It takes a village

As the winds howled and torrential rains poured, our village group chat pinged with intermittent messages from a neighbor. She was virtually mobilizing members of our community, requesting donations for the immediate needs of displaced residents in an evacuation center in another barangay.

In a matter of minutes responses came in: canned goods, pre-loved clothes, blankets, mattresses and cash to purchase essential items for families that needed shelter at the height of raging storms.

In three days, close to P100,000 was raised from among donors within our community. The amount was used to purchase additional mattresses, hygiene kits, diapers, bottled water and immediate needs of evacuees. I was amazed at how a neighbor’s initiative rapidly spread and put a good number of residents into action. Others went to the evacuation centers to help pack and distribute the goods in coordination with teams from the LGU.

While the relief work was ongoing, our neighbor sent photos of goods being distributed to beneficiaries. At the end of the entire activity, she presented a crystal clear accounting of where the donors’ contributions went, supported by receipts. The amount of funds involved in the homeowners-initiated effort may not be in equal proportion to the billions of pesos “spent” in flood control projects, yet the way the outcome of the fund drive was reported – with transparency and accountability – was a genuine reflection of the person’s integrity and honesty – the very same characteristics we hope people in our current leadership positions must likewise possess. 

How our lady neighbor instinctively initiated the relief efforts, and how people in our village generously responded, reminded me of a compelling line from the book “Me to We, Finding Meaning in a Material World” penned by Craig and Marc Kielburger, founders of Free The Children. It says: “Civic engagement is what brings people together to achieve unifying goals.” That unifying goal was to give evacuees some semblance of comfort while housed in temporary shelters during severe weather conditions.

While at the crossroads of pursuing a career in corporate Hong Kong and redirecting a path toward a “portable” vocation, a kind of work that would benefit children, I read “Me to We.” I had since used it as a definitive reference when I need to embark into what I call little acts of caring. The other book that I love to reread when in search for inspiration is “Leaving Microsoft to Change the World,” written by John Wood, a former Microsoft executive. The pages of both books have, for almost two decades now, turned brownish-yellow, yet their stories of transformation remain timeless.

“Leaving Microsoft…” is a best-selling memoir of Mr. Wood, who in the late 90s traveled to Nepal – he described it as “one of the world’s most beautiful countries” – yet “the lack of resources in the schools is sad.” In utter disbelief, he discovered that the largest library in the district he visited “had no more than 20 books,” a Danielle Steel romance being one of them.   Mr. Wood’s life-changing experience led him to establish “Room to Read.” What initially started as a personal crusade to collect and ship books for schools in Nepal has since evolved into a non-profit organization that focuses on “creating a world free from illiteracy and gender inequality.”

I recently realized, the more our world changes, the more the stories in both books remain powerful and relevant. This was revalidated at the reading session, initiated by another neighbor, alongside the relief efforts at the evacuation center. When calamities happen and classes are suspended, children housed at evacuation centers have very limited or no access to learning activities. The social worker we coordinated with during the reading activity intimated that for children, the priority is on their basic needs like food and clothing. School matters or supplementary learning activities take a back seat, firstly because there are not enough staff or volunteers to do the task and secondly, because there are no adequate materials. 

At the read aloud, I asked the children, who among them love to read and who do not like to and why. A student said she loves to read because her father reads to her, while the student who doesn’t like to read said, “Wala naman pong libro.” I was stunned by the boy’s candor. It was a startling contrast to what Mr. Wood wrote about his lifelong predilection for books that I find completely relatable: “This love of reading, learning and exploring new worlds so predominates my memory of youth that I simply could not imagine a childhood without books.”

Haunting as it may sound, the boy’s revelation about not having a book to read sparked exchanges among us who participated in the reading activity. One idea led to another. Aside from donating books, it was suggested that we conduct regular reading activities at a public school in our barangay. After our first reading session, we found out from the teacher who assisted us that almost half of their student population is in the level of struggling readers. The teachers can only do so much. In the course of our discussion with the principal and teachers, we brought up the idea of inviting parent-volunteers and train them to do the reading to the children. More than 20 parents attended the first workshop, which was followed by another, with upcoming sessions in the offing.

The parent-volunteers’ eagerness to carry on with the reading activities themselves was laudable. While they expressed concern about the threats of a hyper-digital world, they feel more hopeful and empowered now to be part of the collaborative efforts of teachers and neighbor-volunteers who are helping kindle the love for books and reading among their children. 

It takes a village to launch and sustain undertakings like this, but we’re on the right trajectory. Thanks to the pioneering spirit and fruitful interactions of like-minded neighbors, parents and teachers who ignited these “from me to we” moments.