… Boo hoo… Boo hoo. Hikbe… Sniffle… Sniffle… 

But to me, after Monday, you are taller than a giraffe, taller than Empire State, taller than Mt. Everest.

You are one of us – born losers whose poverty is their (sic) our wealth.

At any rate, I’m so proud of you, so proud that I can treat you to a Shakeys pizza tonight!!!

Love,

Ninang

October 23, 1975″

And then, I opened the other card. It said simply:

“Dear Mongga,

Hooray!! Tsup!!!

Love,

Nings”

I knew then that she was very proud of me for making the right decision. That for me was the most beautiful gift she had ever given me. I treasure those two cards to this day.

I always wanted to study Fine Arts but we didn’t have the funds for this. But the summer after the softdrink incident, Tita Jill enrolled me in a summer class in painting at CHS. I was in heaven! The next summer, she enrolled me in theatre class, along with my brother Pepito.

She was always looking for ways to encourage our various interests. I remember the day the encyclopedia set she had purchased arrived. Pepito and I who were in grade school then were so excited, we spent the entire summer reading the encyclopedia from A to Z. We also played Scrabble and Monopoly with her. Tita Jill’s bed could be spotted a mile away because of the mountains of books and papers that littered it.

College studies was a different matter. Because I was on scholarship (which was the only way I could afford studying at CHS), I had to study very, very hard. It was made more difficult because my aunts worked at the school: Sr. Encarnacion taught Theology, Maria Luz headed the English Department, and Julia served as dean of Liberal Arts. They were stricter on me than anyone else, because they wanted to prove that I could make it on my own. They were thus ecstatic when I graduated with a Summa cum Laude.

Although she was the youngest sibling of my father, Tita Jill appeared to be the head of the family when it came to decision making. She was always protecting her older sister from harm. When Tita Jill and Tita Udsy (Maria Luz) were forced to retire from CHS, they started a newsletter to keep their minds busy. I suspect that Tita Jill used her retirement funds for this as Tita Udsy who had unceremoniously been removed as editor-in-chief of We, the Alumnae, had gone into deep depression. She wanted to make her sister happy. Tita Jill bought a computer and learned to use it.

Things got worse when my cousin Jose Rene and his mother Vicente died and Tita Jill was left to cope with the legal issues on inheritance. The stress was too much for her, and she suffered one stroke after the other, with complications from diabetes. She lost her eyesight, and this was a crushing blow to someone who was as widely read as her. As the years went by, she became less and less interested in life, and would just lie down, seeming to wait for her parents to come and fetch her. And now, they have finally and they are all reunited in their real home in heaven, with Christ.

Though I miss them terribly, I am happy that they are now at peace. I thank the Lord for the gift of having had them both as my aunts, and will always keep them in my heart. May they rest in God’s embrace forever.

Adventure, Art, Church, Confidence, Food, Governance, Resilience, Tourism, Training, Travel

Discovering Bacolod

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October 19, 2015, Bacolod City, Negros Occidental.  When Atty. Jocelle Batapa-Sigue of Bacolod invited me to speak at the 2nd Trade and Tourism Expo and Conferences, entitled MassKaraCity 2015, I immediately agreed. I’ve long wanted to visit Bacolod, capital of the province of Negros Occidental. The only other time I’ve been there, I was just 17 years old and on a Goodwill Mission to Cebu, Bacolod and Iloilo together with the Most Outstanding Coeds of Metro Manila.

We stayed with foster parents in each city, paid courtesy visits to local government officials, and met with student leaders. To a city girl like me, Bacolod seemed laid back, especially when we were driving down roads lined with sugar plantations behind what seemed to be an endless string of trucks craning under the weight of sugarcane. What has changed, I wonder?

20151016_143714What hit me this time is that Bacolod seems to be booming. Perhaps it was because of the Masskara Festival that was happening at the same time as the conference. Arriving at the airport, we were greeted by dancers dressed in colorful garb, prancing to the beat of drums. The main streets in the center of town were brightly lit, festooned with decorative buntings. We passed several malls, a sure indication of prosperity.   The event itself was being held at the year-old SMX Convention Center Bacolod.

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Cutting the ribbon to formally open the 2nd Bacolod Trade and Tourism Expo and Conferences, SMX Convention Center, Bacolod City

At the opening of MassKaraCity 2015, I listened intently to local government and business leaders speak of the city’s tourism and trade potential. I heard the passion in the voice of City Councilor Atty. Jocelle Batapa-Sigue as she spoke of the accomplishments in tourism and industry, especially in the IT-BPM sector, thanked all those who helped, and announced that she would no longer run for office in the upcoming elections. Jocelle chairs the Committee on Tourism, International and Local Cooperation and the Committee on Trade, Commerce and Industry of the Sangguniang Panlungsod of Bacolod.

I was happy to note that the IT-BPM industry is flourishing in Bacolod. Two years ago, Bacolod was recognized by the Department of Science and Technology as a center for excellence for information technology and business process outsourcing, joining the ranks of Metro Manila, Metro Cebu, and Metro Clark. That’s when I first met Jocelle, and was impressed by her fervor and efforts to develop the IT-BPM industry in Bacolod. Several locators have set up shop in Bacolod, like Teletech Philippines, Teleperformance Philippines, Data Solutions Outsourcing, Panasiatic Solutions-Bacolod, Interface Techno Philippines, A&E Global Fusion, Hit Rate Solutions, Alliance Call Centre, Solutionz Call Center, Magsaysay Global BPO, Transcom Philippines, BPO TeleQuest, Shorecloud Corp and Focus Direct Services. No wonder the place was booming!

