Until We Meet Again

Speech for the Graduation of Batch 23 Doctors to the Barrios, to be delivered on Oct 15, 2009 at Oxford Hotel, Clark, Pampanga

Ladies and Gentlemen.

Has it been that fast? My memory of our first encounter as one batch of doctors to the barrios remains vivid, renewed almost everyday, or at least every 6 or 5 months when we meet here in our twice-a-year CME. Almost 2 years have passed since that very day we asked each other’s names, shared light moments during meal time, told each other’s stories, taught ourselves our very first dance steps, took our first steps as one batch, but not before we named our group ABYAN KA. ABYAN KA stood for Alay sa Bayan, Yaman ng Kalusugan. It was our shared reiteration that our role as Doctors to the Barrios was to make our respective communities aware of the abundance of opportunities this government has provided its citizens under the programs of health. We are not, and never did we pretend to be, the very source of this wealth, nor did we imply in our respective communities that we would give them the solutions to their problems, health-related or otherwise. Rather, we saw ourselves as delivery boys and girls, bringing to them the most basic of all health care; we saw ourselves as facilitators, bridging communities from cynicism and passivity to a level of awareness that empowers them to take action. We saw ourselves as the advocates of the community, their trusted ally, somebody who can listen to them, take time to be with them, share with them their joys and heartaches in equal measure, true friends of the barrio folks. After all, ABYAN is a Hiligaynon word for FRIEND.


Thus, we ventured into our respective areas of assignments first and foremost as doctors but more importantly and perhaps much more necessarily, as friends of the people of the barrio. We reminded ourselves that we were strangers to them, and for us to connect with them, we must first establish inch by inch a relationship between us and the barrio-folks founded on trust, like friends who would meet for the first time. Just like what we did with each other, during the first day we became the 23rd batch of Doctors to the Barrios.

How can we therefore forget the faces and names of the people in the barrio that we have learned to love? Even as we leave them now and take on a different path, perhaps not too far from “barrio life” itself, we find it difficult to erase the names and images of the many barrio folks we have eventually considered more than just friends. For all of us, many of these barrio folks became our family. Who can forget the sincere old woman who became our official second Nanay at the Health center, who would never forget to bring food for lunch or dinner, making sure that the good doctor isn’t working on an empty stomach? Who can forget the sincere old man who became our official second Tatay, who would manage to drive us around the Poblacion or even farther, whether on a habal-habal or on a horse or whatever living animal that is available in the barrio? Who can forget the trustworthy midwife or nurse who is our official confidant, ready to listen to every problem that we want to unburden ourselves with? Who can forget the ever-dependable official, or municipal employee, or barangay health worker or utility personnel, who never fails to make sure that life in the barrio is as comfortable as ever, given the circumstances? While we imagined ourselves to be FRIENDS of the barrios, we ended up earning for ourselves FRIENDS from the barrios as well. I daresay fellow doctors to the barrios, that no matter where you will end up in the future, you will never forget the people you have met in the barrio, no matter the difficulties you have experienced in your tour of duty as a doctor to the barrio. I have promised myself not to forget these people. And I am not ashamed to say that I have fallen in love with the people I have met in the barrio. They have enriched my life to the fullest, and my only hope was that I have done the same for their own lives as well.

For it is inevitable to give one’s self to these barrio folks. If we restrained the gift of ourselves, then we have betrayed the very ideals we collectively affirmed when we chose to name ourselves as ABYAN KA. To be a friend is to give one’s self away.

Let me share with you a story. There was this man from the moon who felt so alone and lonely that he decided to come down to earth and look for friends. The man went down and landed in a jungle. All of the animals heard about this Man from the moon in search of a friend so all animals gathered in a meeting and decided that they should give this Man gifts to welcome him to earth. While walking along a jungle trail, the Man encountered a monkey who immediately recognized him and gave him his last banana for the day as a gift. “The monkey must be a good friend,” the man said, “because he gave me his last banana.” The Man walked further and met another animal, the elephant. When the elephant saw the man, he immediately gave him his last peanut for the day. “The elephant must be a good friend,” the Man remarked, “because he gave me his last peanut”. Until all of the animals were able to meet the Man and give their gifts to him, all except the Rabbit. It was near evening and the Rabbit was yet to find a gift for the Man. When the Man saw the rabbit, he said, “How about you, Rabbit? What will you give to me so that I can call you as my friend?” The rabbit was empty-handed so he approached the Man saying, “Man from the moon, here are some firewood. Use this firewood to make fire because rabbit meat tastes very good”. Of all the animals he met that day, it was clear who was the best friend of all.

In many ways, we have shared our lives with the barrio folks in the same way that they too have opened their lives to us. It is hard to imagine therefore how we can ever say goodbye to our friends in the barrios. Now, imagine saying good bye to our friends in the batch! Imagine saying good bye to 12 brilliant people whom you have considered as friends and even family as well. Imagine saying goodbye to Gary, Pong, Mike, Johnny and Jonathan, and how you will never forget the experiences they generously shared with us neophytes. Imagine saying goodbye to Mitch and Trish and their quiet ways which by the way can turn loud and wild if needed and required. Imagine saying goodbye to Lani and her ageless maternal aura, proving that there is no such thing as generation gap. Imagine saying goodbye to Lyndon and his soul-searching ways, which can be as deep as his genuineness, his philosophies can, by the way, give you massive nosebleed. Imagine saying goodbye to Prince and his Kuya attitude, the ever Direk Carlo J Caparas of Batch 23, confident and strong like Superman whose only weakness is the female sex. Imagine saying goodbye to Merly and her famous dance steps, which catapulted Batch 23 to be the certified dancing doctors to the barrios, by the way, you can view our dance videos via youtube which as of the moment has around 1,500,000 views. Imagine saying goodbye to Shobe and her chinita eyes, the dependable batch mate willing to do favors for everyone. Imagine saying goodbye to Cathy and her friendliness, her happy-go-lucky aura that is infectious and need I mention her sex appeal? Imagine saying goodbye to Celna and her zest for life, that nothing can weigh her down, even the frustrations of brokenhearted-ness or whatever. Imagine saying goodbye to Tep, the bed-mate anyone can ask for, the eternal Don Juan of Batch 23 whose eternal happiness we all sincerely wish for. Of course, imagine saying goodbye to Bien, the ever regal to the point of being blue-blooded, saintly, almost demi-god in status, ever glorious, ever spectacular, and need I say always humble and unassuming.

Seriously though, it is definitely hard to imagine saying goodbye to friends like these. So difficult in fact that I would rather not say good bye. Perhaps, the words “until we meet again” might be more acceptable.

I wanted to pour out my sentiments tonight, about the frustrations of a doctor to the barrios, the many regrets maybe or the “what ifs” that I would have wanted rectified for the sake of the future doctors to the barrios. But between the things I hated and the people I have loved, I would rather spend my time talking about the people I have learned to love.

To my fellow ABYAN, thank you. To the Department of Health, thank you. To our respective communities, thank you. To our families and loved ones, to my wife and children, thank you. Thank you for allowing us to have the opportunity to give the gift of ourselves. Thank you for sharing your gifts to us. In this exchange of gifts, may we pledge to each other never to give up the friendship, bounded by common ideals, common principles, enriched by the differences we bear, and sustained by our faith, faith in our God, and faith in one another.

Batch 23, and to the rest of the DTTBs, until we meet again.