WHEN KINDNESS

BECOMES
CONTAGIOUS
Written by:
Gina D. Lumauig
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I have always kept a journal. Being a writer, public relations
consultant, and events planner,
I make it a point to have a notebook and pen with me at all times,
even by my bedside.

At the beginning of this year, my birth month, I wrote in my journal

how I was excitedly looking forward to the Year of the Rat, since my
animal sign, Wood Dragon, would supposedly receive a lot of fortune
and luck.

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 But Taal Volcano erupted the day
before my birthday. Within days, I
joined a good friend’s drive to Batangas
with other volunteers to rescue animals
abandoned by owners who had to
hurriedly evacuate to safer ground. It
was not exactly advisable to go out yet,
but I trusted the company, and
volunteer work runs in my blood.
Going out there to help rescue dogs and
cats was not a difficult decision to
make.
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 On our way to an already
abandoned town called Lucky in
Lemery, we stopped by an
evacuation center in Padre Pio
Shrine in Sto. Tomas, Batangas,
where hundreds of families were
seeking shelter. They were being fed
hot meals three times a day by the
parish priest and many other
volunteers. Because of the presence
of ashfall, wearing masks was
already necessary then.
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Little did we know that wearing masks will eventually become not only
necessary, but
mandatory. It would be the symbol of caring for others, not just for
oneself.

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“
There were already news bits about a
virus spreading in China. But it was
always being downplayed. Not much
information was being said, so life was
going about normally. I was still able to January 22, 2020
take a four-day road trip to Baguio with
my high school classmates to attend a
wedding.
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 A week after that trip, there were
already talks about a possible lockdown,
with news of the virus spreading fast and
claiming lives. I was starting to panic, since I
had already planned to buy my ticket to fly
to the U.S. to visit my children in the spring.
My daughter had just gotten married in
September the past year, and although I
stayed on for three months, I wanted to see
them again and perhaps stay much longer.
lockdown
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 When March came in and it became apparent
that a health crisis was looming, things went haywire
globally. March 11 was when the World Health
Organization declared COVID-19 a pandemic, so
government ordered a lockdown within a few days.
They called it ECQ, or enhanced community
quarantine. It was to become the first of many other
Qs ordered by officials: from ECQ to MECQ
[modified ECQ] to GCQ [general CQ]. The longest
was ECQ, when everything was shuttered. Stay
home. Wash your hands. Wear a mask.

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 I have been a freelancer for years, so staying home for
me was not unusual. I would normally stay home for the
whole week, writing and meeting deadlines, then go out for a
day to get groceries, meet friends over coffee, or have work
meetings. But staying home for who knows how long was a
scenario people did not expect to happen.

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Toilet paper and alcohol became
precious commodities.

The last pandemic was almost a

hundred years ago, when the
Spanish flu infected 500 million
people, with around 50 million
lives claimed worldwide. Was
the world ready for another
one? Was our country ready?

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 My immediate concern was my two precious
children: my daughter with her husband (and their
rescue dog) in Toronto, and my son in New York
City: were they safe where they were?
Fortunately, they assured me they were safe and
taking precautions. Trusting them, I focused my
energies on my soon-to-be 87-year old mom. Our
routine was down pat, even before the lockdown:
I get up in the morning to have breakfast with her.
Visit the garden. My brother and his family get up
later for brunch. Lunch and dinner will have all of
us at the dining table, making sure there was
always dessert and hot tea. This time,
conversations were always about the health crisis. 12
 And then I found out that the lockdown
affected many of my fellow Ifugaos in Metro
Manila. They were stranded and could not go
back to their hometowns. Cries for help were
sounded off on social media, where a group of
volunteers became keyboard warriors, planning
and brainstorming on how we could assist them:
six construction workers at the Ninoy Aquino
International Airport staying in a makeshift hut
by the construction site; nine factory workers in
San Juan, all staying in a cramped apartment;
several others scattered around Quezon City,
Pasig, Mandaluyong, Manila, all pleading to be
allowed to go home. 13
 They initially numbered only about a
hundred. Later we found out there were almost
400, including those in nearby provinces. Most, if
not all of them, had lost their jobs, since they were
mostly daily wage earners. What to do? Send them
essentials: rice, canned goods (later on I strongly
suggested to send fresh meat instead), eggs, bread,
noodles, and hygiene kits (toothbrushes, alcohol,
masks). How to send? Grab and Lalamove were
still running then, so it was not a problem. Yet. I
asked friends and family for donations. I pleaded
in their behalf. I have always believed that “there
is no harm in asking.” So I did, as I have always
done during times of calamities. 14
 Now though, I felt I needed to step
up. A high school friend sent boxes of
coffee and biscuits. Some sent cash,
which was sent to those needing them.
Soon enough, our local Ifugao LGU
[local government unit] was compelled
to do something, so they also sent
cash assistance and groceries to
stranded students in Baguio, Nueva
Vizcaya, and Isabela, as well as here
in Manila.
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 Meanwhile, we made sure the stranded Ifugaos here were
regularly monitored. We sent load, we sent bread, we sent
vegetables. Oh, how happy they were to receive fresh
vegetables after weeks of de lata and noodles!
Ayuda [help] became the buzzword.

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 I also found out at least three nieces and one nephew were right
smack on Ground Zero, working as doctors and nurses. Frontliners.
We sent balut, hot meals, masks, even a swab booth. We cheered
them up, cheered them on. Least we could do. They were -- are --
after all, our heroes. Chef friends sent hot meals directly to the
hospitals in our behalf. A friend sent hundreds of cloth masks, another
group sent home-made face shields.

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 Just ask. Then I got a message from another friend -- Rose
Cabrera, who was in a younger batch in high school and a fellow
Gawad Kalinga volunteer -- inviting me and my batch to be part of the
Hope KKK QC [Quezon City] project to help set up a COVID
quarantine facility in QC for persons under investigation(PUIs) and
persons under monitoring(PUMs). After consulting with batchmates,
they said yes! Our task: to raise two million pesos in one month.

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 Did we deliver? Hell, yes! Thanks to co-partners Rotary
Club District, the QC LGU, and many generous friends who did
not hesitate to share their blessings, the facility, up until
recently, ran smoothly as a quarantine facility.
The kindness, perhaps more than the disease, was getting
contagious, and I was loving it!
I was getting places just by being home. 19
 Almost nine months into the lockdown, things have still
to normalize. Infection continues to rise, deaths are at over
eight thousand in the country, and there have been second
waves. The administration managed to shut down the
biggest media outfit in the Philippines and prosecuted one
of the staunchest journalists. Online learning has taken
over face-to-face learning, work-from-home is the choice of
majority, Zoom does not just mean to travel quickly, online
mass and rosary are the way to pray, and recent typhoons
have worsened the conditions of many Filipinos.
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 I pray we let kindness continue to be contagious, not
the dreaded pandemic. I pray the nightmare of 2020 ends
soon, not the generosity of people. And I pray we realize
that life is indeed short, so let’s keep having that love in our
hearts and project it to others. Because in the end, kindness
mixed with love may just be the right mix to kill other viruses
surrounding us.
Just keep your masks on.

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Thank you for
Listening!

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