There are many good people in the world, quietly ready to write happy endings to stories weighed down by loss—if only someone tells those stories.

In 2013, one such story appeared in the Manila Bulletin. It was about a fisherman who had lost almost everything to Super Typhoon Yolanda—his house, his fishing boat, and long before that, his wife. What followed surprised even those who believed most strongly in the power of compassion: readers sent help, strangers became benefactors, and a broken narrative found new footing.

But that is the end of the story. Let us return to the beginning.

A father who carried everything

Jonathan Bonafe was 47 when we first met him for a Father’s Day feature titled “A Fisherman’s Tale: My Job Is to Make My Kids Survive.” He was a widower in all but name—his wife had left years earlier, walking away from her husband and their three children, two of whom have special needs.

‘Yolanda’ took what little remained. His bamboo house collapsed. His fishing boat was destroyed. Yet Jonathan did not speak of despair. In Hiligaynon, he summed up his life with four words: “Pas-an ko tanan. (I carry everything on my shoulders.)”

Even despair, he said, was a luxury he could not afford.

Fishing was the only skill he knew. He had learned it as a boy of 10, following his father and brothers to sea. Living beside the shore in Barangay Gargato, Hinigaran, Jonathan fished whenever he could—sometimes alone in a small boat, sometimes with others in a larger banca—bringing home what he could to feed his children: Kenneth, then 16; John Glen, 10; and Jonalyn, 7. John Glen and Jonalyn were diagnosed with special needs.

On good days, Jonathan earned about P150. On days when there was no catch, he shrugged. The community shared what food it had. “No one goes hungry here,” he said. “Someone always gives.”

The sea and the sacrifices

The sea was both his workplace and his provider, and Jonathan treated it with respect. Before heading out each morning, he said a prayer—first for a good catch, and then that he would return safely to his children.

“Sometimes the sea is greedy,” he said. “There is no fish, so I move. Sometimes the weather changes suddenly. Once, the waves overturned my boat and I had to cling to it until rescuers came.”

When Jonathan was not fishing, he was parenting—and that meant lost income. Caring for two children with special needs was a full-time responsibility. He bathed them, spoon-fed them, entertained them, and carried the youngest like a baby whenever he had to leave the house.

“Akon tanan (I do everything,” he said simply.

Neighbors noticed. “Jonathan cannot earn when he has to look after his children,” one said, “but he never complains.”

His devotion showed in his children. They were clean, well-groomed, gentle, and well-mannered. During our visit, they ate the doughnuts and candies we brought without fuss or mess. They did not clamor for attention. They sat quietly, secure in their father’s presence.

Help finds its way

Jonathan’s children were malnourished, which led him to a feeding program run by the Negrense Volunteers for Change (NVC) Foundation. There, he met NVC President Millie Locsin Kilayko. Moved by the children’s demeanor—and their father’s quiet strength—NVC later donated a motorized banca to Jonathan on April 30, 2013.

Jonathan never expressed bitterness about his children’s condition. “They are my children,” he said.

What saddened him most was abandonment. “That is what really hurts,” he said of his wife. “She left for Manila to look for work and never contacted us again.”

After his house collapsed during heavy rains, Jonathan and his children stayed in his parents’ small bamboo home. When he went out to sea at 3 a.m., he tied the bamboo door shut—secured to a window post—to keep the children safe inside. At dawn, Kenneth fed his siblings before walking several kilometers to school, carefully tying the knot before he left.

“Sometimes, if one of them cries, a neighbor checks,” Jonathan said. “But neighbors have their own work too.”

A future shaped by kindness

Jonathan’s hope rested on Kenneth. “I want him to finish school,” he said. “So he can have a better life.”

Kenneth walked five kilometers to the highway to catch a jeepney to Hinigaran National High School, returning home by lunchtime to share a meal with his family—rice bought with the morning’s earnings, fish from the sea.

That Father’s Day story struck a chord.

Within days of publication, Manila Bulletin readers began calling to ask how they could help “the poor fisherman who refused to throw in the towel.” NVC initially hesitated; the foundation was already managing multiple programs. But generosity kept knocking.

A reader from Brunei sent the first donation—for Kenneth’s shoes, school bag, and transport expenses. An American reader based in Washington, whose girlfriend had forwarded the story, wrote to offer help. “I used to build boats,” he said. “I feel a special affinity for people who make their living from the sea.”

His donation helped fund a modest bamboo house—eight by twelve feet—built with Jonathan’s labor and a carpenter’s help. In all, six donors made the house possible.

Months later, the photo arrived: Jonathan seated in front of his new home, his two youngest children beside him. It was a quiet image, but it spoke volumes. Strangers had rewritten the ending.

An unfinished story

Recently, we asked the NVC about Jonathan and his children.

They still live in the same bamboo house built through the kindness of strangers. The children have grown. Kenneth has finished high school. Life, however, has once again shifted the burden.

In October 2025, Jonathan stopped fishing after he was diagnosed with tuberculosis. His medication is free, but recovery takes time and strength—both in short supply. For now, it is Kenneth who goes out to sea, taking his father’s place to keep food on the table.

NVC explored the possibility of a TESDA livelihood course for Kenneth, but the same hard question returned. “If he goes to school,” Ms. Kilayko said, “no one earns for the family.”

So the fisherman’s story remains unfinished.

Perhaps the next chapter will bring better health for Jonathan, a livelihood option for Kenneth that does not take him away from the sea, or another quiet act of kindness from someone who reads this and remembers that a house once rose because strangers cared.

For now, Jonathan carries on as he always has—bearing what life places on his shoulders.

“My job is to make my kids survive,” he once said.

And sometimes, that job is shared.

***

Editor’s Note: This story was first published as a Father’s Day feature in the Manila Bulletin in 2013. It moved readers to act, resulting in a home built and lives eased through the generosity of strangers. More than a decade later, we return to Jonathan Bonafe’s story not to offer a tidy conclusion, but to acknowledge that real lives rarely resolve themselves neatly. This anniversary piece is a reminder of journalism’s quiet power through Manila Bulletin —not just to tell stories, but to connect people, sometimes changing the course of lives in ways both lasting and unfinished.