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Meeting the gracious and multi-faceted Atty. Juan N. Orola, Jr.

Tourism is definitely a strong pillar for Bacolod’s economy, what with its wildly successful Masskara Festival. I was fortunate to have met Atty. Juan V. Orola, Jr. (John)  who was intimately involved in starting and developing the Masskara Festival. Formerly a diplomat, John served as Tourism Attache of the Philippine Embassy in Tokyo, Japan and the Philippine Consulate in Losa Angelas, USA, North and Latin America. He is a lawyer as well as a Doctor of Ecclesiastical Law. I also found out that he was a member of the Lower House representing Bacolod from 1998-2001. But what struck me most was his enthusiasm and commitment to develop Bacolod’s tourism potential.

John recounted the festival’s beginnings in 1980 during a period of severe crisis and tragedy. The global price of sugar had just dropped with the introduction of sugar substitutes in the United States, hitting Bacolod, which relied on sugarcane exports as its main source of revenues, at its core. To make things worse, Bacolod was reeling from the death of 700 Negrenses in a mid-water collision of inter-island MV Don Juan and tanker Tacloban City, throwing the 20151016_143231city into gloom. To bring the people out of the doldrums, the local government, business and civic groups and local artisans banned together to launch a festival of smiles. They called it Masskara, taken from the words mass (people) and cara (face) and had revellers wear masks with smiling faces. In essence, Bacolod declared it would not allow itself to be vanquished. And the city has not looked back since.

Because it was festival season, all the hotels and flights were full. I was booked at Luxur Hotel, or what used to be the Bacolod Convention Plaza Hotel, now home for Teleperformance Bacolod. It was safe, Jocelle promised, being in front of the Bacolod Police Headquarters. And though it was not in the center of town, it was just 50 meters from the Negros Organic Market and 20 meters from Aboy’s, the best Bacolod restaurant.  I made a mental note to try out Aboy’s.

20151016_141931After the ribbon cutting on Friday, we toured the trade exhibition at SMX. I was impressed by the creativity of the local artists and the variety of products on display, from food to paintings and intricately woven baskets. Desserts appeared to be a strong point, with the abundance of sweets, a natural course given Bacolod is sugarland. All I remember from my first trip to Bacolod was piaya, but this time I was introduced to Napoleones, mango tarts, caramel tarts, barquillos, bizcocho, broas, and more. I kept getting suggestions to visit Calea and Felicia’s but didn’t have the time this trip.

Bacolod seems to be a paradise for foodies, and everyone I met urged me to try chicken inasal. But since I shy away from chicken, I opted for seafood instead. The first night in Bacolod, I toyed with the idea of having dinner at Aboy’s but was told not to walk there as it was already late and dark; instead I just stayed in the hotel and worked on my presentation.

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Meeting Aboy’s founder, with Mrs. Josefina Puentevella.
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Riches of the sea: oysters, angel clams, squid, blue marlin.

On my second night in Bacolod, the mayor’s wife Mrs. Josefina Puentevella (Tita Paching) brought me to Aboy’s and ordered a delicious repast of seafood. I was introduced to diwal (angel wing clams), squid fat, their version of laing, and I was hooked! We feasted on scallops, oysters and blue marlin. What made it more special was meeting its amiable owner. Tita Paching recounted how it grew from being a small eatery in 1992 catering to pharmaceutical reps to this big expansive restaurant we were eating in.  She pointed out the owner’s wife who was behind the till, still hard at work.

Early the next day, Tita Paching picked me up and we heard mass at the Cathedral of San Sebastian, originally built in 1876.  Seeing the familiar figure of San Sebastian tied to a tree with arrows sticking ut of him, I remembered my childhood.  Every Sunday, we would go to mass at the Basilica of San Sebastian behind which we lived.  I would stare at his statue at the main altar, and wonder how strong his faith was to be martyred for it.  After mass, we visited the Organic Market, picked up a refreshing dayap and cucumber juice and then had breakfast at Luxur.

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Tom Hanks, Captain Phillips’ lifeboat behind us at the VMA Training Center.

After this, Atty. John Orola came to pick me up and show me his school, The VMA Global College and Training Centers where they prepare students for lifetime careers ranging from maritime to tourism. It was interesting touring the school’s facilities, especially the MV VMA, a full mission simulator where students can experience how to navigate a vessel using the Poseidon simulator, maneuvering under various conditions and situations and avoiding collision.   A group of students was then undergoing survival training, learning how to swim under difficult conditions and to jump from heights. There was an enclosed 28-foot lifeboat, which apparently had been used by Tom Hanks in the movie Captain Phillips that I wanted to enter, but we could not as survival training was ongoing. Next trip, I thought.

After VMA, we moved over to Sum-Ag, Bacolod City where we met Tomas “Tomiko” Claridad Casiano, a retired floral designer from Beverly Hills. When he decided to come back to the Philippines, Tomiko packed up his collection of over 2,000 vintage glass pieces in 66 crates, and built a two-story museum next door to his home to house his beloved collection. 20151017_115808Opened to the public on December 12, 2012, Laguerta, home of the Vintage Glass Museum has been recognized as the largest collection of depression glasses outside of the United States, and the first in Asia.

Tomiko’s love story with vintage glasses began when he searched for interesting vases for the floral creations he would use in the homes of the rich and famous. Attracted to vintage glass, particularly depression glasses manufactured in the Unites States from 1904 to 1940, Tomiko had his collection of dinnerware, decanters, commemorative plates and decorative objects arranged by color, from yellow to amber, pink, ruby, fire, green, aquamarine, cobalt blue and delphite which is an opaque blue glass.

