Pahinungod (Cebuano) {pa-hi-nu-ngud}– dedication (n), offering (n), dedicate (v)

When I was a college freshman, I joined the UP Pahinungod, the volunteer arm of the university. During the summer break I was sent on a mission to Mindoro Oriental to teach English and History to incoming fourth year high school students in a sort of bridge program to prepare them for the UP College Admission Test. My time and experience there was a rude awakening, prompting me to write a scathing article about the sorry state of education in this country, especially in the rural areas.

In high school (also under UP) I was already an activist. I didn’t take things sitting down; I had to fight for what I believed was right and just. I was always pushing the envelope. I used theater and writing as instruments for my activism.

I knew at some point I would end up teaching or writing or both. Which I did in 2013 until 2014. It was my payback to the university that employed my family and that gave me free education.

I’ve stayed in this country because I wanted to use my pen to change things for the better when I could just have packed my bags and sought a better future elsewhere. Messiah syndrome. But aren’t all journalists like that? I had been dedicating my life to this cause and it brought me joy and grief.

I wonder if this love is worth fighting for. This love of country that has been tested over and over the last five years. I was almost giving up.

Because you can only fight so much.

Now that I don’t have anything, except my children (plus I am already emotionally bankrupt), I’m thinking of throwing myself at it again, one last time. I’m going to use my pen and voice (podcast?) again to fight. I don’t have anything to lose now.

And if I end up giving up, because loving this country is madness, I would have to pack my bags and lick my wounds somewhere. Heal.

Carve another road.