The Long Way Up

The life story of Francisco Domagoso, better known as the scavenger-turned-movie actor- turned-politician Isko Moreno, could very well be a movie script, especially since it has a really happy ending.

Though he now sits as one of the councilors of Manila’s first district in a cramped office at the Manila City Hall, Isko has come a long way from foraging for food each day after school, going from one garbage pile to another in Tondo.

"Dati, iintindihin ko lang ang kakainin ko bukas (It used to be that all I focused on was what I would eat the next day)," Isko says with a grin, his eyes distant as he remembers his childhood. "Dito, iniintindi mo ang problema ng bayan (Here, I have to attend to the problems of my constituents)."

Isko was born to seaman Joaquin Domagoso and his second wife, Rosario Moreno on Oct. 24, 1974. Most of his father’s income went to his first family, and many times Isko and his mother had to fend for themselves. He gathered old newspapers and glass bottles to resell to a junk dealer when he was in the fourth grade. There were times when their earnings did not even buy them three meals a day.

He was discovered by talent manager "Daddy" Wowie Roxas, and the teenager found himself in the television variety show That’s Entertainment.

Isko’s bodyguard, Jonathan Abaygar, says it is not true that Isko chose the screen name Moreno in honor of German Moreno, who hosted the television show that became his ticket to fame and–though not quite fortune, at least a steadier income.

"His middle name is really Moreno," Jonathan says.

Isko signed a contract with producer Robbie Tan’s Seiko Films, starring in several movies, some with Claudine Barretto as his leading lady, notably Muntik na Kitang Minahal (1994). Other films include Siya’y Nagdadalaga (1997), Exploitation (1997), Mga Babae sa Isla Azul (1998) and Misteryosa (1999).

Isko put his acting career on hold when he ran for councilor of Manila’s first district in 1998, motivated by a strong desire to help others, particularly people in the impoverished Tondo neighborhood where he grew up.

Isko says that when he first ran for councilor, many thought he would go the way of many show business personalities who had gone into politics: "Artista lang iyan. Walang alam iyan (He’s just an actor. He doesn’t know anything)."

Isko admits that some of what his critics said were true, but along the way he proved that he could rise to the challenge. "Napapag-aralan iyan (That can be learned)," he says, referring to a councilor’s task of drafting local laws.

"Magaan ang pakiramdam (It’s a good feeling)," he replies when asked how it feels to go to work each day at City Hall.

He points out that what cannot be learned by other politicians–particularly those who inherit their posts by dint of their family’s political or economic clout–is an innate understanding of and empathy for the concerns faced by the poor, concerns that Isko knows only too well.

"Ang pakiramdam ng kumakalam ng sikmura, ang walang baon pagpasok sa eskwela, ang pag-alala mo na pag-uwi mo sa trabaho, baka wala ka nang bahay na nakatayo dahil squatter ka lang (The feeling of an empty stomach, not having any food to bring to school, worrying about whether you have a home when you return from work, because you are just a squatter)," he recites what is almost a litany of concerns facing the mass of urban poor. Many second- or third-generation politicians who follow in their parents’ footsteps do not have any idea what it is like to actually experience these things–viscerally, personally–and that is where their weakness lies.

"They don’t know the small things that affect people’s lives, like sabong panlaba (laundry soap)," he says, adding that what is ironic is that most politicians use the slogan "ako para sa mahirap (I am for the poor)."

Another area where many politicians make mistakes is just focusing on the needs of the poor but not addressing the issues faced by middle-class workers and local businessmen. "That’s segregating the community. Public service should be for the general welfare of the public," Isko says. "Many candidates just want to focus on the poor."

Isko is now on his third and last term as councilor, and he is reportedly being groomed for a higher post, either as congressman or vice mayor.

"As long as the people want me to serve, that’s okay," he says, noting that the next round of local elections is still two years away. For now, he wants to focus on delivering public service and on establishing more institutions that can serve the people.

He believes in social responsibility wherein a person should "see to it na di ka maging pasakit sa lipunan (that you do not become a burden on society)."

Isko is careful about what he claims or promises he will do, especially during his campaigns. Yet to date he has established numerous institutions that he believes would address the needs of his constituents, like the Isko Moreno Computer Learning Center which he set up in 1998 during his first term. He remembers his days in Tondo High School where he had to share ten computers with 1,999 other students. The center has since graduated 3,000 students.

Isko also set up five day-care centers and is in the process of completing two more in his district. The projects were funded by Japanese philantrophist Takadera Masanori, whom Isko met through Fr. Nishimoto, the chaplain at the Japanese Embassy in Manila.

Isko is half-way to a law degree from Arellano Law School, but that is currently on hold to accommodate his role as a priest in the television series Mga Munting Anghel sa Langit.

With his salary as a councilor at P31,000 before taxes and his wife Diana Lynn pregnant with their fourth child, Isko says he needs to make a little extra money. Besides, he admits, he misses acting too.

He was a bit surprised at the number of Filipinos abroad who congratulated him on his return to showbiz, sending him an average of 30 to 40 messages a day on his friendster.com account.

"Yes, I have a Friendster account!" he laughs. Besides being atypically open about his life, Isko eschews the usual politician’s garb of a "gusot mayaman" barong for jeans and a simple white polo shirt. He also carries around a PDA, and attends to his schedule himself, with a little help from his staff.

"I’m the type of person who always has to be productive. I can’t just stay at home, doing nothing. Para ako lalagnatin (I would get sick)," he says.

When not attending to his constituents, his acting career or his family, he reads; nonfiction, Isko stresses, like Nick Joaquin’s Maynila, which he says has opened his eyes to the city he helps lead.

Right now, Isko is trying to finish the compiled speeches of Martin Luther King. He lists Sun Tzu’s Art of War and Rich Dad, Poor Dad among his favorite titles.

"Never deprive yourself of an opportunity to gain knowledge, whether from a president of a company or an ordinary citizen," he says, adding that he prides himself in being able to mingle with "the poorest, the rich kids and the middle class."

But he admits that his waterloo is the English language, but reiterates that, like "everything else, it can be learned."

Isko does not know when he will be back in law school. Despite the stresses he encounters as an actor and politician, he reveals that nothing prepared him for the rigors of law school.

"I experienced culture shock. Madaming articles na kailangan memoryado mo (You have to memorize so many articles) by the next meeting!" he exclaims. To solve this problem, he read the articles out loud, recorded them and played the tapes as he drove to and from work.

His staff is handpicked from among his schoolmates at Tondo High School. Gesturing towards the front of his office, he points out that his is the only office where the receiving area is not air-conditioned.

"The door is open. Everybody’s welcome here," Isko says. "This is not my office, I just work here."