20151017_115213He eagerly showed us the stars of his collection, explaining the difference between carnival glasses, which are pattern-molded iridescent glasses sprayed with metallic salts while the glass was hot, and opalescent glasses, which have two layers of glass: one colored and the other clear. He explained that washing the latter several times would wash away its color completely. He showed us his Vaseline collection, which is no longer being made because it requires uranium to produce its yellow to yellow green color; a Jadite collection that is milk green, a pearlized mustard collection that is milk yellow, and a milky white collection.

Tomiko pointing out the finer details of the glass bowl.
Tomiko pointing out the finer details of the glass bowl.

Tomiko held up some bowls to the sun so that we could appreciate the patterns. I was intrigued by a night lamp he held up that was etched all around with a ship, a spouting whale, a swimming whale and anchors. I imagined it lit by a candle, and a young mother during the depression telling her child a bedtime story of maritime adventure as the flickering light of the candle threw shadows on the wall. Another interesting item was a bedtime jar, whose cover was actually an upturned glass. Tomiko had two of those in his collection.

Listening to his stories and watching him as he toured us around, I was impressed with Tomiko.  Here was a man, totally unassuming, who loved what he did and was eager to share it with the world. When I asked when visiting hours for his museum was, he explained that we had to call ahead to make a reservation so he could be there. He did not have staff to manage the museum, and did everything himself, afraid that they would not take care of his collection as well as he did.

20151017_121300Tomiko then invited us to visit the church of San Juan Nepomuceno that he has been supporting. The church housed his Escayola Collection of Mutilated Religious Arts. Since many Catholic families in the Philippines have “santos” or images of saints made of escayola (plaster of Paris), owners are unsure what to do with them when they break. Missing limbs or heads, the “santos” are no longer displayed. As it is considered bad luck to throw them, they are instead buried.

One night, Tomiko dreamt that he was being asked by God to take care of broken religious icons made of escayola. The very next day, a neighbor came by and gave him a broken statue of a saint that he had unearthed while digging in his garden. This started his collection, as news spread and friends and even people he did not know would come up to him and gift him with their broken statues. I asked him if he knew who all these “santos” represented, and he admitted that he did not know all of them, but that a researcher was helping him identify the statues for proper labeling. I am sure that just like his vintage glass collection, Tomiko’s escayola collection will someday be recognized as unique and outstanding.

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With John Orola and Atty. Danny Cruz of the VMA Global College

My last stop before going to the airport for my return trip to Manila was the stadium. I was adamant to catch even one Masskara dance, and was lucky to see the group that performed in Hong Kong. It was an amazing performance, and a fitting end to my quick trip to Bacolod City. I vowed to come back next year for the Masskara festival and stay the entire weekend.  Now to look for tickets and book a hotel.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Business, competence, Confidence, Health, Menopause, Women, Work

Boosting Women’s Health, Powering Women’s Hearts and Minds

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They say people die of a broken heart. I must be walking dead then since it’s happened twice in the last three years. Two deaths in a row is more than one heart can handle.

Seriously though, I was intrigued when the topic of the Women’s Business Council’s WomenBizPH Talks last week bannered “Boosting Women’s Health, Powering Women’s Hearts and Minds.” WBC was honored to have two women leaders as guest speakers.

IMG_8058First was prominent cardiologist Dr. Maria Adelaida “Leni” Iboleon-Dy, chair of the Philippine Heart Association Council on Women’s Cardiovascular Health. As Mylene Abiva, president of Felta Multi-Media Inc., introduced Leni’s many accomplishments including being Assistant Medical Director for Medical Education at St. Luke’s Medical Center, Associate Dean for Clinical Sciences, amongst a long list of positions held and honors received, what struck me most was here was a tall, gracious and beautiful woman who has made it to the top in a field dominated by men. What an outstanding testament to womanhood! And instead of just resting on her laurels, she has been leading the campaign to help other women take charge of their health.

Takotsubo Cardiomyopathy. That’s what they call the broken-heart syndrome, Leni shared. Most often seen in post-menopausal women, Takotsubo is brought about by recent severe emotional or physical stress. Emotional stress can be triggered by the death of a loved one, relationship break-ups, arguments with a spouse, or constant anxiety due to financial problems. Physical stress examples include acute asthma, surgery, chemotherapy and stroke.

First studied in Japan, this stress-induced cardiomyopathy, according to Wiki, is characterized by the bulging of the left ventricular apex with a preserved base, making the heart look like a “tako tsubo” or octopus pot. The symptoms are similar to a heart attack, and can be lethal. Leni said this could clear up in four months if treated right.

In her talk entitled “Why hearts need to mend: Yes, broken hearts can kill!,” Leni urged the guests to take care of their health, as heart disease is the #1 leading cause of death in women regardless of race or ethnicity. In fact, she said one of three women die of heart disease, compared to one of 30 who die of cancer. Now those are alarming figures.

Leni is on a passionate quest to wake up women to the reality that cardiovascular disease (CVD) is a major public health issue for women, and to get them to take the necessary steps to lead healthy lifestyles as a preventive measure. Because women have a higher tolerance for pain (due to childbirth), women are more difficult to diagnose, and are more likely not to get appropriate treatment following a first heart attack. As Leni said, we tend to “tough it out” more than men. Women also have different symptoms from men, ranging from a “doomed” feeling, or being “suddenly very tired,” vomiting or having indigestion. Now, who of us haven’t felt these before? By this time, I was already beginning to feel hypochondriac.

