Life Changing by Arvin John Serrano

I just want to share with you guys my brother's latest blog entry on his experience during their school's outreach program at Bilibid Prison. I'm proud of him for being able to feel and capture the essence of the activity. He willingly and unselfishly reached out to his inmate friend, Kuya Fernando. I hope his batchmates in Bene have learned a lot from this activity too, just like how life changing it was for Arvin.

Kudos to Bene for continuing to have enriching programs such as this!

And I hope this touches your heart, the way it has touched mine.

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Life Changing by Arvin John Serrano

I was lazily seated on the tiled floor with my back rested to the door of the Prefect of Activities Office. I never thought that by the end of the day, my perspective about something would change completely.

My academic life in Bene was finally over, and the next twenty four days or so would just be spent to complete our clearance and rehearse for graduation. Today was our outreach activity. We were supposed to leave for the National Bilibid Prison at 7am, but at around 9, we were still stuck in school because of a miscommunication for our transportation.

For many reasons, I wasn't too keen on going to this outreach activity. Knowing my batch, I thought that some of us would just use this opportunity to do some kalokohan and so the very essence of the outreach would be lost because of the sermon we would be getting from Mr. Caballero afterwards. Second, I just thought that having a convicted criminal face-to-face with you would be frightening. Plus, I wasn't sure if it was right for me to ask how he got thrown in jail.

When we arrived, it was surprising to note that the Bilibid actually had a peaceful ambiance, nestled in a huge plain filled with trees and creeks. The only clue that we were near a prison was the two layers of barbed wire fence that enclosed the perimeter of the compound.

When we got inside the gates, the first thing I noticed was that the compound was very clean and the air was really fresh. We were greeted with smiles from men wearing white shirts. One wouldn't even think that they were inmates if their shirts didn't have a small print that said INMATE on their left chests.

We were assigned to go to an educational facility, the Muntinlupa National Extension High School (NEHS). We got into a large classroom and took our seats on clean monobloc armchairs. The program started with a prayer, and followed by a powerpoint of the NEHS' accomplishments for the year 2007. It was followed by a medley of all-time favorite lovesongs by their Glee Club, where they gave out flowers to our classmates (kinilig si hanboreum. haha!) and then they also sang Bilangguang Walang Rehas, complete with dialogues about the lives of the inmates. Lastly, their High School Dancers took the dance floor to the tune of a hiphop song. All the numbers, especially the two from the glee club, were well rehearsed and really conveyed a message for us.

Finally, it was time for us to interact with our partner inmate. The inmates lined up the chairs in columns of two, face-to-face. We lined up and took our seats first, while the inmates sit on the second column afterwards. There, I met Kuya Fernando. At first, both Jayson and I were assigned to him because the chairs were disarranged and Jayson didn't have a chair facing him. But after a while, he was already given his own partner.

In a span of about forty five minutes, I got to know a lot of things about the life of being a detainee at the Bilibid. I asked Kuya Fernando why he was thrown in jail and he told me that he had killed somebody and that he had been inside for the last six years. His sentence required him ten to twelve years. I did not ask him to elaborate much on the crime he committed, but I was rather interested with the state of his life ever since he came in Munti.

He talked to me how every prisoner interested would be given a directive where he can choose whether he would want to study or work. The institution actually offered elementary, high school and college education, aside from the six-month vocational courses. Kuya, just like me, was a high school senior - but in his late thirties. He told me that he'd be graduating during the first week of April. He also joked about how it was lucky for him that he got thrown in jail because he has got free schooling from that, unlike the rest of us who needed to pay a lot for our education.

I also learned new "prison terms, " but it was unfortunate that I don't remember any of them anymore. Haha. The only thing I remembered was talipapa which was already common, even for us in the free world. He also shared to me how the Bilibid has become more peaceful now and that the riots we saw in TV or the movies were unrealistic. Ever since the management imposed an order that an inmate will not hurt his co-detainee, unless he wants to get killed, the atmosphere has become more quiet for the past years. And those who attempted to escape from the prison walls will likewise, not be able to come back alive.

I guess the saddest part of our conversation was when he told me that he only gets visits from his family once a year because they did not have enough money to travel from Batangas to spend time with him. And I cannot even think how depressing it had been for him for the past six years, spending Christmas and his birthdays alone. He told me this, "Hindi ko nalang iniisip yung mga negative, basta para sakin palaging positive lang yung iniisip ko."

