Bayanihan to the Rescue
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People line up at Baesa Community Pantry in Quezon City
The Maginhawa project begun by Ana Patricia Non, also a graduate from the University of the Philippines, has become a national phenomenon, generating goodwill and generosity among people to help their fellow citizens direly affected by the lockdowns due to the COVID-19 pandemic.
Sombillo says his family was encouraged to start a community pantry because they saw the potential and practicality of the concept pioneered by the Maginhawa initiative.
Pantry’s goal: From the Community, For the Community
“The outpouring of support to the humble pantry concept and seeing on social media the kilometer-long line of people desperately queueing for aid inspired us to replicate the concept. We are angry at the government’s poor response to the pandemic and are aware of the devastating impact it has on already barely surviving marginalized sectors.”
Although they have been thinking of ways to help—from joining street rallies, social media protests, to donating PPEs to health workers— they thought that most of these efforts “don’t have immediate effect on people and are difficult to enact due to COVID restrictions.”
Non’s concept became a venue to put into action the eagerness to help, Sombillo said.
“It’s doable, effective in reaching those in need, and can be sustainable as evidenced by the community support the Maginhawa and other pantries garnered.”
“The lines (for ‘measly’ food packs) are getting longer, not shorter. And they (90 per cent) are not the same people each time we distribute.” – Robert Sombillo, Baesa Community Pantry
The Sombillos—Robert and wife, Doris, daughters Chelsea, Jacqueline, and Angela, and son Robert (Bob)—initially pooled their savings and incomes to get the pantry running. Then they asked cousins to throw in some support. After that, they announced the pantry to friends through social media, and the donations came pouring in.
The group negotiated with the owner of a gasoline station for the venue, which can accommodate a queue of 100-200 people at any one time. They also informed the Barangay Chair and officials of the plan for the needed manpower to ensure distancing and to help maintain order.
To date, Baesa Community Pantry has reached more than 2,000 households, each day averaging 500 persons in line.
What makes the pantry different from other CPs is that they distribute the pre-packed goods instead of laying the goods on the table where people can freely choose or take what they want.
Volunteers distribute rice, sardine tins, eggs as long queue waits.
“We lack the manpower to secure and assist the people queueing at the pantry all-day long. Also, our pantry is located between two densely populated sitios with low-income households—Mendez Road and Howmart Road.”
Sombillo adds that the number of people desperate for aid in this area outweighs the resources—goods and manpower—they currently have.
“So, if we just place the goods item by item on the table, they will all be gone in minutes. Consequently, many will be line with nothing to take home. We think by distributing pre-packed goods, we can help more people by giving them equal portions.”
Barangay Baesa is populated largely—about 70 percent—by urban poor folks. Only 28 percent of the 50,000 residents can be considered lower-middle and middle-middle class. A scant two percent families/groups can be classified as middle-upper class—owners of bus lines, warehouses, franchisees of fast-food restaurants, and rented apartments/commercial shops.
On Day 5, May 3, the Baesa CP distributed 650 set packs, offering a choice of one of four set packages:
Set A
1 kg rice + 2 eggs
Set B
2 canned goods + 1 pandesal bag (4 pcs)
Set C
2 canned goods + 1 bag sliced bread (450g)
Set D
2 canned goods + 2 packs of noodles
“This is what you ask yourself. What happened? How did it happen? How did we reach this point? Why did we let it come to this? What’s the future after all this help?””
At the end of the day, Robert’s son Bob, who spearheaded the pantry, grappled with questions only young people ask, noting: “There is a deeper reason for this. This is what you ask yourself. What happened? How did it happen? How did we reach this point? Why did we let it come to this? What's the future after all this help?”
He noted: “Every day, people endure to line up, wait in the sun, in drizzle and rain, for an hour to half a day, wait without certainty, just to get one kilo of rice, two cans of sardines or one package of noodles.”
Patria Rivera
Patty Rivera is a poet and writer in Toronto
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