Leni categorized the risk factors for CVD into what can be changed and what cannot. The bad news is that we can’t do anything about heredity, about being women, or about getting older, especially when we hit menopause. The good news is we can adopt healthier lifestyles by quitting smoking (and staying away from second hand smoke), eating healthier, exercising, controlling our weight gain, and taking the necessary medication for conditions like high blood cholestrol, high blood pressure, and diabetes.

Another wake-up call was the definition of hypertension in adult women. Normal blood pressure should be less than 120 systolic (higher number) and less than 80 diastolic (lower number). So if you have a blood pressure of 120 over 80, you are already pre-hypertensive.

Leni recommended that women do vigorous activity like brisk walking, running or swmming or even dancing for at least 30 minutes, six days a week to get their hearts and lungs in top condition.  I guess I should start doing Zumba soon.   Either that or start running.

As for nutrition, Leni cautioned the group to stay away from vein-clogging cholesterol-rich food and fad diets that promise quick results. This prompted a lot of fond ribbing of fellow WBC member Evelyn Singson, Chairman and President of Philippine Hotelier’s Inc. for serving kare-kare with bagoong for our lunch at Dusit Thani.  A healthy, balanced diet will give the best results, Leni said. And a glass of red wine a day will keep heart attacks away (my line, not hers).

Unfortunately, we cannot stop the clock, and menopause will eventually catch up on all of us. This greatly increases the risk of CVD. So, we need to manage our stress levels if we want to be around to enjoy our children and grandchildren.

Another casualty of ageing is our minds. “My yesterdays are disappearing, my tomorrows are uncertain, so what do I live for? I live for each day. I live in the moment.” Quoting neuroscientist and author of Still Alice, our second speaker Gina Lumauig, Director of Communications of Neeuro Pte. Ltd., Singapore, highlighted the importance of early diagnosis and early intervention to close the treatment gap for dementia.

Dementia, a syndrome caused by different brain illnesses, affects memory, thinking, behavior and the ability to perform everyday functions. There are an estimated 44.4 million people worldwide suffering from dementia. Meanwhile, according to the Dementia Society of the Philippines, an estimated 200,000 Filipinos suffer from dementia, with many more having to live with the problems the illness brings, not just as patients but as caregivers. This I know from experience as my late maiden aunt suffered from dementia in her senior years. Little by little, dementia wormed itself into her brilliant mind destroying her ability to function normally. It was difficult for all of us seeing her deteriorate.

There are things that we can do to keep our brains fit, such as being fit physically (Gina suggested yoga), getting enough sleep (hard note to self: Monette, you need eight hours of sleep!), eating healthy, laughing, and volunteering.

Writing is one of the best ways to sharpen our mind. Gina urged us to write a letter, write a postcard, write a gratitude journal, write to our children and our parents, and to write by hand.

Gina pointed out that her 82-year old parents who have been married 60 years and have so many children, granchildren and great grandchildren, have keen minds because of their healthy and active lifestyle. I was seated beside Gina’s mom during the talk, and she was certainly keen of mind and humor, keeping me entertained so much so that Gina would stop once in awhile and ask her mom to tone down her talking.

Founded by a team of experienced technopreneurs and neuro-scientists, Neeuro Pte. Ltd. where Gina works is about to launch a headworn gadget supported by computer games that challenge memory, attention and more to keep the brain healthy and fit. I asked her to alert me when this happens so I can get a set for myself and start doing mental Zumba.

We all had so much fun while learning how important it is to keep our bodies, hearts and minds healthy. But more than the fun and the learning, it was great bonding with other women at the Women’s Business Council .

Ably led by its chairperson, Ma. Aurora “Boots” Geotina- Garcia, WBC provides a platform for discussing women’s issues in business and finding solutions to challenges women face in the conduct of their business.  WBC is working with the Department of Trade and Industry to organize the Public Private Dialogue on Women and the Economy (PPDWE) for APEC Women and the Economy in September 2015.  And it looks like we’ll be very busy mounting this.

So, is it possible to die of a broken heart?  According to Leni, yes. Can it be cured?  Yes.  Can we delay the onset of dementia?  According to Gina, yes.  So, ladies, let’s start living healthy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Adventure, Children, Confidence, Death, Faith, Family, Food, God, Life, Love, Travel

Moalboal Fam Trip

April 4, 2015. Moalboal Fam Trip. It’s 6:00 am, and I am all alone in the lanai, waiting for my children. We’ve reserved a banca for a 7am trip to Pescador, an atoll where they claim the marine life swim in abundance. I’m excited yet apprehensive, not being a strong swimmer. The lifeguards told us that the drop off is quite steep so I was undecided about joining the children.

I get nervous when I can no longer see the bottom while swimming. When Mike and I would snorkel in Club Paradise, he would always hold my hand and lead the way. I felt safe with him always. Now, he is no longer here. Still, I’ve decided to go with the children, especially since Mama Becky told me I should go and that she would take care of Dada while we were exploring.

When Mike died, I vowed to do the things I’ve always wanted to do but never had the chance or the courage to do so, like wearing a bikini, jumping off a cliff, riding a bike, going paddle boarding, traveling by myself. And that’s what I’ve been doing these past two years.

Hale Manna where we are staying is true to its name. Hale in Hawaiian means good energy, and Mana means home.   So it means home of good energy, of which there is much in abundance. Mama Becky Pestano-Smith, its owner, wanted to praise and thank God for His many blessings by spelling Manna with a double n. My children were right in deciding to spend Holy Week in this place. I feel at peace and happy.

Months ago, Bea and Cara were backpacking in Cebu and chanced upon Hale Manna as they were exploring the beach.  They said a nice lady called out to them from the cliff, inviting them over.  They accepted the kind invitation of the lady who turned out to be Becky Pestano-Smith, the owner.  The girls said they immediately felt at home as the kindly Mama Becky enveloped them in her warm embrace and treated them to merienda.  They vowed they would return, and so we are here now.

