to live, to love, to learn, to leave a legacy… and to laugh along the way
Our dream now is to keep developing the farm sustainably, to keep building cacao products we can be proud of, and to leave behind something the next generation can actually carry forward. If Gran Verde proves anything, it is that limited resources and a difficult beginning don’t have to be the end of the story – not if you’re willing to clear the land one patch at a time, and change course when the land asks you to.
What began as a simple transfer for the sake of family placed me in a unique position to witness – up close and personal – the tension, the uncertainty, the courage, and the hope that unfolded during the historic EDSA People Power Revolution of 1986. It was a moment when history ceased to be something found in books and became something we lived through, those fateful days that would not only be the country’s pride, but would be a model for many more countries in the years that followed.
I had barely been introduced when she looked at me and asked, almost matter-of-factly: “Sundalo ka pala? Ilan na ang napatay mo?” (So you’re a soldier? So, how many men have you killed?”) For a second, I didn’t know how to react. I didn’t know whether to laugh or to take it seriously and defend myself.
Life has taught me that growing older is not necessarily about abandoning ideals. It is about learning that truth rarely belongs entirely to one side. The fire of youth seeks to change the world overnight; maturity and the mellowing of years understand that conflicts are infinitely more complicated. I no longer see the world through the rigid lens of left or right. Time, experience, loss, and service have softened my perceptions. In the end, perhaps growing up is not about surrendering convictions, but learning to carry them with balance, wisdom and the humility to see humanity even in those we may have once called the enemy.
Before the Academy, my life was a jumble of momentary thrills, lacking any definite path, lacking a purpose in life. The Academy nurtured something deeper: a profound sense of discipline and a maturity that I hadn’t known I possessed. It was as if a door had cracked open, and light began to spill in, revealing a landscape of golden possibilities I had never dreamed of. I walked in a boy looking for an exit; I walked out a man who had found a calling.
Fifty years have lapsed in a heartbeat, yet I can still smell the pine-scented air of the Academy, and feel the frantic thumping in my chest as we marched down those “51 steps.” We were just boys then – naive, unsure of ourselves, and miles away from the families who waved us goodbye at Camp Aguinaldo or elsewhere. We didn’t know that we would be stripped of our civilian antics and molded into the leaders we would later be. Today, the echoes of those barking orders still reverberate as cherished stories of old men, but the fire lit that fateful April Fools’ Day will never waver.
Color My World 