There oughta be a law against the quirks that parents adopt when naming their children. But in the case of former Health Secretary Alberto Romualdez, who passed away Friday at 73, being nicknamed after the “hunchback of Notre Dame” was no biggie.
If I hadn’t asked him, over lunch one time, how he spelled his nickname, I would never have discovered that he had been named after Quasimodo, the hunchbacked bell-ringer in Victor Hugo’s novel. “Apparently, my mother was a big fan of the book,” said “Doc Quasi.” I couldn’t detect any trace of resentment or embarrassment about this fact, just stoic and even amused acceptance of his unique moniker. But that was Doc Quasi for you: living out the prayer that asks God to grant one “the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”
And throughout his life and career in health and public service, Doc Quasi certainly had the wisdom to discern the “things” he couldn’t change and the things he could, and the courage, in spades, to change things that needed changing, in or out of government.
In Facebook posts, friends and colleagues in the small but growing family of reproductive rights advocates were one in their grief at the loss of Doc Quasi, but also in their wonderment at and gratitude for the life he lived, fighting to the very end for causes close to his heart.
For us feminists, he is remembered for his staunch advocacy for reproductive health and rights: a constant presence at the House and Senate, and then at the Supreme Court hearings on the constitutionality of the RH Law; a knowledgeable resource at meetings to strategize not just the passage of the law but also how to deliver much-needed services to poor women and families; and a brave health secretary and service provider in the private sector who championed women’s rights over their bodies and destinies.
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A respected public health expert even before he joined the Estrada Cabinet as health secretary in 1998, Doc Quasi was a champion of health sector reform, which began under his watch, including broadening access to PhilHealth, cheaper medicines, the passage and implementation of the “sin tax” law to curb smoking and drinking, and lately more stringent application of laws against the unsafe and unethical use of stem cell treatments.
He was also outspoken in his views, especially of what he perceived to be hypocrisy in the guise of religious dogma. One time, he told me of how he had confronted his parish priest who had a huge banner denouncing the RH bill hung above the church entrance. “You and some parishioners may feel that way,” he recalls telling the pastor, “but there are just as many, if not more of us, who believe otherwise.”
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He was a faithful Catholic, but Doc Quasi was not one to bend to Church authority or even popular opinion. I remember when we both served on the board of FriendlyCare, a network of clinics providing family health services, when the issue of emergency contraception emerged. At that time, the Food and Drug Administration had just ruled against the distribution of a brand of emergency contraception pills, which was allowed for use in special circumstances by the Department of Health during Doc Quasi’s watch. As a consequence of the decision, the manufacturer said it was withdrawing the pill from the market, and in reaction, Doc Quasi, who was at the time executive director of FriendlyCare, asked the board to approve the prescription of contraceptive pills in the needed doses to prevent unwanted pregnancies.
It was a bold, daring and controversial step, and I don’t know how many women took advantage of it to protect themselves after undergoing sexual violation or coercion. (Or just a mistimed, unprotected or drunken act of sex.) But that was proof of how much Doc Quasi believed in the rights of women, to the extent of waging a battle, even, with authorities.
We are sorry to lose an ally, but are grateful for his courage, his wisdom, and yes, his serenity.
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Earlier this month, lawyer (and retired judge) Alfredo Tadiar wrote a letter addressed to Philippine Reclamation Authority general manager and CEO Peter Anthony Aguinaldo Abaya regarding the “illegal” reclamation being done on San Fernando (La Union) Bay.
To his surprise—and delight—Tadiar received a reply from Abaya after just a few days telling him that not only did Abaya write a letter to the mayor of San Fernando restraining him from continuing with the project, but also that the PRA had likewise sent a technical team to conduct site inspection.
But to his disappointment, Tadiar recently found out that “reclamation work has not even been temporarily suspended at all,” and that reclamation efforts had continued “without letup.”
The project, which is being pushed by the city government and the private firm Soiltech Agricultural Products Inc., has “displaced the homes and lives of fishermen who used to live in that area,” says Tadiar. “Have they been relocated? I no longer see the many shanties they call ‘home’ and the fishing boats they use to eke a living from the bounties of the ocean that are now sadly diminishing because of pollution.”
Whose interests is the proposed pier/jetty meant to serve? Tadiar asks. While there were “consultations” supposedly conducted, the project was undertaken under a veil of secrecy. In fact, Tadiar says, a billboard announcing the project was “hastily” put up last month and only after he filed a complaint.
So what gives with the reclamation project, and what will Abaya do in the face of the intransigence of the La Union local government and its private partner?