By making these delicate figurines of the Holy Family, drug surrenderers in Barangay Silangan, Quezon City, hope to make their dream of real change a reality. (Photo by NIÑO JESUS ORBETA/Philippine Daily Inquirer)
In Barangay Bagong Silangan, Quezon City, former drug users and pushers who earlier surrendered under the government’s Oplan Tokhang have started their journey toward a new life at the San Isidro Labrador Parish.
Inside a room equipped with power tools and sandpaper, the group has been tirelessly making small resin figurines of the Holy Family, hoping that the fruits of their labor will pave the way for their reintegration into society.
Initiated by the Diocese of Novaliches in cooperation with Barangay Silangan, the project is part of the community-based drug recovery program which hopes to give surrenderers an alternative source of livelihood.
San Isidro Labrador Parish priest Fr. Gilbert Billena, who is in charge of the project, said that making the Holy Family figurines could be considered an extension of the former drug dependents’ longing to rebuild their homes and family ties.
Hope, not condemnation
“In their new journey, this is a symbol of their healing and hope despite the difficulties and trials in their lives,” he said. “It is better to give them hope than condemnation.”
According to him, many of the surrenderers got into the drug trade because they were unemployed. Others were forced to take “shabu” (methamphetamine hydrochloride) because they wanted to work longer hours to make more money.
“After surrendering, many of them did not have any idea where to go or what to do next,” he said. “With this atmosphere of impunity, it is important that we offer them hope…that there is freedom from drug dependency.”
The Philippine National Police estimates that nearly a million drug pushers and users have surrendered under Oplan Tokhang. But months since the government launched an all-out war on drugs, it has yet to lay down its specific program for surrenderers who are looking to turn their lives around.
This encouraged the Church to come up with a holistic approach to the drug problem, including programs on faith renewal, and health and wellness.
With a P5,000 fund donated by the parish, the Holy Family resin figurines project kicked off in November. Since then, they have earned at least P30,000 from the sale of the items (prices range from P85 to P150, depending on the size and color).
The workers get a commission from each piece sold on top of an allowance. Some of the money is spent on food while the rest goes into a revolving fund which is used to buy more art materials for the program.
Supportive, not judgmental
“We thought that people would be judgmental but they actually support our project,” Billena said. Through word-of-mouth and social media, big batches of orders have been pouring in, keeping everyone in the program busy.
But many surrenderers hoping for a second change still live with the fear of persecution and judgment.
Richard Mejia, 37, spends every day in the parish creating the figurines from scratch. In just a few weeks, he learned the proper mix of chemicals and the process of turning the dirty white polymer into palm-sized works of art.
It was something he never thought he would be able to do. After all, he looked more like a gang member than an artist, with his long hair and right arm covered in tattoos.
There is one on his left wrist, however, that says something about his determination to turn his life around. It reads: “One Life.”
The father of four was a former drug pusher in the barangay. But Mejia said he turned his back on the trade when he left the area in 2012.
When he returned in May 2015, he was dismayed to find his name on the Batasan police’s watch list of notorious drug personalities.
“I have stopped dealing drugs for years now but my past still haunts me,” he said. “I discovered that my name and photo were on a hit list. They were going to kill me.”
Mejia admitted that he still fears for his life. In Bagong Silangan, 26 drug suspects have been killed so far, some in police operation and the others by vigilantes. Barangay officials have stopped trying to classify the deaths, only saying that these were all undeserved.
Hidden talent
It is in the church of San Isidro Labrador, who is coincidentally known for his piety toward the poor, that Mejia found refuge and discovered his artistic side.
As Mejia works on the figurines—the process requires a quick hand as the resin hardens fast—he only hopes that he will get the chance others were deprived of.
“I don’t understand [why they are still after me] but I am doing everything I can to change my life…to show that we are capable of change,” he said.
For other former drug dependents, the project comes with a new mission—saving lives and inspiring change.
Bong Bautista, president of the parish pastoral council, serves as the group’s art mentor, teaching and guiding them through the entire artistic process. But his story is also one he hopes others will draw inspiration from.
In 1986, the young Bautista ended up in New Bilibid Prison for his involvement in drugs. In the 10 years he spent behind bars, he found a renewed faith in God and learned the craft he now teaches the drug surrenderers.
“It feels like we have snatched them from death,” Bautista said. “I only pray that they share what they learned and pay it forward, just as I have.”
Lucky escape
In his case, Geronimo Jarabelo exerts every effort to reach out to those still in the grip of drug addiction.
A former drug user and peddler, the 59-year-old considers himself lucky as he managed to get out of the drug trade just before President Duterte took over.
These days, Jarabelo roams around Bagong Silangan, doing his own version of Oplan Tokhang. He knocks on the houses of drug suspects and tries to convince them to join the community-based recovery program.
“Perhaps the Lord has a reason why I got involved in drugs before; to use me now as an instrument to save others,” he told the Inquirer.
Back when he was an infamous drug dealer, he was known as “Bigote.” “But Bigote is dead. Now, I am Ronnie. And I am writing a new and beautiful chapter in my life.”
As he smoothens out the features of Mary who is holding Baby Jesus, Jarabelo is teary-eyed as he recalled his hopes for his own family.
His house which used to be a drug den is now finally a home, and the family that he once hid secrets from could be now proud of him.
“I used to hold in my hands aluminum foil and shabu,” he said. “Now I am able to create works of art and I am always reminded of the Lord’s image when I hold these figurines in my hands.”