A Box of Relief, A Heart Full of Questions

                                     A Box of Relief, A Heart Full of Questions

The past few days have been nothing but hectic because of accreditation preparations. My mind was filled with checklists, deadlines, and endless tasks when suddenly, my phone buzzed with a message from my cousin. She said we were included in the list for food relief distribution.

At first, I didn’t ask any questions. Why only now, when the typhoon had already passed three days ago? Shouldn’t relief come immediately when people need it most? But honestly, in that moment, I didn’t care. All I knew was—it was a blessing. And blessings, no matter how small or delayed, deserve to be received with gratitude.

I hurriedly called my husband and told him to go right away. A part of me felt excited, like a child waiting for a surprise.  One was for us, and one was for our father. Inside were ten assorted canned goods—corned beef, tuna, sardines, choco drink, 6 packs of coffee and about two gantang of rice. I don’t know how to explain it, but it warmed my heart. I felt happy knowing that this time, DSWD and the government could actually give something better, not the typical relief goods that sometimes feel like an afterthought.

But then the bubble burst a little. News trickled in from our neighboring barangay. Their relief was given in flimsy plastic bags. Some items were missing—only one gantang of rice instead of two, only four canned goods instead of eight. I felt a heaviness in my chest. Why is it so hard for others to simply give what is rightfully allotted for the people? Why do some still take away from those who already have so little?

It made me reflect deeply. Maybe this is why people in our country often lose trust. Because even in times of disaster when survival is at stake, greed still finds a way to sneak in. And yet, in contrast, my own barangay showed me that honesty and fairness are possible. If leaders choose not to dip their hands where they shouldn’t, if they choose to serve with integrity, then people can actually receive what they deserve.

How good would it feel to live in a country where every official, big or small, has a clean conscience? A country where relief goods reach every family without being tampered with, where funds are spent on projects that actually change lives, where leaders don’t see positions as stepping stones for wealth but as platforms for service?

Sometimes I dream of that kind of Philippines. But then reality hits me: it’s not just about the leaders. It’s also about us, the people who put them into power. I hope more Filipinos wake up to the truth, that voting isn’t a habit, or a popularity contest, or a favor to repay. It’s a responsibility that decides whether greed or honesty will rule our lives for the next years.

I wish parents, especially the elderly, would let their children guide them when it comes to political choices. Times have changed. The world is different now, and we cannot afford to keep voting based on “kilala ko siya” or “anak siya ni ganito.” That way of thinking has chained us for too long.

Sometimes it breaks my heart to realize that even if a few of us want real change, our voices get drowned out by the majority who remain complacent. But still, I refuse to lose hope. Because if blessings can arrive even when you least expect them, maybe one day, honesty and integrity can find their way into our politics, too.