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Irma (not her real name), is an ordinary girl and all along, she thought she would be living an ordinary life. But it seems that fate holds other things for her. This is her story – one that is filled with both challenges and triumph.
Born in 1990 in Dasmarinas, Cavite, Irma enjoyed the limelight, being the only girl among three (3) siblings. She described her childhood as contented and happy. But the happiness was short-lived. Her father used to work in a construction company in Pangasinan. She was four years old then when her father met an accident while on duty doing repairs in the electrical wiring of the ten-wheeler truck he was assigned to drive. The accident paralyzed the lower part of his body, from his waist down. Unfortunately, the company whom her father served faithfully did not even bother to pay for the medical expenses incurred during the mishap.
Consequently, the loving and caring father changed to an impatient and irate man who was feared by his children. It was still vivid in her memory how she was physically abused by her father. She was tortured and confined in a room for hours. This led her to experience the feeling of rejection which is a far cry from how she was very well treated during her childhood.
These constant maltreatments caused her to dislike her father even more. There was this instance when she tried to escape the harm but was unsuccessful. Once caught, her father hung her upside down as punishment for trying to escape. She completed her elementary education in Area 3, Dasmariñas, Cavite but she was not able to finish high school because she ran away from home to avoid the maltreatment from her father.
She was wandering on the streets went she met a group of people bound for Pangasinan. Seeing this as an opportunity, she went and travelled with the group to their destination. What she did not know was that this group ended up in a club to work as entertainers. Irma, on the other hand, was still fortunate to work there as an errand girl for seven (7) months, where she saves the money she earns.
Having enough savings, she then travelled to Quiapo, Manila to work as a saleslady. She stayed there for two years with an income of P2,000.00 per month. It was during her stay in Quiapo that Irma was coerced to use prohibited drugs as her friends and then boyfriend were inclined to using them. She was also into selling these drugs to support her own vice. After one (1) year, she realized she wanted to go back to her family.
Unfortunately, a buy-bust operation was led by officials of NBI, who raided their place. She was eventually captured and was brought to Manila City jail, where she stayed for 18 months, while the case is being heard at Branch 35 of the RTC, Manila.
Knowing that she is a minor, Irma’s custody was then transferred to the Manila Youth Reception Center (MYRC) in Arroceros, Manila, where she spent another 18 months. She recalled that her stay at MYRC was not at all pleasant since the houseparent there was hostile to the clients of the center. Oftentimes, said houseparent would utter words such as “patay gutom” or “pok-pok”; words that are, in Irma’s opinion, unnecessary and vile.
She was returned to the City Jail when she turned 18 years old and was detained there for three (3) years. As advised by her legal counsel, Irma changed her plea during an arraignment in November 2011. The following month, Honorable Justice Amelia Infante, determined that Irma was guilty of the offenses lodged on her and was then transferred to Marillac Hills.
During her stay in Marillac Hills, Irma demonstrated positive attitude to the rehabilitation program that was provided to her. The center became an avenue for her to develop the innate leadership skills she possesses. Aside from the provision of basic necessities, other residential care services given to her were medical services, involvement in therapeutic activities and counseling sessions. She was also enrolled to a formal high school as freshman, where she took the Alternative Learning System (ALS) in 2013 and passed as HS graduate. The center also coordinated with the Manila RTC for her inclusion to the Transitional Living and Family Reintegration or TransFER project. It is a social technology approach, where she will be subsequently monitored while in the said project, and until such time that Irma will be reunited with her family.
This strategy aims to prepare the client for a gradual reintegration to her family. It has three (3) phases and it also involves the family and the institution where the client is under custody. Initially, the client must identify a relative where she is comfortable to live with. After which, the first month commences, where the client should spend one (1) week with her chosen relative and three (3) weeks with the institution and so on until the client would spend three (3) weeks with the relatives and one (1) week with the institution. Considering the positive feedback from houseparents and staff of Marillac Hills, Irma was recommended for inclusion to the TransFER project, where Judge Infante granted the recommendation which initiated her gradual reintegration to the family.
Irma preferred to work as a Data Encoder under Job Order status in Pantawid Pamilyang Pilipino Program. She receives minimum salary; however, she practices frugality by saving fractions of her salary in a savings account. It was through this savings that Irma paid the down payment for the property her family bought in a subdivision in Cavite. Irma was finally discharged from Marillac Hills on July 03, 2014, by virtue of the Court Order of Honorable Justice Infante for having dismissed her case.
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Inspired by the passion and dedication of the people who took care of her in Marillac Hills, Irma enrolled as a freshman for the first semester of this school year under Bachelor of Science in Social Work. She is now under the scholarship of Caritas Philippines. Looking back, she still maintains the communication with the staff of Marillac Hills while sharing her new knowledge and activities she learns in school. ###
I grew up in a small and fairly underdeveloped town; a poor town, let’s say. While I never felt that I lacked for anything in my childhood, I’d get occasional reminders of objective misfortune around me. Children who considered meat—any kind of meat—a delicacy, not for reasons of dietary restriction, but because it was costly. A fifth-grade classmate I spotted digging through a dumpster, and assumed he was doing it for fun, and walked away from briskly when his dad emerged from the dumpster as well, having proudly fished some food out of it.
Not the most depressing display of this was the way kids cherished the rare and special goods they were given. I say not depressing, because it’s a bit silly when you think about it; but it’s heartbreaking as well. What I mean is, if a child was gifted a soccer ball or a basketball, they would gleefully show it off, display it in their room, bring it out to the yard for other kids to ooh and aah over. But they would be hesitant to… play with it. It was new and unblemished and it had cost a lot of money. In a country where soccer was the default pastime for all children and most adults, a new soccer ball went unkicked, because it was precious. This annoyed me then and it just slays me now.
It may have also resulted in a personality quirk I’ve noticed in myself: I have absolutely no “collector” mentality at all. I wince at the the idea of collecting new-in-box products, amassed simply because they exist and not for the purpose of using them. Toys that stay in their packaging. Limited-edition shirts that don’t get worn or washed, limited-edition notebooks ones certainly does not write in. (I immediately hand my special Field Notes books to our kids so they can doodle all over them.) Even LEGO sets that get built according to instructions and never end up sharing the big brick box with other sets—though those got “played” with one time, at least.
Now, I don’t believe there is anything inherently wrong with collecting things; “wrong” meaning morally objectionable, or even ill-advised. YOU probably collect something, and that’s fine. I’m writing this not to judge you or change your mind—what would the point of that be, anyway—but to dig through my own head a bit. I started this post with a sad image, and I’ll have to include one more of those before I wrap this up.
I grew up in a small town in a war-torn country. One day, war came to town, and we had to flee—my family left behind the house my grandfather built, and we crossed the river to the safer town on the other side carrying what we could in a few plastic bags. From there on, those were our belongings. That was our collection. We started from scratch that day. Then we did it again when the Mrgans moved to the United States in 1999, carrying a few suitcases this time. I moved once more in 2007, from Florida to Oregon, carrying very little again; by this time, there was no pressing need to reduce my belongings, but there was an instinct, honed by these previous experiences, I’m sure.
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There’s a sappy, hipster reading of all this, as if I’m saying “live in the moment” or something. I promise I’m not that precious about it. I’m as materialistic as anyone living in the US in the 2010s—I love products, items, packaging, stores. I excitedly buy things to make myself (and others) happy. I enjoy these things, in their boxes and out of them. Maybe what stops me from getting too attached to them is not spiritualism but something like zen nihilism, a cheerful fear that nothing lasts, and that you have few chances to play with it while it’s around. Maybe this is why I can’t have nice things.