Cheche Lazaro and Nina Lim-Yuson: Shared Vision

The sisters–stylish, pedigreed, and successful–are horsing around for this story’s photo shoot. Museo Pambata president and CEO Nina Lim-Yuson embraces her sister with an eagerness that leaves the sibling struggling for breath. Multi-awarded journalist Cheche Lazaro is good-naturedly chiding her sister for wearing the same color outfit. The two, just one year apart in age, remain decorous throughout although the mutual affection is palpable–and rather touching.

They were just in their teens when they lost their father. On his way to Mindanao to oversee a pulp and paper project for San Miguel Corporation in 1962, his plane crashed into an enormous tree. The task of raising his six children fell solely on his remarkable widow–Estefania Aldaba-Lim.

Diplomat and social worker, Estefania is a United Nations Carlos P. Romulo and Ten Outstanding Filipinos Humanitarian Service Awardee. She was a precursor of the modern superwoman, a herald to the possibility that simultaneous homemaking and professional careers need not suffer from reciprocal dilution.

Says Nina, also a widow for the past 11 years, "For me growing up, she was the complete woman–mother, housewife, and career woman. She would sew our curtains and uniforms. She would take care of the kitchen and go to the palengke."

Cheche, married to consultancy firm head Delfin Lazaro, chimes in, "She was a psychologist at an academic institution. Later in her life, she was appointed Assistant Secretary General of the United Nations, which brought her to about 75 countries all over the world. She was also appointed United Nations Special Envoy for the International Year of the Child in 1979. We didn’t go along in her travels because we were already married then. Hindi na kami child! Gurang na kami no’n."

Of the two, it is Nina who has worked most closely with her redoubtable mother, although Cheche will admit her own work has not escaped Estefania’s critical eye. The Museo Pambata odyssey began almost two decades ago, when Nina took her children to the Boston Children’s Museum during a visit to her other sister, a World Bank official based in the US. What she saw inspired her.

Among the oldest museums in North America, the Boston Children’s Museum was unusual–visitors were encouraged to touch and interact with the exhibits. In an old attic, you could try on vintage clothes. At another exhibit, children who were normally chastised for taking toys apart were allowed to unleash their potentially destructive ingenuity inside a roomful of junk. Over at another room, a computer traced your ancestry.

Nina and her mother imagined a children’s museum back home that would serve as an alternative learning venue, particularly for those without access to formal education. In 1993, they presented a proposal to then Manila Mayor Alfredo Lim to situate their dream museum in the historic Elks Club along Roxas Boulevard. The timing proved serendipitous for Dirty Harry had been softened up by a recent trip to Mexico City for a unicef Mayors’ Meeting on the Rights of the Child. He granted them a 10-year lease on the building.

When work started, the builders discovered extensive termite infestation that required the removal of the entire woodwork from floor to ceiling. Leaky pipes and drainage problems further delayed the renovation. But this is a persistent family and many brainstorming sessions, pro bono services, and "Ninong and Ninang" endowments later, the Museo Pambata opened its doors to the public at the end of 1994.

An undergraduate of Child Studies who holds a PhD in Education, Nina has published books as diverse as Math for Early Learners and Letters from Lolo to Lola. She is the program chairman of the Girl Scouts of the Philippines, as well as the proprietor of The Early Learning Center preschool, which also develops teacher-training workbooks. Her natural and acquired patience with children has served her in good stead as the excessive curiosity of the museum’s little patrons often spills over into kleptomania.

"The children could break some of the items because it’s hands-on but we can replace them," she smiles. "Sometimes they bring things home as souvenirs. For example, we used golf balls to show kinetic energy. The kids would pocket it and we would have to look for more golf balls. They’ll pocket anything loose, saying they want to show it to their brother or sister. Often, they don’t ask permission–we just don’t see the items anymore!"

The innocent larceny is a peculiar measure of the museum’s success. 180,000 visitors drop in annually, with as many as 800 arriving in a day. But the competition for their attention is intense–cartoons, Playstation, and computer games satiate kids’ short attention span more readily. Nina is adamant that the museum offers a richer experience. "When they leave the museum, the children have a better view of their world rather than if they do Playstation where they just learn these new dance steps or car racing," she says, betraying a charming ignorance of the furious variety of today’s high-powered games. "A lot of museums are adopting our interactive elements."

Early in the life of Museo Pambata, a 10-minute video produced by Cheche’s Probe Productions, Inc. served as its publicity. Considering the outfit’s industry-altering track record, this may possibly have been the most well-crafted publicity video in museum history.

Fourteen years ago, Cheche, Luchi Cruz-Valdes, Maria Ressa, and Angie Ramos produced three original Probe specials. To its eternal credit, GMA 7 immediately aired the shows and decided to turn it into a weekly program. Today, The Probe Team is the longest-running investigative television newsmagazine show in the Philippines.

Founding her own production company was a seemingly needless gamble–Cheche already enjoyed the security of a high-ranking post in one of the nation’s biggest news organizations. But viewers have been rewarded with the spectacle of seeing the unusually plucky host endure ordeals that only now seem de rigueur to the contemporary batch of Philippine journalists.

Pushing her body to its limits, Cheche has scaled Mt. Apo. She has suffered through the airless humidity of the Palawan jungle in search of the Tau’t Bato tribe, ignoring along the way a multitude of insect species hell bent on pitching their tents on human skin. Perhaps most impressively of all, she has even worked as a conductor on a non-airconditioned bus for an entire day. Surveying her handsome house located inside one of the country’s most desirable addresses, with its lush, sprawling garden shaded by decades-old fruit trees, one has to wonder why she bothers at all.

