Rosa Rosal’s lifetime of charity

The experience would have shattered anyone else. Just five days into her marriage, Rosa Rosal woke up alone on her honeymoon bed–her husband had left her. When the cloud of despair finally lifted, Rosa Rosal emerged determined to devote the rest of her life to public service. Today, she is widely identified as the compassionate face behind the Philippine National Red Cross and the enduring television show, Damayan. Less known but equally inspiring are her relentless acts of private charity.

Born Florence Lansang Danon in 1931, Rosa Rosal never really got to know her French-Egyptian father. "I was very young when he died. I had a very nice stepfather–Roberto del Barrio. He treated me like I was his own daughter," she says.

Thanks to her enterprising mother and equally capable stepfather, Rosal comfortably survived the privation brought by the Japanese occupation during World War II. She chanced upon an old typewriter when she was 12 and, displaying a single-mindedness that would become her hallmark, steadily progressed in typing speed and accuracy. She also excelled at debating competitions in Arellano High School. Rosal parlayed both skills into a clerical position at a Japanese radio station in Escolta. The can-do youngster was soon on the air as a newsreader.

"Even when I was young, I was very disciplined. One day, though, a Japanese caught me listening to the short-wave radio and slapped me. I was young and did not know that wasn’t allowed, but since I was built quite well, they didn’t realize how old I was. I was advised to get out so I left."

Barely into her teens but already built like a woman, Rosal found work at the National Chest Center in San Lazaro Hospital after the American liberation. She lied about her age, telling her employers she was 18. "My boss was Dr. Sixto Francisco, a very nice man. I took dictation, did his letters, and I became his private secretary," she says.

Dr. Francisco was unaware that his ward kept herself busy while he was away. "They had an X-ray machine; I learned how to use it and, when my boss was out, I would be working it. I saw a lot of sick and needy people. This is also how I got to know so many doctors."

In 1947, while walking through the ruins of Intramuros on her way home from work, Rosal stumbled onto the set of the film Fort Santiago. A sharp-eyed Luis Nolasco was transfixed by the confident gait of the young beauty and immediately offered her a bit part. Ever practical, Rosal accepted only after ascertaining her fee.

Her unlikely role as a guerilla attracted attention and Nolasco sought her out again. "I told Mr. Nolasco, ‘Look, I’m a busy person. If you want me to be an actress, give me a screen test. If you want me, good! But I will not come back and forth for this. As soon as I turned around, sabi nila, ‘Di pa nga nag-uumpisa, suplada na.’ That’s how my movie career started!"

She was the classic cinema vamp–audiences knew that as soon as her dangerous curves (highlighted by a 22-inch waist) appeared on screen, trouble was afoot. She reveled in her contrabida roles. "I liked it because the sweet roles were not challenging. In my time, if you were a contrabida, there was repentance or retribution in the end (of the movie). One day I told Manny de Leon, my boss, that I’ve had it and didn’t want to be a contrabida anymore–make me a sweet girl. By this time, I was already doing my charity work," she says.

Despite her schedule, Rosal attended night school at Cosmopolitan College and earned a Commerce degree. "I’m not much of a social butterfly–I don’t drink and I don’t smoke. I don’t believe in wasting my time," she explains. She began her volunteer work for the Red Cross in 1948 and became fully committed two years later. Playing the villain was becoming increasingly incongruous with her altruistic, out-of-the-limelight activities.

Rosal met Walter Gayda, a dashing American pilot, in Hong Kong. By that time, she was a full-fledged star and a highly respected actress. She received a special citation from Pres. Ramon Magsaysay for her film Anak Dalita, which won the coveted Best Film award at the Southeast Asian Film Festival. She won a FAMAS award for her role in Sonny Boy (Rosal also happens to be the model for the shapely figure in the trophy). She played an un-glamorous Tausug in Badjao–the film was victorious at the Edinburgh Film Festival. In Biyaya ng Lupa, Rosal applied her considerable powers of persuasion and convinced Manny de Leon, the film’s skeptical director, to cast her in the role of a 60-year-old woman. She was 27.

Curiously, she did not deem it necessary to inform Gayda of her celebrity–what did it have to do with love, she asked herself. After a whirlwind romance, they were married at the portentously named Our Lady of Sorrows. A mob of reporters and fans met the couple outside the church. Disconcerted, Gayda found solace in their forthcoming honeymoon trip to Hawaii. Things would settle down to normal there, he thought.

As they approached the Hawaiian runway, it became apparent a crowd of press people was awaiting the plane’s arrival. "Uy," thought Rosal, "there must be a VIP in this plane!" Even today, she relates the story with amazement. "When I got down from the plane I realized they were all waiting for me. I was in the front page of all the papers. Then Flash Elorde fought in Hawaii and he gave me his gloves–front-page news again! That kind of thing went on for a while. On the fifth day of our honeymoon, I woke up and he was gone. No note. His friend told me, ‘Rosa, pack your bags and go home.’

"I guess he was an egoist and he couldn’t take being Rosa Rosal’s husband. It was devastating–I never even had a boyfriend before that. It was tough but I had a very wonderful mother and she was my pillar. Whatever I am today I owe it to her.

"When you get into these kinds of situation, you can either be bitter or better–the difference is just one letter. I had a child (Toni Rose, her honeymoon baby) to take care of and I also decided to throw myself into social work. I had a lot of suitors but I felt I had already been burned. I was so dedicated to my daughter and my work. I told myself, ‘I will work hard and save my money so I would not need a man.’ I became financially independent and it came to a point that I didn’t need a man. I’m not a man-hater but I believe a woman can live without a man."