Arriving at Hale Manna Thursday afternoon, we were welcomed warmly by Mama Becky. She had prepared hot cassava chips drizzled with honey and the most delightful lemongrass tea to soothe our thirst from the long drive. Ravenous, we feasted on the lechon and puso, which we had bought at the Carcar market on the way here.   Our spacious room has eight comfortable beds covered with colorful quilts, which beckoned us to sleep. And that we did since all we had was a couple of hours sleep the night before.

Just as we were going for dinner, there was a sudden brownout.   We were worried about the trip because super typhoon Chedeng was expected to hit the Philippines the next day.  Also, Bea had just finished regaling us with stories of how she and her barkada ended up one summer vacation in an island in Cebu when there was a massive brownout, and they had to survive for days without electricity and mobile phones and with just one vat of water for all of them to bathe in.

Using our cellphones as flashlights, we walked over to the lanai where the other guests were already having dinner. It was quite romantic, with just candles lighting up the place. Halfway through dinner, the lights came back on.  Bea commented that she had enjoyed the candlelit dinner more.  Still, I welcomed the return of electricity.

The beach at Hale Manna is rocky, not sandy, but there are kayaks to bring you to a floating raft where you can swim. I did this the first afternoon we were here, but preferred yesterday morning to just write at the Inspiration Point, the highest part overlooking the water while the children swam in the waters.

Hale Manna has several secluded areas facing the sea with bright red lounging chairs where you could laze all day. There are also cabanas, with mattresses and large soft pillows, set far from each other so that you could enjoy the serenity of the place. Despite several vehicles at the parking area, we hardly bumped into anyone, except for meal times when we would all congregate at the lanai.

Yesterday morning the children were bitten by jellyfish, so they came back early and we decided to go for an early lunch at Club Serena, two resorts away. CSR boasts of a sandy beach and more modern amenities, but there were a lot more people around. I prefer the quietness of Hale Manna as the houses are far apart from each other. We took a tricycle going there, and it was bumpy and dusty, an adventure in itself.

Arriving at Club Serena, we were warned that they were full and we would have a long wait.   We decided to stay as the girls who had been there before were adamant we should try the suman with tsokolate and mango. It was well worth the wait, though it was way past 2pm before we had our first nibble. While waiting, the children played Places, Animals, Names and Things (PANT) while I sketched Niccolo and his girlfriend Sam from a photo I had snapped a week ago.   Earlier that morning I did quick sketches of Bea and Cara at the house.

It was almost 3pm, and we wanted to pray. I tried accessing my mobile bible, but unfortunately, CSR did not have wifi and Globe Internet was spotty. I walked over to the bar and asked our amiable waiter Rolan if they had a bible we could borrow. He had one, he said with a smile, except it was in Bisaya, which only Cara would have understood. I went back to the table sad, but when I checked my phone, there was my mobile bible online!

Niccolo wanted to go back to Hale Manna to pray because CSR was a bit noisy, but we insisted to stay as the hour was near. Reverently, Niccolo read the book of Mark from the Last Supper to Christ’s death.   As I listened intently, all the ambient noise drowned out, and I was there at Gethsemane witnessing Christ’s agony as the apostles slept, beside the anguished Peter as he realized he had denied the Lord three times, amongst the angry crowd as calls for crucifixion rang loud, beside Simon of Cyrene who was tasked to carry His cross, at the foot of the cross as Christ gave up His spirit, and beside His mother as she embraced His dead body.   We were all quiet as Niccolo finished reading, each engrossed in her own thoughts.

We were aghast when we learned there were no more tricycles available for the return trip to Hale Manna. They had all gone home to observe Good Friday. We were worried about how Dada would be able to walk back to Halle Manna. Kind Rolan offered his vehicle, which could not carry all of us, so Niccolo and I walked back along the seashore. It was good to be with him alone, and we talked about plans for summer.

We slept siesta, then went back to the beach intent on going swimming by the raft, but the lifeguards refused to let us go, warning us that the current was very strong. Instead, we plopped down in one of the comfortable cabanas and shared stories, as we are wont to do when together. Soon, we were joined by Niccolo and Cara’s boyfriend Ramon who had arrived from Iligan. We  stayed at the cabana until sundown. As we watched the sun go down, Bea asked, “with such beauty around you, how can anyone not believe in God?” We all agreed.

We turned in early because of the planned boat trip. And now, I have to stop writing and pack up as the boat has arrived.

12:00 nn. We’re back, and we just finished a delicious brunch of Arroz a la Cubana, Paksiw na Isda, and Ampalaya. The children and Dada have gone back to the house to sleep, and I once more have the lanai to myself.

I am so glad I joined the boat trip. There we were in the middle of the vast sea, basking in the early morning when the boatmen pointed to dolphins far away. We went nearer, and the playful dolphins decided to put up a show.

As the boatmen tethered the boat at Pescador and we were getting ready to jump in,  I realized that in our excitement, we had forgotten to bring along life jackets.  Cara, Niccolo and Ramon are all strong and confident swimmers and don’t need the life support.  On the other hand, I am a floater, meaning I have a very difficult time diving, and I get nervous swimming in the open sea without a life jacket. Luckily, the boatmen were able to borrow two life jackets from another boat, one for Bea and another for me.

Once in the water snorkeling, I was lost in the beauty of the marine life teeming around me, sporting a myriad of colors unseen on dry land. Truly, there is a God, I thought! After Pescador, we traveled to another place where they said the turtles could be found. I was told to put on my life jacket as we would have to swim to where the turtles were.

