Nonexistent kids finally get an identity

Four-year-old Kristine Mae Bultro, a resident of the City of Manila, had to be pulled out of daycare because she did not have a birth certificate.

Her mother, Maricris, told the Inquirer on Saturday that she was forced to do so because officials of the daycare center her daughter was enrolled in had been asking her for the child’s birth certificate—a document she did not have.

“The midwife who gave birth to me was supposed to take care of the birth certificate but she went to the province and died there. I had no choice but to pull my daughter out,” the 23-year-old mother explained.

Another child in the same situation, 7-year-old Paul Benedict of Parola, Tondo, was luckier.

According to his mother, Macreen, she was able to enroll Paul in Almario Elementary School even without his birth certificate but only because his teacher agreed to give her enough time to produce the document.

“The teacher is already following up my son’s birth certificate so I need to work on getting it processed,” Macreen told the Inquirer.

The Manila City government has acknowledged that many of its residents—children and even some adults—are in the same situation.  In fact, based on its estimates, “tens of thousands” of children remain undocumented citizens, putting them at risk of never landing a job or disqualifying them from receiving basic services.

To address the problem, the city government has launched “Operation Birth Right” in which personnel from the Manila Civil Registry Office will go to the barangays to register residents “regardless of age.”

The head of the agency, Joey Cabreza, said that his office would be working with the National Statistics Office and Philippine Statistics Authority to ensure that, upon registration and validation, people like Kristine Mae and Paul Benedict would also be registered at the national level.

“We are going to do this for about two to three months. As instructed by Mayor Joseph Estrada, we’re bringing our services to the barangay instead of waiting for them to come to city hall,” he told the Inquirer in an interview.

On Saturday, Cabreza’s team was in Parola, Tondo, where they were met by eager parents, including Macreen and Maricris.

The registration site in Barangay 20 was jam-packed but the young mothers did not seem to mind. “If I have to wait here all day, I’ll do just that. That’s how badly I want my boy to exist,” Macreen said.

In a statement on Thursday, Estrada said that children without birth certificates officially do not exist, disqualifying them from receiving benefits from the government.

“This is very alarming…. If this problem is left unsolved, they would not be able to… have (a) meaningful life,” he added.

Macreen said this was one of the reasons why she had never cared to find out what benefits her son Paul could get from both the local and national governments. “It was hard enough enrolling him in school without a birth certificate,” she added.

Unlike Kristine Mae and Paul Benedict whose situation was brought about by unfortunate circumstances, Estrada said that some children end up without a birth certificate due to poverty or negligence on their parents’ part.

According to Cabreza, some parents in fact “prefer to go” to Recto to have fake documents made for their children, including birth certificates.

“Maybe they prefer to go there because they are scared of going to city hall, of securing the requirements,” Cabreza added.

But whatever their reasons, Estrada said he wanted “all the children of Manila to have legitimate birth certificates.”

According to him, “they will be needing it in the future and for them to finally have an identity.”