Because of the predominance of bomba films in the 60s, Rosal ventured into television. In 1975, after ten years in Yan Ang Misis Ko with Ronald Remy, she hosted GMA-7’s groundbreaking Kapwa Ko, Mahal Ko. The show remains among the most unexpected hits in Philippine television history–in its heyday, it even out-rated the PBA game telecasts. "It was the first public service show on television and it was so powerful. I would appeal for donations and I would get donations," she says.

Kapwa Ko, Mahal Ko was unceremoniously pulled off the air. Rosal discreetly refrains from offering any explanation, but word is that a powerful woman resented Rosal’s rising stature as the country’s voice of compassion. In 1976, her friend Doroy Valencia installed her as host of the Rod Reyes-created Damayan in the government station.

"I tell the staff there that I should be in The Guinness Book of World Records because I’m sure I’m the only one who has hosted a show for this long (26 years) without being paid for it!" says Rosal. "I get an allocation of P100,000 (a month) from the PCSO, but at the start of every year, Malacañang still has to approve it. While they are working on the approval from Malacañang, I end up using my own money. For this year, I’ve used P500,000 of my own money and have not been paid. But I just got a call from PCSO saying the money has already been approved."

The 70-year-old Rosal continuously amazes audiences with her grasp of medical conditions, a result of decades of liaising with all types of specialists. Through Damayan, she manages to help about 500 patients a month, although half a million pesos is as far as her pocket can bear. Her distress over funding problems is most acute when she contemplates the scores of her show’s beneficiaries who cannot afford to sustain their maintenance dosages.

Ten years ago, a persistent young man waited for Rosal outside her television studio. His grandfather was a carpenter, he said, and so was his father–he wanted to break the cycle by going to college. Perhaps the nation’s softest touch relented and Rosal sponsored his schooling in UE.

"Before I knew it, I was sending 15 students to school and it was coming from my personal funds. The first one, Artemio, visited me last year. I was so happy to see him–he was like my eldest son. I gave him everything–a stipend, shoes, uniforms, everything. Eventually, I was supporting a male nurse, a dentistry student–you name it, I had it–in Adamson, Centro Escolar University, UE, FEU…time went by so fast and they all graduated.

"I never asked them to repay the money that I gave them. All I ask of them is paaralin niyo ang susunod na kapatid. All 15 students are now out of the squatter’s area and they all have good jobs. Wow, this is good, I thought to myself."

In 1999, Rosal was awarded the Ramon Magsaysay Award for Public Service. She explained to her daughter and two grandsons that she could not share with them the $50,000 prize–she would instead use it as seed money for her scholarship fund. "Now, people who know about the Rosa Rosal scholarships donate money in lieu of throwing company parties. This year, 70 students have graduated from the PUP–the money is now assigned there. 35 of them were cum laudes. If you want to help this country, educate the children who are deserving," she says proudly.

The PNRC governor and chair of the Red Cross Blood Program has also badgered the likes of Quezon City Mayor Sonny Belmonte, Rep. Baby Asistio and other Damayan guests for donations. Raising some P700,000, Rosal utilized the money to put the children of Red Cross employees though school. 27 of them have graduated. Rosal will pursue any means to raise funds–she has even written Oprah Winfrey asking television’s richest female entertainer for $100,000.

Together with the Red Cross’ Zenaida Beltejar, Rosal also founded Women In Crisis, a center that has already had 81 children successfully adopted. Her greatest dream, aside from the success of the Red Cross blood program, is to build a permanent home for unwed mothers.

"I am Pro-Life," she declares. "Once you’re pregnant, don’t destroy (the life) anymore. We give our girls the option of taking their child with them once he or she is born. If they are young, like 15 years old, I encourage them to put up the child for adoption. ‘Batang-bata ka pa, ibigay mo nalang sa akin," I tell them. (If they agree), I have the child adopted by well-to-do families. Everything is free–PAGCOR is the one that supports me in this project. When I was in the US, a lady approached me and said, ‘You’re Rosa Rosal. You gave me a child.’"

To ensure the center’s generosity is not abused, Rosal offers women refuge for just one pregnancy: "First time, fine. Second time, no more–you can’t get in."

It’s a wonder Rosa Rosal is not crushed by the seeming futility of alleviating an endless stream of suffering. She would consider it a victory if the Red Cross attained just half of the P120 million it needs yearly. She experiences helplessness on a regular basis, especially when confronted with grave cases of cancer against which her limited funds are ineffectual. Aged persons abandoned by their children, runaways abused by their parents, the impoverished sick who are more concerned about their next meal than completing their antibiotics treatment–even today, it still breaks Rosa Rosal’s heart.

"I can’t help everyone but what helps is a little touch, a few kind words, a little encouragement. Of course I get depressed–I wish I could do more. When I see all this (political) bickering, that’s when I become unhappy. But I snap out of it or else I wouldn’t be useful."

Incredibly, Rosal eats only one full meal a day. In the morning, she has coffee and toast with peanut butter. She has a full lunch–and nothing after that, not even when she attends dinner functions. She says she gets her strength by "waiting upon the Lord"–she spends the first half hour of her day in prayer and quiet time.

Asked what three wishes she would make, she replies without hesitation, "I hope Toni (her daughter) would get married again to a nice man. Then I hope my two grandsons John and James would have a good life. And I wish the government would subsidize even half of the expenses (P120 million a year) of the blood program, so we can expand the program and enable the poor who really cannot afford it to have access to blood."

Her days are unthinkably full and she surely sleeps the deep slumber of those who have lived their day well–unless her beeper, which is always on, goes off. "The only thing that can get me up at night is when somebody needs blood," she says.

If only Rosa Rosal’s virtues could somehow saturate the blood from Red Cross donors, transfusing recipients with her humanity, then we would truly be on our way to a strong and healthy republic.

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