As we were quite far from the shore, I worried about the drop off. As the bottom kept dropping and the water became darker and colder, I began to feel afraid, but then the kind boatman took my hand and led me swimming along the drop off, spotting turtles and pointing them out to me.  Once in a while, he would let go of my hand, and Niccolo would take over.  Soon, the excitement of seeing the huge turtles overcame my fear of the deep, and I happily relaxed, even getting over the sharp stinging I would feel once in a while as jelly fish brushed against me.

Our final destination was where the sardines were. Oh, and it was amazing! The school of silver sardines, why, there must have been millions of them, was like a gigantic ribbon undulating and pulsating in the sea as far as I could see. The water would alternate between very cold to warm as the sardines swarmed around us. It was truly an exhilarating and awesome experience! Mama Becky was right. It would be a pity to come to Moalboal and not see the marine life. Next time, I intend to swim with the whale sharks.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Confidence, Faith, Family, God, Life, Love

Alfonso in October

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IMG_5753October 24, 2014.  Finally, I arrived safely in Alfonso, just as dusk began to settle in.  It seemed that Mother Nature had thrown her dark mantle over the green expanse signaling that it was time for weary souls to rest.  I felt peace settling in, just as the cicadas began their chirping symphony.

It’s been a crazy, frenzied two weeks.  We’ve just finished organizing two major international conferences last week: the International IT-BPM Summit (IIS) and the SycipLaw-sponsored World Law Group Conference.   Both were highly successful, thanks to the amazing people who make up TeamAsia.  Concurrently, we were setting up meetings for the IIS Egyptian and Bangladesh delegations that were interested to learn more about the business process management industry in the Philippines. In between all of the conference prep activities, I was busy organizing my mom’s 80th birthday celebration, and working on a book on her life, while juggling Tourism Promotions Board and PACEOS responsibilities.  Clearly, I needed to decompress.   And so did the team.

1904127_10204878157094752_5178903032146269851_nAnd so we decided it was time for a much needed break from work.  Thursday morning, our hardworking Experience Team hied off to The Green Olive Garden Private Hotel near St. Scholastica’s Retreat House in Tagaytay for a strategic planning session.  On the way up, we stopped for breakfast at Rowena’s Café and surprised Karen and Joana with birthday cakes.  The poor girls were not able to celebrate their birthdays properly with all the work that had to be done.

We had The Green Olive Garden Hotel all to ourselves, thanks to Karen who had made all the arrangements.  The spanking clean spacious bedrooms were well-appointed, the beds and pillows soft as down, the food not just filling but appetizing as well.  The cool Tagaytay breeze, the smell of pine trees, and the profuse foliage and flowering shrubs provided a soothing backdrop to the place.  I was assigned the executive room which even sported a Jacuzzi for two in the bathroom.  It was, of course, wasted on me.

10245351_10204007188914336_1289111777421054271_nWe buckled down to work right after a hilarious ice breaker where we had each person tell a story about random items they had brought with them, and then swapped with each other.  The afternoon was highly productive.  After dinner, it was time to chill by the pool with wine, while others had their massage. But first, I had to get on a Skype call with colleagues from South Korea and the US for a smart platform being planned in time for the Philippines’ hosting of the APEC Women and the Economy Forum next year.

10712734_10204007147873310_9059012607933853107_nTurns out the only place where the Internet connection was strong enough was behind the counter of The Green Olive Garden.  While waiting for everyone to sign in, I had a good look around, and noted that the owners must be Vespa fans, as there were several retrospective posters of bikes around.  I also took the opportunity to post the photos of my mom’s birthday on my Facebook, as family and friends have been asking for them.

Our team was already having loads of fun by the pool, doing improvisation theatre, followed by several games that got everyone rolling with laughter, tripping over their Tagalog words, and spilling the beans on well-kept secrets.  Looking around at these young men and women, I marveled at how relaxed and happy they looked, and what a contrast it was to the determined team of professionals who ran the conferences last week.  I felt my chest puff up with pride that this was my work family.  I am so blessed to have them.

IMG_5747The next morning, I woke up bright and early only to discover that everyone else was still asleep, other than Darwin, our training associate who was already in the pool. The clear blue water of the pool glistened in the sun, beckoning me to swim. Thankful I had been spared a hangover from the copious wine I had the night before (each time I lost I had to drink some wine; obviously, I needed more practice with the games), I surprised myself by doing five laps.  Not bad, I thought, considering I sported a back brace and was walking with a cane right about this time last year.

After wrapping up the highly productive strategic planning session and bidding good-bye to the team, I drove to Alfonso. Earlier, I let our driver Jimmy go home as he had to bring his pregnant wife for a medical check-up. Truth to tell though, I just wanted to be alone, to sort out my thoughts.  Driving by myself was a welcome treat.  It’s been awhile since I’ve been behind the wheel.  Humming a tune, I savored the prospect of time alone in the Retreat, while mulling over the events of the past two weeks.

I was a bit worried about a Skype conference call I had to make Friday night.  Internet connection in Alfonso is always spotty, but the recent storm may have wiped it out altogether.  Walking around the farm, the only place that had a reasonable 3G signal was underneath the mango tree beside the cabana.  Oh well, I thought, this is better than having to drive back to Tagaytay.

IMG_5772After asking our caretaker Jeovanie to keep me company in the dark, I spread my festive red sarong on the ground, turned on the computer and tried desperately to connect using my PLDT WeRoam as well as my Globe phone.  The Internet connection was ephemeral and weaker than a butterfly’s gossamer wings. The call kept getting dropped. After half an hour, I gave up, packed my bags and went back to the house to sleep.

