I was in the company of the family matriarch Imelda Romualdez Marcos when Typhoon Carina and the accompanying southwest monsoon hit the country. The Philippines, specifically Metro Manila, was being battered by torrential rains and epic floods that, by early afternoon Wednesday, the entire metropolis was declared under a state of calamity. It was explained that by doing so, the government would be able to access its quick response funds to help address the immediate needs of its constituents.
Imelda’s daughter, Senator Imee Marcos, was set to join the small intimate gathering, which was arranged weeks before, and when my aunt asked if her daughter would be late, we had to show her photos of Imee talking to leaders of affected local government units on the streets deploying her #Imeesolusyon NutriJeeps laden with relief goods, hot lugaw, and nutribuns to hardest hit areas in the metropolis. The senator’s NutriJeep can be described as a food truck. There are no gas burners, but there is a sink as well as a prep area, a lot of shelves and storage areas, and running water. There were also images of Imee supervising relief packing operations. Both made the matriarch smile.
“Si Bongbong?” she asked.
I replied, “Auntie Meldy, Metro Manila has been declared under a state of calamity. Both Bongbong and Imee are out helping the people.”
“Together?” “Together they work to help the people but they are in different places, Auntie Meldy,” I explained.
She nodded her head with a satisfied smile on her face.
My aunt had found herself in the same situation countless of times as First Lady (1965-1986), minister of Human Settlement, and governor of Metro Manila. When disaster struck, people turned to my aunt for relief and assistance “not only because they knew she had a compassionate heart but more so because they were confident she would take action immediately.”
The position of First Lady “is not an elected position, carries no official duties, and has no personal remuneration,” but people continued to reach out to Imelda for help. Without a budget of her own, Imelda started a Special Disaster Fund for victims of natural disasters. But one thing my aunt, uncle (the late President Ferdinand E. Marcos), and now, their daughter Imee taught us is that when faced with natural disasters and the people affected, it is not all financial aid that matters. They showed us that being physically present, “commiserating with the victims and keeping vigil to boost the morale of the people” are just as important.
The next morning, I headed to the senator’s headquarters where relief operations were ongoing. I arrived in the midst of relief bags deployment and, in the kitchen, I found the last batch of lugaw being readied for loading into the NutriJeep. I was able to help with peeling a few of the 2,400 eggs needed to substantiate the lugaw intended for evacuees that day.
The senator had already deployed eight of her 10 NutriJeeps to evacuation centers in areas hardest hit by Typhoon Carina and the southwest monsoon that accompanied it. The remaining two were to leave for Pasig and Cavite. I decided to join the NutriJeep bound for Pasig.
Our destination was the Santolan Elementary School in Pasig, where 1,000 families had temporarily sought shelter. Driving to our destination we had to pass along the Marikina River. One could determine the height of the water overflow based on the line of garbage hanging in a line along the barriers of nearby construction areas. The road was covered with a thick layer of mud, and there were large groups of people now using the area below overpasses as temporary shelters. We had to be redirected a number of times, as some roads were impassable still.
When we finally got to the school, we were greeted by so many children running around under the watchful eye of the local government officials, mothers, and relatives. It was glaringly apparent, we didn’t’ have enough with us to feed everyone. With the help of the Department of Social Welfare and Development personnel on site, it was decided that we would serve the children and the elderly first.
What ensued was something out of those behind-the-scenes kitchen scenarios where you need to feed hundreds (in this case a thousand people), and an assembly line type lugaw station was set up inside the NutriJeep. I was with veterans.
The two staff members of the senator started to set up and I just followed their lead. We lined up the cups, dropped half an egg, poured the lugaw, and topped them with roasted garlic and chopped chives. We also set up the nutribuns. Two flavors, the original and chocolate. We all chipped in to do tasks as needed, especially since things started to go fast and we kept needing to replenish.
The nutribun has become synonymous with the Marcos administration’s Integrated Social Welfare Program specifically with regards to its nutrition program to combat malnutrition. PFEM’s nutrition programs started in 1965 when he assumed office but the nutribun itself was launched in 1970, given to children at public schools. The nutribun is a vitamin-enriched bread considered as a “ready-to-eat complete meal” with a whopping 500 calories. In comparison, on average the pandesal has only 138 calories. From then on, aside from the feeding programs at public schools, the nutribun was handed out to victims of natural disasters at evacuation centers for the remainder of PFEM’s administrations.
Today, their daughter Imee is doing the same.