The Spirit of the 25th.

Inside the Sablayan Penal Colony. ©

When I was little, we would always celebrate Christmas in our house in Mindoro. My dad’s relatives would all go to our house, and then we would enjoy the entire night as one big extended family. My Mom would be busily preparing for the night’s feast, sans the Lechon which we have already pre-ordered the day before. The food would be plenty, but not excessive. The celebration would serve as a reminder of the blessings we have received all throughout the year.

When I studied in Manila, the family gatherings in our home stopped. I studied in a school that has a trimester system instead of the regular semester, which meant only a week of holiday. Instead of going home, my parents visited me in Manila and we celebrated holidays here. During that time, my cousins started leaving the country to seek opportunities abroad. It then became difficult to schedule a Christmas celebration with the entire family. Living in different parts of the globe made our schedules more difficult to manage. The younger batches of cousins, however, had their own Christmas celebration, but without the first generation’s presence.

After college, my parents and I celebrated Christmas together in various places. We had celebration at Coron, US, Singapore, and HongKong. But the most memorable Christmas was in the Sablayan Penal Colony, three years ago. My parents started this outreach program together with some teachers in our school. The program was a five day Christmas celebration for the prisoners in the Penal Colony in Mindoro. A penal colony houses those whose penalty ranges from reclusion perpetua to death, with the imposition of death being suspended. Thus, it gives a clear picture of the offenses that they have committed.

That Christmas was memorable for two reasons. First, I was back in my hometown. Second, I was surrounded by people who have forgotten Christmas, and we were trying to remind them of the Spirit of the celebration. When the inmates learned that I was waiting for the results of the Bar, they were more curious on the law rather than our short program. Some began asking questions on the justice system, being framed up, not having a counsel, etc. It was then that I realized how disheartening the system is. People from Manila still get competent and good PAO Lawyers. But for the majority living in the provinces, it seems that justice is a concept all too alien to them. For simple misdemeanors punishable by a fine or one month imprisonment, some of them languish in jail for four years due to the absence of a fiscal, PAO Lawyer, or even a judge to try their case. Imagine those who are charged with capital offenses.

Then, it hit me. Christmas is the best time to remember the simple joys that define our humanity: a simple hug, heartfelt thanks, a handwritten letter, a willing shoulder, an attentive ear, a beautiful sunset, our freedom, and my parents initiating to do the mission. There in the midst of it all, I realized how sheltered my life had been. I may have my few brushes with reality, but they were far from the ones that these people had to deal on a daily basis. When I gave them the few things that we were able to collect (sardines, bread, toothbrush, toothpaste, noodles, soap, notebooks, and pens), I each gave them a hug, probably as a reminder that that all is not lost.

During the five day program, we shared life stories, fears, and how Christmas was treated as a day similar to any other day. I realized that when people have faced the worst from humanity, the most celebrated event might be set aside for the more basic essentials. 

Before we left, I told them that we may have been strangers to each other, but that day I felt I was with my family.