IMG_5773For the first time in weeks, I clocked in eight hours of tranquil sleep, rudely disturbed by the cacophony of roosters crowing, chickens cackling and the nun’s geese next door honking. I went out, just as dawn began to break, with darkness giving way graciously to light, the sky awash in baby blue and pink hues.  Pretty soon, the sun showed itself, unveiling the beauty of the farm.

IMG_5830It always takes my breath away when I see sun-dappled leaves, still moist with the night’s dew, bursting in vivid green.  I don’t think there is enough variety of paint in the world to capture all of Nature’s many hues.  Inspired, I walked around the farm, took photos, and decided to settle myself at the cabana to paint.

IMG_5853 I ended up trying to paint myself.  I remembered my first self-portrait.  It was done in oil while I was in college, and I had given it to my boyfriend.  When we broke up, he didn’t return it.  I hope he didn’t use it as target practice.

Before driving back to town, I paid a quick visit to an 81-year old friend in Alfonso who I hadn’t seen in a while.  She and her daughter enjoyed pouring over my mom’s book. Taking my leave, I hugged and kissed her, telling her I love her.  Tears sprung to her eyes.  I suddenly remembered Dada, and how much she appreciated the gesture of the book.  I vowed to call, check on her, and tell her how much I loved her.

IMG_5855Someone dear had told me that I needed to be happy being alone, being myself.  And that I was, at the Retreat, basking in the beauty of God’s creation, and the peace within my soul.  I thought of my beautiful children, my mom, my siblings, Mike, my friends, the people I love most in this life, and was grateful for having them in my life.   But most of all, I remembered who I am, how much I am loved by God despite my many frailties, and thanked Him for the many blessings I have received.

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On the way back home, Nanay Tinay, the lady from whom I bought flowers in Tagaytay gave me a single red rose before I got back into the car.   I was startled.  With a twinkle in her eye, she wished me love.  And so I drove back with a smile on my face, holding on to that red rose, just happy being me.

 

competence, Confidence, Friendship, Uncategorized, Women, Work

Women Stepping Up

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Are women naturally competitive? Is it true they cannot stand having another woman shine brighter than they do?  Is jealousy natural?  Does crab mentality apply to the supposedly gentler sex?  Or is it possible for women to help other women, and feel good about it?  These were questions going through my mind last week as I attended two women’s events: WomenBiz Talks organized by the Women’s Business Council Philippines, and two days later, Women’s Talk Network Night organized by the Business and Professional Women (BPW) Makati.

Thursday night, I attended the Women’s Talk Network Night at the Society Lounge upon the invitation of my friend, Jeannie Javelosa. Although I’ve known of Jeannie for many years as being creative partner of PR competitor, EON, and a co-founder of ECHO Store and ECHOsi Foundation along with another good friend, Chit Juan, it was not until Jeannie and I were speakers last November at the UN Women’s Conference in Barcelona that I really got to talk to her.  We had a wonderful time exploring this beautiful city together (See my blog post on that memorable trip with Jeannie).

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Arriving at the venue already teeming with women and buzzing with their chatter, I was happy to see Ambassador Delia Albert seated with Marivic Anonuevo, and promptly joined them. I had the good fortune of meeting Manang Delia as she is fondly called by her mentees during the APEC Women and the Economy Summit in Bali last year, and got to know her better during the Sababay Winery tour of the Gozali family, and the gala dinner.

IMG_3029Manang Delia is chair of BPW Makati and head of the APEC WEF Private Sector Steering Committee.  A real trooper, Manang Delia went up to the stage during the gala dinner to sing Dahil sa Iyo with the guest performer, effectively breaking the ice and starting a rousing competition for the best love song among the different nationalities present. Despite her diminutive exterior, Manang Delia cuts an impressive figure and commands attention and respect because of her intelligence, her wit, her strength of character, and deep passion for helping her kababayans, especially Filipinas. I remember her saying it was important to bring together all the accomplished business and professional Filipinas to help in the hosting of the APEC Women and the Economy Forum in 2015. This way, we can change the perception of foreigners that we are a nation of OFWs and househelp, she said.  And that was exactly what she was doing Thursday night, urging the accomplished guests attending the cocktails to step up for the APEC WEF meeting.

IMG_3030After Manang Delia’s appeal, it was Jeannie’s turn to introduce BPW Makati to the guests.  Jeannie is founding president of BPW Makati, a local chapter of the Business and Professional Women (BPW) Foundation in the Philippines that espouses the Women’s Empowerment Principles of the U.N. Aptly called Equality Means Business, the Principles emphasize the business case for corporate action to promote gender equality and women’s empowerment. While BPW has monthly networking opportunities to enjoy, Jeannie cautioned that membership in BPW Makati is open only to those interested to work towards putting the principles to work.  No place for fluff here.

The seven principles include (1) establishing high-level corporate leadership and gender equality; (2) treating all women and men fairly at work, respecting and supporting human rights and nondiscrimination; (3) ensuring the health, safety and well-being of all women and men workers; (4) promoting education, training and professional development for women; (5) implementing enterprise development, supply chain and marketing practices that empower women; (6) promoting equality through community initiatives and advocacy; and (7) measuring and publicly reporting on progress to achieve gender equality.  In short, BPW Makati empowers women to help other women succeed and achieve their potential.

IMG_3040IMG_3039Next up, Chit Juan, BPW Makati External VP and former president of the League of Corporate Foundations, together with Luvy Villanueva, director of the Philippine Commission on Women, spoke about their GREAT Women Platform, short for Gender Responsive Economic Actions for the Transformation of Women. By helping small and medium women-run businesses package their products attractively, take advantage of the supply chain, and promote and market them effectively, women entrepreneurs get a better chance at succeeding in business.

