Had propriety not ruled over me, I could have written about them a long time ago. I pondered, however, that it would not look good if I wrote about them at the thick of the election campaign for Sangguniang Kabataan (SK). Now that the SK election is over — especially so that their group lost — I feel the need to tell their story.
What for — you may ask — when I have already said that their group lost? The story of Tropa ni Pipoy is a beautiful and inspirational tale of losing. It is in defeat that they found victory.
Sometime in July, a neighbor named Kaymart “Pipoy” Gimutao, 17, a second year Development Communication student at the University of the Philippines in Los Baños, came to the house asking for my opinion about his desire to run as SK Chairman.
I made my misgivings very clear about his intention to run, knowing fully that the Sangguniang Kabataan of late has become the possible spawning ground of many a corrupt fry.
“If many will not trust that we can do something for our community, I don’t think we will even have the chance to prove our worth,” he told me, his voice registering succinct conviction. He did not sound 17. Just when I thought an ideological dogma was dead, Pipoy — young and frail and slouchy — brought it back to life. From then on, I have become his fan.
There was no way Pipoy could fund his campaign — his father is a driver; his mother, a household help of one of their relatives. I told him the SK election did not need fund and fuel because it was just a simple election. I illustrated my point by citing the experience of my youngest brother Rod who ran and won as SK Chairman in 1996 without spending money. But times have changed and, as the one-week campaign period for the recent election drew near, I found myself wrong. The Tropa ni Pipoy was up against forces to reckon with. But that did not daunt the group.
What ensued next was a series of little miracles shining through in the culture of volunteerism. Well-meaning friends donated small amounts so Pipoy and his council members — Jobert Lazanas Estrella, John Carlo Garbin, Lorena Hermano Calualhatian, Mark Andrew Opeña, Hejerson Aldueza Epino, Jahziel Encarnacion and Dan Angelo Sanchez — could fuel their campaign. Even relatives of their “opponents” gave them a can or two of red paint that they used for their streamers and banners. The elderly gathered old tarpaulins of politicos who ran for senators last May and painted the back of those recycled materials with slogans. Some donated T-shirts while others took charge of the silkscreen. Neighbors cooked gawgaw (starch) and turned them into paste for the group’s posters. A lady balut vendor who plied the streets every night shouted Pipoy’s name instead of “Baluuuuuut!”
They were definitely lagging behind in the financial department but their enthusiasm to participate in the election never waned. Not once did they complain about the long hours of preparing for their campaign materials.
“Just enjoy this exercise,” I told them. “You only become youth once. You will never have the chance to experience this again.” So, from the first Sunday of August that we first sat down up to the day of the heat of the campaign, there had been widespread awareness among Tropa ni Pipoy and its supporters that the kind of politics they were venturing into was not the traditional type.
The many Sundays before the election were devoted to mental and psychological preparation. Preparing to win and preparing to lose entailed the same inertia — so, more or less, the eight candidates were prepared for the results of the election. It was ingrained in their minds the three cardinal rules of election: 1. Play it fair; 2. Don’t engage in mudslinging; 3. There should be dignity in winning and losing.
Every Sunday that I met with them, they always surprised me with their thoughts. Probably, in the beginning, I simply doubted their might, shrugging that they were just 16- and 17-year-old “kids.” But I fell flat on my face when they showed me they were a different breed. Inspired by their burning desire to serve, I conducted trainings for them like writing, public speaking and argumentation so they could improve their verbal and written communication skills. We unabashedly ventured into introspection so they would really know what kind of service they would offer the youth.
Instead of a political platform — it sounded very trapo to us — we had a session where they would voice out their dreams for the youth, for the community. It was their conscious and concerted effort to dream that made them closer.
“Every kid in the barrio should have the right to education. They should be able to read, write and count. There should also be extension learning for the out-of-school youth,” said Lorena Calualhatian, an Education major at the Polytechnic University of the Philippines in Santa Rosa City. She is one of the two candidates in the group who made it as SK Kagawad.
For his part, Andrew Opeña, an IT student at the Pamantasan ng Cabuyao, dreamed for a holistic sports program for the youth. Aside from sports, he also dreamed for sportsmanship to be cradled by every youth in the community. Andrew — albeit battered by the circumstances of the election — also made it as SK Kagawad.
Jahziel Encarnacion, an HRM student at Manila Montessori College in Biñan, Laguna, aspired to be of service to the women sector of the community.
Jobert Estrella, who at the time of the election was studying IT at Malayan College Laguna, wanted to focus on environmental projects for the barrio.
Dan Sanchez, an active member of the church and who aspires to pursue fashion design or the arts soon, was resolute in his will to resurrect some dying traditions in the community.
Ubuy Garbin, on the other hand, being a Nursing major at the University of Perpetual Help System in Bi˜nan, Laguna, intended to take charge of the health aspect of the youth.
Hejerson Epino, an Electronics and Computer Technology student in Trimex Computer School in Biñan, simply wanted peace and order in the community, which he knew was not a simple task.
Pipoy Gimutao would use his knowledge in developmental communication to better understand and address the needs of the youth in Gulod.
Election came. Majority of them lost. Still, they did not lose their spirit.
“We lost in quantity of votes,” Pipoy told me. “But as the saying goes, Kuya Büm, quantity is something you can count; quality is something you can count on.”
That’s when I knew that the Tropa ni Pipoy was also victorious. In fact, they were not worried that they would not be able to implement their dreams for the community. I validated their aspirations by telling them that they can serve without the position.
“Public service does not need the mandate as long as you know in your heart you want to help,” I told them.
The election is three weeks over but the members of Tropa ni Pipoy continue to harness their dreams. They taught me that it was all worth it to live outside my comfort zone; that I should play an active part in matters pertaining the youth instead of simply being a cynical fence-sitter. The decision I made to support Tropa ni Pipoy might not be a popular venture in the eyes of some — especially in a relatively close-knit barrio like Gulod where everybody is almost related to everybody — but it was, nevertheless, very liberating. For me, it was an awesome experience.
They say the taste of success is sweet. The members and believers of Tropa ni Pipoy, including me, believe that the taste of losing is sweeter. Here’s one group that dreams for their community. They lost in number but they did not lose their spirit to serve.
I never thought defeat can taste sweeter than victory.
(For your new beginnings, please e-mail me at bumbaki@yahoo.com or my.new.beginnings@gmail.com. Have a blessed Sunday.)