The Bohol Tribune
In This Our Journey
A column by: NESTOR MANIEBO PESTELOS
Many of us probably
remember this poem we were made to recite when we were in the grades, “The Road
Not Taken” by Robert Frost. Some from among us past sixty years old may still
quote the whole poem which consists of only four stanzas. Among the four, the
last stanza is likely the most studied – and remembered:
I shall be telling this with a sigh (underscoring ours)
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I —
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I —
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
A writer says the poem is
about "the human tendency to wobble illogically in decision and later to
assume that the decision was, after all, logical and enormously important,” but
there is also the tendency to tell about it “with a sigh,” something which makes
many think the poet regrets having taken the road less travelled.
I have been thinking
about the poem, this last stanza in particular, the past few nights, when I
have been sleepless. Rather than think of the proverbial sheep, I have been
thinking of roads.
Not the roads with
bridges and kickbacks which allegedly make infrastructure in government budgets
quite attractive for some people to run for public office election after
election. It’s more about roads as part of a journey to define one’s life, set
its parameters and endure possible turmoil brought by the weather within that
perpetually brings storms to test one’s will to proceed and walk the road chosen
for the long and definitive walk towards creating one’s own destiny.
In 1982, at the late
age of 40 when I had taken too many roads, too many destinies, too many false
starts, dictated by circumstances or by false hopes, I arrived in Bohol not for
the first time because I had previous official trips before as part of
projects, but this time to stay longer and build a community development
training center that hopefully could last for decades.
This one road I took
to be part of a dream shared with some of the country’s pioneers in
professional community development work: to establish a repository of experiences to provide lessons
and guide those whom we called in those years as fieldworkers in their efforts
to reach what UNICEF and our other donors called the marginalized, the
disenfranchised, the disadvantaged. In brief, the poor and the downtrodden who
seemed to be invisible to policymakers and planners.
I have remained in
that road although through the years there were detours that I took but these
were in my mind merely side roads to cope with temporary road blocks,
constraints that NGOs like ours usually meet on the road to reach our
respective mission: lack of funding; withdrawal of support from government due
to perceived disloyalty to politicians or their respective parties in power;
donor requirements which tend to favor those with relatively more resources
which can come up with counterpart funding. In some cases, the detours were a
necessity to remind us that despite the dedication and the passion, the flesh
is heir to illnesses and the usual mortality stuff, an expiration date imposed
by genes and the oftentimes impersonal and self-limiting economic and physical
environment.
In recent years,
however, it has been more difficult to travel this development path. Aside from
problems arising from the usual limitations of being a marginalized NGO, the
task environment itself, the macro context where we must do development work
has changed drastically in recent years: the Government at national and subnational
levels seems to suffer from its own
The drug menace in
Bohol has brought to the surface images which portray the Bol-anon way of life totally alien to what we
have known through the years. Political leaders as well as those in the Church
and civil society organizations are perceived as inept in the face of modern-day problems such as the widespread
distribution and use of illegal drugs.
Where to Bohol?
Where do we go from here? What has happened to our faith in ourselves to dream
and recreate a province based on the age-old values of hard work and mutual
sharing with kin and neighbors alike? Where is the impact of projects worth
millions of dollars given by the peoples of the world to address social
deprivation in our midst? When will this “Me Only” and “Me Too” mentality end
or at least modified to include a concern for those “who have less in life” in
the words of the Pres. Ramon Magsaysay, maligned in history as the creation of
the CIA, but should also be remembered
as the one who launched the community development movement in the 1950s?
In those nights that
I could not sleep, after being pummeled left and right by opposing views about
the Masapano massacre, the deepening silence about poverty and the drug menace
in Bohol, the sight of young men and women seemingly under the influence, or
either just confused which road to take or probably with brains shrunked
prematurely by repeated alcohol and drug abuse, I could only raise questions
and hope we can find a new day in my adopted province and justify again this
choice of my final road either to redemption or perdition.
May we all sleep
soundly again here in this our beloved province.
NMP/13 February 2015/ 8.33 a.m.