For instance, who would have thought that the lowly suka (vinegar) can be packaged into coveted artisanal fare and exported overseas? Or that bottled taba ng talangka (crab fat) is now gourmet fare? And did we know that we can make use of the 5% mandated Gender and Development (GAD) budget of the government when selling our products and services?  We learned about best practices for promoting gender equality, from PLDT’s SME ICT platform on the cloud, to Coke’s 5M by 2020 micro-entrepreneur drive, to RCBC’s EWMN financial literacy program that expands women’s potential through SME loans and start-up capital, and to Cherie Blair Foundation’s 6-month online mentoring program for women in business.

IMG_3047Interestingly enough, there was a lone male speaker that night.  Brave man, I thought, to be the only thorn among the roses, until I found out that he was accompanied by his wife.  Intellectual Property Office Director Ric Blancaflor spoke about the male perspective. A firm believer in women’s strengths, he shared that half of his board is composed of women, and 65% of IPO examiners are women. He cited the Filipina qualities he most admires: dedication to duty, bravery and competence and encouraged the women in the room to safeguard their brands by filing for intellectual property rights.

IMG_3053Looking around Society Lounge that night, I saw many powerful women who feel secure about themselves: Manang Delia, Marife Zamora, Chit Juan, Jeannie Javelosa, Karmi Palafox, Mylene Abiva, Emmeline Versoza, Luvy Villanueva, Rambie Lim, to name a few.  Great company indeed.

So, this is a call out to women in business and professions to step up.  Join BPW Makati and let’s share our blessings to help other women succeed.  High time we put girl power to work, right, ladies?

Bullying, Childhood, Confidence

Of Bullies and Demons

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Our son was bullied in La Salle Zobel School.  One day, when he was in Grade 3, I made him stay at home because he was feverish. When I took off his shirt to give him a sponge bath, I was horrified to see big black bruises all over his torso. He refused to tell me or my husband what happened or who did it to him, so we went to the principal and complained. The perpetrators were “punished” with a C grade in conduct.

Several more incidents like these happened over the years.  Each time, our son would hide it from us, afraid of what we, his parents, would do, and of the teasing that would follow from his classmates.  He was smaller than his classmates, a quiet intelligent boy, preferring to play games on his computer rather than join the more athletic, physical games like other children his age.

It was thus a great relief for us when he finally defended himself from another bully on the last day of class just before a holiday.  Despite several warnings to stop harassing him, the boy pushed him against the wall and was about to hit him, so our son hit him first.  Just once, and the boy fell and cried.  The teacher witnessed what had happened.  Nevertheless, our son got a C in conduct (school rules say no fighting), while the other boy was put on probation.  The boy’s last name: Elorde.  Go figure.

Our family was elated! We celebrated our son’s victory.  Finally, our son could stand up for himself.   Never mind the C.  Now, that he is almost six foot tall, I doubt if anyone would try to bully him.

Looking back, I’ve had my own fill of bullying.  One occasion that stands out clearly was in first year high school.  One day after lunch break, I was embarrassed to find my chair covered with eggs. Why, there must have been at least two dozen of them.  Crying, I gave them to my teacher.  To this day, I do not know who was behind this or why this was done to me, although I half suspect it was because I had refused to cheat during exams.  But I carried the hurt for a very long time.

Later in life, I realized that I had allowed my ex-in laws to bully me.  It became so bad that I, an otherwise accomplished business executive respected by my peers, would stutter in their presence.  I was made to feel inferior and unwanted, below their social class.  My sisters-in-law would go together shopping and brag about their exploits or finds, and I would never be invited.  At clan parties, they would all sit together, excluding me, forcing me to find my place with other “out-laws.”  So many instances I suffered, too painful to write down. What made it worse was not having my then husband’s support and understanding, and apparently, love.  But that’s a limbo I was able to escape, now long behind me.

And just like my son, I never told anyone what painful times I was going through then.  Was it fear that no one would believe me, or a feeling of shame that I actually deserved the treatment?  Was I so lacking in self-esteem that I actually accepted the notion that I was not good enough for them?  I don’t really know, except that I am so blessed that Mike, my knight in shining armor, came into my life, rescued me from this morass, reminded me of my self-worth, and restored my self-confidence.   Secure in his love for me, I was happy.

Who becomes a bully?  And who a victim?  Is it something we are pre-disposed to?  Is it the self-image we develop from childhood?  Do we unknowingly accept what angry people say about us, instead of letting hurtful words slide off our backs like water to a duck?  I think it really is a combination of the many experiences we’ve had from childhood to adulthood.  In my case, I think it was losing my dad when I was but ten, feeling lost and realizing that I had no one to defend me.

If you’ve ever been a victim of bullying, you need to shake off your feeling of hopelessness.  Remember that you are a child of God, precious to Him.  You are not the problem.  Document the bullying.  Talk about it with other people.  Expose the bully.

The funny yet sad thing is, I believe that all the bullies I’ve met are actually quite unhappy and insecure themselves.  They display aggressive, cruel behavior towards people they think are vulnerable, to feel a sense of power and to cover up for their own insecurities or worries. Just like that boy who tried to hit my son.  Turns out he was having problems at home, and needed an outlet for it.  Unfortunately for him, he picked on my son that day.

So next time you’re faced with a bully, think, what monstrous problems must beset them that they have to resort to bullying.  And instead of letting it affect you, pity them and let the water slide off your back.