He told me that their only happiness during Christmas is when they sing on the videoke machine and forget all the pain and loneliness they feel. He explained also to me that he and his fellow inmates post their addresses on newspapers, hoping that someone would write to them and become penpals. When someone writes, then they would convince that person (I'm assuming women) to come by and visit them, just to alleviate the longingness they feel for their loved ones.

While eating our one-piece Chickenjoy and Coke for lunch, we were signaled to give out our gifts to our partners. Mine was two Cattleya notebooks, two black pens, a toothbrush, a blue Close-Up toothpaste, half a bar of Tide and a green safeguard in a plastic pack.

Kuya and I got more personal. He asked me, "Naniniwala ka ba na ang lahat ng masasamang tao may natitira pang kabutihan sa loob nila?" I answered, "Opo." He countered and said, "Ako hindi naniniwala. Kasi para sa'kin ang lahat ng tao likas na mabubuti. Ang iniisip lang kasi ng iba yung masamang ginawa nya, pero hindi nila naiisip yung rason kung bakit nila nagawa yun. Ako nagawa ko lang naman yun sa sobrang kahirapan."

Towards the end of our meeting, Kuya gave me pieces of advice, "Lagi kang makikinig sa mga magulang mo. Kasi minsan akala natin hindi nila tayo naiintindihan pero ang totoo naman ang gusto lang nila yung mabuti sa'tin." He explained that he rebelled against his father because he thought that he did not care for him. I added, "Wala namang magulang na naghahangad ng masama para sa anak nila."

He also warned me against bad influences because it was what gained him nothing but trouble. "Basta pipilian mo lang lagi yung mga barkada mo."

When we were about to leave, Kuya Fernando took out the notebook I gave him and told me, "Mag-sign ka." He gave me a multi-colored pen and using blue ink I wrote,

Kuya Fernando,

Salamat po sa lahat ng tinuro mo sa'kin. Dahil sa'yo, naging bukas ang isipan ko sa buhay ng mga bilanggo tulad mo. Salamat! -Arvin

He then took the notebook and started to scribble at the back page. While writing, he asked me again for my name and I showed him my ID. When finally he was done, he tore the part of the paper where he wrote gave it to me. It contained the address of his dormitory and a message that read,

Fernando M. Javier

Student Dorm 1-A

Camp Sampaguita

Muntinlupa City

1776

Arvin,

Maraming salamat sa konting panahon at oras na ibinigay mo sa akin. Kahit paano, para narin akong dinalaw. Salamat...

Kya Fernando

I thanked him for it and he answered me, "Sulat ka ha." And I vowed to myself that I will. Afterwards, he excused himself and sat with Lia, who was sitting by herself because her partner went somewhere else.

At this point, the student council president told us, "Sana po sa paglabas nyo dito, maging ambassadors of goodwill kayo para sa'min. Na sana sabihin nyo sa mga tao sa labas kung ano yung mga natutunan nyo dito sa'min at ang buhay namin dito."

The emcee, also an inmate, then closed the activity by telling us a story, "Napanaginipan po namin na darating kayo dito, mga taga-San Beda. Tapos sa pagdalaw nyo raw dito, namatay tayong lahat. Pagdating natin sa langit, nakasalubong natin si San Pedro. Ang sabi nya, isang grupo lang daw ang pwedeng pumasok sa langit, at yung isa naman mapupunta sa hell - yung grupo ng taga-San Beda o yung grupo ng mga inmate. Kaming mga inmate, pinili naming mapunta nalang sa hell... Kasi po sa pagbisita nyo sa'min ngayon, ginawa nyo pong para na rin kaming nasa langit."

On that final note, we were asked to stand and say goodbye to each other. Coming from beside Lia, Kuya Fernando walked to me and we shook hands for the last time. "Basta goodluck sa'yo ha. Alalahanin mo lahat ng sinabi ko sa'yo."

Before I finally left the room, Kuya asked me, "May babalik pa ba na next batch sa inyo? Kasi kung meron baka pwede kang magpadala ng sulat." I told him that we were already graduating and that the next batch would be for next year already. But I promised him that I would mail him a letter.

I raised a hand to gesture my last farewell and walked out of that room with my classmates -- to go back again and face my own world --- a world that is different from the one I spent time in for the past few hours --- a world that was once their own, as well.

When we were walking towards the gate that separated these two worlds, I still saw those familiar smiling faces everywhere, just like when I came in here earlier that morning.As I stared onto those faces, I didn't feel pity towards any of them, instead I felt the radiating hope that was coming from their hearts. And as the iron gates closed behind me, I knew that I was never going to look at Bilibid the same way again.