I don't give alms to the poor anymore. I don’t give my spare change to street kids tugging my skirt for money. After years of being in the real world, I finally understand what my university professors and theology classmates told me: “You are not helping the poor by giving them your spare change.”
If you give P5 a day to every street kid you encounter after school or work, you won’t alleviate their poverty. You are spoiling them by keeping them in the streets. Adult beggars will refuse to find a job, because begging in the streets actually earns more than our country’s minimum wage. Poor children will no longer go to school because their parents are using them to make money.
Giving spare change to the poor is an easy way out for our social conscience. We see a starving person in the street. We feel guilty. We pick a few coins from our pocket and hand it to him. We get instant gratification. We go on with our luxurious lifestyles and buy a grande mocha at Starbucks.
But really now, did we change the world? Did we make any significant improvement in that poor person’s life? No. Not even if we give the kid P100. Not even if we give an old lady a sandwich. Not even if we celebrate our 18th birthday at a charity ward.
We spend so much time immersed in the workaday world that we think we are doing our duty to help our less fortunate brothers by giving them our spare change or extra sandwich. Some people spend their birthday at a charity ward, spending thousands of pesos on gifts and food, and then go home with a relieved conscience.
And then what? How many of us have actually gone back to that charity institution we supported a few years back?
I raise my hand.
Supporting charities is more than just a one-time deal. It’s more than just dole-outs. It’s about sitting down with people and finding ways to make an impact in their lives. It’s about teaching poor kids how to read instead of giving them coins in the street. It’s about spending time with abandoned aging people instead of just dropping off a sack of canned goods in their huts.
It’s a commitment that only a few people are willing to take. This year I’ve decided to take the first step: finding an institution that I can give my long-term devotion to.
Charity event
I was invited by C2 Life to spend a day at Kanlungan Ni Maria, a home for the aged in Antipolo.
As part of their body-mind-soul activities, C2 Life spent nearly half the year organizing physical activities such as yoga and cultural activities such as walking tours. To cap off a successful year, they invited C2 Life members like myself to this month’s charity venture.
Just when I thought I was in for another one-time charity project, I met a group of volunteers committed to making a difference in people’s lives: Hands On Manila. This non-profit organization taps companies, schools, and individuals to provide volunteer work for their partner charities and organizations. Kanlungan ni Maria is just one of the many that Hands On Manila supports.
As I signed my name on their members list and received my volunteer “passport,” I knew I’m in this for the long run.
Oldies but groovies
THE OLDIES but groovies take a class photo.Photos: Inquirer.
At Kanlungan ni Maria, each volunteer had to pick a lola or lolo. The groovy lolas were the popular choices. Lola Linda in her bright red dress, multiple bangles and pink surfer shades was an instant hit. Lola Pina, who talked about her beauty pageant award, was a friendly fixture.
As each of the elderly found his or her volunteer partner, I spotted Lola Belen, with her shoulders hunched as she sat quietly in the second row. Model Bianca Valerio and I were assigned to her, and it was no easy task. She barely met our eyes as we talked to her.
Minutes after trying to strike a conversation with the timid old lady, a social worker went up to us and said, “Oh sorry, she’s the most quiet person in Kanlungan. She rarely talks to anyone. Would you like us to pair you up with another one?”
I looked around at the happy volunteers, laughing about with their lolas and lolos who eagerly participated in the program. “No, I think I’ll stay with Lola Belen,” I said.
The social worker told me that she only spoke in Bicol, which is why she rarely talked to anyone. Bingo! I said to myself. I struggled to remember all the native terms my Bicolano grandparents had taught me.
Lola Belen would nod or shake her head once in a while and utter small words that I couldn’t make sense of. Bianca tried her best to make her laugh, but lola would barely converse with us. Then we found her weakness.
“Would you like me to apply some makeup on you?” Bianca asked in Tagalog as she whipped out her makeup kit. Lola Belen broke into a toothy grin. Yes, we finally made progress!
In between brushing her cheeks and lids with pink makeup, Lola Belen would flash her toothless grin at the mirror. I couldn’t tell if she was making fun of us or if she was enjoying her makeover.
Other volunteers had it easy. They got the elders to dance and sing to the tunes of Aiza Seguerra, who also joined the event. Other elders openly shared their stories and personal photos. Meanwhile, Bianca and I could barely get Lola Belen to answer our questions. We only got her to laugh when Aiza went up to her and when the social workers complimented her makeup.I never left her side, not even if she gave me a disturbed look whenever I put my arms around her. I kept telling her stories of my grandparents from Bicol. I told her that she and my lola have the same name. She looked up when I told her that I loved my lola’s laing. She nodded when I asked if she, too, cooked delicious laing. At the end of the Christmas party, I ushered Lola Belen back to the van.
“Goodbye, Lola, I’m leaving now,” I said in my shaky Bicol. Then, for the first time she looked me straight in the eye with a piercing look and nodded. I closed the door and left, wondering why grownups would leave their old parents in places like Kanlungan to fade away into oblivion, while getting occasional entertainment from celebrities, social workers and volunteers whose names they would probably never remember.
Kanlungan ni Maria is located at 17 Lanzones St., Nayong Silangan Subd., Antipolo City, Philippines. Visit www.handsonmanila.org
By Kate Alvarez
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