What God can do with 57 cents GOTCHA By Jarius Bondoc

Bitter words are being thrown at the governor of Southern Leyte and the mayors of Maasin, Lilioan, San Francisco and San Ricardo. Why, they are asked, did they not warn hillside and seashore residents of potential mudslides and tidal waves in the wake of five days of continuous rains? Did they not care enough about their constituents, more than 200 of whom were crushed dead under tons of earth or are missing after being swept by raging seawaters?

It may be pointless to blame local officials for fortuitous events that, like earthquakes, cannot be predicted. But they, and their constituents as well, must somehow be made to account for the forest denudation that drastically reduced the mountains’ capacity to hold water. Also, for the insistence to live in danger zones like the edges of open seas.

Often enough have we heard of the lame excuse to allow slash-and-burn farming (kaingin) because the poor have no other source of livelihood. It’s no different from letting poor coastal dwellers to resort to blast fishing (bumbum) because they don’t have capital for huge nets, modern boats and sophisticated sonar fish finders.

Slash-and-burn subsistence is as much responsible for the balding of mountains as large-scale commercial logging. Both need to be regulated. The few timber concessions that the Department of Natural Resources still allows are under strict rules to replant as they cut. In the case of Southern Leyte, the hill folk chopped down the rare hardwood for cash, then planted coconut for seasonal income from copra. But, as Social Welfare secretary Dinky Soliman quoted an agriculurist, the roots of coconut trees are too short and narrow to replace the water-holding capacity of the trees they had felled. By one account of survivors in Barangay Poblacion, Liloan, they had replanted the slopes with fast-growing, longer- and wider-rooting gemelina softwood. But they had cut these too for cash only recently. The trees that they spared saved them by halting the cascading mud and rainwater from the mountaintop.

It is old knowledge. Cut down the trees, and nature’s wrath will return in the form of floods.

Forest denudation not only ruins lowland crops and wildlife, but also mars the nearby seas. Mudflows choke corals and sea plants where fish spawn and feed, and thus drive them farther from shore. Fisherfolk are forced to live along coasts so they can easily set off on tiny boats in search of schools of fish. Upon spotting one, usually near remaining coral beds, they lob bottles of home-made fertilizer bombs, thus killing more fishing grounds. They then complain of dwindling catch and worse poverty.

Again it is old knowledge. The seas and shores are the natural social security of coastal dwellers. Destroy the corals and fish fry, and there will be no source of income in the future.

So who’s to blame? You be the judge. In a small barrio in Negros Occidental, a group of out-of-school youth, encouraged by local officials and traders, has been replanting the hillsides for the past two years. They have not had a mudslide since then. In a town in Batangas, the mayor persuaded dynamite fishers four years ago to repent and, equipped with speedboats donated by the fisheries bureau, grouped them into shore patrols to apprehend blasters. Their corals have since regrown and the fish have returned.

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A Christmas story from the Internet:

A sobbing little girl stood near a small church from which she had been turned away because it "was too crowded."

"I can’t go to Sunday School," she cried to the pastor as he walked by. Seeing her shabby, unkempt appearance, the pastor guessed why and, taking her by the hand, took her inside and found a place for her in the Bible class. The child was so happy they had room for her, that she went to bed that night thinking of the children who have no place to exalt Jesus.

Two years later the girl lay dead in one of the poor tenement homes. The parents called for the kindhearted pastor, who had befriended their daughter, to handle the final arrangements. As her little body was being moved away, a worn and crumpled purse was found which seemed to have been rummaged from some trash dump. Inside was 57 cents and a note scribbled in child’s handwriting which read, "This is to help build the little church bigger so more children can go to Sunday School." For two years she had saved for this offering of love.

When the pastor tearfully read the note, he knew instantly what he would do. Carrying it note and the cracked, red pocketbook to the pulpit, he told the story of her unselfish love and devotion. He urged his deacons to get busy and raise enough money for the larger building.

The story does not end there. A newspaper learned about and published it. It was read by a realtor who offered them a parcel of land worth many thousands. When told that the church could not pay that much, he offered it for 57 cents. Church members made large donations. Checks came from far and wide.

Within five years the little girl’s gift had increased to $250,000-a huge sum at that time, near the turn of the 20th century. Her unselfish love had paid a large dividend.

When you are in the city of Philadelphia, look up Temple Baptist Church with a seating capacity of 3,300, and the Temple University where hundreds of students are trained. Have a look, too, at the Good Samaritan Hospital and at a Sunday School building which houses hundreds of little schoolers, so that no child in the area will ever need to be left outside during Sunday school time.

In one of the rooms of this building may be seen the picture of the sweet face of the little girl whose 57 cents, so sacrificially saved, made such remarkable history. Alongside of it is a portrait of her kind pastor, Dr. Russel H. Conwell, author of the book, Acres of Diamonds, a true story, which goes to show what God can do with 57 cents.

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