Half-seated and half-crouched I rode, inside a van making the four-hour journey to Borongan, Samar; a city on the eastern coast of the Philippines. We were about to drive onto the San Juanico Bridge, longest in the Philippines and in itself an impressive sight. I looked out the window. The glistening blue-green hue of the clear Pacific waters greeted me like a passer-by waving to a float on a parade. The familiar scent of the salty sea-breeze made its way through my being and gave me that sense of home-away-from-home. Random little islands littered the landscape like green polka dots on a blue dress, isolated groves of trees with their own mini beaches, sandwiched in the strait between two larger islands.
I was here on a mission with One Million Lights Philippines, an NGO in whose vision I have of late taken quite an interest. Borongan was to be the second leg of four this summer, with distributions spanning practically the whole country. The team had just come fresh from a distribution on Mindoro Island a week earlier, and was slated for distributions in Catanduanes Island the week after, and in the Kalinga-Apayao and Mountain provinces in Northern Luzon sometime in mid-May.
We spent the first full day in the community that was to be the beneficiary of the lights. I walked down the dirt road and remarked that I saw a few electric lines running through it, complete with homemade street lights. The lights we distributed were supposed to be given to only those without access to electricity, so lest the very purpose for the effort be defeated I asked the parish priest why this was so. He replied that while electricity did run through the small barangay, most of the people living in the area were too poor to afford the Php500 per month fixed rate. In fact, he went on to explain, the figure of Php500 was exactly what they earned in a month’s time*.
I imagined what one would be feeling and going through should he be reduced to that sort of existence, earning barely enough to pay for electricity let alone food for a the large type of family that most rural parents raise. Even as images of depression and squalor ran through my mind, they faded in the presence of the very real smiles and happiness that pervaded the air in this impoverished community. While I already had long since learned that money did not buy happiness, I also knew that the sheer lack of such could also be a factor in the absence of happiness, having no means with which to fulfill the most basic of needs.
Because of this, it was doubly heartwarming to be given the privilege of lifting up the lives of those that deserve uplifting, even in what small way we could, for even what seem like small gestures to us can mean worlds of difference to one who needs such.
After we had given out the all of the lights, we went to visit other communities that had received them, with the purpose of finding out just how much impact the lights had on their lives. Come dusk, we slowly saw bright spot after bright spot throughout the streets and alleyways. It was amazing to see how much more productive the people could be now that they were granted the gift of sight during the dark hours.
After all was said and done, after the last smiles were exchanged and the last hands shaken, we retired to our homes knowing that hundreds of families would sleep better tonight. More than giving them a simple donation, we had empowered them to help themselves. The lanterns they held were not just lights to see in the physical darkness, but ones that also enlightened their lives, making each new day last just a bit longer and shine a bit brighter.
*minimum wage in the Philippines is around Php250 per day for the region. They should be earning their current income in only 2 days.
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