It could be you

It is a jarring feeling to watch an old woman, hand extended, begging for alms on a busy street—this, in a society that has traditionally held elderly persons in high regard. A few weeks ago, the malls celebrated Grandparents’ Day—replete with glowing photos in the papers. Not to be outdone, the Philippine government has declared the first week of October the “week of the elderly” with activities lined up for each day. This picture however does not jibe with the number of bills filed in Congress specifically aimed at preventing the abuse of the elderly. Is legislation the answer?

Some think the increasing cases of elderly abuse signify a diminution of values akin to the Western experience, and they recommend a reaffirmation of traditional values—an enterprise certainly worth pursuing. But the actual malaise may lie elsewhere.

There are 4,000 Filipinos who leave the country every single day. These are mostly young women—the traditional caregivers of old people. Populations are shifting from the rural to the urban enclaves. I see people in their 80s still tilling the soil in my wife’s province—but few options exist for the elderly in urban areas.

The life expectancy has also shifted radically. Old people used to take their leave in their 50s and early 60s, but now women outlive men into their 70s. Even as the reproductive health war rages, the elderly now form the fastest-growing sector of the population. The truth is, family sizes have already become smaller. Although the Philippines is still viewed as having a relatively young population, the older population is expected to double in the next 30 years—from 7 million to 14.5 million. It is not uncommon for an elderly person to be brought to a government facility by younger people who claim they found him/her wandering aimlessly, when, in truth, they are that person’s relatives.

A structural problem requires a structural solution. Elderly people need to remain in the community, and need another reference group besides the family—other elderly people. They need to be given the chance to “contribute to nation building” as all recent legislation proclaims. More importantly, their accumulated experience and wisdom need to be tapped and shared.

Old people (even with minimal formal education) have in recent years become “community health workers, advocates for older people’s rights, home-carers of older people, dance instructors, fund raisers, social butterflies, etc. Our most common experience in working to support “community-based programs” of predominantly poor older people is to hear (especially women) say, “I never thought I could talk to a senator. I was always afraid before to speak in public.” Or, “[a]ll my life I wanted to be a nurse but because of poverty I could not, but now as a community health worker, I feel fulfilled.” Asked, which among the various programs in a community-based context is most valuable to them, most times they will choose “social”—old people enjoy being with other old people.

If you don’t believe people like this abound, on Oct. 2 at the San Beda Gym at 2 p.m., we will celebrate the Sampung Ulirang Nakatatanda Awards (Ten Outstanding Elderly Awards), and you can meet (admission free) a 99-year-old community pillar from Batangas, an 80-year-old Aeta leader from Bicol who has fought for ancestral domain, an elderly peacemaker from Lanao who brings Christians and Muslims together, a “community gerontologist” from Bagong Silangan who monitors the health of older people in an urban poor area, a volunteer from Philippine General Hospital who helps poor people understand “the system,” among other awardees.

For the past 20 years, every first Sunday of October, we have celebrated the Sampung Ulirang Nakatatanda. Nominations continue throughout the year and the only qualifications are that the nominees be over 60 years of age, have been at the service of the community for a considerable portion of their lives, and are nominated by the group they serve. Generally, the awardees are “unsung heroes,” people who have received little recognition for the important service they perform, and they come from the basic sectors of society—from the ranks of farmers, urban poor, tribal communities, women’s groups, disabled etc.

The high point of the celebration is when awardees give a response, after receiving a beautiful hand-carved statue from Paete and a cash gift. One older religious brother who had lived for more than 25 years at the service of leprosy patients said, “I think you have given this award to the wrong person…. People with leprosy taught me more than I could ever have taught them.” An 82-year-old woman from Tawi-Tawi who had spent more than 50 years as a community health worker, unable to speak any other language but her own, performed an exquisite Muslim dance as her response.

On at least four occasions, former Sen. Jovito Salonga graced the occasion and offered not only words but himself as a symbol of successful aging. “There’s a lot left to do, many songs of praise to sing, many roads to be traveled and much love to express,” he once said. Sarah Geronimo came once, sang a few songs and then approached each awardee and told them, “When I am your age, I hope I will be just like you.”

But a lot of people like them exist in your community as well, and most surprising of all, in time, they could be you.

Ed Gerlock, 75, is the advocacy officer of the Coalition of Services of the Elderly (COSE) which, with its partner organization the Confederation of Older Person’s Associations (COPAP), organizes community-based programs of older people around the country. Email: [email protected]