"Probe Productions is not a moneymaking venture but we’ve lasted 14 years on a vision and some kind of a mission," she explains with typical intensity. "The mission is to produce excellent television programs for the Filipino audience. The vision is to make a positive contribution to Philippine TV–upgrading the quality of programming. We want to put a mark there that this is done by Filipinos. My personal view is that the Filipino in television is quite excellent at his craft. He just needs to be given the opportunity and the means by which to produce excellence."

Probe Productions, Inc. has become the most influential independent outfit in an industry dominated by network giants. Its roster of shows–5 and Up, Gameplan, I-Witness, Cheche Lazaro Presents, and the quirky The Exchange–are looked up to as industry yardsticks. Although the production company has the unflattering reputation of leaving its staff impecunious because of meager salaries and brutally paltry allowances, there is no shortage of media men and women hoping to join the team. Simply put, the word is that working under Cheche Lazaro will hone your journalistic skills to a level no other show can approach.

"Well-trained but poor–yes, that sounds like us," she laughs. "Personally, I feel that if your primary concern is to become rich, you tend to compromise a lot of stuff. We believe we have produced the best producers in the market today–they’ve come from Probe." Indeed, all three other producers of the equally distinguished I-Witness (each episode is hosted by a different anchor each week) once cut their teeth at Probe Productions, Inc.

The Speech and Drama graduate from UP ("Wala pang Journalism noon–hindi pa uso.") admits that The Probe Team’s transition from English to Filipino episodes a few years back was difficult. "Most of us were not very good because our Tagalog vocabulary fell below standard. It was difficult to translate it to conversational Tagalog–it was not academic Tagalog. The tendency when writing in English is to string difficult words together to make an impression. But our edict has always been: string words together to be understood. Writing in English can be a little stentorian," she says, forcing this writer, all the same, to scramble for the nearest dictionary.

Constant exposure to the kakistocracy (see, two can play the game) has surprisingly not left her filled with cynicism toward the establishment. "We do stories where we see ordinary people who don’t have power or money doing something. It tells me: Here I am in media, with the power to tell a story, and I’m not even doing enough. It makes me a little guilty. It reinforces that my job is not about money–it’s about telling a story. Telling it well to influence people to affirmative action."

Nina has done her share of dealing with the powers-that-be. Employing the tricky combination of beguiling tenacity, she has enlisted the help of some the country’s deepest pockets. "After nine years, we feel we can now start up six new provincial museums," she says. "The other museums tell me it’s easier to get support for children. But you have to learn to give these people reports and show them your track record. For example, when we first started we went to Washington Sycip but he wanted a museum on top of Smokey Mountain. We couldn’t do that so we couldn’t get money from him. But a year ago on his birthday, I wrote him greeting him and asking him again for help for Museo Pambata. He told me to see him. He wanted to bring in poor kids to the museum by providing the bus and giving them free lunch. So we had to package it that way. Now we can tell others that maybe since Mr. Sycip has done it, you can do the same."

These are anxious days for Nina as Museo Pambata’s lease expires next year. "We are hoping that the Mayor (Lito Atienza of Manila) and his council will renew our lease and see that many poor children come in for free. The Mayor loves children. He opened the Manila Zoo to so many children. We’ve already had projects with him like literacy projects and mobile libraries that carry 3,000 books," she says, hopeful Atienza will not jettison a project originally instituted by his archrival.

Somehow, the sisters manage to engage in various hobbies despite their demanding schedules. A shared diversion is the near pathological urge to document everything (especially family trips), which probably explains their chosen professions. Cheche and Nina have compiled over a hundred photo albums–each. Both are packrats, and nothing escapes their albums–not bus tickets, not brochures, not dogtags. The albums, purchased in bulk, are crammed with annotations and pressed flowers. Cheche claims a failing memory necessitates such a painstaking endeavor. Says Nina, with a certain pride, "Our friends ask us to do their pictures because they’re all just in a box."

Nina also sketches and paints–quite admirably, if her sister is to be believed. "I’m looking for artist friends who will allow my work to be placed beside theirs so my status in the arts community will be lifted a bit!" says Nina. When reminded by Cheche that one of her paintings has already been bought, she exclaims, "That was a forced auction! I think the frame made it look better."

Cheche’s other pasttimes include reading and photography. She has also dabbled in theater, appearing in Eve Ensler’s The Vagina Monologues earlier this year. "I read three monologues," she says. "I’m a quiet supporter of the women’s movement. I firmly believe in the empowerment of women–without castrating men! The Vagina Monologues was an expression of my support."

Cheche claims their 85-year old mother is "quicker on the draw than the two of us combined." Estefania still critiques her shows and the maternal appraisal rivals Probe’s famously candid postmortems in its bluntness. Nina declares that, until recently, Estefania would wake her up in the morning, firing off a to-do list to her still groggy daughter. "The staff at Museo all still remember her," she says cryptically.

The teasing is tenderly delivered, suffused as they are with devotion for an amazing woman. Following Estefania’s trailblazing example has allowed Nina and Cheche to lead lives of distinction, although it hasn’t exempted them from their mother’s watchful eye. But it doesn’t really sound like the sisters are complaining. Television viewers and children all over the country certainly aren’t.