I AM writing in reaction to Manny Ilao’s piece “See you again, Naga” in the Bicol Mail last December 20, 2007. I totally understand his perceptions about Naga and mixed feelings of frustration, glee, disappointment, awe, anger, and hope. There is no doubt about the many things that we wish this city (and this country) can have and should aspire to be. Manoy Manolo is a cousin with whom I have shared many fun conversations and hopes about the city we both love and cherish.
Caption: OLD BUSINESS DISTRICT appears unfazed by the expanding commercial activities in other parts of Naga City.
Like Manoy Manolo, I, too, am just a small town guy who has had the chance of living and working in North America. I have had my humble share of the American dream, obtaining graduate degrees at Cornell, enjoying a fellowship at Harvard, and working as a tenure-track professor at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. In 2000, following a tradition of ensuring suitably fulfilling professions for spouses of university professors, the UIUC did what it could to entice my wife, Helen Arevalo to stay in Illinois—promising a package of benefits such as a post at the University of Illinois Medical School and permanent residency in the U.S. However, she declined the opportunity and opted to continue her medical practice in small town Naga. The thought of not having her afternoon snack of “baduya” and her supply of “pusit” and “sibubog” from Tamban, let alone the billowing snow and wind chills of the Midwest, were few of the simple rules of thumb that made her say: “I just wanna be home.” In her heart, she simply loves being a doctor in Naga, and an in-depth articulation was unnecessary.
Caption: THE AVENUE SQUARE. Its scintillating cafes, food shops, al-fresco dining and wining and an entertainment bar are a beacon to residents and tourists who love wholesome nightlife. RANDY VILLAFLOR
In late 2003, I decided to join her in the Philippines. Helen and I had no plans. We simply thought it was worth the adventure of starting from scratch, yet thankful enough for the blessings of good education and years well spent in the grand corridors, lecture halls and libraries of Cornell, Harvard, and UIUC as well as among friends in the international academic and scientific community who have become part of our lives regardless of where we go.
It has been four years hence, and shall I now claim it’s been a walk in the park? Certainly not. My driver is a daily witness to my fury and acerbic tongue as I comment on everything I see and hear. I am beginning to believe he thinks that I’m mentally ill. My personal wish list, socio-psychological struggles, and comparisons just never end. The truth is, even perhaps with glacial changes, Naga will never be as stunning as Vancouver, as pristine as Banff, as lovely as Victoria. Neither will a thousand wars, intermarriages, and conquests produce in this heart of Bicol the splendour and magnificence of Madrid, Siena, Seville, Brugge, Vienna and Paris. Already reeling from the effects of local brain drain, Naga shall not see in the near future the brilliant scientific research institutes of Yale, Beijing, Cornell, Princeton, or Hanoi. It will take maybe a couple of generations before we see the Bicol River reach the thriving level of Chao Phraya of Bangkok or the sophistication of Boat Quay in Singapore.
And then, I look at my wife, Helen. A petite woman of simple joys, hopes, and dreams, she just tries everyday to do what she can. She adores the almond mazapan of Toledo, Spain and thinks she can do better with pili nut mazapans. She relishes the maron glace at Macy’s in New York and the macadamias in Honolulu and believes she can make pili world class. She is convinced that pecan pies are just as exquisite as her mocha pili pies. For Helen, “Everything’s (always) Coming Up Pili!” She goes around the hospitals in Illinois and plans on delivering similar health care in Naga. She collects health bulletins and flyers in the drugstores of Victoria and Vancouver and translates them into the dialect so our Bicolano brothers and sisters may have better information about disease prevention and management. She visits the centuries-old maternity hospital in Siena and believes that its vision is just as true as it is today and that it can be done, albeit within reasonable range—in Naga. She dreams about small-scale actionables but not about replications. For Helen, there is always a context about Naga that is rich and deep enough to be felt, understood, listened to, nurtured, and seen with eyes that pierce beyond the seeming disarray, disorder, and chaos. The only way to love Naga, she thinks, is to let it evolve, and it’s the only way to go home. I am glad that Helen brings me home.
And then, I look at the young leaders—City Mayor Jesse Robredo and Governor LRay Villafuerte who I believe are doing the best they can, within the limits of available resources and confusing context of the country’s intricate politics, to get the city and the province back on track. Without making any apologies for the searing poverty and policies that seem incomprehensible and irrational to many, there is at least some solid evidence that these young leaders are creating new space to cultivate innovation, promote strategic thinking, and inspire productivity and growth. In that sense, Naga and Camarines Sur province are the new frontier, the new and exciting social experiment, and my venturesome spirit and critical mind now bring me home.
And then, I look at the cohorts of the young, bright and talented—recently fifty seven of the city’s best medical doctors (at last count, now sixty two) have organized themselves to form the Bicol AccessHealth Centrum. Holding hands and banging the doors of heaven for help in a solemn groundbreaking last December 10th, they have vowed to establish the region’s primary hub for state-of-the-art health care that pioneers customized health services for all Bicolanos, through the range of socio-economic and geographical spectrum, as well as foreign health care seekers. Investing in the future they do not see and do not have control over, they have placed their life savings and future earnings in a local venture that announces to the world: “We are ready to take on the challenge of addressing rapidly changing needs in health care delivery locally and globally. We will be efficient, effective, strategic, and competitive.” The collective courage, aggressiveness, and generosity of these young souls of Naga are comforting. In that sense, they bring me home.
The cliché goes that “you can never go home again.” Yet in our adolescent years as a nation, it is too early to give up on home or think that we can never go home again. For those of us who have had the chance to experience and appreciate the way things are done in other lands, we should cherish these values and plant them back home without undue expectations. For those of us who already find it difficult to adjust to the way things are done here even if we used to enjoy, understand or even tolerate them in the past, a little forgiveness to the land, culture and people that once nourished our dreams of a better life isn’t too much to ask. For those of us who have chosen to stay home or come back for myriad reasons, let’s have an open mind to the novel ideas and value orientations that our brothers and sisters bring back with them. In the end, it’s all about our own collective and patient process of rediscovery, and it’s the only way for us to come home.
About the author: Nap Juanillo is Professor and Director, Leadership and Managerial Excellence in Health Systems, Ateneo Graduate School of Business, Ateneo de Manila University and Lead Scientist, World Bank-Department of Health Women’s Health and Safe Motherhood Program.
